Chapter 15
“How much of a ride are you up for?” Edmund looked up from where he was checking the mare’s girth before patting her shoulder and swinging up into the saddle.
Slate was a new mount for him, one of the up-and-coming horses in pavo training.
Papa, of course, was already up on Nox. She was the most recent in a line of black mares, the second generation of his own breeding.
Edmund got himself settled in the saddle. “Two or three? Last week went well enough on shorter rides. Four might be a bit much.”
The problem with not riding while he was up at Oxford had little to do with skill, but a great deal to do with muscle strength and tone.
Riding somehow used muscles that nothing else did.
And of course, during Hilary term he’d spent far more time inside, between the grey weather and his studies.
He’d gone riding with Ros several times while she was home last week, the only week their hols overlapped.
But that had been training in the enclosed ring or much shorter rides near the house.
Ros was on the pavo team and determined to be successful.
Edmund could at least give her a good run at practising with someone she didn’t train with all the time.
He had not, it turned out, lost all his skill at the various mounted challenges of a pavo match, but his magic had been shakier than he’d wanted to admit.
And of course, Ros was riding a mare she knew well, and he had been swapping around.
Now, he was beginning to settle on considering Slate for a long-term mount. She was still a bit green. He’d need much more work with her to consider her as a pavo mount. But he enjoyed her gait, and of course she was impeccably trained.
“How about the Rufus Stone? I’ve not gone down that way in a few weeks.
We could stop at the Green Dragon on the way back.
” Papa sounded entirely casual about it, which made Edmund sure that he had at least three things he’d find useful to do in the area.
Papa did not visibly grow plots as frequently or quickly as Ursula did, but he certainly had plenty in mind.
Papa nodded, waited for Edmund to get his mare to take a few steps, and then set off.
They kept at an easy pace until they were past True Eyeworth and the distractions of a village.
The next stretch of road was in decent shape— Papa and Master Benton made certain of that.
Once they were on a clear stretch, Papa picked up a trot, letting the horses stretch their legs, then a canter for a little.
It was a pleasant day. Misty rather than clear, but the sort of mist that made the New Forest look as magical as it was in truth.
Not so much fog as to startle the horses, either, and it was warm enough Edmund was comfortable in just a jacket, no charms needed, nor an extra layer.
Once they came closer to the more central roads, Papa slowed to a walk again, until they turned off onto one of the paths, and they could ride side by side without being a bother.
“It’s good to have you about the place.” Papa was not looking at Edmund, instead focusing ahead. Not that Nox needed much guidance, she was making her way steadily along without fuss.
“It’s good to be back.” It was, that was the thing.
Oxford had glories. As London had, even during the war, when it also had many dangers.
But nothing was like Ytene. Certainly nothing was like this stretch of the New Forest, their bit to tend and love and understand.
A week back had been restorative. His dreams had had a depth to them he was still unravelling.
Maybe he’d talk to Ursula about them if they got a chance in private.
She had more experience with that sort of thing.
Then Edmund swallowed, Slate picking up on his mood enough to bob her head.
“Something you wanted to ask about, sir?”
It made Papa chuckle. “It seemed about the right moment to do so. There’s no point in fretting about the exam results now. They will be what they are, and I’m confident you did your best.”
Edmund ducked his chin, unsure how to answer that. He had, yes, and he knew his parents knew that about him. He was not sure what to do with someone saying it directly.
Papa went on, “But you’ve needed a bit more recovery than I think perhaps we expected. Is there anything else about your term you’d like us to know? Any personal matters or problems?”
“No, sir.” The formality came naturally enough, for all Edmund was entirely fond of his parents.
Unfashionably fond, as Ursula and Anthony were of theirs.
The three of them had talked about that, both how they felt, and how it wasn’t really how things were done among those of their class and background. “No heartbreak, nothing like that.”
Papa nodded, the horses taking perhaps ten steps before he spoke again. “If there were a problem, or your heart was bruised, I do hope you’d let us know if we could help. Listening, assisting, whatever you prefer.”
