Wicked (24 page)

“Perhaps you do have to be older to understand what you are feeling or to think about the consequences of losing someone, but you do not have to be older to do the suffering. You do not have to be older to be scared or to feel as if your life is suddenly gone.”

He thought about what she had just said. He supposed she was right. “I was ten when my mother died. It was just after I was fostered to Earl Merrick, but he was Sir Merrick then. Before Edward gave him the title and the lands.”

“Do you remember how you felt?”

“Aye, I remember. I wanted to kill my father.”

She looked at him and frowned. “Why?”

“Because I was told that while my mother lay dying in her bed, my father was sleeping in his with her successor.”

“Is that why you hate your father?”

“I do not hate my father.”

“You do not?”

“No. I feel nothing for him. He is not worth hating.”

She sat there, but asked no more and he was thankful for that. He did not mean to reveal that to her.

After a pause she said, “You were gone from home when she died.”

“Aye.”

“Were you close to your mother?”

“She was a good woman. Both my sister Elizabeth and I adored her.” He wanted to say nothing more about it, to stop this talk. He sent the conversation in another direction, one that was not close to the things he kept deep inside of him, things for him to know, but no one else. “You talked to the children for a long time earlier, before we put them to bed.”

“Aye.”

“What did they tell you?”

“Mostly they wanted to know why I was truly a girl when I dressed as a boy and had a boy’s name. They say I do not look like a girl.”

“I would have liked to have heard the explanation you gave them.”

Her voice grew choked. “I lied to those people, Tobin. I lied to those kind good people. All because I wanted to have some freedom. All on a lark.”

“You did not know what would happen.”

“That does not make what I did right. I liked them. They were kind to me. And I lied to them.”

He did not say anything. There was nothing he could say. So he just held her. “Did the children say any more?”

“They talked about what happened. In a child’s terms. Children see so much but read so little into what they see. ’Tis just black or white to them, no middle ground.”

“I suppose that is a good thing, a way for them to be protected until they are old enough to understand all they see and what it means.”

“Perhaps. I truly do not know.” Sofia paused, then looked up at him. “Maude said Miranda pulled them down from the wagon and told them to run into the woods, and not to come out until she came for them.” She looked away, then added, “They did what Miranda asked. But Tildie told me that Satan had killed those bad men, which they had to have seen from where they were hiding.”

Neither he nor Sofia said anything. The two girls had seen men mauled and killed by a bear, a bear they played with, the same bear that was protecting them when it turned killer. He wondered how black and white that would seem to those girls.

He could feel Sofia’s shoulders begin to shake. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “God in heaven above, why? I don’t understand why? They were good people.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest. “You never will understand. ’Tis not possible to know, I think.”

“But it is not fair. It is not right. What kind of God takes good people away?” She cried then, just a slip of tears and a slight heave of her chest that showed him how vulnerable she truly was.

“Good people die all the time, sweetheart, which is why death is difficult for those who remain behind.”

“I know,” she said on a sob. “But ’tis not fair. ’Tis not right.”

“The world is seldom fair or right.”

She did not say much more and her crying did not last much longer. She quieted soon, then sniffed and took a deep breath; it had an exhausted sound.

She should be asleep, he thought. And before, he might have insisted she do so. But for some reason he could not explain, he chose not to try to force her back to bed now. He just sat on those stairs and held her to him, listened to her breath and rubbed his hand slowly over her back and neck, then cupped her head gently as she leaned it against his shoulder, because for some reason it felt as if her head belonged there.

“It all seems so very senseless,” she whispered.

“I’ve seen senseless death over and over, Sofia. Every time it happens, you wonder how there can possibly be a reason for it.” He paused, tightening his arms around her as she settled more comfortably against him. Her breathing was slowing and becoming even, the breathing pattern of one who was almost asleep. He rested his chin on the top of her head as he leaned back against the stair railing, stretched out his long legs and closed his eyes. “At some point,” he said quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “At some point, you finally understand that perhaps there is no reason at all.”

A few moments later they were both asleep.

