begun some comforting words. There is no time for that; her time spills as from a broken clock. “Help me now. For our Order’s sake. You must; you have no choice, no reason to deny me that can stand. Lift me up. They’ve come.”
A cloud of smoke at me bed’s end coalesces into faces, forms. Many she has known since they were boys and girls; it seems they have changed not at all. She must be firm with them. “I would have Redhand succeed me.” She cannot tell if they are looking at her, at Redhand, at each other. It is too long ago to remember which is which, who would accede, who would be swayed by which other. It doesn’t matter. “There is no time or strength left me to argue it. Take him at my word or do not. But let not one of you desire my place. Shun it. I place on Redhand only labor and suffering. Remember that. If you will not have him whom I name, let whomever you name have your pity and your love.”
All done; and the last of her strength leaks away. She finds it hard to listen to the words spoken to her, Arbiter, Arbiter; she has forgotten why this man should not be excluded from her world like all else, except that his hand is warm and his voice pleasant though senseless.
Done. Sunset has come suddenly, the room is dark. Her little world with a grateful sigh shuts up small, smaller than a fist; it draws to a fine point and is gone.
And yet, and yet—strange: even when she is cool on the white-clothed bed, still the sunlight enters soundlessly in at the casements, the wind still lifts the corners of many papers on tables. In the garden trees still drop blossoms on the paths that go their ways; Learned Redhand at the casement can see them, and can feel on his face the hot, startling tears, the first he has shed since he put on Gray.
3
T o my best-loved Caredd, at Redsdown:
He who bears this is known to you, and can tell you much that is too long for this.
You must know that the Arbiter Mariadn is dead. It was her wish, and the Grays in Council acceded to it, that my brother Learned be successor to her. This is great news and cause for celebration — no other in our family has risen so high in this. The ceremonies & all else attendant on this have been secret in part & I have heard of them only through Learned’s hints, but it is all very solemn and grand.
So this must be celebrated! You write me that the lambs are fallen & the rabbits everywhere bold; well, then, there will be a feast at Redsdown, such as this soft age has not seen, that your father’s father might have been satisfied to sit at I leave it to your good judgment, & know that all you do will honor us.
If it cannot be Rokesweek Eve, write quickly and give it to Ham to carry. I will say Rokesweek Eve if I hear nothing.
My duty etc. to our mother there, and kiss my girl for me. I mean to set out this week eve.
By he who bears it, at the Harbor, Devonsweek
Beneath his signature, in his own tiny, long-tailed hand:
Caredd, there are those here who say they are not enemies to me and whom I do not fear but mistrust They are partly the King’s creations; they are little men of no consequence, for all they wear the King’s badges and style themselves Brothers of the Stag. If such a feast as I mean could show such ones what it is to be Protector of men and lands, such would not be from my purpose. I know you know my mind; you ever have. R.
She folded the crackling paper and smiled at its bearer. “Welcome to Redsdown,” she said. “Welcome back.”
“It’s good to be back.” This the Secretary knew to be the right response, but in fact it seemed to him odd in the extreme to have returned here: it was the first place on his journey he had returned to, and he half-expected that from here he would return to the horsegathering, the Endwives’ cottage, the egg… “And good to see you.” It was: her autumn-brown eyes and careful hands, her auburn hair stirred in him the devotion he had felt that autumn. He watched her, feeling
A cloud of smoke at me bed’s end coalesces into faces, forms. Many she has known since they were boys and girls; it seems they have changed not at all. She must be firm with them. “I would have Redhand succeed me.” She cannot tell if they are looking at her, at Redhand, at each other. It is too long ago to remember which is which, who would accede, who would be swayed by which other. It doesn’t matter. “There is no time or strength left me to argue it. Take him at my word or do not. But let not one of you desire my place. Shun it. I place on Redhand only labor and suffering. Remember that. If you will not have him whom I name, let whomever you name have your pity and your love.”
All done; and the last of her strength leaks away. She finds it hard to listen to the words spoken to her, Arbiter, Arbiter; she has forgotten why this man should not be excluded from her world like all else, except that his hand is warm and his voice pleasant though senseless.
Done. Sunset has come suddenly, the room is dark. Her little world with a grateful sigh shuts up small, smaller than a fist; it draws to a fine point and is gone.
And yet, and yet—strange: even when she is cool on the white-clothed bed, still the sunlight enters soundlessly in at the casements, the wind still lifts the corners of many papers on tables. In the garden trees still drop blossoms on the paths that go their ways; Learned Redhand at the casement can see them, and can feel on his face the hot, startling tears, the first he has shed since he put on Gray.
3
T o my best-loved Caredd, at Redsdown:
He who bears this is known to you, and can tell you much that is too long for this.
You must know that the Arbiter Mariadn is dead. It was her wish, and the Grays in Council acceded to it, that my brother Learned be successor to her. This is great news and cause for celebration — no other in our family has risen so high in this. The ceremonies & all else attendant on this have been secret in part & I have heard of them only through Learned’s hints, but it is all very solemn and grand.
So this must be celebrated! You write me that the lambs are fallen & the rabbits everywhere bold; well, then, there will be a feast at Redsdown, such as this soft age has not seen, that your father’s father might have been satisfied to sit at I leave it to your good judgment, & know that all you do will honor us.
If it cannot be Rokesweek Eve, write quickly and give it to Ham to carry. I will say Rokesweek Eve if I hear nothing.
My duty etc. to our mother there, and kiss my girl for me. I mean to set out this week eve.
By he who bears it, at the Harbor, Devonsweek
Beneath his signature, in his own tiny, long-tailed hand:
Caredd, there are those here who say they are not enemies to me and whom I do not fear but mistrust They are partly the King’s creations; they are little men of no consequence, for all they wear the King’s badges and style themselves Brothers of the Stag. If such a feast as I mean could show such ones what it is to be Protector of men and lands, such would not be from my purpose. I know you know my mind; you ever have. R.
She folded the crackling paper and smiled at its bearer. “Welcome to Redsdown,” she said. “Welcome back.”
“It’s good to be back.” This the Secretary knew to be the right response, but in fact it seemed to him odd in the extreme to have returned here: it was the first place on his journey he had returned to, and he half-expected that from here he would return to the horsegathering, the Endwives’ cottage, the egg… “And good to see you.” It was: her autumn-brown eyes and careful hands, her auburn hair stirred in him the devotion he had felt that autumn. He watched her, feeling
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