Part 9 (1/2)
”Valmont called them *Ministerium brats,' ” Henry said. ”What does it matter what their fathers do?”
”Well,” Professor Stratford hedged, ”their families are responsible for the laws that forbid combat training.”
”What?” Adam asked, scandalized.
Henry stared at the professor in shock.
”Hadn't you realized?” Professor Stratford asked. ”Ah, apparently not. The t.i.tle of *lord minister' is hereditary, pa.s.sed on through the generations along with the responsibility of the post. Lord Marchbanks is the Lord Minister of Foreign Relations, and Lord Flyte is the Lord Minister of Ways and Means, just as their fathers were before them, and just as your friends will be. Ah, come in, Ellen.”
The maid entered with the tea tray, which clattered loudly as she placed it on top of the precarious stack of magazines on Professor Stratford's desk. Henry leapt up and only just rescued a wayward platter of scones as it surged toward the carpet. Henry gave her a disdainful look as he placed the scones back onto the tray.
”I'd like to see you try breakin' yer back haulin' tea services up three flights o' stairs,” Ellen muttered.
At this, Henry, Adam, and Professor Stratford collectively snorted. Ellen bristled, not understanding the joke, and flounced from the room as though she strongly suspected they were making fun of her.
The tea was lovely, though-fresh hot scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, and a pot of chamomile tea with honey. Adam munched his way enthusiastically through a second scone while Henry filled Professor Stratford in on their first week of cla.s.ses. When he reached the part about Valmont and Theobold in the common room, the professor seemed oddly troubled by Theobold's behavior.
”I'm proud of you for that, Henry,” Professor Stratford said, absently stirring his tea with the jam knife. ”It is a good man who stands up for his friends, but an honorable man who stands up for his enemies.”
”Who said that?” Henry asked with the hint of a smile, recognizing his old tutor's trick of sounding as though he were quoting.
”I did, just now,” Professor Stratford returned with a lopsided grin. ”And I know you've had your differences with Valmont, but he could use some friends.”
”He has friends,” Adam muttered through a mouthful of scone.
”Is he playing in the cricket match?” Professor Stratford inquired.
Henry frowned, realizing that Valmont had been absent from trials. James hadn't invited him.
Professor Stratford nodded knowingly at the boys' silence. ”With popularity comes responsibility,” Professor Stratford said.
”I know,” Henry said miserably, recounting to the professor how he'd accidentally ignored Frankie, and how she'd refused to accept his apology. Adam interrupted a few times, mostly to accuse Rohan of enjoying the debacle. And though Henry was careful to avoid accusing Frankie of deliberately giving them the wrong hour for that afternoon's visit, Professor Stratford seemed to guess.
”I can tell this is something neither of you wants to hear,” Professor Stratford said, leaning back in his chair, ”but allowances are made for those who need them. If you have become friends with your peers, one might wonder why Frankie is still climbing through your dormitory window-and, yes, I know that's what she was doing.”
”I ... well ...,” Henry began, at a loss for words. ”It was n.o.ble of you three to be her friends last term,” the professor continued, ”but you need to think carefully here. Do you want to seize this opportunity to fit in, or do you want to mark yourselves as permanent outsiders? Frankie won't be around forever, but friends.h.i.+ps forged during one's school days are everlasting.”
”You're on Rohan's side,” Adam said despairingly. ”There are no sides. There's only what you choose to do,” Professor Stratford gently corrected.
”No, Adam's right,” Henry said, upset by Professor Stratford's urging for them to abandon, rather than mend, their broken friends.h.i.+p with Frankie. ”There are sides, and this isn't about Frankie. You want us to stay out of trouble and ignore everything that happened last term.”
Professor Stratford pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked tired. ”Henry, you are not responsible for what you saw in the Nordlands.”
”I thought the truth was supposed to set you free,” Henry returned. ”But all I see are chains. Don't be friends with Frankie. Stay out of trouble. Keep to the path and make good marks in school and let the grownups handle things.”
”Those are the best things you can do right now,” Professor Stratford said. ”Truly, my boy, I have your best interest at heart. There is nothing preventing you from earning your knighthood. You have this incredible opportunity before you, and I don't want you to lose it chasing after shadows and rumors.”
”You didn't seem to mind it last term.”
”Last term, someone was trying to sabotage your every move. You needed every ally you could get, and you had no choice but to fight back.”
”Just because you think you're out of range doesn't mean you can't still be attacked,” Henry said. ”It's like what the fencing master said: The unbeatable attack comes when you imagine yourself to be safe, when you've been tricked into letting down your defenses.”
Professor Stratford blanched. ”I think you need to tell me what else your professors have been saying,” the professor said, suddenly wary.
”Oh, good. Does this mean you two are no longer fighting?” Adam asked hopefully.
”Barely,” Henry said, his voice strained. ”And if you must know, Admiral Blackwood has us doing marching drills for some b.l.o.o.d.y parade, Lord Havelock's doing a study of failed revolutions, and Lingua has us reading about Troy.”
Professor Stratford ran a hand over his face and stared solemnly at Henry and Adam. Henry could see that his former tutor was very troubled by this news indeed, and that, in his own excitement over becoming friends with the other boys in his year, Henry had ignored hints of something quite serious.
”It seems I owe you an apology,” the professor said slowly. ”I didn't realize it had already progressed this far. I didn't know they were preparing you for ...”
Henry raised an eyebrow, waiting for the professor to say that horrible, forbidden word.
A knock sounded at the door.
They all jumped.
”Professor? Is my poetry book on your desk?”
”Er, no, Francesca, I don't see it,” Professor Stratford called back.
”You never look properly,” Frankie complained, pus.h.i.+ng open the door. When she saw Henry and Adam, she stiffened. ”Oh, it's you two.”
”Good afternoon, Miss Winter,” Henry said, trying to pretend that they'd been having a pleasant, light conversation, possibly about the weather.
”There!” Frankie fairly yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Henry. ”You see? Exactly like that.” She looked to Professor Stratford, who was suddenly quite preoccupied with his pocket watch.
Henry glared. ”Don't talk to him about me,” he said hotly.
”Don't make me want to hit you,” Frankie returned.
”Go ahead,” Henry challenged. ”Hit a knight. That's a brilliant plan.”
”You're not a knight,” Frankie practically screamed. ”You're just an infuriating little boy.”
”Blimey, someone laced her corset too tight,” Adam muttered.
”Stop!” Professor Stratford said sharply.
Henry flushed guiltily. He hadn't meant to quarrel in front of the professor, but now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember why he'd ever wanted to be friends with Frankie in the first place. He didn't understand her at all.
”You've been brought up to behave better than this,” Professor Stratford said, and then, with a glance in Henry's direction, he winced a bit at his choice of words. ”No more yelling, no more fighting. I don't care who did what-”
”He kissed my hand,” Frankie complained.