By midday they rode
inside the massive gates of Camrose, through the outer and inner baileys and near the forebuilding of the keep.

Tobin dismounted. He reached up and lifted Sofia down, steadied her with his hand on her elbow, then he cast a quick glance at Parcin and Walter. His two men had been so good with the small twin girls, treating them as if they might break, talking softly to them, showing them hawks and harts and rabbits as they rode along. While watching the girls talking to his men, Tobin was reminded once again of the strength of children, and the versatility of his men. Having seen these men in war, seen the courage and strength and valor with which they fought, it would seem unbelievable that those two warriors could be as gentle as they were with those little girls.

Each man handed down a twin, and the girls stood there, their small faces too solemn, their eyes darting left and right the way a small animal did when it was cornered.

“Come, Sofia. You and I shall take the children inside.” Tobin and Sofia each took the hand of a child and they turned and walked together up the steps of Camrose.

The front door opened with sudden force and Merrick came out. “Tobin!” Merrick grasped him by the shoulders and gave him a quick shake. ’Tis good to see you, my friend.” Merrick took a step back and his gaze flicked to Sofia.

“Lady Sofia, welcome.” Merrick gave Sofia a long look, but wisely kept quiet as she curtsied to him, still clad in her braies and tunic and her shorn hair. “Come inside. The Queen is in the solar with Clio. She is most anxious to see you, as is the King.”

Sofia stiffened.

Merrick must have caught her reaction because he added, “As soon as he hears you are here.”

Sofia said nothing, but she gave a small sigh of relief.

Merrick looked at the children, so Tobin said to them, “This is Earl Merrick. He is the lord of this castle and our good friend.”

The children stood frozen, staring up at the earl.

Sofia added, “He is kind, girls, and will not harm you. I swear.”

Merrick cast Tobin a knowing glance. He looked down at the girls, then immediately squatted down so he was eye level with them. “What have we here, Sir Tobin?” He looked back and forth between them. “They are two small and brave warriors, I’ll wager.”

The girls looked at each other, then Maude said in a clear voice, “We are not warriors, milord. We are
sisters
.”

Merrick feigned surprise, then looked from one to the other, frowning and acting silly and confused.

It seemed to Tobin that fatherhood and his lady wife had done wonders for Merrick de Beaucourt.

Merrick rubbed his chin with one hand. “Sisters?” He frowned and then pretended to look closer and from one to the other. “Aye, I can see the resemblance now. I do not know how I could have missed it.”

The girls were not identical but their faces were similar and their coloring was the same.

“You were not paying attention,” Maude told him, which made Merrick laugh.

“Aye, little one. I swear to you that I shall pay more attention in the future.”

Maude actually smiled at him, the first smile Tobin had seen from either child.

Tildie tapped him gently on the arm, clearly wanting to be included.

He turned to her.

“We are twins,” she told him.

“Twins? You are not twins!”

The girls nodded.

“Aye. We are,” Maude said.

“Well, Sir Tobin!” Merrick said with a laugh as he looked up. “What say you to that? Camrose is the most fortunate of all castles, for we shall have two sets of twins here this day. Your squire is with his brother as we speak. Surely Old Gladdys would rant and rave and dance around one of her many bonfires chanting that such is a sign of good fortune.”

“Most fortunate,” Tobin agreed.

Merrick glanced back and forth between the little girls. “Wait till my Lady Clio hears of you two. My wife’s two favorite people are twins. Do you know Sir Tobin’s squire?”

The girls shook their heads.

“Well, I trust you shall soon. He too is a twin and his brother is here at Camrose.” He rested his arms on his bent knees. “Now tell me, who is who?”

“She is Maude.” Tildie tapped her thumb on her small bony chest. “And I am Matilda, but do not call me that, for I forget to answer.” She gave Merrick the most serious of looks. “I am truly called Tildie.”

“Well, Maude and
Tildie
,” Merrick said with emphasis on the little girl’s name, “Lady Clio will be much pleased to meet both of you.” He leaned closer as if he were telling them a secret. “She keeps telling me I am not hearty, you know, because we have only one babe at a time. But then she also complains that I am not eating enough sweets, so I can give her a daughter. She does not wish to be the only woman in the family. All three of our children are lads. Not beautiful little girls like you two.” He straightened to his full height.

