‘Bastian’s a proper Jeremiah,’ commented Rozen.
‘There’s nothing so stupid as shutting your eyes to facts simply because they’re unpleasant,’ put in Bersaba, placing herself firmly on Bastian’s side. He smiled at her—a very special smile, and she glowed with pleasure.
‘The King is in disagreement with his ministers,’ began Bastian.
‘My dear boy,’ put in his father, ‘kings have been in disagreement with their ministers ever since there have been kings and ministers.’
‘What other king ever dismissed his parliament and governed—or made some semblance of it—without one for how many years is it? Ten?’
‘We haven’t noticed the change,’ said Uncle Connell, laughing.
‘It’s coming,’ replied Bastian. ‘The King believes he governs by God’s right and there will be people in the country to disagree with that.’
‘Kings … parliaments,’ said Uncle Connell, ‘they seem to have one motive, and that is to pile tax upon tax so that the people can pay for their fancies.’
‘I thought that when Buckingham was murdered that would have changed the situation,’ said my mother.
‘No,’ said Bastian. ‘It is the King himself who must change.’
‘And will he?’ asked Bersaba.
‘He will … or be deposed,’ Bastian replied. ‘No king can continue to reign for long without the goodwill of his people.’
‘Poor man,’ said my mother. ‘How sad his life must be.’
Uncle Connell laughed. ‘My dear Tamsyn,’ he said, ‘the King cares little for the approval of the people. He cares little for the approval of his ministers. He is so sure that he is right, guided by God. Who knows, perhaps he is.’
‘At least his home life is happier now,’ said Aunt Melanie. ‘I believe it was far from that in the beginning. He is a good man and a good father whatever kind of king he is.’
‘It might be more important for him to be a good king,’ murmured Bastian.
Rozen said: ‘They say the Queen is very lively. She loves dancing and fashions.’
‘And meddling,’ added Bastian.
‘She is after all the Queen,’ I said.
‘Poor child,’ put in my mother. ‘It must be a terrible ordeal to be sent away from home at sixteen—younger than you twins.’ She smiled at us. ‘Imagine it … sent to a foreign land to a strange husband … and she a Catholic and he King of a Protestant country. No wonder there was discord and misunderstanding between them. If they have at last come to understand each other, let us be thankful and wish them happiness.’
‘I do with all my heart,’ Melanie supported her.
‘They won’t find it until the King listens to his ministers and we have a parliament to make our laws,’ said Bastian.
‘We are so far from the Court,’ said Melanie, ‘that what happens there hardly touches us. Why, we don’t even hear of it until months after it has happened!’
‘Like the ripples on a pool, in due course they reach its edge,’ Bastian reminded us.
‘How is Grandfather Casvellyn?’ asked my mother, changing the subject.
‘As usual,’ answered Melanie. ‘He knows you are coming, so I suggest when we have finished at the table you go to see him. Otherwise he will complain that you have slighted him.’
My mother nodded and smiled.
‘Melder will go up with you and she will see that you don’t stay too long.’
‘He has been rather fractious today,’ said Melder.
‘Isn’t he always?’ asked Connell.
‘More so than usual,’ answered Melder. ‘But he will be pleased to see you.’
I smiled faintly and saw that Bersaba was doing the same. Neither of us could recall any occasion when our grandfather had shown his pleasure in our presence.
Bersaba and my mother and I went out with Melder, and as we passed through the narrow corridor to the door which led from Nonna’s Tower to Seaward, my hand was gripped in a firm grasp and my fingers pressed warmly. I turned. Bastian was beside me. There was some meaning in the pressure of his fingers.
Grandfather Casvellyn glowered at us as we entered. Although I was prepared for him and knew what he looked like, I always experienced a slight shock when I came face to face with him. His legs were always covered with a rug and I imagined that they would be terrible to behold, mangled as they had been. His shoulders were so broad and from his waist up he looked so powerful, which made it more of a tragedy. I often thought that if he had been a little man it wouldn’t have seemed so bad. He had the fiercest eyes I had ever seen. They seemed to start out of his head and the whites all round the pupil were visible. When he turned them upon me I felt as though I were facing Medusa and should not have been surprised to feel my limbs turning to stone. I would always think of the night he had gone out in a boat—strong and well—and been caught in those cruel Devil’s Teeth which had made of him the man he was.
He turned his chair and wheeled it towards us.
‘So you’re here,’ he said, looking at my mother.
‘Yes, Father,’ she answered. She did not seem in the least afraid of him, which always surprised me in someone so mild and peace-loving. The thought occurred to me that she knew something … something he would rather she did not know and that gave her power over him. Being our mother she would only use that power not to be afraid.
‘And these are your girls. Where’s the boy?’
‘He has work at home. His father may be arriving home and someone must be there to greet him.’
A sneer curved Grandfather’s lips. ‘On East India business is it?’
‘But of course,’ said my mother placidly.
‘And these are the girls … two of them … like as two peas in a pod. It was like you to get two girls. We need boys. There’s your brother with all those girls and only one boy to show for years of marriage.’
‘It’s a custom in the family. You had but one, Father, so you can’t complain of Connell.’