“I—” Edmund paused. “I like to think I would, if I needed to. But it’s nothing like that. To be honest, I’m not sure about that sort of thing.”
There was a longer silence, long enough to bring them into the glade that held the Rufus Stone.
At this time of year, they had it to themselves.
Later in the spring and summer, there would be people out to look at it, a picnic, whatever amusements were portable enough.
Papa halted his mare, and swung down, going to look at the stone and read it, even though Edmund knew he knew the text by heart.
That particular stone had been there for a hair over a century now, replacing an older monument that had replaced the ancient oak at the heart of the tragedy.
Edmund dismounted, keeping a good hold of Slate’s reins as he came over to join his father.
Papa smoothly pulled a book out of his inner jacket pocket, his book of magic, flicking open to a page and using it to cast the charm that would ensure their privacy, within about twenty feet or so.
“I think a great deal about William Rufus. There is a tangle of legends about him, just like there is a tangle of legends about the heroes of Greece and Rome you’ve been immersed in. ”
“That is not your most subtle, Papa,” Edmund said. “Which tales are you thinking of particularly? Archery is not among my particular interests, nor those of anyone I spend time with.”
The comment got Papa smiling at him, a bit of relaxation that made it clear Edmund was taking the right tone. “The hedonism, among others. Particularly, so to say, if you had an interest in men rather than women...” Papa let it trail off. It was the first time he had said as much, that clearly.
“Papa, Mama explained. I can’t imagine she hasn’t told you what she said.
” Mama had sat him down when he turned fifteen, the summer between his second and third years at Schola.
She had not detailed all of Papa’s past. But she had made it exceedingly clear that as a family, they were comfortable with a wider range of preferences than society admitted to.
And that Papa’s had included men, specifically.
Edmund had spent rather a lot of time over the next several years contemplating what that meant about Uncle Alexander, before deciding he would never know the truth unless someone told him.
Besides, it didn’t matter. Not that sort of private detail, anyway.
He knew the parts that did matter, the care and trust and mutual support his parents had with Uncle Alexander, and he with them.
Papa laughed. “You were fairly young then, and it is possible you have acquired new questions.” He reached out to brush his fingers against the stone.
“I am a hedonist, given the chance. There are many ways that can go badly. You seem to be avoiding those. But if, by chance, you had found yourself snarled, we would not think less of you. Except perhaps if you insisted on dealing with it on your own, without the resources of the family behind you.”
Edmund shivered once. He couldn’t hide it. He took a deep breath before doing his best to frame his thoughts. “I could shame you.”
“Technically yes, there are things you might do that would. But I do not think you would choose any of them willingly. And you are wary enough that someone could not snarl you into them without a great deal of gods-touched luck on their part.” Papa glanced at him before going back to looking at the stone.
It was easier to talk that way, certainly for Edmund.
“I cannot imagine you manipulating someone for your own benefit and their pain. I cannot imagine you pressing someone beyond their consent. Or being foolish when it comes to the well-being of the family.”
“No children got where that would be a problem,” Edmund said. He certainly heard stories of that, though mostly from the men who’d done so, which left out much of the story. “Nothing like that.” Then he coughed. “What Uncle Alexander’s teaching me can be used for manipulation.”
“Yes.” The reply was steady. “But I trust him to teach you how to use it well. As I trust you to consider when it’s the right tool. I have trusted you in that since— oh, about the time I brought Alexander home.”
Edmund did not know what to say to that.
He remembered it, of course. He’d been nine.
Somehow, his parents had rearranged space, the pillars of their lives, and made room.
He and Merry and Ros had talked about it, of course.
But mostly because Uncle Alexander— as he soon became— turned up with stories and tricks of magic and sometimes treats.
Some adults forced an intimacy that didn’t fit, and Uncle Alexander never had.
He’d let them decide what they wanted. Now, Edmund took half a step back.