From Across the Ancient Waters (24 page)

“There are stories that find their way back from the university,” replied Stevie. “That’s all I will say. Oh, I just heard them call my name!”

“Best of luck to you!”

“Don’t forget that visit.” Stevie ran off.

Percy inched his way to the front of the throng for a better view. As he did, out of the corner of his eye he noticed Florilyn and Colville Burrenchobay moving out of sight behind the chapel. He was soon caught up in Stevie’s performance with the sheep. By the time Stevie flung the coat of wool in a single piece away from the skinny little white body that emerged from beneath it, Percy was cheering and yelling with the rest.

“Well done, Stevie!” he exclaimed when Stevie approached at the conclusion of his effort. “Will you win, do you think?”

“Who can say? I was third last year. Some of the men have been at it decades more than me. It will take me years to catch them. If I manage to get in the top five, I will have had a good day of it.”

“Is your father here? Does he participate?”

A sad smile came over the young shepherd’s face. “No, I’m sorry to say,” he replied. “He used to be the shearing champion of all Gwynedd. But he’s not well just now, you see. He doesn’t get out anymore.”

As they were talking, Percy was surprised to see Rhawn Lorimer walking toward them. She was alone. “Hello, Percival,” she purred. She glanced toward Stevie. Her nose crinkled squeamishly.

“Miss Lorimer,” said Percy. “Quite a day, eh? Do you know Stevie

Muir?”

“Everybody does,” she answered, not attempting to disguise her repugnance. “Would you like to walk with me, Percival?” she added.

If she had thought to win Percy’s affection by being brusque with Stevie Muir, the magistrate’s daughter had misjudged her prey. Nevertheless, by that subtle art at which young women are so skilled and of which young men are so oblivious, in less than a minute Percy found himself cleverly drawn away from his shepherd friend and the sheep-shearing crowd together. He glanced back, but Stevie was already swallowed up by the activity.

“What are you looking at?” asked Rhawn.

“I was just wondering where Stevie disappeared to,” replied Percy.

“Who cares about
him?”

“I care about him.”

“Florilyn says you’re friends with the little witch-child, too. Are you friends with all the local riffraff?”

“Riffraff?” exclaimed Percy. “What are you talking about? They are people. God made them no less than He made you and me. Yes, I am friends with Gwyneth and Stevie. They are two of the first people I met here. I like them.”

Percy hardly realized that the words out of his mouth might well have come from his father. Had he been paying closer attention, he would probably have wondered what was becoming of him. They continued to move farther from the crowd.

“What about me?” said Rhawn in a coquettish tone, moving close and brushing Percy’s side.

“You’re a nice enough girl, Miss Lorimer, I suppose,” replied Percy. “But I hardly know you.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“What kind of question is that?” laughed Percy. “You don’t go around asking people if they think you’re pretty.”

“All the other boys think I’m pretty.”

“I am sure they do. All I am saying is that I want no trouble with Courtenay. He told us to stay away from each other. So I’m not exactly sure what you are doing. What if he sees us?”

“Do you take your orders from Courtenay?” baited Rhawn.

“No. But he’s bigger and stronger than me, and with a temper I don’t particularly want to upset. He’s already put me on the ground twice. I’m no idiot. I’m not eager to experience it again.”

“Wouldn’t it be worth it … for me?”

“Honestly, no. Sorry. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but if you are Courtenay’s girl, I have no desire to interfere. I certainly have no intention of getting beat up for you.”

“I’m not his girl,” rejoined Rhawn with the hint of a pout.

“If Courtenay thinks you are, then—”

What Percy had been about to say was interrupted by the scream of a girl’s voice. It came from behind the chapel. Percy bolted toward it.

He rounded the corner of the stone church to see Florilyn struggling in the arms of the same youth he had seen her with earlier.

“Just a simple kiss, Florilyn,” he was saying in a voice that revealed aggression. “I know you’re in love with me!”

“No, I’m not! Colville … let me go!” cried Florilyn.

Obviously provoked, the young man pressed his advantage. He grabbed her tight and pulled her face to his.

Another scream sounded. Somehow Florilyn struggled to loosen herself sufficiently to free her arm. A great whack struck Colville Burrenchobay’s cheek.

