eyes began to sting.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he hastily wiped his eyes on a corner of the coverlet. It would not be manly to be caught crying, and he did not want any of them to think that he was a snivelling infant.
Waltheof flourished aside the chamber curtain and ducked into the room, his height and vitality immediately diminishing the small space. In the spring warmth he was wearing a linen tunic and had tied back his abundant copper hair with a strip of leather. Simon could smell the freshness of the outdoors on his clothes and wanted desperately to be able to go there.
'You've come to say farewell, haven't you?' he demanded.
'Yes lad, I have.' Waltheof looked slightly uncomfortable, but did not shirk the question. 'Where William goes, unfortunately I must go too.'
Simon scowled glumly at the coverlet, utterly miserable at the thought of Waltheof's leaving. Even if the Saxon earl had conducted his courtship with Lady Judith in this room, he had still stayed to play tafel once she had gone, had still made time to talk.
'I promise I will visit as often as I can while we are within riding distance,' Waitheof said, clasping his large, warm hand over Simon's on the coverlet. 'I won't forget.'
Simon gazed at the rings flashing on Waltheof's fingers. One was of gold wire, twisted into a rope, the other bore a large, blood-red stone and looked a little bit like one of the rings that he had seen Bishop Remegius wear. The lump of misery grew and solidified in his stomach until it was as heavy as a small boulder.
'As soon as you're better I'll take you out riding,' Waltheof said.
'But that's weeks away!' Simon burst out, unable to contain his disappointment and anger. 'And I might not get better!' He thumped the bedclothes and felt a sharp pain stab through the centre of his broken leg.
'Of course you will.' Waltheof fixed him with a piercing blue stare, forcing Simon to meet his eyes and not look away. 'It was a bad break, I know it was, and I would not belittle your suffering, but you will not be confined for ever.'
Simon eyed him mutinously. 'It seems like for ever,' he muttered.
Waltheof sighed. 'Yes, if I were your age I suppose that it would feel like for ever to me.' He gave a rueful smile. 'Indeed, I think that I would feel the same now. I cannot bear to be cooped up.' Ferreting beneath his cloak, Waltheof flourished a bone flute carved from a goose's wingbone. 'Thorkell fashioned this for you,' he said. 'We thought that perhaps you would enjoy making music'
Simon thanked him, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. It was not that he did not appreciate the gift, but it was no compensation for being left on his own for days on end.
Waltheof also produced several sheets of parchment bound in a roll and tied with a ribbon. This was followed by a leather pouch containing the ingredients for making ink, a small, sharp knife with a bone handle, several goose quills, and a small wax tablet and stylo. 'You can lessen the distance by writing to me,' he said cheerfully.
Simon flushed. 'I… I'm not well lettered,' he mumbled.
Waltheof spread his hands. 'Do you have anything else to do except lie here and mope? Duke William himself can do no more than read and write his own name with the greatest labour, but he values greatly those who are literate. It would be much to your advantage to learn, and besides, I would like to send you messages and receive them in return.'
Simon nodded rather dubiously. 'I will try,' he said, speaking more out of a desire to please Waltheof than out of any enthusiasm of his own.
'Good lad. I…'
More footsteps trod on the stairs, lightly this time. Simon knew them, and so did Waltheof, for eagerness blazed in his eyes as he turned expectantly to the door. The boy wondered what Duke William would say if he knew about these meetings between his niece and the English earl. Now that the court was moving on it would not be so simple for them to be alone.
'I cannot stay,'
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he hastily wiped his eyes on a corner of the coverlet. It would not be manly to be caught crying, and he did not want any of them to think that he was a snivelling infant.
Waltheof flourished aside the chamber curtain and ducked into the room, his height and vitality immediately diminishing the small space. In the spring warmth he was wearing a linen tunic and had tied back his abundant copper hair with a strip of leather. Simon could smell the freshness of the outdoors on his clothes and wanted desperately to be able to go there.
'You've come to say farewell, haven't you?' he demanded.
'Yes lad, I have.' Waltheof looked slightly uncomfortable, but did not shirk the question. 'Where William goes, unfortunately I must go too.'
Simon scowled glumly at the coverlet, utterly miserable at the thought of Waltheof's leaving. Even if the Saxon earl had conducted his courtship with Lady Judith in this room, he had still stayed to play tafel once she had gone, had still made time to talk.
'I promise I will visit as often as I can while we are within riding distance,' Waitheof said, clasping his large, warm hand over Simon's on the coverlet. 'I won't forget.'
Simon gazed at the rings flashing on Waltheof's fingers. One was of gold wire, twisted into a rope, the other bore a large, blood-red stone and looked a little bit like one of the rings that he had seen Bishop Remegius wear. The lump of misery grew and solidified in his stomach until it was as heavy as a small boulder.
'As soon as you're better I'll take you out riding,' Waltheof said.
'But that's weeks away!' Simon burst out, unable to contain his disappointment and anger. 'And I might not get better!' He thumped the bedclothes and felt a sharp pain stab through the centre of his broken leg.
'Of course you will.' Waltheof fixed him with a piercing blue stare, forcing Simon to meet his eyes and not look away. 'It was a bad break, I know it was, and I would not belittle your suffering, but you will not be confined for ever.'
Simon eyed him mutinously. 'It seems like for ever,' he muttered.
Waltheof sighed. 'Yes, if I were your age I suppose that it would feel like for ever to me.' He gave a rueful smile. 'Indeed, I think that I would feel the same now. I cannot bear to be cooped up.' Ferreting beneath his cloak, Waltheof flourished a bone flute carved from a goose's wingbone. 'Thorkell fashioned this for you,' he said. 'We thought that perhaps you would enjoy making music'
Simon thanked him, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. It was not that he did not appreciate the gift, but it was no compensation for being left on his own for days on end.
Waltheof also produced several sheets of parchment bound in a roll and tied with a ribbon. This was followed by a leather pouch containing the ingredients for making ink, a small, sharp knife with a bone handle, several goose quills, and a small wax tablet and stylo. 'You can lessen the distance by writing to me,' he said cheerfully.
Simon flushed. 'I… I'm not well lettered,' he mumbled.
Waltheof spread his hands. 'Do you have anything else to do except lie here and mope? Duke William himself can do no more than read and write his own name with the greatest labour, but he values greatly those who are literate. It would be much to your advantage to learn, and besides, I would like to send you messages and receive them in return.'
Simon nodded rather dubiously. 'I will try,' he said, speaking more out of a desire to please Waltheof than out of any enthusiasm of his own.
'Good lad. I…'
More footsteps trod on the stairs, lightly this time. Simon knew them, and so did Waltheof, for eagerness blazed in his eyes as he turned expectantly to the door. The boy wondered what Duke William would say if he knew about these meetings between his niece and the English earl. Now that the court was moving on it would not be so simple for them to be alone.
'I cannot stay,'
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