‘We’re let down by our wives. We can get boys but not on them.’
‘You have little to complain of. Melanie has been a good daughter to you and Melder looks after you well.’
‘Oh yes, I must count my blessings in my own home. I must be grateful because I am allowed to live under my own roof. What do those girls think they’re doing standing there like dummies? Come here and let me look at you.’
Our mother drew us forward.
‘Do they need you to hold their hands while they beard the old lion in his den?’ shouted Grandfather. ‘Don’t get too near, my children. I might eat you.’
He was terrifying close. His brows grew thick and bushy and under them his eyes were piercing. He stretched out a hand and gripped my arm.
‘Which one are you?’
‘Angelet,’ I answered.
‘And this one?’
‘Bersaba.’
‘Outlandish names,’ he said.
‘Good Cornish names,’ answered my mother.
‘One named for the Angels and one after a woman who was not such an angel. Bathsheba, that’s the origin.’ He was very interested in origins of words and old customs of the countryside. Linnet, his wife, had been from Devon, but he was proud of his Cornish blood. He peered at Bersaba and his eyes travelled all over her as though he were assessing her capabilities. She returned his gaze fearlessly. Then he gave my sister a little push. ‘Growing up,’ he said. ‘Marry well and get sons.’
‘I shall do my best,’ said Bersaba.
I could see that he liked her and that she interested him more than I did, which was strange because he seemed to sense some difference in us which others couldn’t see.
‘And don’t take long about it. Let me see my great-grandchildren before I die.’
‘The twins are only seventeen, Father,’ said my mother.
He gave a long throaty chuckle and stretching out a hand gave Bersaba a push.
‘They’re ready,’ he said. ‘Ripe and ready.�
�
Bersaba blushed bright red.
My mother said: ‘We’re staying here for a few days, Father. We’ll come and see you again.’
‘One of the penalties of calling here,’ said our grandfather. ‘You’re expected to take in the old ogre while you enjoy yourselves with the rest of the family.’
‘Why, you know one of our reasons for coming is to see you,’ protested our mother.
‘Your mother was always one for observing the conventions,’ said my grandfather, ‘but I doubt you’ll follow in her footsteps.’ He was looking at Bersaba.
Melder said: ‘Well, we’ll go down now.’
‘Oh yes,’ cried Grandfather. ‘The watchdog thinks it time you left before I show my fangs. She’d draw them if she could. She’s the worst sort of female, your cousin Melder. Don’t grow up like her. A shrew, she is. She’s a woman who takes sides against a man. She’s got a grudge against us because no man wants her as a wife.’
‘Now, Father,’ protested my mother, ‘I am sure …’
‘You are sure … There’s one thing I can be sure of where you’re concerned. You’re going to say what you think is the right thing no matter if it means turning your back on the truth. That creature there is scarce a woman, for woman was brought into the world to please man and be fruitful …’
Melder showed no sign that she was hurt by this tirade, and indeed he was not looking at her; his eyes were on us and particularly, I fancied, Bersaba.
He started to laugh suddenly and his laughter was as frightening as his anger.
Melder had opened the door.
‘Well, we’ll be along to see you tomorrow,’ my mother said as though it had been the most pleasant of visits.
He was still laughing when the door shut on him.
‘In one of his bad moods today,’ commented my mother.
‘He’s in them every day,’ answered Melder in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘The sight of some young girls sets him off on those lines. He seems to find some consolation for his immobility in abusing me. It’s of no account … if it eases him.’
‘There’s no need for you to take us in tomorrow,’ said my mother.
I smiled inwardly. I knew she did not like us to hear that talk about women’s function in life which the sight of Melder seemed to arouse in him.
She wanted to protect us from the world for as long as she could, but as for us, like most children, we were far more knowledgeable of such things than our mother realized. How could we help it? We had heard the servants talk; we had seen them go off into the woods together; we knew that Bessie Camus had become pregnant and our mother had arranged for her to marry one of the grooms. We knew that babies were not born under gooseberry bushes.
Our own home, where life ran smoothly and there was complete accord between our parents, was different even from life at Castle Paling. Our cousins should be more knowledgeable in this matter of the relationship between men and women than we were. Rozen had said: ‘Father has been unfaithful all his married life. Whenever a new servant comes he assesses her. He thinks he has a right to her as he is lord of the castle. Grandfather was like that. Of course, if he is first he finds a husband for the girl after, and he’ll give them a cottage so she gets a sort of dowry. That’s why so many of the children around are our half-brothers and sisters.’
It was hard for us to reconcile this way of life with that lived by our own parents; but we were aware that it happened, which brings me back to the fact that we were not as innocent as our mother believed us to be.
Lying in bed that night I tried to talk to Bersaba about all this.
‘He said we were ripe and ready,’ I announced with a giggle.
‘Grandfather is the sort of man who sees all women as possible bedfellows for some man or other.’
‘You’d think he would have lost interest in all that now.’
‘I don’t suppose people like that ever do.’
‘He was looking at you all the time,’ I reminded her.
‘What nonsense.’
