Saraband for Two Sisters

The sun picked out the sharp points in the granite and made them glisten like little diamonds. It was indeed an impressive sight which never failed to thrill me. Defiant, hold, arrogant, the castle always seemed like a living thing to me, and I never failed to feel proud to be connected with it. Our house was mellow in a way, although its stones might well be as old as those of the castle-or almost; hut Trystan seemed gentle, homely when compared with Castle Paling. Its four battlemented towers proclaimed it for what it was, a fortress which had remained impregnable for six hundred years, for it had been built in the days of the Conqueror although it had been added to over the passing centuries. My imagination went into action every time I beheld it and I could picture the defenders of the castle pouring boiling oil and arrows down on those who would assail it. There were marks on a heavy oaken door with its iron bands-the one which was below the gatehouse-which I was sure had been made by battering rams.

Approaching from the west, two of the towers were hidden from us. Ysella’s which used to be said to be haunted, and Seaward, which was now haunted by Grandfather Casvellyn. I glanced at my mother. She had grown serious and I wondered what pictures the sight of that castle conjured up in her mind. One day I would read of her life there, which must have been very adventurous and unhappy too, for this must be the reason why she was so contented with the present.

Bersaba’s expression had changed too. Her profile was clear-cut; she had high cheekbones and long eyes with golden lashes tipped with dark brown at the edges. I often looked at her and thought: in describing her I am describing myself, for I look the same-or almost. It was only our expressions which could change our faces, for the bone structure and the shape of our features were identical. Our mother had once said: “As you grow older you will look less alike. Experience changes faces and it is hardly likely that you will share the same.”

Now I thought we may be looking different because she changes when we are at Castle Paling. She is more remote, and I almost feel she has succeeded in doing what she is always trying to-move away from me. There used to be times when I had known what she was thinking but now she could shut me out and when we went to Castle Paling it was almost as though she let down some sort of shutter. I often wondered what it was at Castle Paling that made her do that.

As we were riding under the portcullis and into the courtyard I heard Rozen’s voice shouting: “They’re here!”

And then there was Aunt Melanie with Melder and Gwenifer corning out of a side door of the castle. There followed the usual bustle while our horses were taken by the grooms and the maids took our baggage and we were embraced by everybody. Then we went through the guard room to the great hall on the stone walls of which were crossed halberds and pikes and several suits of armor which had been worn by our ancestors.

“Come first into my parlor,” said Melanie, “and then when you are refreshed you can go to your rooms. It is good to see you all. The twins look well.” She smiled at us and I could see she did not know which of us was which. Wine and cakes were already there in that chamber which she had made like the one at Trystan. I was always intrigued when I saw her and my mother together to contemplate that Aunt Melanie’s present home was my mother’s old one and vice versa. We all seemed to talk at once and it was just like any other reunion. We went to our rooms, Bersaba and I sharing as we always did, and Rozen and Gwenifer coming to help us unpack. Gwenifer talked a great deal about the balls that she had attended last season, for although she had not yet reached eighteen, as her elder sister was “out” it was decided that she should join her. Rozen believed that George Kroll was going to speak for her and although it was not a grand match it was one well worth considering.

“There are so few people here,” pouted Rozen. “How I wish we could go to Court!” Court! The very word set us all dreaming of balls and banquets of glittering state occasions and elaborate costumes trimmed with exquisite lace.

Rozen had dressed her hair with a curled fringe which we all admired and she told us that she had heard it was a fashion set by Queen Henrietta Maria. Rozen was very gay and she quite liked George Kroll although he was not the gallant she had hoped for.

“There’s a lot of trouble brewing in Court circles,” said Bersaba. Everyone looked at her. How like Bersaba to say something serious when we all wanted to be frivolous.

She went on : “Father is disturbed about the Ship Money.”

“Ship Money!” cried Rozen in dismay. “We are talking about fashions!»

“My dear cousin,” said Bersaba in one of her superior moods, “if there is trouble between the King and his Parliament there could be no more fashions.»

“Which one are you?” said Rozen quite angrily. “Bersaba, I’m sure.”