The little girls looked at each other, exchanged some kind of intimate look, then stood there with their eyes only on Merrick, who had just won their hearts with his attention and charm.

“Let us take them upstairs, then you and I shall speak alone,” Merrick said to Tobin.

Tobin nodded, but gestured for them to step aside for a moment. “I should speak to the King before he sees Sofia.”

Merrick gave a slight nod, then turned back and held out his hands to the girls. “Come along, my young ladies. We shall go to the solar, where you shall see the Queen.” He looked down at the little girls. “Have you ever seen a queen?”

“Aye,” Maude nodded. “We saw her pass by in a coach once. I even saw her face, but Tildie missed it.”

“I sneezed,” Tildie told him, sliding her hand in his.

“Well, come along, you two. I think you should see the Queen up close. I shall introduce you myself.” Merrick began walking toward the solar, his steps slow and smaller to accommodate the girls’.

“The Queen.” Maude leaned in front of Merrick and looked at her sister as they walked up the stairs to the quarters above the hall. She whispered loudly, “
Tildie
! We are going to meet the Queen!”

“Aye, and I shall not sneeze this time.”

Tobin slid his arm around Sofia as they both moved forward, but when they reached the stone stairs, he grasped her elbow and looked down at her for a quick glimpse.

She felt smaller to him, as if the life in her had melted away. Perhaps he felt that way because she was being so much quieter. Perhaps because of what she had said the night before. Or perhaps because of what she had not said.

At the top of the steps they turned and there was Lady Clio. She looked at the children, then at Sofia and Tobin. She rushed to Sofia. “Thank God, you are safe.” She hugged her and Sofia murmured Clio’s name. Clio released her.

She gave Tobin a kiss of greeting on each cheek. “I have missed seeing you, Tobin.” Then she stepped back and looked at the girls.

“Clio. Look here at who I have brought. This is Maude and this is Tildie,” Merrick told her.

Lady Clio bent down and smiled at them. “Hallo, Maude. Hallo, Tildie.”

They girls curtsied and murmured shy hallos. Then Maude said, “We are twins.”

“I can see that you are,” Clio said.

Tildie frowned. “Earl Merrick could not.”

“But I see that you are the same age and you have to be sisters. Besides which, I know twins when I see them. Even if they do not look exactly alike.”

“See, Tildie?
She
pays attention,” Maude said to her sister.

Merrick shook his head and laughed heartily. “I promised I would take them to see the Queen.” He gave his wife a wink.

“Oh, what a fine thing for them. I shall wait here and then as soon as they have met the Queen, we shall take them to the kitchens and see if we can find a sweet. I believe the cook is making pies this morn. With plums.” She turned to the girls again and bent down. “Would you like plum pies?”

The girls nodded shyly.

“Afterwards we can visit my little boys. They are napping now. Edward is the eldest. He is three and into everything troublesome.”

“Like his mother,” Merrick said under his breath.

Clio ignored him and continued. “Next is Roger. He is not quite two, and the new babe, little William. He was christened two days ago. Would you two like to meet our sons?”

“Aye.” Both girls nodded enthusiastically. Then Tildie took a step toward Clio and bravely said, “When I meet the Queen, I shall not sneeze.”

“Good.” Clio nodded as if she understood perfectly, then straightened and gave a small puzzled shrug to the adults. She looked to Merrick with a smile. “Eleanor is in the solar, love.”

Clio turned to back Sofia. “You should go, too. She has been most anxious to see you.” Clio gave a quick nod at the thick doors near the end of a narrow hall lined with yellow beeswax candles in iron sconces that gave off a bright and flickering warm light. “Let Merrick take the girls in first, and then you can be alone with her.”

Tobin looked down because Sofia’s hand tightened on his as she give Clio a weak nod. Sofia’s face was pale and wan. She looked as if she were going to be ill. She took a deep breath, looked up at him and said, “I must see Eleanor.”