‘Oh yes, he was. It was almost as though he knew something.’
‘I’m going to sleep,’ said Bersaba.
‘I wonder why he looked at you like that?’
‘What …?’ she said sleepily.
‘I said I wondered why he looked at you like that.’
‘He didn’t. Good night.’
And although I wanted to go on talking she pretended to be asleep.
Two days passed. We went for rides with our cousins and sometimes we explored the castle. I went down to the sea and looked for seashells and pieces of semi-precious stones on the beaches. We had quite a collection of raw amethyst, topaz and interesting quartzes which we had found from time to time. I used to love to stand on the beach while the waves thundered round me and sent their spray over me, and I would shriek with delight as I stepped back just in time to avoid getting drenched.
I liked to lean against the castle walls and marvel at their strength. They and the sea were like two mighty opponents—the work of man and the work of nature. Of course the sea was the more powerful; it could encroach on the land and sweep over that mighty edifice; but even then it would not completely destroy it. Grandfather Casvellyn had defied the sea and the sea had won that battle—but not completely, for he still lived in the Seaward Tower to shake his fist at the mighty monster.
Bersaba had once loved to collect stones on the beach, but now she had lost interest in that and said it was childish. She liked to ride—so did I. On our first day we went off with the cousins and it was not long before we noticed that Bersaba was not with us. She had a passion for getting lost. Rozen and Gwenifer had come with us and there were two grooms.
I said: ‘She will join us or go back to the castle. She likes to be alone sometimes.’
We didn’t worry about her as my mother would have done.
I was right. She did come back to the castle. She said she had lost us but had no intention of curtailing her ride just because of that. She knew the countryside well and was not afraid of meeting brigands, for she reckoned she could gallop faster than they could.
‘You know Mother doesn’t like us to ride alone.’
‘My dear Angel,’ she answered, ‘we are growing up. There may be lots of things we do of which Mother would not approve.’
I knew that she was slipping away from me then and the invisible cord which bound us together was stretching. She had become a stranger with secrets. One day, I thought, it will break, and then we shall be as ordinary sisters.
The next day when I was going to ride again I picked up her safeguards in mistake for my own and I saw that there was bracken clinging to them and mud on the edge of the skirt.
‘She must have fallen,’ I thought.
She came upon me staring at her skirts.
‘Look!’ I cried. ‘What happened? Did you take a toss?’
‘What nonsense!’ she said, snatching the garments from me. ‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘These skirts have been in contact with earth, sister. That’s clear enough.’
She was thoughtful for less than a second, then she said: ‘Oh, I know. It was when I was out yesterday. There was a lovely pool and it was so peaceful I had the urge to sit by it for a while, so I dismounted and sat there.’
‘You ought not to have done that … and alone. Suppose someone … some man … ?’
She laughed at me and turned away.
‘We’ve got to grow up one day, Angelet,’ she said, brushing the skirt. ‘That’s what it was,’ she went on, and hung the skirts in a cupboard. ‘And what are you doing examining my things?’
‘I wasn’t examining them. I thought they were mine.’
‘Well, now you know they’re not.’
She turned away and I was puzzled.
The following day a strange thing happened. It was midday and we were at dinner in the great hall, for Aunt Melanie said that as there were so many of us it was better to take our meals there rath
er than in the dining-parlour which was used for a smaller company.
There had always been a big table at Castle Paling. Grandfather Casvellyn had set the custom for hearty eating and Connell had followed it. In our house my father’s family had been more abstemious, and although there had been plenty of food in our larders should visitors call unexpectedly, we did not consume the large meals which they did at Castle Paling. Aunt Melanie took great pride in her stillroom and she had Melder to help her and was constantly urging us to try some delicacy or other which she or Melder had concocted from old recipes with little additions of their own.
My mother and Aunt Melanie were discussing the rival properties of the herbs they both grew with such assiduous care, and Aunt Melanie was saying how she had discovered that a solution acquired from the juice of buttercups gave Rozen such a fit of sneezing that it had cleared her head of a very unpleasant cold from which she was suffering, when we heard sound of arrival from without.
‘Visitors—’ said Uncle Connell, looking along the table from his end to where Aunt Melanie was seated.
‘I wonder who,’ she answered.
One of the servants came running in. ‘Travellers from afar, my lady,’ said the man.
Aunt Melanie rose and hurried out of the hall, Uncle Connell following her.
We at the table heard cries of amazement, and in a short time my uncle and aunt reappeared and with them were two women—and in that first moment I was aware of their unusual appearance. I often think, looking back, that life should prepare us in some way, that when events occur which are the forerunner of great changes which will affect our lives we should be given a little nudge, some warning, some premonition.
But it rarely happens so, and as I sat at that table and looked at the newcomers—one a woman of my mother’s age and with her another of my own, or a little older—I was quite unaware that their coming was going to prove one of the most momentous events of our lives.
Aunt Melanie was crying out: ‘Tamsyn. You know who this is. Senara!’
My mother stood up; she turned first pale and then rosy red. She stared for a few minutes before she and the elder of the two women rushed towards each other and embraced.
Witch from the Sea Page 40
