Saraband for Two Sisters

At last I slept and I was awakened by Phoebe in the early morning because we were to leave the inn precisely at seven of the clock.

We breakfasted together and talked easily as we had before. He told me of his home in the north, and I told him I could imagine his ancestors defending their homes against the Picts. He had a look of the Dane about him and I said that his ancestors must have come in their long ships and ravaged our coasts. He said that may have been, but they claimed to have come with William the Conqueror, and we talked about war and how it had always existed in the world. I said how much better it might be if these matters could be settled in other ways. As a soldier he could not see how else they could be settled because there would always be people who would not keep their word and the only real way of enforcing law and order was by force.

“It’s strange,” I said, “that to produce peace one must go to war.»

“Antidotes are often like that,” he told me. “I have learned something of the use of herbs, and I find that the effects of one poison are often nullified by the action of another.”

Then he talked about herbs and how he had often used them after battles, and so the breakfast hour passed quickly.

We were to leave at seven and we did-on the stroke. I was amused at his precision. I guessed that unpunctuality was something which would seem almost a crime to him, and I wondered how Angelet fared, because punctuality had never been one of her virtues.

I rode beside him and I thanked him for the courtesy of coming to the Bald Faced Stag to escort me to his home. He waved that aside and said that of course he would come to meet his new sister and it had been a thoroughly enjoyable experience. His face was very earnest as he said, “I hope you will not find it too quiet at Far Flamstead. Later we shall go to my residence in Whitehall and there of course you will meet people from the Court. At this time I feel that Angelet needs to regain her strength, and I wish her to live quietly.”

“Of course. I live in the country, which I imagine is far quieter than Far Flamstead, so you need have no fears on that score.”

“I am sure your coming is going to be of great benefit to us both.” He pointed out the features of the landscape as we passed along and I was struck by the difference in the country from that to which I was accustomed. Our trees bore the marks of their battles with the southwest gales; here in the southeast of England, the trees-lime, plane, horse chestnut-seemed stately; there was a neatness about them as though their branches had been trimmed, and although the grass might seem of less verdant green than ours-but only slightly so-fields often gave the impression that the grass had just been cut. There was almost an elegance about it which our rougher Cornish landscape lacked.

And finally we came to Far Flamstead. I noticed his pride when he pointed it out-a gracious house, clearly built during the early years of the great Queen-red brick, half-timbered with latticed windows surrounded by pleasant gardens. I caught a glimpse of a gray tower and I cried, “That must be the castle of which Angelet told me.”

Because I was so much aware of him and had become most susceptible to his changing moods, I knew he was sorry I had mentioned the castle. There was something about it which disturbed him.

“It’s a ruin, isn’t it?”

“Hardly that. A folly is a better description.”

“Which means something that is useless.”

“Oh, er... yes, of course.”

“Doesn’t it take up space which could be used for other purposes?”

“My ancestor built it and there is a legend about it. It is not to be disturbed.”

.

“Because if it were it would bring ill luck to the family or something like that?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Are you superstitious?”

“We all are at times. Those who declare they are not are often proven to be more so than the rest of us. It is a natural instinct for mankind to be superstitious. Imagine him when understanding first began to dawn on him. He was afraid ... afraid of the moon, afraid of the sun, afraid of the wild beasts which roamed the land, and out of fear superstition grew. It’s a natural instinct.”

“So you believe that while we have something to fear we shall be superstitious about it, I know. There is a legend that while the castle remains all will go well with the house.”

He was silent, and I longed to know the real truth about the castle.

But now we were riding into the courtyard, and there was my sister.

“Bersaba,” she called. I dismounted, and she flung herself into my arms. We talked. How we talked! There was so much to say. She must know what had happened at home since she had left, but she was not more anxious than I to hear what had happened to her.