Grave injury is a pestis. I don’t understand how my brother could have carried all those scars that the tales tell of and still never have uttered a word of complaint. After that peasant stabbed me in the back I can no longer straighten my back to its full length. I look like an old man going around Hindon, but then again maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe people will finally start believing that I am how I say I am.
My sister has had a change of heart, at least to some extent. She invited me to her oldest daughter’s wedding this autumn. A grand festivity though the toll taken on even the Mayfair family showed on the feast table. The young couple looked happy though. Lady Eirwyn and sir Eltut seem fond of each other which I would consider a good sign. Supera tells me that my nephew has had a hand in marrying off his cousin to his lord’s youngest brother. If so lord Deian must be fond of the boy.
My sister and I did manage to talk things over a bit, and even though I can see her reluctance, I know that she no longer can ignore who I am. I think that both sir Leo and sir Cadry might have put in a good word here and there. I am glad that she is coming around even though she’s taken her good time to do it. Women can indeed be quite stubborn.
After that I spent a couple of weeks at Lady Ellen’s court. Engaging in speculations about philosophy and law. Lady Ellen asked me to recite some words on diplomacy and so I told her a quote of Cicero’s: “The rule of friendship means there should be mutual sympathy between them, each supplying what the other lacks and trying to benefit the other, always using friendly and sincere words.” I understand it struck a note with her, and I am all too glad too quote the great roman’s to complain.
Later, during the winter, one of Melkin’s twins took ill. I took some time to sit at her bedside. It seems to me like my wife is too lazy and lady Nest too unconcerned for the girl’s well being. However uncaring the two grown women in this family seem to be, the young Ennys is always at her twin’s side.
Looking at them, one sleeping anxiously, one huddled up by the side of the bed, I felt something stir inside me. And so, I started to remember. Piece by piece, bit by bit, I remembered an early spring years ago as two boys trained with too large armours and too long swords. I started to remember things stored away far in the back of my mind. Now the first time in 35 years I can recall the death of my own twin as he tossed and turned in agony as the fewer killed him. It is not a happy memory, but at least it is a memory.