The dying rays of the sun caught a wisp of smoke rising from the chimney of the farmhouse as Aubrey rode down the hill. The squire reined his sturdy, gray mare, Magli, to a stop at the crest of the hill, and paused to look down at the little pocket in the earth. The packed dirt road wound like a ribbon down towards the old stone house, from whose windows light came glimmering out into the rapidly descending twilight. The snow-covered fields gleamed white in the light of the rising half-moon as Aubrey spurred Magli forward down the hillside. He rode down past the huts where Audwin's hired shepherds lived during the winter, past the well and water trough, past the squat house to the stables in back. Gad, the stablehand who had been Aubrey's friend through his childhood, greeted him with a cry of joyous surprise. "Ye've come!" he shouted exultantly, ruddy-gold curls bouncing and hazel eyes sparkling as he leapt forwards to take Magli's reins. "Eh, but th' master and missus'll be pleased...they said tha' couldn't come this Midwinter, though?"
"Duke Gareth gave me leave to come home for a bit," Aubrey improvised, smiling as he dismounted. Gods, but it felt so good to be back here! " 'Ere, I'll take yuir Magli...just tha' get in an' see them!" The squire agreed with a laugh, and waved goodbye to his friend.
He ran across the yard, and beat on the heavy wood of the front door. His mother Signy came to the door, wiping her hands on her plain apron. Her small, triangular face, still pretty despite the years, lit up with pleasure when she saw her son outside. "Aubrey!" she exclaimed, pulling him into the house. "Alajos, William! Unne! Yuir brother's come home!" she called. Scrambling sounds could be heard from the back room, and after a few seconds Aubrey's three younger half-siblings appeared in the kitchen. Alajos and William were twins, both sturdy boys of twelve, with their father's curly brown hair and mother's gray eyes. Unne, at seven years, was a small version of their mother: petite and delicate like a little bird, with straight strawberry-blond hair and eyes like soft gray clouds. She giggled when Aubrey presented her with a stick of candy as a Midwinter present, and bobbed in a curtsey. His half-brothers accepted their gifts with more dignity, thanking him politely before they retreated again to the back of the house. His mother had brought him a mug of hot drink, and gestured for him to sit down at the battered kitchen table.
"Audwin's out in th' barn," she explained as the took a sip of the drink. "One of the ewes went into labor just 'afore tha' came, so he won't be back for a while." She watched him, gray eyes thoughtful. "Eh, what are ye doin' here, lad?"
He was silent for a moment, trying to decide what to tell her—that he had been driven from the palace with suspicious glances and insults? That he had not passed the Ordeal, and that he was no true knight?
"I had nowhere else to go," he said quietly.
"What d'ye mean?" she asked. "Why, ye're a knight, aren't ye? Haven't they got a place for tha'?"
Aubrey tried to explain to her how the Ordeal took place, and how it had not worked for him, but he could see that his mother understood little of what he said. She shook her head with perplexion when he had finished.
"Ye'd better go see yuir grand-da tomorrow," she said after a moment, "for I cannae advise ye on such things...but come, let's nae think on such things! 'Tis Midwinter, and tha'rt home." She smiled warmly, and touched his shoulder. "I'm glad ye're here, lad."
*****
Lord Hugh of Tirragen watched his grandson across the table, looking the boy over between sips of clean, strong-smelling Yamani green tea. The resemblance was uncanny, he thought—for all the world, it could have been his son Alex, aged eighteen, sitting down again after all these years for breakfast. The midmorning light that came through the latticed window caught the wiry, night-black hair and dun-colored skin the same way; the neat, trim nose and thin lips were the same. Time after time, Alex had sat in that same place, just so—where had he gone? What had gone wrong?
Aubrey stirred uneasily under his grandfather's scrutiny. Lord Hugh shook his head slightly, clearing his thoughts, and took a drink from his teacup to compose himself.
"I'm glad you're home for Midwinter, Aubrey," he said, "but I must admit, I'm a little surprised to see you. I would have thought that your duties in Corus would have kept you there over the season."
