Your friend forever and brother,
Bump the Grump
Borsen passed this along with a grin and then hesitated briefly before opening the envelope addressed in Menders’ hand.
My dear son,
I’m in the process of hurting you and I can never apologize enough for doing it. I know Kaymar is going to give you a more balanced version of what has gone on than I possibly could, so I will let his explanation stand. I do feel, however, as Kaymar does not, that Katrin shouldn’t come to Erdahn right now, for reasons physical and mental. This isn’t just my imagination – she is running a fever and I want to avoid a relapse.
I am hoping that we’ll return with you and Stevahn after your two weeks here, or failing that, a little later in the summer.
Please find some forgiveness for me, Borsen. So often I must choose one over the other. I had hoped it would never come to you. I’ve managed to keep you apart from this sort of dilemma until now. Please know I am incredibly proud of you, and always remain
Your loving father,
Papa
Borsen handed the letter on to Stevahn and used a finger to wipe at his eyes under his glasses. He did the same several times before he had control of himself. Stevahn put an arm around his shoulders.
He turned away to his desk, picked up his pen and wrote.
Dear Everybody,
All forgiven and love to everyone. We can’t change what has happened – we go on from here. Don’t fret. We will see you in a week.
Love,
B
Then he drew another sheet of paper over, and wrote swiftly.
Dear Papa,
Yes, it hurt but I understand. We’ll just manage it another time. Please don’t feel you need to apologize – not to me. Not ever to me.
I love you.
Your son,
Borsen
“This one goes to Uncle only,” Borsen said, folding and sealing it before handing it to Kaymar, who tucked it away with the other in his jacket pocket. “Do not read it.”
To his own horror, Borsen suddenly found himself shaking uncontrollably, his eyes burning with an unwelcome rush of tears. A hitching, childish sob burst out of his throat. He clapped his hands over his mouth before he could humiliate himself further.
He turned toward Stevahn, burying his face in his shirt front, but even that couldn’t muffle the fact that he was crying, like he had in the cold dark as his mother lay dying, when he was only six years old.
***
Stevahn sat in a comfortable armchair at home.
He knew he had led a charmed life. Tragedy had only touched his family once, the death of his younger brother from putrid fever. All other family crises had been run of the mill – tiffs between his parents, Stellia staying out too late with suitors and causing a flurry of concern and scolding, poor school marks on his part that got him a severe talking-to.
Stevahn’s family was blessedly normal. They had given him the ultimate security of unconditional love and acceptance. He had wanted for nothing, yet had been handled with enough discipline not to be spoiled.
He’d never thought of being from placid, even dull people as a blessing before – until he had met Borsen.
Between Borsen himself, Menders, Katrin and Kaymar, Stevahn now knew the entire tragic story of Borsen’s childhood and had surmised other things as well from his knowledge of history and a few facts Borsen let drop about the town he’d lived in at the time of his mother’s death. He knew Borsen had been subjected to the worst sorts of neglect, privation and abuse. He fully understood his bonded’s intense loyalty and devotion to Menders, who had replaced Borsen’s hateful father as an almost godlike figure.
It all made for Borsen being a person of intense emotional extremes. No-one could laugh and enjoy a joke as Borsen could. Unfortunately, the negative side of the emotional spectrum took a bitter toll on the young man. Stevahn was shaken by the depth of hurt Borsen had displayed that morning. He had never seen anyone cry like that, not even his mother when his brother had died. No matter how hard Borsen tried, the tears kept flowing down while the anguished sobs, seeming to have a life of their own, jerked from his throat.
Then, after ten minutes, Borsen drew on something deep within and gained control of himself. He rose to his feet, took handkerchiefs proferred by both Stevahn and Kaymar, wiped his face and faced them both.
“What the hells we’re going to do with enough plucked chickens to feed an army, I don’t know. I’m going home early. Coming with me, gentlemen?”
