Millbank Manor, 19th-20th December 1714

The smell of fresh pine and holly filled the Great Hall as I stepped inside. It was a few days before Christmas, and Eton had broken up about a week before. I’d then had to stay with friends in Windsor until my father had sent transport to bring me back to Millbank for the festive season. But now, finally, I was home. I looked around the hall I’ve always loved, and then crossed to warm myself by the huge log fire, sitting on one of the seats in the fireplace. As I did, Max, my pet retriever, came bounding into the room, and welcomed me home with playful barking and licking my hands. At least someone was pleased to see me.

Father hadn’t been around when I’d returned, as dusk was falling. Pargitter, the butler, had informed me that he had been held up in London and would be returning the following morning. In truth, I was slightly relieved. Since the discovery that I was Talented, in October of the previous year, Father and I had been less close than when I had been younger. I hated the distance that had grown up between us, and I wished I understood why it was the case. So many other people I had met since then, including most of my teachers at Eton, went out of the way to point out to my what a gift it was, and that my father should be proud of me.

“Welcome home, Master Robert,” said Mary, coming in, a tray containing a steaming tankard in her hands, “I thought you might be wanting this, given how cold it is outside.”

She crossed to me, and waited while I stood and gratefully took the steaming hot toddy from the tray.

“Thank you, Mary. Just what the doctor ordered.”

“You’ve shot up this term,” she commented, and I realised that for the first time I was looking down on her. Before she’d been taller than me, although by the end of the summer I could almost see eye to eye with her. Now she was probably a couple of inches shorter than I was. But then, I’d realised that during term I had become one of the tallest in my class, too.

“You’ve turned into a right young gentleman. You even sound different,” she said, then added “You need more meat on your bones, though, sir. You’re as thin as a rake. Don’t they feed you at that posh school.”

“I’m sure a fortnight of your cooking will see me right,” I answered, and to my surprise she blushed. It made me feel uncomfortable, for some reason, and in the end I decided to change the subject. “Who else is coming this Christmas?”

“Lord McCauley and his family will be arriving on the twenty-second, and Lord Brandon and Lady Alexandra, and Colonel Parys will be joining yourself and the Duke on Christmas Eve. There are also parties scheduled for Christmas Eve and after the Boxing Day Hunt.”

“The usual suspects then,” I said, pleased at least that Elizabeth would be here, although by the sound of it, so would her annoying little brother Christopher, who was still only about five, and yet still insisted on trying to get involved in everything Elizabeth and I wanted to do. But one name was missing from the list, one I always hoped to hear, albeit that I was never really surprised when I didn’t.

“Let me guess. My mother won’t be present?” I asked, quietly. Christmas always made me think of her: it had been Christmas Eve the last time I’d seen her, although now, thirteen years later, I could barely remember her face. Part of me still hoped that perhaps one day she would return, although as the years passed, the hope faded.

“No, Master Robert, I’m sorry,” Mary answered, her expression reserved.

She’d been a junior maid when my mother had disappeared, so she probably remembered her better than I did. And yet she, like everyone else in the house from my father downwards, always evaded answering when I asked anything about her. The conspiracy of silence was sufficient that over the years I’d begun to wonder if what I had witnessed that long ago night, without understanding it at the time, was the precursor to a murder. And that the reason why I had never seen my mother again after that night, was that my father had killed her once he knew I was no longer watching. Certainly, I had never even heard of anyone who had ever seen her again after Christmas Eve in the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and one, and as I’d got older, I’d realised how unusual that was, given that she had been a Duchess of the Realm.

“Never mind,” I replied, with a shrug, putting my morbid thoughts aside, “I didn’t really expect otherwise. How’s Joe?”

Joe was her son – her only child, in fact – who was a couple of years younger than me. We’d played together occasionally when we had been much younger, although my father had never really approved of my ‘fraternising with the staff’, as it were. However, he had at least made sure that Joe had had the opportunity to go to the village school, and he had then managed to get a scholarship to Worcester Cathedral choir school.

“He’s well,” she replied, “he’s singing a solo at the cathedral carol service this Christmas.”

“Please, give him my best wishes when you see him.”

“Aye, sir, I will.”

She bobbed a curtsey, and headed back towards the kitchen, leaving me alone in the Great Hall. I sat myself back down to consume the hot toddy, Max curled up beside my feet, and one of the manor house cats observing me from the opposite bench. And I sat in silence, listening to the fire crackling in the hearth, I wished, not for the first time, that I knew why my parents’ marriage had self-destructed so spectacularly.

