ONE OF GOD’S GREATEST GIFTS IS MEMORY,” LORD Stephen said.
Christmas Day. We were sitting right up on the wall. Zara was at our feet.
“When things are going poorly,” he said, “memory consoles us. We remember better days.”
“Writing is partly remembering too,” I said. “My grandmother thinks unless you can remember something it’s not worth knowing, but there’s too much knowledge for that.”
The bells of the round church, the one that looks like a misshapen loaf, began to ring. Its patron saint is Donat, but
I know not
who or what
Donat was.
“Christmas has taken us by surprise,” Lord Stephen said. “We’ve scarcely prepared for it.”
“Christmas is like a fold,” I said. “That’s what I wrote once. And we’re all inside it, eating and drinking and keeping warm and singing…”
“Not this year.”
“…but we know the year’s hunger and terrors and anxieties and opportunities and sorrows are still there on the outside. We know they’re all waiting for us.”
Lord Stephen nodded. “They are,” he said. “Shall we pray for Lady Judith? Shall we pray for everyone at Holt?”
“And Caldicot,” I said. “When I think of Christmas, I’ll always think of Caldicot. Everyone hauling Yule logs up to the manor house, and calling out to each other. The white bags of their breath. Wat Harelip disguised as a gabbling wild man, and Lady Helen pretending not to recognize him. And Merlin’s salmon-leap.”
“What was that?
“You know Merlin.”
“No one does,” Lord Stephen said with a faint smile.
“We had a leaping contest, and Merlin jumped forty-seven feet!”
Lord Stephen looked at me, and very slowly he shook his head.
“The songs and the tabor and the boar’s head,” I said, “and the holly and yew and ivy and mistletoe, and the riddles…”
Lord Stephen gently lifted his right hand.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“No, no. It’s all right.” He lowered his head, and swallowed. “Even memory is a double-edged sword,” he said. “Consolation and melancholy.”
“We used to sing this carol,” I told him.
“Lady, we thank you
With hearts meek and mild
For the good you have given us
With your sweet child.”
“Yes,” said Lord Stephen. “There are several things to give thanks for. I never expected it, but Bertie is going to live, and it seems he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Taddeo thought he might,” I said.
“And you’re looking a bit more like yourself,” Lord Stephen added. “And let us give thanks Marquis Boniface has rejoined us.”
“These weeks have been terrible,” I said.
“Well, we’ll soon find out whether it was worth his going to Rome,” Lord Stephen said. “Anyhow, the Doge won’t get his way so easily now, and there’ll be better discipline.”
“The bells are quickening,” I said.
“How does that song end?” Lord Stephen asked. “The one you were singing.”
“Mother, look down on me
With your sweet eyes,
Give me peace and give me bliss,
My Lady, when I die.”
“That’s it,” Lord Stephen said.