Florilyn was stronger than it might have seemed, especially when aroused to fury. Burrenchobay’s eyes filled from the sting of the blow. “You little vixen!” he cried. “You will pay for that!”

However he thought to retaliate was preempted as Percy flew into their midst.

“Hey, what the—!” exclaimed Burrenchobay. In the torrent that followed, he forgot that he was in the presence of a young woman, if not quite yet a lady.

“Stand back, Florilyn!” said Percy in a commanding voice as he separated them. “Get away!”

Whether Florilyn had really been shocked by Colville Burrenchobay’s advances, only she could say. The strength of his grip had, in truth, frightened her just a little. She, too, had heard the stories to which Stevie had alluded. But like many foolish maidens, she found playing with fire tantalizing, thrilling, and dangerous. She greatly overestimated her ability to keep from burning her fingers. She had been as much to blame in the clandestine affair as Burrenchobay, perhaps more so. Yet with a squire suddenly rushing in to protect her honor, as it were, notwithstanding that it was one whose interference she would have scorned had she taken the leisure to stop and think about it, what could she do but back away and see how the thing turned out?

“You will regret your insolence, whoever you are, you little cur!” shouted Burrenchobay in a rage.

He was not one who stood on ceremony, nor who cherished qualms of etiquette about taking on someone half his size. Charging like a wild bull, within seconds Percy yet again found himself on the short end of a brief but violent scuffle.

Florilyn saw nothing of it. She raced from behind the chapel, only stopping when she met Rhawn Lorimer coming around the side of the stone wall.

“What—” began Rhawn, seeing the look of fright on Florilyn’s face.

Behind her she heard the yells and saw the fight well enough. It did not last long. A minute later, Colville Burrenchobay had disappeared.

The two girls walked slowly to where Percy was sprawled out on the grass.

“What happened?” said Rhawn.

“Colville tried to kiss me,” replied Florilyn. “I screamed. Percy, like the nincompoop he is, ran in and tried to rescue me.”

“That hardly sounds like the work of a nincompoop,” said Rhawn. “No one’s ever rescued me.”

They approached. Percy still lay motionless.

“Is he … dead?” said Rhawn, her voice trembling at the word.

Slowly Percy opened his eyes. He saw the faces of the two girls staring down at him. “Ohhh!” he groaned in pain. “I definitely do not think I am cut out for country life.” He groaned again and tried to move. “These blokes here are lunatics,” he said. “They’ll knock your block off at the drop of a hat. I’ll never survive the summer.”

Florilyn could not prevent an inward smile. He was always saying something funny.

So relieved that nothing appeared broken, both girls stooped down and tried to help him sit up.

“I’m all right,” said Percy, drawing in a deep breath. He breathed in and out a few more times where he sat on the grass. “Whew,” he sighed. “That was one big, strong guy. Remind me to keep out of his way.”

Rhawn broke into laughter to hear Percy feeling good enough to make light of it. Florilyn joined her, but her laugh was mingled with anxiety for herself and what would be the upshot of the incident.

“You two can go,” said Percy, struggling to his feet. “I don’t want you to get in trouble on my account. That’s all I need, to incur Courtenay’s wrath now as well. Why don’t you go and have fun and pretend this never happened. I’ll find my own way home … like the proverbial dog slinking away with his tail between his legs.”

Mixed Fortunes

O
nce again at dinner that evening, Percy’s facial condition was the object of comment and question. He did his best to brush off the questions, but the viscount was noticeably concerned.

When his uncle began hinting at talking to Styles Lorimer about investigating the incident, Percy knew he had to come clean before it went any further. “It’s really nothing, Uncle Roderick,” he said. “I got into a row with Colville Burrenchobay, that’s all.”

“Oh … I see. Hmm … not a lad to tangle with, Percy, my boy,” said the viscount seriously. “He’s twice your size, I dare say.”

“I will be more careful in the future, sir, believe me.”

“What were you fighting about?”

Florilyn’s face sought the table. She felt her cheeks redden and was afraid to look up without betraying herself.

“Nothing much,” said Percy. “Just a difference of opinion. It was my fault.”

“I can hardly believe that,” rejoined the viscount.