* * * * *

The next day I rose, breakfasted, then went out to the stables and had Klea, the pony my father had given me a couple of years before, saddled so I could go out for a ride. As I swung myself up into the saddle, I realised that the stirrups were far too short, and lengthened them, but I couldn’t help coming to the inevitable conclusion that along with everything else I’d grown out of, I was really too tall for her as well. Still, my father would probably be highly displeased if I took out one if his own riding horses, so I decided to stick with my original plan, and make the best of it. After all, it was a fine, clear day and it seemed a shame to be cooped up inside.

I rode around the estate for a good hour, seeing how much had or hadn’t changed in the three months since I’d last been home, before heading home for an early lunch. Looking at the size of the spread, on top of breakfast, I realised that Mary hadn’t been joking when she’d decided it was her personal mission to fatten me up for Christmas. I almost understood how the geese down on Goodman Callaway’s holding felt.

After lunch, I headed for one of the drawing rooms with a sketch book, and placed myself strategically beside one of the windows, looking out over the terrace to the formal gardens. One of the things Eton had brought out in me, which I hadn’t been expecting, was that apparently I was a natural artist, and I’d come to realise that sketching was a good way of relaxing. I had half completed a study of one of the oak trees in the garden, bare against the weak winter sunshine, when I heard the servants out in the hall, and I knew my father had returned.

I put down the sketchbook, and then got to my feet. Time to play the dutiful son welcoming his father home after a trip. He strode inside with the energy of a whirlwind, stripping off his fur coat and all but throwing it to Pargitter, and for a moment he seemed more…vital…than I had ever seen him. It was almost as if I was witnessing a side of him which he’d never revealed to me properly before: perhaps a dimension to him which rarely came out. From his carriage and ease of movement, he seemed to be in a good mood, and in his hand was a thin leather attaché case.

As he cast his glance around the hall, his eyes met mine, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he smiled. A warm, genuine smile, like he had given me when I’d been much younger. Then, to my surprise, he crossed to me, put down the case, and embraced me in a very un-Fatherlike hug. Startled, but strangely pleased, I returned it, before he stepped back, hands on my shoulders, appraising me. As he did, it felt to me as if there was some kind of aura about him that I hadn’t seen before, although it seemed to be fading rapidly.

“You’ve grown, Robert,” he commented.

“So I’ve been told,” I answered, but as I met his gaze, I realised that now I was only a couple of inches shorter than his five-ten, “you’re looking well.”

“As are you,” he answered, “although being the recipient of good news always helps.”

“Good news?”

He looked at me, as if wondering for a moment whether to share something with me, and then shrugged.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he answered, finally, “just some family business. But still, it’s a great weight off my mind.”

“Of course,” I replied, knowing better than to pry, but I had seen his eyes flick to the attaché case as he’d said it, and that piqued my curiosity.

He ordered the servants to bring in his luggage, then picked up the attaché case.

“Let me put this in the study, and then you can tell me how the term has gone.”

It was so unlike him to be interested in what I’d been doing, that all I could do was nod, and then watch as he headed through into the library, and his study beyond.

* * * * *

He was still in a good mood that evening, when he decreed that it was time I was in bed. However, my curiosity hadn’t abated, and once everyone was asleep, I had every intention of going downstairs to find out what it was in the case that had put him into such a good mood. Of course his study would probably be locked, but four terms at boarding school had taught me how to circumvent that little inconvenience.

I lay awake until I heard the grandfather clock in the hall chiming one, and I was sure that I hadn’t heard anyone moving around for a while, and then slipped on some breeches and a dark shirt, picked up a candle, and moved quietly to the door.

From previous nocturnal excursions, usually to sneak food out of the kitchen, I knew which stairs would creak, and was very careful to avoid them. I made my way cautiously downstairs, letting myself into the library as quietly as I could, and then headed for the door of father’s private study. Very gently, I tried the door, but as I had expected, it was locked. Too curious to worry that what I was doing was wrong, I slipped a piece of shaped metal I had prepared for the purpose into the lock and began to work. A short while later, I was rewarded with a click as the lock yielded to my persuasion, and I gently pushed the door open.

The attaché case was lying on his desk. I crossed the room quietly, and opened it. Inside seemed to be two documents, although they were made of a thick material that seemed to be parchment. Like the old deeds I had sometimes seen Father working on. Both had been sealed, but the seals had been broken. However, traces of the imprints remained. On one I saw a rampant unicorn; on the other, the head of a serpent. Neither device was familiar to me, although I had a nagging suspicion that they ought to be.