The youth's expression became guarded, and oddly ironic. "I have very few duties at the moment," he said. "After the Ord...well, after I was given my shield, I remained in Duke Gareth's service until. There has been no other need for me."
"Hmm...that sounds promising, though," the Lord of Tirragen answered. He did not delude himself with hopes that Aubrey would become a highly visible knight of the realm, not with his dubious parentage, but the possibility of good employment with the Duke of Naxen was a very good prospect indeed. "He was a good knight-master to you, I trust?"
"None better," Aubrey replied, straightening in his chair. "I was very fortunate that he chose me, of all my year-mates. If he hadn't, I don't think anyone else would have taken me on."
Lord Hugh cleared his throat a little, and drank from his tea again. He did not like to admit it, but the boy most probably had a point. "Since we are being frank with each other," he said to his grandson, "I would like to speak with you briefly about the inheritance I intend to pass on to you—no, don't gawp at me like that; if I went to the trouble of enrolling you as a page and recognizing you as a member of the house of Tirragen, I should think it stands to reason that I would provide for you and your mother upon my death." He swallowed, looked at the faint ring at the bottom of his cup, and poured some more tea before he spoke again.
"The truth, Aubrey, is that I am getting on in years; life has dealt me any number of hard blows, and I wish to prepare for any more which may fall. You may recall, when you were perhaps twelve years old, I took you to a small village called Drellbridge?"
"On the river? Yes, I remember."
"There is a small manor house there on the bluffs which has gone uninhabited for the last generation, since the last Lord Seneschal died childless. I have tried the keep the village and environs in good order, but that is extremely difficult from this distance—I can think of no-one better qualified to get it back in order than you, Aubrey. What do you say?"
It took the boy a moment to find words. "I'm speechless, Sir," he gasped finally. "I can't begin to thank you."
"It's the very least I could do for you," Lord Hugh said gruffly. "I suppose we'd best go down and have a look at it, though, eh? I don't want to waste any time...would you be ready to go this afternoon?"
Aubrey nodded. "Of course. Just give me a short while to write a note to Ma, and to pack my things, and I'll be ready."
"Very good," the Lord of Tirragen said. He fell silent, watching his grandson, the living memory of the boy he had lost sight of long ago. Had it been folly to try to correct his own mistakes in Aubrey, to try to restore the good name of the house of Tirragen through Alex's unfortunate bastard son? Had he done the boy a disservice in imposing such a life upon him? Worse still, did the boy hate him for it? Aubrey's dark eyes were turned away; Lord Hugh could find no answers there.
"Duke Gareth gave me leave to come home for a bit," Aubrey improvised, smiling as he dismounted. Gods, but it felt so good to be back here! " 'Ere, I'll take yuir Magli...just tha' get in an' see them!" The squire agreed with a laugh, and waved goodbye to his friend.
He ran across the yard, and beat on the heavy wood of the front door. His mother Signy came to the door, wiping her hands on her plain apron. Her small, triangular face, still pretty despite the years, lit up with pleasure when she saw her son outside. "Aubrey!" she exclaimed, pulling him into the house. "Alajos, William! Unne! Yuir brother's come home!" she called. Scrambling sounds could be heard from the back room, and after a few seconds Aubrey's three younger half-siblings appeared in the kitchen. Alajos and William were twins, both sturdy boys of twelve, with their father's curly brown hair and mother's gray eyes. Unne, at seven years, was a small version of their mother: petite and delicate like a little bird, with straight strawberry-blond hair and eyes like soft gray clouds. She giggled when Aubrey presented her with a stick of candy as a Midwinter present, and bobbed in a curtsey. His half-brothers accepted their gifts with more dignity, thanking him politely before they retreated again to the back of the house. His mother had brought him a mug of hot drink, and gestured for him to sit down at the battered kitchen table.
"Audwin's out in th' barn," she explained as the took a sip of the drink. "One of the ewes went into labor just 'afore tha' came, so he won't be back for a while." She watched him, gray eyes thoughtful. "Eh, what are ye doin' here, lad?"
