Free Knights of the Black and White by Jack Whyte Page B

it meant that after eighteen years of sharing every aspect of his life openly and fully with Arlo, he now found himself constrained to keep secrets from him. That he could understand and even justify the need for such secrecy did nothing at all to lessen his regret, but he had no other option than to accept that Arlo was not, and could never be, a member of the Order.
    His dilemma resolved itself in a way that he could never have anticipated. He had been convinced that Arlo 66
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    suspected nothing of what was going on, but there came a day when, for one reason after another, Hugh had had to shut Arlo out not merely once but three times in a single afternoon, and he grew angry at himself for not being able to do so less obviously, for it was clear that Arlo knew something untoward was going on. That night, however, in the period after dinner and before lights out, Arlo himself brought the matter up in his own blunt, straightforward manner. It was a cool evening and they were outside, sitting alone by a well-established fire close to the stables, sharpening blades, Arlo with Hugh’s sword and Hugh himself with a long, pointed dagger.
    “Had a busy afternoon, today, didn’t you?” Arlo spoke without raising his head from what he was doing.
    “You were scuttling around like a mouse in a miller’s storehouse, frowning and biting your tongue all day.”
    Hugh stiffened as he wondered what was coming next.
    “Days like that come and go, for all of us.” Arlo straightened his back and laid the hilt of the sword against his knee before turning to look at Hugh.
    “You’re grumpy and you’re upset. I can see that …
    Everyone can see it. But you’ve been getting worse, that way at least, ever since you attended that big Gathering a few months ago.” He held out the sword and squinted at the blade, looking for rust spots. “D’you know why I didn’t attend that Gathering?” He glanced back just in time to see Hugh blink in astonishment at hearing such a question even asked. “’Course you do. I wasn’t invited, that’s why.
    And was glad to have it that way … or I would have been Beginnings
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    glad, if I’d thought about it. It just isn’t my place to attend such things. I wouldn’t feel right, sitting there gawping among all you knights in all your fine clothes. Just the same way as you wouldn’t feel right sitting around the kitchens with the scullions and the rest of us, eating the food we sometimes eat.”
    Hugh was frowning at him. “I am not sure I understand what you’re saying, Arlo.”
    “Why not? It’s plain enough.” Arlo expelled a breath.
    “You and I are friends, Hugh, but before anything else, we’re also master and servant—you the Baron’s son, and me the Baron’s servant’s son. I never lose sight of that, but sometimes you do, and you shouldn’t. Not ever. So now you’re a man and you have new things to think about, things to which I can’t be privy. I can sometimes see you fretting over it, like today. Well, you shouldn’t, because I don’t fret over it and I don’t want to know whatever it is that keeps you so agitated. It’s not my place to know about such things, and that pleases me.” He looked Hugh straight in the eye. “I’m quite happy doing the things I have to do. I have enough of them to keep me occupied, I know how to do them all, and I can do them in my sleep if I have to. D’you hear what I’m saying to you?”
    “Aye.” Hugh had begun to smile. “You are telling me to mind my own affairs and keep them to myself, and to leave you to yours. I hear you.”
    “Good, because you’re going to cut a finger off there if you don’t start looking to what you’re about.”

    • • •
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    WHEN THE TIME FINALLY CAME for Godfrey to marry Hugh’s sister, Louise—Godfrey was almost twenty-one years old by that time, and tardy in taking up his spousal duties—the event had been so long awaited,