Rozen said: ‘They say the Queen is very lively. She loves dancing and fashions.’
‘And meddling,’ added Bastian.
‘She is after all the Queen,’ I said.
‘Poor child,’ put in my mother. ‘It must be a terrible ordeal to be sent away from home at sixteen—younger than you twins.’ She smiled at us. ‘Imagine it … sent to a foreign land to a strange husband … and she a Catholic and he King of a Protestant country. No wonder there was discord and misunderstanding between them. If they have at last come to understand each other, let us be thankful and wish them happiness.’
‘I do with all my heart,’ Melanie supported her.
‘They won’t find it until the King listens to his ministers and we have a parliament to make our laws,’ said Bastian.
‘We are so far from the Court,’ said Melanie, ‘that what happens there hardly touches us. Why, we don’t even hear of it until months after it has happened!’
‘Like the ripples on a pool, in due course they reach its edge,’ Bastian reminded us.
‘How is Grandfather Casvellyn?’ asked my mother, changing the subject.
‘As usual,’ answered Melanie. ‘He knows you are coming, so I suggest when we have finished at the table you go to see him. Otherwise he will complain that you have slighted him.’
My mother nodded and smiled.
‘Melder will go up with you and she will see that you don’t stay too long.’
‘He has been rather fractious today,’ said Melder.
‘Isn’t he always?’ asked Connell.
‘More so than usual,’ answered Melder. ‘But he will be pleased to see you.’
I smiled faintly and saw that Bersaba was doing the same. Neither of us could recall any occasion when our grandfather had shown his pleasure in our presence.
Bersaba and my mother and I went out with Melder, and as we passed through the narrow corridor to the door which led from Nonna’s Tower to Seaward, my hand was gripped in a firm grasp and my fingers pressed warmly. I turned. Bastian was beside me. There was some meaning in the pressure of his fingers.
Grandfather Casvellyn glowered at us as we entered. Although I was prepared for him and knew what he looked like, I always experienced a slight shock when I came face to face with him. His legs were always covered with a rug and I imagined that they would be terrible to behold, mangled as they had been. His shoulders were so broad and from his waist up he looked so powerful, which made it more of a tragedy. I often thought that if he had been a little man it wouldn’t have seemed so bad. He had the fiercest eyes I had ever seen. They seemed to start out of his head and the whites all round the pupil were visible. When he turned them upon me I felt as though I were facing Medusa and should not have been surprised to feel my limbs turning to stone. I would always think of the night he had gone out in a boat—strong and well—and been caught in those cruel Devil’s Teeth which had made of him the man he was.
He turned his chair and wheeled it towards us.
‘So you’re here,’ he said, looking at my mother.
‘Yes, Father,’ she answered. She did not seem in the least afraid of him, which always surprised me in someone so mild and peace-loving. The thought occurred to me that she knew something … something he would rather she did not know and that gave her power over him. Being our mother she would only use that power not to be afraid.
‘And these are your girls. Where’s the boy?’
‘He has work at home. His father may be arriving home and someone must be there to greet him.’
A sneer curved Grandfather’s lips. ‘On East India business is it?’
‘But of course,’ said my mother placidly.
‘And these are the girls … two of them … like as two peas in a pod. It was like you to get two girls. We need boys. There’s your brother with all those girls and only one boy to show for years of marriage.’
‘It’s a custom in the family. You had but one, Father, so you can’t complain of Connell.’
‘We’re let down by our wives. We can get boys but not on them.’
‘You have little to complain of. Melanie has been a good daughter to you and Melder looks after you well.’
‘Oh yes, I must count my blessings in my own home. I must be grateful because I am allowed to live under my own roof. What do those girls think they’re doing standing there like dummies? Come here and let me look at you.’
Our mother drew us forward.
‘Do they need you to hold their hands while they beard the old lion in his den?’ shouted Grandfather. ‘Don’t get too near, my children. I might eat you.’
He was terrifying close. His brows grew thick and bushy and under them his eyes were piercing. He stretched out a hand and gripped my arm.
‘Which one are you?’
‘Angelet,’ I answered.
‘And this one?’
‘Bersaba.’
‘Outlandish names,’ he said.
‘Good Cornish names,’ answered my mother.
‘One named for the Angels and one after a woman who was not such an angel. Bathsheba, that’s the origin.’ He was very interested in origins of words and old customs of the countryside. Linnet, his wife, had been from Devon, but he was proud of his Cornish blood. He peered at Bersaba and his eyes travelled all over her as though he were assessing her capabilities. She returned his gaze fearlessly. Then he gave my sister a little push. ‘Growing up,’ he said. ‘Marry well and get sons.’
‘I shall do my best,’ said Bersaba.
I could see that he liked her and that she interested him more than I did, which was strange because he seemed to sense some difference in us which others couldn’t see.
‘And don’t take long about it. Let me see my great-grandchildren before I die.’
‘The twins are only seventeen, Father,’ said my mother.
He gave a long throaty chuckle and stretching out a hand gave Bersaba a push.
‘They’re ready,’ he said. ‘Ripe and ready.’
Bersaba blushed bright red.
My mother said: ‘We’re staying here for a few days, Father. We’ll come and see you again.’
‘One of the penalties of calling here,’ said our grandfather. ‘You’re expected to take in the old ogre while you enjoy yourselves with the rest of the family.’
‘Why, you know one of our reasons for coming is to see you,’ protested our mother.
‘Your mother was always one for observing the conventions,’ said my grandfather, ‘but I doubt you’ll follow in her footsteps.’ He was looking at Bersaba.
Melder said: ‘Well, we’ll go down now.’
‘Oh yes,’ cried Grandfather. ‘The watchdog thinks it time you left before I show my fangs. She’d draw them if she could. She’s the worst sort of female, your cousin Melder. Don’t grow up like her. A shrew, she is. She’s a woman who takes sides against a man. She’s got a grudge against us because no man wants her as a wife.’
‘Now, Father,’ protested my mother, ‘I am sure …’
‘You are sure … There’s one thing I can be sure of where you’re concerned. You’re going to say what you think is the right thing no matter if it means turning your back on the truth. That creature there is scarce a woman, for woman was brought into the world to please man and be fruitful …’
Melder showed no sign that she was hurt by this tirade, and indeed he was not looking at her; his eyes were on us and particularly, I fancied, Bersaba.
He started to laugh suddenly and his laughter was as frightening as his anger.
Melder had opened the door.
‘Well, we’ll be along to see you tomorrow,’ my mother said as though it had been the most pleasant of visits.
He was still laughing when the door shut on him.
‘In one of his bad moods today,’ commented my mother.