Free Fair Blows the Wind (1978) by Louis - Talon-Chantry L'amour Page A

Africa, where many of our sons have ended."
    "I am sorry."
    "Do you bathe now, and dress. In an hour we will dine ... and talk." He turned away, and then paused. "I do not know who you are, or where you come from, and I have no need to know, yet I know what you are. And if my son came to another man, I should wish him cared for."
    He left me then, and soon after a maidservant, a brown-haired lass who shot me quick glances, brought hot water and linens.
    I made shift to bathe then, and relished the doing of it. Then I donned the clothes they brought me, and when I was fully clad I glanced at myself in the mirror and was pleased with what I saw. And surprised, too, for it had been many months since I had a mirror at hand.
    The boy I saw there was me, but a changed me. I was darkened by the sun, leaner somehow, and I looked older. I glanced at myself once again, then went out and closed the door behind me.
    It was a quiet meal we had, the father, the daughter, and I, the homeless boy.
    Her name was Evelina, but she was called Eve most of the time. His name was Robert Vypont. The house in which they lived was an old manor, built strongly and well some hundred years before, yet a house with much grace and style within.
    We talked lightly, of this and that, and then toward the close of the meal, he said, "What do you now propose to do?"
    "I shall go to London-town. It is a large place, and there I might find some way to live."
    Vypont shook his head. "There are many boys of your age there, good lads some of them, rascals most. You would find it hard, I think."
    "I must earn my way. I have no fortune, nor hope of any but what I can make of my own wit and strength."
    He studied me gravely, shaking his head. "You are young for that. The apprentices of London are rough lads themselves, and apprenticeships must be purchased."
    He watched while the maidservant refilled our glasses with ale. Then he said, "You have traveled much and are no doubt tired. Would you do us the honor to be our guest for a few days?"
    I hesitated, dearly wanting to agree, yet wary of it. I didn't know this man, and although he seemed generous, I was not sure of his motive. Moreover, I was now accustomed to the rough way of living and growing daily more so. Might not living here make me soft again?
    "You know naught of me," I said. "There was trouble at the inn, yonder, and it might bring grief upon you and yours. You have been kind, but much as I should like to remain, I must be about my business."
    "You will stay the night?"
    "If it pleases you, I should be delighted."
    He paused a moment. "Forgive my curiosity, and I know I have no right to ask, but a lad of your obvious background ... there should be a place for you." He looked at me again. "You have obviously gone to good schools."
    "I have never been to school. My father was my teacher."
    "Ah? A man of rare education, no doubt."
    "He was that. He read me from the writings of Homer when I was very young, and from Virgil, too. He taught me much of history, and not of our country only, but others as well.
    "We walked much together, and he instructed me then. We also talked with visitors--"
    "Visitors?" Robert Vypont spoke casually, yet I knew the question was an effort to learn something of my background.
    "There were few visitors toward the last," I said, "and mostly from the Continent." I had no doubt he knew where I was from, for I had the brogue, although not much of it.
    "Were they enemies of England?" he asked mildly.
    "My father," I said, "was enemy to no man, and wished harm to no man. He was a scholar who wished only to be let alone."
    "I am not a scholar," Vypont said. "Would that I were! I have many interests, and much desire to learn scholarly things, but for too long my activities were directed elsewhere."
    My father had talked to me of his many interests, talked to me as though I were a man grown, discussing not only our bookish interests, but others as well. Often of a night I had gone to the