Once home, Borsen excused himself and then retreated to the big bathtub, leaving Stevahn and Kaymar downstairs.
Kaymar paced back and forth across the room.
“I’m fed up with this, I’m asking for another posting,” he muttered furiously. “Why? Why hurt this boy, cousin?”
Stevahn realized Kaymar was giving way to his own emotional difficulties and decided to cut the monologue short. Borsen had told him that at times Kaymar began to talk to himself and could become entirely caught up in it.
“I could do with a drink,” Stevahn said. “Why not pour out for both of us?”
Kaymar blinked and then shook his head.
“Don’t mind me raving, it’s a rotten habit,” he said. “What’s your poison – whisky?”
When Kaymar returned with the drinks, Stevahn remained seated. Kaymar continued prowling around the room.
“Gods, I wish I had made up some lie,” Kaymar sighed, taking a sip. “If I’d known he’d fall apart like that, I would have held a gun on Menders and made him come. I never thought it would mean so much to him.”
“It does. You’re all his family. He’ll come around, Kaymar. I find it’s best to let Borsen work things out. Eventually he’ll talk it out with you or me, or with Varnia. His wounds are deep and they’re never going to heal completely. I accepted that before I bonded with him and I accept it now. However, I don’t feel that what I call ‘the royal situation’ is good for Borsen and I’m glad he’s at a remove from it,” Stevahn explained.
Kaymar’s blue gaze was startled as it turned on him.
“It isn’t good for anyone, my friend,” Kaymar answered. “Not since the Queen got hold of Katrin and strung her up. Menders – Stevahn, Menders is my cousin and closer to me than a brother, but he has his failings. When those dear to him are threatened, even if it’s only in his mind, he wants to go to ground. He’s like a chicken, thinking that if he hovers over his brood, the hawk will never know they’re there. It’s an obsession and I don’t know how to begin to help him break it. He didn’t get the nickname Papa Hen for nothing.”
Kaymar took another swallow of whisky.
“But I never thought he would hurt Borsen,” he continued quietly. “Menders worships him, Stevahn. Borsen is the son he denied himself and he adores him. I never thought if it came to a choice, that Menders would hurt Borsen – but he has.”
“The reaction you saw isn’t only about that, Kaymar,” Stevahn replied. “That goes back to Borsen’s mother dying in Linzt. This was the second time an adored parent has, in a manner of speaking, abandoned him – his mother by dying, Menders by hurting him today. I can’t say it’s entirely a bad thing. Borsen would have to know, sooner or later, that Menders has his flaws and faults.”
Stevahn took a sip of his drink and then realized Kaymar had gone the color of clay. He sprang to his feet and steadied the smaller man, lowering him into an armchair.
“Your heart?” he asked bluntly. Kaymar shook his head and reached for the glass Stevahn had taken from him. After a deep draught of whisky, he began to regain his normal coloring.
“Linzt? He told you he was at Linzt?”
“When speaking of his mother’s death, yes,” Stevahn answered quietly, taking his seat again.
“I had no idea. He’s never said – he’s told me how his mother died and that his father took him but…” Kaymar choked slightly and took another deep pull at his glass. “It had to be that winter…”
“It was. Linzt was burned to the ground in the spring. Borsen remembers the fire.”
Kaymar put his head in his hands.
“Aylam,” he whispered. “Please say he doesn’t know. It would break him.”
“You don’t give Menders enough credit. He knows. He listened to Borsen speak of it on the nights he woke up screaming as a boy. Borsen told me himself.”
Kaymar rose and poured himself another stiff drink. He waved the decanter at Stevahn, who shook his head.
“I was going to tear Menders’ skin off and hand it to him when I take that note from Borsen back,” Kaymar said. “Now – he’s had more than enough pain. That little boy… that poor little boy… Stev, if you’d seen Borsen when he came to us, like a starveling bird, afraid of his own shadow… he was at Linzt!”
