"Nothing Will Change"

Geoffrey spent the rest of the week packing. By the last afternoon, his trunk had been filled with books, writing materials, and a fair number of his crisp, neutral colored clothing. Alice-Marie prepared packages of dried meat, bread, and walnuts for the journey. I tried to help at times, but was deemed more a hindrance than assistant.

The day he was to leave, clouds gathered in the sky without warning, as often it did in these parts. The well-versed members of the household quickly lit candles as the sky gathered into tempestuous thick clouds, and a heavy rain began to pound at the windows. Within the hour, the capricious sky called back the downpour as suddenly as it had unleashed it, leaving only wisps of cloud streaking across its canvas.

Evening arrived, rays of sunlight bidding farewell to the world with a glow of deep orange and red, casting long shadows across the walls. I could remember little from that day and kept to the bedroom, but I imagine the household secretly rejoiced that they were free of any mischief for the day. I watched Geoffrey’s belongings vanish from the shelves, his bed stripped bare, so that by afternoon I could not recognize the room we had shared.

The air grew thick with the damp that always settled after a downpour, perched as we were on the cusp before the summer months, and I thought I might suffocate with the heaviness of it. I watched Ian carry Geoffrey’s trunks out of the room and felt it congeal in my throat and chest. And I could do nothing but feel it.

Leo again summoned Geoffrey to the library. I could hear nothing of importance, only a predictable, “You must not fail me,” followed by Geoffrey’s equally predictable, “Yes Father.” I held back a snort of disgust with some difficulty. Could Geoffrey never think of anything more interesting to say? When he emerged from the library and saw me crouching at the door, he shook his head with a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

“What did he say?” I asked, following upon his heels as he turned the corner and led us toward the second staircase.

“Were you not listening at the door?” Geoffrey laughed.

“Would I ask you if I had heard? Perhaps he suspected as much and spoke in a lower voice than usual.”

“He said Ewan would journey with me. Our neighbor arrives in the evening and we will leave together. He exhorted me to do my utmost in my duties and obey the Lord Ambassador without fail that the family might look upon with favor in uniting our families.”

I frowned at the mention of his impending marital arrangements. “And did Father determine when the happy occasion is to take place? Pray tell, that I might know when I am to drink your happiness.”

“You behave as though this match was of my own making.” A note of frustration had entered Geoffrey’s tone where it so rarely made an appearance, and I bowed my head as we walked.

“Forgive me. I was too hasty.”

He shook his head, striding onward. “What need is there of forgiveness between friends?”

The lull between our words lifted my head and I saw to where he had brought us. In moments we had crossed the corridor to a small room on the uppermost floor. Geoffrey knocked upon the door and was rewarded with a husky, “Come in.”

We entered the room, and the features of the hunched figure upon the chair brightened at the sight of us. “Oh my dears, come in, come in. What business brings you to visit an old woman like me?”

Our nurse Hempie had been elderly even since my boyhood, and the deep lines upon her face spoke to the long years of her life. Now that we were past the age of nannies, she preferred to take her meals alone and rarely alighted from the confines of her room, yet I knew Geoffrey often visited with her.

“Nurse, you know that I must soon leave this house and find my fortune in the wider world,” Geoffrey said, going to her side and taking her wrinkled hand in his.

“Oh yes, child, I do remember now. News travels quickly in this house. I had something I meant to give you before you go, and I am pleased you have come. I thought I might send one of the maids to deliver it if you did not. Now, where did I put it?”

“Allow me, Nurse,” I said. “Where is it?”

“In the top drawer there, my dear. Thank you. Now Nathaniel, you have not been to see me as often as I’d like,” she said teasingly.

I could say nothing in reply as I drew out a knitted scarf and gave it into her hands. To my shame, I had not. I could find little pleasure in quiet conversation, and though I preserved an affection for the old lady, I did little more than exact my duty in my interactions toward her.

“In my absence, you will find him here more often,” Geoffrey said, “such that you may wish for the return of your quiet days.”

In this I read his missive to me, and nodded.

“Ah, I well understand the habits of young people. I was not always as you see me now. But no matter.” Hempie draped the scarf over Geoffrey’s neck. “Here, child. Though winter is yet months away, you will need this then. You would not think it, but I remember in my youth the biting cold of the north when the frost comes.”

“Is the frost so fierce then?” I asked.

“Oh yes, but not so fierce as one might think, perhaps. We have no snowfall up there, but the rainwater freezes upon everything it touches, and in my mind it cuts worse than soft snow.”

Geoffrey touched a hand to the wool, left undyed as he preferred. He raised himself to lay his lips lightly upon the nurse’s face. “Thank you. I will treasure it.”

We left Hempie, and I walked with him to the main door where Ewan awaited him. We watched as Ian loaded the luggage onto the waiting carriage. Geoffrey had donned a worn cloak suitable for traveling. A sword hung at his side. The sight of it was strange to me, for though I did not doubt his ability, he had no great affection for fighting, even in play.

“Well, little Nathaniel, will you now be master of the house?” Ewan said, laughing as he punched my shoulder in greeting.

I did not smile. We had scant dealings with our neighbors, but my few memories of them did little to please me. I remembered only a steady shower of teasing, remembered my childish tears as the older boys left me behind so I would not interfere with their sport.

“He will do well,” Geoffrey said.

“While we labor on for the glory of the Calatiel Empire,” said Ewan. “Ah well, Leo will perhaps allow you to join us soon enough. I hear the rebels have grown bold in these years of peace.” Flashing another wide grin, he bounded toward the carriage to torment some other unfortunate soul.

A faint scent of damp leaves and coconut swept through the air along the cool breeze. The sun sank behind the hills into a soft twilight glow, and the day relinquished its mantle to welcome the softer light of the moon.

Geoffrey lifted his hands and adjusted the cloak over his shoulders before turning to look at me. “I will write often,” I heard him say softly.

I wondered when we might meet again. Words stiffened and tangled on my tongue, and I could not draw them out.

His eyes searched mine and seemed to understand all I could not say. As I knew the thoughts that hid behind each turn of his head, every fleeting twitch of his mouth, so he did mine. He pulled me into an embrace, pressing his hand gently against the back of my head. “Dear friend, this is no eternal parting. Do your duty. Learn all you can. You will join me ere you feel the passing of the time.”

“There’s nothing of worth I can do here,” I mumbled into Geoffrey’s shoulder, my voice thickening.

“My years exceed yours by four, and my duties then seemed as negligible as yours do now. Your time will come. When it does, you too will have your chance to sear your mark onto the world.”

He let me go then, and I felt it as a wrenching of my heart. Geoffrey placed his hands on my shoulders and gently kissed my forehead. “Be well. Be strong.”

He turned and walked away before I could utter a farewell, mounted his horse and the caravan set off. Moments later, both carriage and horse had faded into the shadow of the trees.