He was silent for a moment, trying to decide what to tell her—that he had been driven from the palace with suspicious glances and insults? That he had not passed the Ordeal, and that he was no true knight?
"I had nowhere else to go," he said quietly.
"What d'ye mean?" she asked. "Why, ye're a knight, aren't ye? Haven't they got a place for tha'?"
Aubrey tried to explain to her how the Ordeal took place, and how it had not worked for him, but he could see that his mother understood little of what he said. She shook her head with perplexion when he had finished.
"Ye'd better go see yuir grand-da tomorrow," she said after a moment, "for I cannae advise ye on such things...but come, let's nae think on such things! 'Tis Midwinter, and tha'rt home." She smiled warmly, and touched his shoulder. "I'm glad ye're here, lad."
*****
Lord Hugh of Tirragen watched his grandson across the table, looking the boy over between sips of clean, strong-smelling Yamani green tea. The resemblance was uncanny, he thought—for all the world, it could have been his son Alex, aged eighteen, sitting down again after all these years for breakfast. The midmorning light that came through the latticed window caught the wiry, night-black hair and dun-colored skin the same way; the neat, trim nose and thin lips were the same. Time after time, Alex had sat in that same place, just so—where had he gone? What had gone wrong?
Aubrey stirred uneasily under his grandfather's scrutiny. Lord Hugh shook his head slightly, clearing his thoughts, and took a drink from his teacup to compose himself.
"I'm glad you're home for Midwinter, Aubrey," he said, "but I must admit, I'm a little surprised to see you. I would have thought that your duties in Corus would have kept you there over the season."
The youth's expression became guarded, and oddly ironic. "I have very few duties at the moment," he said. "After the Ord...well, after I was given my shield, I remained in Duke Gareth's service until. There has been no other need for me."
"Hmm...that sounds promising, though," the Lord of Tirragen answered. He did not delude himself with hopes that Aubrey would become a highly visible knight of the realm, not with his dubious parentage, but the possibility of good employment with the Duke of Naxen was a very good prospect indeed. "He was a good knight-master to you, I trust?"
"None better," Aubrey replied, straightening in his chair. "I was very fortunate that he chose me, of all my year-mates. If he hadn't, I don't think anyone else would have taken me on."
Lord Hugh cleared his throat a little, and drank from his tea again. He did not like to admit it, but the boy most probably had a point. "Since we are being frank with each other," he said to his grandson, "I would like to speak with you briefly about the inheritance I intend to pass on to you—no, don't gawp at me like that; if I went to the trouble of enrolling you as a page and recognizing you as a member of the house of Tirragen, I should think it stands to reason that I would provide for you and your mother upon my death." He swallowed, looked at the faint ring at the bottom of his cup, and poured some more tea before he spoke again.
"The truth, Aubrey, is that I am getting on in years; life has dealt me any number of hard blows, and I wish to prepare for any more which may fall. You may recall, when you were perhaps twelve years old, I took you to a small village called Drellbridge?"
"On the river? Yes, I remember."
"There is a small manor house there on the bluffs which has gone uninhabited for the last generation, since the last Lord Seneschal died childless. I have tried the keep the village and environs in good order, but that is extremely difficult from this distance—I can think of no-one better qualified to get it back in order than you, Aubrey. What do you say?"
It took the boy a moment to find words. "I'm speechless, Sir," he gasped finally. "I can't begin to thank you."
"It's the very least I could do for you," Lord Hugh said gruffly. "I suppose we'd best go down and have a look at it, though, eh? I don't want to waste any time...would you be ready to go this afternoon?"
Aubrey nodded. "Of course. Just give me a short while to write a note to Ma, and to pack my things, and I'll be ready."
"Very good," the Lord of Tirragen said. He fell silent, watching his grandson, the living memory of the boy he had lost sight of long ago. Had it been folly to try to correct his own mistakes in Aubrey, to try to restore the good name of the house of Tirragen through Alex's unfortunate bastard son? Had he done the boy a disservice in imposing such a life upon him? Worse still, did the boy hate him for it? Aubrey's dark eyes were turned away; Lord Hugh could find no answers there.