“That young man is the bravest person I have ever met,” Stevahn said firmly, his voice drawing Kaymar back from an invisible precipice.
They were silent then, having referenced the name of a town so synonymous with horror that its surviving inhabitants had burned it to the ground after a winter spoken of only in hushed tones.
***
“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do with all those chickens,” Varnia said firmly, looking at Kaymar, Stevahn and Borsen. “We’re going to cook them tomorrow, just as we planned, and take them over to the orphans, who will have a wonderful dinner and be very happy.”
Borsen smiled suddenly.
“I love you,” he said, putting his arms around her.
“You got carried away,” she responded, holding him close. “It’s a disappointment but no harm done if Katrin doesn’t sicken. It’s the upset giving her that fever. We’ll all go at the end of the week and spend a happy vacation at The Shadows and then if she’s well, they’ll come back here.”
Borsen laughed and turned toward Stevahn and Kaymar.
“This is the person who always puts things to rights,” he said.
“You have a right to cry – these two years and more have been terrible for everyone and at this point, no-one is reacting sensibly,” Varnia said. “Now, I have a pot of Seven Spice Soup ready, fresh bread, cheese, meat, coffee and a pot of wicked hot mustard for Kaymar. Be seated, gentlemen.”
“Marry me?” Kaymar smiled, giving her a melting look.
“Don’t rattle me or you’ll get your soup in your lap,” Varnia said, completely unfussed. She let Borsen seat her and began taking their bowls to fill with soup.
***
Kaymar walked into Menders’ office and handed him the sealed note from Borsen. Menders unfolded and read it.
“I need to talk to you,” Kaymar said quietly.
“Of course.”
“First, how is Katrin?”
“Franz had her to go to bed. It’s a precaution but she is feverish,” Menders replied evenly. “We’ll postpone for now but I intend to take her to Erdahn when Borsen and Stevahn return there.”
Kaymar nodded and deliberately sat opposite Menders.
“Borsen broke down and cried after he wrote the note,” he began. Menders’s face went cold.
“No, Aylam, I’m not blaming you for that,” Kaymar rushed to continue. “It sparked some memories of his mother’s death. He had his cry, went home to a hot bath and then ate an enormous dinner. He’s a powerful man and he’s bonded to another. He’s fine – but it worries me. I think you need to see him – alone. As it turns out, you did the right thing, but it hurt him deeply. There are scars from his past, Aylam. Stevahn says they’ll never heal and I believe him.”
Menders drew a deep breath.
“I had Katrin send Borsen to Erdahn,” he said, his voice still soft and full of pain. “He was going to give up his business plans to stay with her. I asked her to intercede. She did, even though it meant she was giving up her closest confidant. I sent him away at the time when I most wanted him here, with me. I do not make the decisions I do out of selfishness or favoritism, Kaymar. I am exhausted and heartbroken over this entire sorry affair and I made the best decision I could.”
“I know.”
Menders looked at his cousin for the first time since he’d come into the office. Kaymar managed a smile.
“Go see him, Cuz. I’m your second. I can make sure the place doesn’t burn down, that wolves don’t get in, that Menders’ Men don’t decide to go on strike. Ifor can take you there and back in one day, so you’re not away overnight. I think it’s important for you to take your eyes off The Shadows for a few hours – and I know it’s important for you to see Borsen alone.”
Menders hesitated.
“Be as good to yourself as you are to the rest of us,” Kaymar said with a touch of snap, rising from his chair.
***
Menders stopped short as he walked up the Promenade from the docks, where he had just come ashore from The Shadows’ steam launch. He had taken Kaymar’s advice, setting out for Erdahn with little planning.
He’d expected to find Borsen at the store. He hadn’t expected to see the young man leaning on his walking stick, surveying an array of crates and chatting companionably with a drayman. He had not yet seen Menders.
