A Thorne Among The Roses – Chapter 2
Thomas mused on the closeness between himself and James, they had grown up together, so similar in age for the difference to be irrelevant. They had always looked out for one another, exploring at each other's side as children, learning and growing into teenagers together and still close as adults. Countless memories they created together and shared, Thomas recalled fondly the occasion that led to the scar on his calf. He peeled back the years of memory in his mind, drawing every detail of this particular one together, reliving that night again. He smiled with the happiness and thrill that memory still brought him, despite the scar that it had left him with.
His scar had been caused by a riding accident when they had both sneaked out to the stables for a midnight hack as little more than children. They had taken the largest geldings to prove their prowess in the saddle, breaking into a canter as soon as they were out of earshot of the house, galloping across the deathly silent fields. They were swiftly swallowed up by the darkness and the thrill of the ride, the freedom, the companionship. They hooted like owls and howled like wolves as they urged their mounts faster, the chill whipping at their faces and snatching away their breath, trying to reclaim the night back for nature, but nothing could have stopped these unruly youngsters that night. Nothing that is, except a tree stump hidden in the dark.
It was Thomas' horse, King Bernard who clipped it with a raised foreleg, with no time to react Thomas was thrown forward over Bernard's shoulder. Shock rendered him unable to curl into a ball as he fell and he landed heavily on the dewy grass, his left calf falling squarely onto a large branch. His eyes were filled with the stars stretching across the night sky, tiny pinpricks of brilliant light, a million miles away yet somehow right here. He believed with all of his heart he could touch them if he were only to reach out, he remembered raising his arm, stretching upwards, wondering why he wasn't getting any closer and why he was so cold.
Suddenly James' worried face filled his vision, his mouth moving like he was shouting, but there was no sound. Thomas tried to push James away, to reach out again into the night for the stars, but his arm batted away by James who gripped him by the shoulders. He was slowly coming into sharper focus as Thomas could now hear sounds to match his mouth movements, James was shouting, screaming. The sharp sudden noise travelled fast across the fields and shattered the silence as the heavy footfalls of their horses had done a moment earlier.
"Shut up," Thomas croaked, "you'll scare the stars away." James grasped Thomas' face between his hands and stared intently into his eyes, looking for signs of damage. "Can you sit up? Can you walk?" Thomas didn't like the urgency in James' voice but he was cold, it must be the damp ground he appeared to be lying on and felt as though sitting up would alleviate this discomfort. James grasped his hand and supported his elbow to pull him into a sitting position, he looked around and saw the horses grazing peacefully no more than 20 paces away, he gasped suddenly as the memory of the fall suddenly flooded into his brain.
"Your leg..." James trailed off and reached towards Thomas' calf, he gripped James' wrist to prevent him from touching the painful area, "it's fine, I'm fine. Is Bernard hurt?" There was a terror in James' eyes that Thomas couldn't fathom, this was a time for logic and seriousness, he needed his cousin to pull himself together. "I don't know..." James turned to look at the horses, bathed in moonlight, peaceful and serene. "He didn't fall, he stumbled but kept his footing. He looks like he's standing fine now. We need to walk them back to the stables...Can you stand?"
Thomas felt as though he could stay forever in this moonlit field with his best friend, their horses grazing and occasionally snorting nearby, the stars stretched out overhead and the fields rolling out before them in the darkness. But he knew James was right.
As they walked slowly back along the lanes, a fox froze in the hedgerow, lowered it's belly to the ground and swivelled it's ears, staring transfixed at the boys – one leaning heavily on the other. The smell of blood and adrenaline in the air, the horses clopping placidly alongside. It sniffed a final time before turning tail and disappearing through a gap in the hedge, strange things were afoot this night.
