“To you I come, Jethro, not to your sisters, for you are the man of the Mortymers now. To you I come for blessing.”
“You have it in full,” I answered.
“From your heart now?”
“From my heart,” I said. “My father would have wanted it.”
He leaned on the rail beside me, frowning into the dusk, and the rail creaked at him and I sensed the power of him, and some of the soul.
“You will be good to her, Tomos.”
He nodded.
“And gentle, as my father was gentle.”
“As my Father do hear me, I love her,” he whispered. “As He is witness, I have loved her from the day we met, Jethro, never coveting that which was my friend’s, but loving, nevertheless, and I seek no forgiveness since Man is twopenny clay. This I tell you now, as man to man, that I have not sought her with my body as I have sought other women in the days of my youth, and found them wanting. For I met her when the soul enmeshed the body, draining it of fire.” He chuckled deep, and grunted. “Just now you left too early for decency, and your mother, I could see, wondered why. But there are looks between men that need no explanation, so I came to tell you something to remember. In the bed of our marriage your mother wil hold me when I am dispirited or fierce to the injustices. This and her presence is all I seek of her, asking nothing more, save that she keeps me fed. Aye, the fire has died, Jethro, and it is peaceful, and she is in love with your father.”
“You know this, then?”
“She has never been short of a tongue. She made that clear four years back when I called at Christmas.”
“Best you should know, Tomos.”
“Aye.” He sighed. “A man such as Hywel do take some shifting.”
“We will miss her. Could you not live here?”
“No, my place is back with my people who need me. But there is a bed for any one of you, remember it. You will be welcome since I will be your father.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Jethro.” The tone of his voice turned me. “Jethro, another thing. Just now, on the stairs I spoke to Mari. You know about your brother?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “When I heard of Iestyn’s death I hurried to tell Mari, for it was my duty. I owe the same duty to Morfydd and your mother, but I will not tell them. I stopped my mouth to them four years back, and I will not tell them now. Mari had to know because she was young and with her life before her, that is why I came that Christmas. But I will never tell your mother. Better for her to live in hope – already I have saved her years of grief. She believes he is in transportation for seven years. A lot can happen in three more years. You agree?”
I shrugged.
“And Mari?” he said.
“What of Mari?”
“She is in love with you, do you know?”
I swung to him, searching for his eyes shadowed under the bushy brows.
“She told you?” I whispered.
“Aye.” He lit his pipe and played with the tinderbox. “Just now. And you love her, I hear it in your voice. Take her then, when you can afford it, but tread wary for youth is fire. Gently with her remember, until you are sure that Iestyn has gone. Hell it can be sitting in a kitchen with another man opposite.”
I pitied him.
“Two in one boat,” he said, grinning. “Though mine is but a ten year marriage, perhaps a little longer. Yours is for life.”
He straightened then.
“I am going back in now,” he said. “For women are as wary as cats at times like this. You coming?”
“Yes,” I said. “But first I will lock the hens. Tomos. …”
He turned, black in the coming of night, smiling.
“Tomos, will you send Mari to me?”
“God bless the loyalty and love in this house,” he said. “I will send her. She will help you catch the waywards hens, is it?”
I waited until he was back in the kitchen then went into the shippon and gathered the hens. There by the henhouse I waited. I saw the door come open again; heard Mari’s footsteps.
“Over by here,” I said, and she came.
“The old cockerel again, is it?” she asked, peering about her.
“They are all safe in bed,” I answered. “Mari …” and I took her hand.
For the first time in my life I felt her near me.
“Mari, Mari!” I whispered, and drew her into my arms.
“Jethro!” she said as I kissed her.
And her arms went about me hard and strong as I bent above her, kissing her, kissing her, and I knew the trembling of her. Warm were her lips, snatching at breath.
“Jethro,” she said, but I heard no sound, just saw her lips. As rock were we to the pressure of mountains; locked; beating as one, together.
Summer warm was the wind of the estuary, and the night was silver and rimming the clouds, the full moon shafting the sea with a broadsword of light. Wave-thunder came from the beach still heaped and despoiled from the low tide hunting of cockle-women, its forehead fringed with dark lines of weed. In my arbour of rocks above the beach I waited and great was the excitement within me, my heart thumping to the turn of the stones, waiting. Waiting for Mari at the end of the sheep track that led from Squire’s Reach.
Eerie is the Burrows in moonlight, this place of rabbits and honeycombed with