The city sophistication Borsen had acquired during his time in Erdahn was impressive. He’d always dressed well from the time he learned to sew and began making his own suits, but now he combined taste with daring, wearing clothing both unique and striking. His suit, conservative enough in cut, was made from a rich, dark bronze wool. His hat was made to match, his jewelry was heavy gold. No wonder the rumors about Borsen being a Hetzophian prince proliferated so readily.
Menders might have stood there watching for some time, but the drayman looked up and caught him at it. He said something to Borsen, who turned, blinked in surprise and then smiled broadly.
With a parting word to the drayman, Borsen walked rapidly to Menders, looking up at him through his glasses with an expression of delight.
“Papa! I didn’t expect to find you lurking around on this end of the Promenade,” the young man said, shaking Menders’ extended hand and then tucking his own hand in the crook of Menders’ arm as they started to walk up the Promenade.
“I wanted come and see you,” Menders said, deciding the direct approach would be best. “Kaymar told me how upset you were. I wanted to see how you are.”
“Kaymar needs to mind his business,” Borsen sighed.
“He is. His business is to look out for me and mine. He was right too. Do you have time to stop for some lunch?” Menders asked.
“Very much so. Stevahn is at the bank and since I had already arranged to be away from the store this week, I’m taking advantage of that,” Borsen answered. “I know of a good Samorsan place, Papa, very private, if that would suit.”
The restaurant menu was enticing and Menders was glad to feel a twinge of appetite. He’d been almost nauseated since the blow-up at The Shadows.
“Now, why the tears?” Menders asked, after their orders had been taken.
“I’ve thought about it,” Borsen said slowly. “I’m not entirely sure. It meant a great deal to me that you and Auntie and Katrin would come and stay at my home – and that Katrin would see the store. But something made me remember Mama’s death.”
He looked up at Menders and suddenly, all the self-assurance he displayed was stripped away.
“I was six years old again, blind and alone,” he said softly. “Just for a little while.”
Menders picked up his water glass and swallowed determinedly. The look in Borsen’s eyes…
He was amazed as Borsen suddenly became the confident young businessman as the waiter set his starter in front of him. As always, he thanked the man sincerely and then launched into the food as if he hadn’t eaten in a week – highly unlikely with Varnia taking care of him.
“Son,” he said abruptly, startling Borsen. Menders drew a deep breath.
“I had to make a decision when I saw the state Katrin was in – and as it turned out, it was the right one. She�
�s been sick and needed the time to rest and get over a bout of fever. But now I see that another of my children needs me to make a decision.”
Borsen put his fork down, his dark almond shaped eyes never leaving Menders’ face.
“I asked Katrin to persuade you to leave The Shadows and get started here in Erdahn,” Menders said after a moment. Borsen’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t want you to become entangled in her situation, as Hemmett has. Though I really wanted the comfort of having you at home, I knew if I didn’t let you go, you would become captive to Katrin’s title like the rest of us.”
The waiter was approaching their table again, but saw a serious conversation going on and turned away quickly, much to Menders’ relief.
“On the day Kaymar reminded me that Katrin had come of age, I realized I was no longer bound by the orders of the Queen. For one moment, I thought of leaving The Shadows. I thought of taking Eiren and you, and going to live somewhere else, as a normal family, free of the Royal Family and everything that goes with it.”
Borsen seemed to have stopped breathing, hanging on every word.
“Of course, I wouldn’t do that,” Menders went on quietly. “Katrin was young for her years and had nowhere to go but to Court, which is the last place a decently raised young girl should be. She is my child and I love her with all my heart. I wouldn’t abandon her. Of the three of you, she is the least able to choose her own destiny and forge her own way, simply because of who she is. You are capable of making your own life. Hemmett has the connections and training to make his way anywhere in Mordania. But Katrin – what can she be but a Princess of the Royal House? The accident of her birth has blighted her opportunities, Borsen. She needs me more than you or Hemmett do.”
Borsen nodded, slowly and silently.
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 55
