With her mind, she willed him to be calm, to be still. Meg had said a thousand times, “Talis is strong because Callie believes he is strong.”
For a moment John looked puzzled; he couldn’t understand what was being said to him. No doubt his confusion was caused by his recent brush with death, but his mind seemed dazed. He had found his son, but his son was refusing him.
Hugh Kellon had been with John for many years now, since just after the night he had heard so much about, the night John had at last been given a son and that son had been taken from him in a fire. There were many whispers about that night, about what it had done to both master and mistress, and Hugh knew that John was not what he once was.
Was this boy John’s son, the boy who was supposed to have died in the fire? Had this fat farm couple stolen him away in the night? Why had they not brought the boy back to John when the danger was over? And who was this waif of a girl standing so close behind the handsome boy? She looked like a blonde shadow, almost as though she were part of him.
Behind him, Hugh could hear the rumbles of the other men. What had been a simple outing had almost become a tragedy and at best it was turning into a mystery. Best to get everyone at a supper table, he thought. A little wine and a good joint would go a long way toward calming people.
With one long stride, Hugh stepped forward and put his arm around Talis’s shoulder. “This lad is a son to be proud of. Of course he will come with us, my lord. And the girl, too.” He started to pull her to the forefront but she eluded him, stepping to one side to hide under the boy’s arm.
“Ahem,” Hugh said, shaking his head to clear it. It was going to take a hogshead of wine to help him make sense of this day. “And the others. They shall go too. Is that not right, my lord?”
“Yes, of course,” John Hadley said. “Take all of them. What do I care of peasants?”
“By the look of her, that girl is no peasant,” whispered one of the men behind John.
“Do you think she is the boy’s doxy?” asked another man.
“If she is, he is John’s son,” the first man answered, chuckling.
John was beginning to recover himself. Death and life, all in the space of an hour, had rattled his brains. To the world he had said that his wife had given birth to a son, but he knew that she had not. This pale girl standing so close to “his” boy was almost surely his daughter.
“Come to me, child,” John said, holding out his hand to her.
Callie hesitated, then looked up at Talis. When he nodded that it was all right, she stepped forward.
Yes, John thought, she had the look of his wife when she’d been younger. Although this one was no beauty, that was for sure. She was too colorless for beauty. Standing beside this great, beautiful boy who towered over her, she was insignificant.
“Yes,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else, “you are my daughter.”
No one was prepared for the violence of Callie’s reaction to this very generous statement. “No!” Callie screamed at him. “I am not your daughter! I am not. Do you hear me? I am not!” For all that she looked meek and mild, anyone who knew Callie for long knew of her temper—which was only roused when it had something to do with Talis.
“The whole family is mad,” one of the men said. Fi
rst the boy had refused to acknowledge his rich father and now this simple-minded girl was screaming that she was not his daughter.
The screams of her beloved child brought Meg out of her fear. She knew that Callie’s problem was not whether she was or was not Hadley’s daughter, but whether she was Talis’s sister. Brother and sister could not marry.
“My lord,” Meg said loudly, moving forward. “Do you not remember that this child is the other man’s daughter?”
There was silence for a moment until one of the men who had been there that night remembered. “She is old Gilbert Rasher’s daughter, my lord. Although it is hard to believe that he could father something as delicate as this child. I’d think a horse like Rasher more likely to father sons like that boy of yours,” he said, nodding toward Talis.
The man had no idea why John turned a face of black hatred toward him. He had merely made a comment on the girl’s looks. Actually, he felt sorry for her if she was to have to live with Rasher and that animal brood of boys of his. They were a cunning, crude, and filthy lot of curs and the girl would not last long.
After a moment, John turned back. “Yes, she is Rasher’s daughter.” What did he care? He had enough daughters to open a convent; he needed no more. “Bring the girl,” he said to Talis. “Bring the whole damned village for all I care.” All he wanted was this boy as his son.
Through all of this Talis had stood straight and silent, saying not a word. Judging by his face, one would not have guessed how much he wanted to ride away with these men, to wear clothes such as theirs, to sit atop a glorious horse. But his family knew.
Also, looking at him, Talis seemed an adult. He stood as tall as an adult, had the bearing of an adult, but inside he was still as innocent as a boy. When John gave him what he wanted and Talis knew that he could have his honor and a horse, he turned to the person who meant everything to him: Callie. With an easy, practiced gesture, he picked her up by the waist as she crossed her arms over her chest, locked her ankles together, then he tossed her high into the air where she went twirling around and around. It was something they had once seen traveling players do and they had practiced it for months—with Talis never once failing to catch her.
Seeing Talis tossing Callie about was a familiar sight to the people they lived with, but not to the fifteen or so men standing in the farmyard. With mouths agape, the men stood and watched the girl go spinning through the air, hair whipping out about her like a windmill. More than one man held his breath that Talis was going to catch her.
He did, with ease and expertise, then, oblivious to everyone else, he grabbed Callie’s hand and they went running into the house.
25
The first sight Callie and Talis had of Hadley Hall struck them dumb. For two days they had been riding together, Callie in front as they made their way back to what was to be their home. For them it had been days of trying to settle themselves to the prospect of their new life. Callie had cried for some time at leaving Meg and Will, who had refused John’s offer to go with them.