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grimaced. “I do not mean to sound maudlin.”
“So you are no longer teaching?”
“I was dismissed, for… filling their minds with unnecessary hog-wallow. That was the mayor’s words to my person, not the nicely worded letter they sent. Apparently I would be allowed to teach them only if I swore not to teach them to think.” We chuckled.
“As you always taught me, men who think have proven to be the most dangerous of all over the course of history,” I said.
“So, have you been a dangerous man?”
I laughed. “I would like to think so.”
“Have you returned here to be dangerous?”
That gave me pause. “Aye, but not in the manner you mean.”
He appeared saddened by this. “Why have you returned?”
We were interrupted by the arrival of our tea; and I used the distraction to consider what I should say. By the time the maid left, I had decided on the truth. So I told him of Florence, and political machinations, and Teresina, and even Alonso and all that had happened in the end, including Vincente’s death and my part in it. I alluded to the intimacy of my relation with Alonso without stating it, and I sensed that he understood. And then I told him of the final discussion I had with Alonso and the decisions I reached that led to my subsequent leave-taking.
When I finished he was sitting with arms crossed, regarding the corner. I knew from times gone by that this posture was contemplative, and not indicative of negativity toward my tale.
He finally looked at me. “May I ask… several questions?”
I nodded.
“When I left your father’s employ, you seemed rather taken with your cousin. I recall being dismayed that you would give so much credence to him, as it always seemed to me that he treated you with great reserve if not coldness. I wished better for you, but I assumed that was the nature of things. A lord’s sons must be discreet and all. So my question is, are, were you intimately involved with him, and what occurred to make you leave?”
“Aye. I loved him. I think once he loved me as well, when we were very young. Later, he deplored his desire for me. He was ashamed. Yet this did not stop him from forcing himself upon me. I stayed at first because I harbored the hope that he would overcome these internal conflicts he seemed obsessed with. Then there was that last straw, and I felt I had no other recourse than to kill him, so I left.”
I was rather proud of myself; I had managed to say all of that without bawling. He fished a bottle from a drawer in his nightstand and handed it to me. I took a long pull and found it to be brandy.
He took a drink after I did. He was contemplative again.
“My Lord, there was nothing you could do, was there? May I ask why you did not kill him? Obviously you would have faced arrest and trial and… Well, obviously you could not. Unless you ran as you did, but then you would never have been able to return. So there, I may have answered it.”
“Nay, I thought none of that at the time. I was confused. On one hand, I still loved him and could not simply take his life unawares; and on the other, I did not think I was capable of winning a duel with him. All of those days I spent reading, he spent practicing more martial pursuits.”
“And now?” he asked: curiously, without censure.
“Now I believe I possess far more experience than he could have gained in actual combat. I have not heard that he has been in the military; and even if he had, officers often make the worst duelists. If he had engaged in the things I have, he would have been forced to leave as many cities as myself.”
“Hmmm, an excellent observation, I think, though I know nothing of combat myself. And now, what will you do?”
“I have oft fantasized about challenging him and running him through. Yet…”
“That would allow him to destroy your life completely.”
I nodded, as he had just put into words the thing my mind had been dancing around for days. “It is a hateful irony.
“So you are no longer teaching?”
“I was dismissed, for… filling their minds with unnecessary hog-wallow. That was the mayor’s words to my person, not the nicely worded letter they sent. Apparently I would be allowed to teach them only if I swore not to teach them to think.” We chuckled.
“As you always taught me, men who think have proven to be the most dangerous of all over the course of history,” I said.
“So, have you been a dangerous man?”
I laughed. “I would like to think so.”
“Have you returned here to be dangerous?”
That gave me pause. “Aye, but not in the manner you mean.”
He appeared saddened by this. “Why have you returned?”
We were interrupted by the arrival of our tea; and I used the distraction to consider what I should say. By the time the maid left, I had decided on the truth. So I told him of Florence, and political machinations, and Teresina, and even Alonso and all that had happened in the end, including Vincente’s death and my part in it. I alluded to the intimacy of my relation with Alonso without stating it, and I sensed that he understood. And then I told him of the final discussion I had with Alonso and the decisions I reached that led to my subsequent leave-taking.
When I finished he was sitting with arms crossed, regarding the corner. I knew from times gone by that this posture was contemplative, and not indicative of negativity toward my tale.
He finally looked at me. “May I ask… several questions?”
I nodded.
“When I left your father’s employ, you seemed rather taken with your cousin. I recall being dismayed that you would give so much credence to him, as it always seemed to me that he treated you with great reserve if not coldness. I wished better for you, but I assumed that was the nature of things. A lord’s sons must be discreet and all. So my question is, are, were you intimately involved with him, and what occurred to make you leave?”
“Aye. I loved him. I think once he loved me as well, when we were very young. Later, he deplored his desire for me. He was ashamed. Yet this did not stop him from forcing himself upon me. I stayed at first because I harbored the hope that he would overcome these internal conflicts he seemed obsessed with. Then there was that last straw, and I felt I had no other recourse than to kill him, so I left.”
I was rather proud of myself; I had managed to say all of that without bawling. He fished a bottle from a drawer in his nightstand and handed it to me. I took a long pull and found it to be brandy.
He took a drink after I did. He was contemplative again.
“My Lord, there was nothing you could do, was there? May I ask why you did not kill him? Obviously you would have faced arrest and trial and… Well, obviously you could not. Unless you ran as you did, but then you would never have been able to return. So there, I may have answered it.”
“Nay, I thought none of that at the time. I was confused. On one hand, I still loved him and could not simply take his life unawares; and on the other, I did not think I was capable of winning a duel with him. All of those days I spent reading, he spent practicing more martial pursuits.”
“And now?” he asked: curiously, without censure.
“Now I believe I possess far more experience than he could have gained in actual combat. I have not heard that he has been in the military; and even if he had, officers often make the worst duelists. If he had engaged in the things I have, he would have been forced to leave as many cities as myself.”
“Hmmm, an excellent observation, I think, though I know nothing of combat myself. And now, what will you do?”
“I have oft fantasized about challenging him and running him through. Yet…”
“That would allow him to destroy your life completely.”
I nodded, as he had just put into words the thing my mind had been dancing around for days. “It is a hateful irony.
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