Vary carefully, I took the one with the unicorn seal and opened it. And found that I couldn’t read a word of it. The language was something like Latin, or possibly Old English, or maybe something else again. I couldn’t figure it out, beyond having a feeling that there was something very…fundamental…about it. Disappointed, I folded it back up, and took the second document. To my frustration, it was written in what was probably a variant of the same language as the first, and was equally incomprehensible.

“The language is Thari,” came a voice from the door, and startled, I turned to see my father standing there, leaning against the door jamb, “a tip to the wise, Robert. When breaking into someone’s private study, make sure they haven’t warded the door first.”

 “I…” I began, but realised that I couldn’t possibly come up with a good reason for being just there, just then, and I could anticipate the beating I was about to receive.

He brought up the lights and came over, and rather to my surprise, he didn’t seem angry. Instead, if anything, he seemed…amused, even impressed.

“I wondered if you might try something, tonight,” he commented, crossing to me, taking the papers and putting them back in the case, “don’t think I didn’t notice your interest in this case when I got home. I just wasn’t sure you had the courage to do it. But the fact that you did gives me hope for the future.”

I stood there in silence. After all, what could I say? I’d been caught red-handed, and yet his reaction was diametrically opposite to what I had expected.

“Thari is the language my family speak,” he supplied, “it’s the official language both in my country, and your mother’s.”

I watched him, warily, but couldn’t hide the surprise as he mentioned her. He hardly ever even referred to her. At least, not when he thought I was listening. I’d heard him cursing her to Aunt Sand more than once over the years, with a depth of hatred that I never had comprehended. In a way, that had played into my fear that he had done away with her.

“I don’t understand,” I said, finally.

“Not yet, perhaps, but one day you will,” he replied, “now, however, it isn’t safe.”

He fell silent for a moment, looking at me, and I could see a piercing intelligence behind his eyes that I had never consciously noticed before.

“Dammit, boy. I hadn’t realised how much you’d grown up this last year. But you’re still too young...”

“For what?”

“To risk exposing you to the family plots and machinations.”

I looked at him, curious and very, very puzzled.

“Enjoy your youth, Robert. It may be the only rest and quietness you have in your life.”

“What do you mean by your country?” I said, finally, “isn’t England your country?”

“For a little while,” he replied, “but not forever. England is only a pale imitation of my homeland. And one day, I hope I will be able to explain why. Maybe even take you there. But not tonight. Maybe not for a few years to come. As yet, it would be unfair for me to tell you everything I’ve had to surrender…to give up…to fight…to keep you with me.”

“But you don’t even like me,” I blurted out, before I could stop myself, “I’m a disappointment to you.”

He looked at me, genuinely surprised.

“What on earth gives you that impression?”

“Last autumn. When Doctor Madeley suggested I might be Talented. You didn’t seem pleased. You just said it must have come from my mother. Since then…you’ve seemed…”

“Distant?” he asked, quietly, and I nodded.

“Let me explain something to you Robert,” he said, indicating for me to go back out into the library, then followed me, gesturing towards the two chairs by the fireplace. The fire had almost burned out, although there was a little residual heat in it. I saw him throw a log on the embers, and then he whispered what sounded like an incantation and suddenly the flames strengthened and began licking at the log.

I looked at him, surprised.

“How did you do that? You aren’t Talented.”

“Not in the way you understand it, no,” he answered, “but there is more than one school of magic. So I can do a few tricks. It’s how I could ward my study.”

“You’re an unregistered mage…?” I asked, suddenly concerned. Unregistered mages were considered extremely dangerous on Terra Magica, and were usually flung in prison, or more often killed, if they were discovered.

“Technically, yes,” he replied, “however, I’ve never particularly had any time for this place’s views on such things. Which isn’t to say that I don’t respect how much trouble it would cause if my tricks were discovered. So I’ll trouble you not to mention them. You though. Your Talent is something very different.”

“And this has something to do with my mother?”

“It would seem that in matters arcane, you’re more her son than mine, and if certain people were to discover that…well, it would bring trouble on both of us. I am already on dubious ground with certain parties because of my insistence that I keep you here, rather than having let her take you as we had originally agreed. Until I received those documents…” he gestured back towards his study door, obviously meaning the two pieces of parchment, “…that ground could have become very unstable indeed. I was keeping my distance because I was trying to protect you. So that your mother didn’t know how important you are to me.”

And yet under his tone, something was wrong. It wasn’t only that I was important to him because I was his son: I could also feel that I was important as a tool for him, and that in a way I didn’t’ understand, he and mother had fought a tug of war over me, and she had lost. I shivered slightly, and hoped he would put it down to the chill in the library.

“What are they?”

“Official Writs of Divorce, from her country and mine, as well as sworn affidavits that she renounces all claims upon you. As of today, she is no longer an issue.”

