Chapter 2
The two boys had a great deal in common – both taken away from a family and a way of life a continent away and expected to conform to new rules. They immediately bonded.
Mister Parker had to resort to his stick more than once with these two. Christopher loved reading and Henry had a logical mind. Together they could achieve a lot; they helped each other through their weakness.
But more than anything, getting good reports and praise meant the most. Christopher's father agreed to stable Henry's horse with his. Henry spent all his days at the estate and most of his week-end as well. Together they rode for hours on Sunday after attending church. It became routine to see them studying late at night so they could get Mister Parker's approval on Saturday morning. Henry and Christopher constantly manipulated their tutor but they were learning fast and their intelligence shone throughout all the elements of their education.
A year after Henry's arrival in England, Christopher's father and Henry's grandfather sent the required forms to Oxford. Both young men were well versed in Shakespeare, knew civilities, walked proudly in their gentlemen's attire, rode well, and handled meeting ladies and gentlemen callers at the estate with aplomb.
Lord Dunsmore rarely saw his son stare anyone down with arms crossed anymore.
Henry had been 12, Christopher 13, when they first met.
Lord Christham's carriage had pulled in front of the mansion , on the estate in Wales, a day in mid-july. Christopher was at his father's side, ready to welcome the elderly gentleman and his grandson.
"Christopher, I am allowing you to greet my old friend and to take care of his grandson. You will remain attentive and discreet. I shall give you permission to leave us and to take the boy to his room and then to the kitchen for some nourishment. Do not speak out of turn and act according to your rank. Do not forget your place, my son." John Dunsmore admonished his son sternly, as he inspected his clothes, his hair and his hands.
Staff at the manor had worked hard to make two rooms ready and supply the kitchen with delicacies. Lord Dunsmore had known for a week now of his old friend's arrival; the letter had been short, the older man needed advice on the care of his grandson.
Christopher was curious but managed to keep his face set in his usual mask of polite boredom. The idea of meeting another boy his age, but from his father's throng of friends was far from pleasing. He wondered, not for the first time, about the level of annoyance he might receive from the visiting youth. He dared not hope to find a companion. He expected a young version of the aristocratic adults he knew.
The carriage pulled up. The horses and the coachman were covered in a thick layer of dust. The footman stepped down from his position on the back, and quickly brushed the dust off his uniform. He then went to the right door, opened it, lowered the step, and bowing to his Lordship, invited him down.
The man who descended limped on his left leg, and was in obvious pain. His grey eyes were small and buried under heavy creases, he was much older than Lord Dunsmore. His attire was impeccable. His footman gathered his cane from the carriage and handed it to his master, offering his shoulder as well.
Lord Dunsmore bade the older gentleman welcome, and had his valet carry his luggage to his room. Christopher was sent to the left door, where he was to greet the child and bring him inside.
Christopher opened the other carriage's door, revealing a boy smaller in size and height, with hair too blond, too long, and angry, bright blue eyes.
"Don't touch me!" screamed Henry.
His clothes disarrayed, his body posture was all aggression. The child was completely different from Christopher's expectations.
"I won't touch you. My name is Christopher, and you must come with me. I am expected to show you to your room and then to see to it you are fed," Christopher answered calmly.
"Try to make me. Try it! I will not set foot inside this prison!" Henry raged. He crossed his arms, and stood his ground.
"You are not English, Henry ? You're from the Colonies, I can tell from your accent," said Christopher, unfazed by an attitude he still used every so often himself.
"What's it to you?" countered the younger boy.
Christopher was silent. Telling this strange boy where he was born himself was forbidden. How could he trust him? He didn't know him or why he was here.
"I have been told your name is Henry and that we are about the same age. This is my father's summer home. If you like riding, I will let you ride Oginali, he's my pony. Father gave him to me on my birthday as a reward for good marks," Christopher told the blond-haired boy.
He hoped to bribe this American boy, perhaps gathering some news from his homeland in the process.
Henry's stern look was answer enough. Christopher shrugged off Henry's anger and resentment, and instead said, "If you do all that my father expects of both of us, he will be pleased with me, and you. I am sure I can get Mister Parker to lend me his own horse, and you could saddle Oginali for yourself. There are miles of land behind the garden where we could ride together."
As peace offerings went, it was a wonderful one to Henry, miles from home and family.
"Show me to my room, and I will do as you say for the rest of the morning. But you had better keep your promise, or there'll be the devil to pay if you don't!"
It was Christopher's first promise to Henry. In the next nine years, the two young boys would grow into fine young men and they would always keep their promises to one another. Even if it meant that the parents or tutors had to be fooled or misled in the process.
Oginali : Cherokee word for friend