Chapter Four #3
“When did you have your first pony?” she asked.
Trenton had to think about it. “My father gave me my first horse when I was eleven years of age,” he said. “His name was Lightning, but he didn’t move very fast. He was rather old.”
Brencis was listening closely, hoping he’d give her a clue as to how she could coerce a pony from her own father.
“I will name my pony Pegasus,” she announced. “My mother told me a story about Pegasus. He was a magical horse.”
“Indeed, he is,” Trenton agreed. “That is a fine name.”
Brencis was losing herself in dreams of her future pony. “And he shall be white,” she said. “I want a white pony and when I ride him, he will be able to jump things. Lots of things. Like this!”
With that, she began to run in circles, pretending to jump invisible barriers.
Trenton watched with some amusement, seeing the innocence of life through the eyes of a child.
That wasn’t something he ever got to witness, so it was a rarity.
His life was full of espionage and death, things that were the worst society had to offer, so to spend a few minutes with a little girl whose biggest dream was owning a pony was something of a sweet experience for him.
Something few and far between.
It also made him think of the child he had lost, the little boy that Alicia had died alongside.
That had been ten years ago, so his son would have been a little older than Brencis.
In the beginning, right after Alicia’s death, he used to wonder what his son would have been like and what traits he would have had.
He hadn’t thought of the boy in some time but in speaking with Brencis, he was reminded again.
It was difficult not to long for a son who never had a chance in life.
“Did you see me jump high?”
Brencis was standing in front of him, tugging on his hand. Jolted from his train of thought, he smiled weakly.
“I did,” he said. “You did a very good job.”
Brencis beamed. “I can jump higher!”
To prove her point, she rushed around and began jumping again while Trenton watched. He thought she was a rather cute little girl and he could only imagine Matthew’s pride in her. But just as she jumped very high and ended up falling to her knees, her older sister entered the stables.
“Cissy!” Cynethryn scolded. “Mama has been looking everywhere for you!”
As Brencis struggled to her feet, Cynethryn grabbed her hand and began to yank her along. But the little sister balked and tried to pull away.
“Nay!” she said. “I do not want to leave yet! I have to help feed the horses!”
Cynethryn frowned. “Cissy, Mama says you must come.”
“I do not want to go!”
“If you are bad, I will tell Papa!”
That brought Brencis to a halt and, in that moment, Trenton could see the fear the child had of her father.
But he could also see that Cynethryn was more than willing to use that threat against her little sister, a rather severe and unhappy threat from child to child.
Considering that the children must have known what their father was capable of, Trenton found it surprising that Cynethryn would say such a thing.
“Your father is not here right now,” he said, watching two pairs of big blue eyes turn to him. “But your sister is right, Lady Brencis. You must not behave so. The horses will be fed, have no fear. And thank you for giving Dewi your treats. I am sure he is grateful.”
Brencis was crestfallen that she wouldn’t be able to help feed the horses. Looking like a whipped dog, she looked to her sister with a pathetic expression on her face.
“I will come,” she said sadly. Then, she looked to Trenton. “Will you come, too?”
Before Trenton could reply, Cynethryn spoke. “Nay,” she said quickly, her attention turning to Trenton. “You will not come. Only Brencis.”
Trenton met the child’s gaze, sensing a good deal of hardness in one so young.
Last night, the child had been rather quiet, so he hadn’t spoken to her much at all.
But this morning, he could see what the smoke and noise of the hall had drowned out – this child was no wilting violet.
She had iron in her blood and he sensed that she was wary of him.
“I have no intention of coming,” he said evenly. “I am not finished with Dewi, but I thank you for your kind invitation all the same.”
Brencis simply looked depressed as Cynethryn yanked her along, pulling her out of the stable and into the muddy stable yard.
Trenton watched the pair go, wondering if Cynethryn was always so firm or if that was purely for his benefit.
Somehow, he didn’t think so. He could see the rigidity in her.
Perhaps it was her nature, brought on by a brutal father, or perhaps it was something else.
Trenton couldn’t imagine one of Matthew Wellesbourne’s grandchildren to be so hard.
But then again, she was the product of an unusually cruel father.
Although Trenton went through life showing limited concern for those he wasn’t close to, he couldn’t help but feel concern for the little girl with the hard manner.
Something in her eyes had his interest.
But he didn’t linger on it. Just as he was about to turn away, he caught sight of Lysabel entering the stable yard and running straight into her daughters.
Suddenly, he wasn’t so concerned with tending Dewi as Lysabel now filled his field of vision, and he watched as she gently scolded Brencis.
He could tell by her body language that she wasn’t happy with her youngest child, and Brencis was starting to weep.
She began rubbing her eyes as Lysabel bent over and kissed her on the head.
At that point, Trenton felt as if he should perhaps defend the child or, at the very least, let her mother know that she had been trying to be helpful. Leaving his horse sucking down the oats, he left the stable and headed for the trio in the center of the stable yard.
“Greetings, Lady de Wilde,” he said pleasantly. “It is a fine morning.”
Startled by his appearance, Lysabel turned to him with both surprise and pleasure on her face. “Good morn to you, Trenton,” she said. “You are up very early.”
He smiled at her words, drinking in the sight of her and feeling his heart flutter, just a little.
“I have never known anything else,” he said.
“There are times that I do not sleep at all and simply greet the morning as the night fades away. In fact, your youngest daughter is up early, too. She was very helpful to me this morning as I tended my horse.”
Lysabel’s attention moved between Brencis and Trenton.
“I see,” she said, although she didn’t sound particularly pleased.
Finally, she sighed. “Cissy is consumed by horses. She rises early nearly every morning to help with the feedings. I have told her that it is an unseemly task for a young girl, but she does not wish to listen.”