Thomas sat on a feed box as James silently led the horses back to their stalls, removed, cleaned and hung the tack in it's usual place. He brushed any evidence of sweating and mud from both horses before running his hands thoroughly over the legs of Bernard. "Not a scratch, no lumps or heat," he whispered through the gloom to Thomas, some of the horses were alert, watching this covert scene play out over their stable doors. They flicked their ears at the conversation, stamping their hooves eagerly at the thought of action, even from these amateur jockeys. They began to settle again as the retreating silhouettes of the boys slipped back out into the night, arm in arm as they ever were and ever would be. The unbreakable bond of blood, friendship from a shared childhood and a secret to be kept. They crossed the yard, entered the house, changed out of their dirty clothes and bandaged Thomas' bleeding leg with all the stealth of assassins. "It doesn't look too bad," James whispered, "nothing broken, the cut isn't too deep."
"It hurts like hell," Thomas retorted, hissing through his teeth, gripping the arm of his chair with clawed fingers until the bandaging was complete.
He slept on his back that night, staring up into the canopy over his bed as dark as the night sky. He saw the stars again, felt the wind hitting his face, pulling at his clothes and whisking his voice away into the darkness. Rushing through the night on the back of his trusty steed, heavy footfalls thudding into the grass until he faltered and he felt himself falling through the darkness again. Thomas slept fitfully, waking occasionally with the pain in his leg and the stars in the sky filling his vision. He found himself again reaching up to touch them, but his fingers closed only around the warm, windless air of his chamber.
His leg healed with only a scar to show for his ordeal, where a sharp twig had torn into his skin, otherwise he was completely recovered, much to his and James' relief. They had avoided eye contact with each other until they were sure nothing would be said about Bernard after their illicit ride and Thomas' leg was healed. Weeks after they would often grin at each other as co-conspirators in opportune moments, forever united by their secret. The memory of this faded over the years as they grew into men, still at each other's side. But sometimes Thomas would lie awake at night, staring up at his bed canopy and see the stars.
This memory flooded back into Thomas' mind as fast as they had ridden together that night, everything rushing back into consciousness with such clarity as Thomas looked at James. Long after James had finished recounting the events that had led to his cousin's death, many tears were shed and many brandies were sunk in an attempt to forget the present, while keeping the stream of anecdotes from the past flowing freely.
The family eventually retired, exhausted and intoxicated and the household was sluggish in their mourning for weeks after. James stayed to console the family, worried especially for Thomas who had always been sensitive and close to his sister.
Thomas spent many hours sat at his desk, occasionally throughout night, burning through many candles and thinking about his lost sister, of the years they had together, and the years that they could no longer share. He wrote little and nothing that adequately expressed the deep burning pain he felt rippling inside him, one verse was all he kept from that time:
"So we'll go no more a roving,
So late into the night.
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright."
Thomas stayed in his room for weeks, writing, burning the pages over his candle's flame and staring lifelessly out of the window. Unaware of the hushed conversations held outside his chamber door, his mother plotting with James to take Thomas out of the house, attend parties with his cousin, to shake him of his melancholy.
James was all too happy to comply, but he knew his cousin well enough to know this wouldn't be easy, he threw open Thomas' door one morning, striding in and placing a comforting but firm hand on his cousin's shoulder, slumped over his desk, in front of a blank parchment and a full inkwell as usual.
Come now Thomas, our horses are saddled, I'm going home home today and I wish for you to accompany me on the road, a ride will do us both good." Thomas sighed as he stared out of the window at the dull grey morning, he wasn't convinced. "I don't want to go to the city, I wish to stay at home and mourn my dear, dear sister."
James winced and patted his cousin's arm affectionately, gently removing the quill from his grasp and carefully laying it on the desk. "I know cousin, but please give this a chance, it's what Katherine would have wanted. She would want us to take a break away from the house and experience the high society of London."
Thomas sighed again, he was sure there was nothing for him in the city, but was also too tired to argue, he allowed himself to be guided to the front door where two horses were waiting for him and James. His parents stood to one side, trying to remain positive for all of their sakes, his mother pulled him into a tight hug as his father explained. "You and James can ride out now, me and your mother will follow in the carriage as soon as we've packed. We'll meet you there and take some much needed time away from this house. James has kindly invited us all to a ball next month, we'll stay with him until at least then."
Thomas managed a smile as his father finished speaking, seeing the sense in his words and feeling excitement creep into the fringes of his mind, an unfamiliar visitor of late but much welcomed.