I felt as if he’d hit me. I suppose, deep down, I’d hoped that one day my mother would be able to return. And I suspect my disappointment was all too visible on my face. As, I suspect, was horror at the idea that someone could claim me.

“It’s for the best, Robert. Believe me,” he said, his tone calm, “without this, then she and I would spend the rest of our lives fighting over you.”

I looked at him, and realised he’d answered one of my fears.

“She’s still alive?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he replied, his tone so cold it scared me. But at least he hadn’t murdered her that distant Christmas Eve, and relief flooded through me at that thought.

Relief, but also questions.

“What’s this got to do with the Talent?”

“If either your mother or her father knew you were Talented, they would take you away. And they would use your Talent for their own ends, which would almost certainly be to the detriment of my family and beliefs. Even I can tell that you are a very gifted mage…or will be once you’ve been to college. And your strength of will is unusual, even among our kin, albeit completely untrained at this juncture. They could do a great deal with that.”

“And is that so wrong?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, before his face took on the expression more of a teacher who finds that a pupil is being particularly dense.

“They are the antithesis of everything I believe and hold dear. Once you’re older, you’ll understand why.”

“And in the meantime, you, rather than mother, are going to use me for your own ends?” I said, and I could hear anger in my tone. But as he looked at me, I could see sadness in his eyes, behind his firm expression.

“You are too young to understand,” he said, quietly, “it’s the way of our kin. We take any and all opportunities that we can to get one up on each other, and we all use every tool that we can to achieve that.”

His tone was so flat, and his words so damning. I couldn’t decide whether to be angry, afraid, or just plain sad that he could be so bleak.

“Did you ever love my mother?”

I had to ask the question, but I was certain that I wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I loved her for giving me a son. But no, I never loved her for herself. I liked her well enough in the beginning, but I doubt that’s what you want to hear. ”

“Then why did you marry her?” I blurted out, realising almost as soon as I had that I shouldn’t have said that.

“Politics,” he answered, his tone matter of fact, “I needed allies. It seemed as if I had found them through her. And now I hate myself for how naïve I was to believe that. I was used. Just as she would have used you had I let her stay.”

“That’s a pretty damning condemnation.”

“It is a lucky man indeed in our family who marries for love,” he replied, “dynastic duty is far more important. Marry well, have strong children, but if you want love in your life, find a mistress.”

His tone was strange…cold, almost regretful. But he meant every word.

“I can see you’re shocked,” he said, looking at me, “I’m sorry. But you’re old enough now to learn a few home truths.”

“Too young to understand my mother’s politics, but old enough to hear home truths?” I challenged.

“Robert, you might not like the idea, but it isn’t going to be so very long until you’re old enough to father children of your own. Hell, given how much you’ve grown up since I last saw you, you’re probably already old enough. Not that I would recommend it until you are experienced enough and skilled enough to protect them. But you need to know that you can’t afford to fall in love with the first woman you meet. It’s very rare that desirable bloodlines and love coincide The best you can hope for is to be widowed before you begin to hate each other, or failing that, an amicable divorce. I didn’t even have the luxury of that. There are no fairy tale endings for our family.”

“Our family?” I retorted, “there’s only you and I, plus Aunt Sand and the McCauleys. We have no other family.”

“Do not question me, Robert,” he snapped, suddenly tense and distant once more, “take what I have said for the warning it is. Listen to your teachers. Listen to Brand and my sister. And possibly, just possibly, you might live long enough to understand.”

He regarded me in silence for a few moments, and I instinctively knew that he had said all he was going to tonight. Whether he would ever open up to me again in the future, was another question.

“And now, young man. Bed. You should have been asleep hours ago, even if you do have the family endurance.”

“Aye, sir,” I answered, getting to my feet.

“And if you behave, I’ll take you hunting tomorrow. I know you've wanted to do that for a while now. Sand and Brand are coming in early to join us.”

“Mary said they wouldn’t be here until Christmas Eve,” I replied, unsure, but secretly I was delighted. I'd never been allowed to fully go hunting before - having always followed after in the past.

“Mary was unaware of the change of plans,” he answered, his tone slightly terse.

“Of course, Father,” I replied, quietly and headed towards the door before he changed his mind. Then I heard him turn towards me.

“And Robert. Never, ever believe that you’re a disappointment to me. You are my only child, and I’m proud of you, even if I perhaps don’t show it as often as I should.”

I looked at him, and our eyes met, and for a moment, I could read the truth and sincerity behind his words. But then it was gone, and he was his usual, severe self.

“Until the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, and made my way out of the door, leaving him alone in the library.

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