“It’s true, sir. I am sorry if I disappoint you.”

“No, no, Percy, my boy—think nothing of it. Boys will be boys. Young Burrenchobay is well known to have a hot head.”

The meal progressed. The mood remained subdued. Florilyn said almost nothing. For once Courtenay seemed to be enjoying himself more than the rest of the family.

Most of those attending the market day gala had gotten wind of the fight behind the church. Young boys smell a fight a mile away. Any scuffle to lads under twelve is like catnip to a cat. A few had managed to catch glimpses of the tail end of it, and the exciting news spread like a brush fire.

Not having discovered Rhawn Lorimer’s treachery toward himself in the way of her advances toward Percy, Courtenay was delighted with the turn of events with regard to his friend and cousin. And he could not help but enjoy watching his sister squirm in hopes that her part in the incident, which he learned later from Colville, would not come out.

Later in the evening as he was walking slowly down the corridor to his room, one arm noticeably drooping at his side and very much looking forward to his bed at last, Percy was surprised to see Florilyn standing waiting for him. The expression on her face was one whose acquaintance Percy had not made before. In a strange way, he hardly recognized her. He approached and nodded in silent greeting.

Florilyn glanced down at the floor. She was clearly embarrassed.

He waited.

Finally she looked up at him. “Why didn’t you tell my father it was my fault?” she said.

“I didn’t know it was.”

Again Florilyn glanced down at the floor.

“Was
it your fault?” asked Percy. “It didn’t look that way to me. He was behaving badly to you—certainly not like a gentleman.”

“No one has ever accused Colville Burrenchobay of being a gentleman,” rejoined Florilyn. She looked up. The gaze that met Percy’s was earnest and sincere. “But I was flirting with him,” she said.

Percy took in the information without comment. He was not surprised. “What would it have accomplished to blame you?” he said after a moment. “Your father doesn’t need to know … that is, if you learned your lesson.”

“I hope I have,” said Florilyn, obviously uneasy. “Daddy would have whipped me if he knew. Well, thank you, I guess.” She forced a smile, though the effort seemed to strain the muscles of her face to their limit.

She turned and left Percy at his door pondering the unexpected exchange with his cousin.

Percy remained out of sight for a few days, nursing his wounds for a third time and vowing to keep clear, whatever the circumstances, of his older cousin and his wild friend from Burrenchobay Hall. If he didn’t find a way to keep out of the way of these two crazed young Welshmen, his father would have to come fetch him from the hospital!

Several days later he ran into Florilyn outside the house. He and she had not spoken since the previous Saturday night.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” she asked.

Percy smiled skeptically. “So you can get me thrown and ditch me again?” he said, half playfully, though not
entirely
playfully.

“No, I promise. You can lead the way.”

She
sounded
sincere. Percy thought for a moment then nodded.

“I may regret this,” he said. “But … all right. I’ll take you up on your offer.”

Twenty minutes later, the cousins rode out of the stable yard. True to her word, Florilyn allowed Percy to lead. They took the same two horses as before, but this time Percy was on Grey Tide, and not once did Florilyn increase her speed. They led the two mounts slowly down the entry drive side by side, and then Percy turned onto the main road and down the slope of the plateau toward Llanfryniog.

“You seem steadier in the saddle,” said Florilyn.

“I’ve been riding quite a bit,” said Percy. “I’m getting comfortable with it.”

“That’s good.”

“We should have another race before I return to Glasgow. You did rather take advantage of me last time.”

“That wasn’t really a proper
race.”

“Maybe the next one can be.”

Florilyn smiled. Her expression was difficult to read. “Do you really think you could keep up with me?” she said with a hint of playful banter.

“Maybe not … not now. But perhaps by the end of the summer.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Percy did not reply. He met her coy smile with one of his own.

They reached the village and clomped leisurely along the hard-packed dirt street between the stone buildings lining it on both sides. Most of the people they passed, to Florilyn’s surprise, greeted Percy by name. He led the way through town, past the chapel, all evidence of the previous Saturday’s festivities gone, and down to the harbor. They continued onto the sand and a short distance along it then turned back up again into town. Returning through the village, Percy led randomly through several side streets and lanes where the two horses occasionally had to walk in single file.