Aleksey's Kingdom (A Royal Affair #2)(15)
“Uh-huh. And, guess what, again—you won’t be able to, so I’ll tell you. There is one for me, and you must, of course, buddy with someone. Oh, I wonder who that could be, as every other tent already has at least two….”
I could not help a matching grin to his, and I flipped him until he was on his back and me lying over him. We were just about to start some amusing practice for being in our tent alone together when Faelan lumbered to his feet and growled. We were apart on either side of the cabin, and I was pulling on a shirt, when a figure darkened the door. “Hello?”
Aleksey went over. “Yes, hello, Roderick. You can walk quickly, then. I thought you would take much longer to—anyway, good, I will show you the horses.”
I caught them up as Aleksey was unlatching the barn. It was not a grand structure; we had built it ourselves, and two men were not enough really to raise a large building, but it was adequate to give shelter to the horses. We had eight horses at this time, as I had recently traded a number of them off to the Mik’mac, who prized Xavier and Boudica’s offspring greatly. We were taking Xavier and Boudica with us, of course, and also I thought their first colt, which we had named Freedom, who had been born soon after our landfall in the New World. Xavier had been busy aboard the ship, apparently. He must have been making up for my abstinence. He had not been tortured near to death, of course.
So, Freedom was two years old now and a beauty. Born of two exceptional warhorses but not schooled as he should have been, perhaps, he was wild and excitable and—I have just realized who he reminds me of and possibly why I love him so much.
Freedom was to be our packhorse. I had not told him this yet, as I had only agreed to the expedition the previous evening. I was hardly inured to the idea yet myself, but we needed a third horse, and Freedom was to be it. Captain Fallkirk (yes, I had noted Aleksey’s easy use of the man’s Christian name), therefore, had the care of our remaining stock—one foal born two months previous and her mother; another born the previous year; and two mares I had acquired from the Mik’mac, both also in foal from Xavier and due in the spring. There was not a huge amount of care needed other than to shut them in the barn at night, release them securely into the paddock for the day, watch the weather a little, and bring them in if it was too cold, feed them—I saw the captain’s expression and Aleksey’s behind him, and nodded. “You know horses, sir. I apologize.”
He smiled. “My father raises horses in Dorset. Never apologize for being a man who loves these noble animals, sir. I never do.” He shifted his weight and grimaced a little. “They are very fine indeed.”
I sighed but could not watch him suffer so without asking, “How did you hurt yourself?”
“Ah, some very annoying young man has been teaching us this new game called—”
“Pulu?” I gave Aleksey a look, which he returned with a cheeky grin.
“You know it? Then you know the propensity to fall off your horse when playing it. I fell and I have been plagued with my back ever since.”
“Just as well you did not crack your ribs and almost miss a war. So, please make use of the cabin—for what it is. It is not a grand house in town, I am afraid.”
“You have not actually seen our barracks, then, sir?” He chuckled, then added, “I nearly forgot. You have been invited to breakfast. It was why I walked over so early. My apologies for rousing you from… bed.” I flicked Aleksey a look at something I heard in this, but he did not return it.
THEY DID indeed have tents: small off-white canvas things, low to the ground but taking two grown men easily enough. Room to roll around inside a little too, I reckoned. I was immensely cheered by this whole discovery. I was almost smiling when we sat down for breakfast—yes, there was a table and chairs for the officers, the Wright family, and ourselves. Aleksey’s status seemed to brush off onto me. As I had not washed yet that morning, I had more than his status all over me still, but I was distracted now by the breakfast offering: bread—white bread at that. The colony had recently had resupply from England—the ship Mrs. Wright had arrived upon—and flour had been included in the manifest. I was offered a split roll dripping in dark yellow butter with a large piece of crisp bacon in the middle, and apologies were made for the roughness of the fare. I glanced at Aleksey holding his with similar reverence. I had not eaten bread since leaving Europe. I bit into the soft dough, the butter and the bacon and actually felt the world swoon a little with my pleasure. A diet of game and fish was all very well….
After four rolls I was able to take more notice of my companions. Reverend Wright’s wife I discovered was called Mary, and her child, David, was five years old. She appeared even younger than I had thought last night. I would have put her about fifteen, but this did not seem possible given the age of the child. This morning she appeared almost mute with incomprehension about the turn her life had taken, and she did not catch my eye. I felt sorry for her. I knew that feeling.
I saw now why Aleksey had termed the child odd. I suppose he was. I do not have a great experience of children, but those I have met always seem taken by me, for some reason. Once over their initial shyness, natural to those so young with someone apparently so old, they latch on to me. I treat them with the same disapprobation and censure I apply to my relationship with Aleksey, so I cannot see why I become so favored. I even recently had a child servant who mistook my attempts to discipline him for fatherly love. But then, he is now a king, so I suppose he can misremember things as much as he likes.