Mike Shevdon - The Eighth Court

“I don’t know. Neither does Gramawl.”

That got her attention. “I don’t understand. She never goes anywhere without Gramawl. I don’t think she’s capable of going anywhere without him.”

“It seems that may be a misconception,” I pointed out gently.

She shook her head. “You’ve made a mistake. She probably in one of her moods. She’s being difficult. She can be like that for days.”

“She’s not there. It’s deserted. Gramawl is waiting in the tunnels waiting for her return. I don’t think he knows what else to do.” I told her what I’d found at the top of the stairway, and my limited conversation with Gramawl.

She sat down on the bed heavily. “But where could she go?” asked Blackbird. “There isn’t anywhere.”

“She’s gone somewhere,” I said. “Maybe we can send out a message, you know, ask around, get people to look out for her?”

“It won’t do any good,” said Blackbird. “If Gramawl can’t find her then no one else is going to be able to. I can’t understand why she’d do that to him.”

I sat down on the bed next to her. “Gramawl seems to think that she’s going somewhere he can’t follow.” I said it as gently as I could. “He’s so much younger than she is — more vital.”

“She wouldn’t leave him, would she?” she said. “Not like that.”

I held her against me and she passed her arms around my waist and rested her head against my shoulder as if the world were heavy on her shoulders. I stroked her hair and tried to ease the burden, knowing that whatever I could do would not be enough.

After a while, we went down and collected the baby from Lesley, who was talking with Mullbrook in the Kitchen. The baby held his arms out to Blackbird to be picked up and then sat on her lap and played with her hair while she explained what had happened with Fionh. I think Mullbrook already knew, but he listened patiently, perhaps gaining some insight from Blackbird’s own perspective. Then Mullbrook asked her about the naming ceremony, which I hadn’t had chance to mention to her, and it came out that Lesley and I had been discussing it. I thought she would be cross with me for planning something without her, but she was OK about it, making suggestions and acknowledging that it was time our son had a name.

“You’ve chosen a name?” Lesley asked me. “Don’t tell me what it is, but you have chosen one, yes?”

“We haven’t really thought about it,” I said. Blackbird looked strangely shifty, suddenly, for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

“You do know it’s your choice?” said Lesley, glancing at Blackbird.

“Traditionally, a daughter is named by the mother,” said Mullbrook, “and a son is named by the father. You may choose not to follow such traditions…” His tone said he would much rather we did.

“You didn’t tell me it was my choice,” I said to Blackbird.

“I’m sure I must have mentioned it at some point,” she said, her words jarring to my sensitive ear. “I’m sure I told you that we don’t name our children until they reach six months,” she said. “I possibly neglected to mention who gets to choose the name.”

I gave her a long look.

“I would have told you,” she said. “I’ve been busy.”

I sat down. “So I get to choose? Can I ask around for ideas, or does it have to be done by me alone?”

“You may consult with whomever you choose,” said Mullbrook, “but the final say is yours alone. Perhaps a family name might be nice?” he suggested.

“My Dad’s name is Marcus,” I said.

“I went to bed with a Marcus, once,” said Blackbird. “He had golden hair all the way down to…”

“Maybe not Marcus, then.” I said, giving her a stern look. I tried to figure out whether she was winding me up, but her words at least were true.

“Stephen’s a nice name,” Lesley suggested.

“I’m not keen on Stephen.” I said.

“I think what Lesley was trying to tell you,” said Blackbird, “is that Stephen is Mullbrook’s name.”

“Ah,” I said. “I didn’t mean…”

“No matter,” said Mullbrook. “As I said, the choice is yours, but also the responsibility. You must choose a name that will suit your son, that he will carry with pride and honour, and that he will thank you for in years to come.”

“No pressure, then?” I said. Lesley and Blackbird exchanged a look that was too brief to interpret. “Are you two plotting something?”

Blackbird shook her head innocently, while Lesley shared a smile with Mullbrook.

“I quite fancy something different,” I said, “something distinguished. What about Julius?”

“A fine idea,” said Blackbird. “Then we can call him Julie for short.”

“Are you intending to torpedo every suggestion I make?” I asked her.

“If we don’t call him Julie,” she said, “the other children will.”

“What other children?” I asked her.

Again, there was a look that passed between Lesley and Blackbird. What was going on between these two? “You’re not pregnant again, are you?” I asked Blackbird. She shook her head, but it wasn’t quite a no. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked her.

“I am,” said Lesley.

“You are what?” I asked her.

“Pregnant,” she said.

For a moment my mouth fell open, and then I recovered and kissed her cheek and told her what delightful news that was.

“Dave and I have been keeping it a secret, but as soon as it starts to show, everyone will know, I suppose.”

“Dave?” I said. I felt a kick under the table while Blackbird looked entirely innocent. “He’s a lovely guy,” I said, realising I had strayed into potentially hazardous territory. “I’m delighted for both of you.”

My son stretched out his arms to me, wanting to be part of whatever was happening, and it gave me an excuse to recover myself and lift him from Blackbird, sitting him in my arms where he could see what was going on. “So Lesley was suggesting we might need stewards for the Eighth Court,” I remarked to Mullbrook, “though we’re a little ahead of ourselves perhaps?”

“It often pays to plan ahead,” said Mullbrook. In the periphery of my vision, Lesley was giving me meaningful looks while trying to avoid catching Mullbrook’s eye.

“It’s up to Blackbird, of course,” I said to Mullbrook, “but I wondered if there was anyone you might recommend we should talk to?” I felt another kick on my ankle, but from the opposite direction. In this case I ignored it.

The faintest of smiles crossed Mullbrook’s lips, and vanished so quickly that I wondered if it had been there at all. “Well,” he said, “there are one or two names that come to mind, but you must understand that it would be a great loss to the courts. That kind of person would be very difficult to replace. We might need to go through a long selection and appointment process, and then there would be a handover, and maybe after five or six years…”

“Years?” said Lesley.

“Unless there’s someone who would be willing to take on such duties who happened to be willing — someone I trust implicitly who has both the confidence of the courts and of Blackbird herself?” The smile played across his lips again.

She glanced between Blackbird and Mullbrook. “You’re teasing me,” she said to him.

“In part,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not serious too. It is a big commitment, and you have a baby on the way. You may want to consider whether this is the right time?”

“There’ll never be another chance like this,” she said.

“I find that at my age, Lesley, never is a word I hardly use at all,” he said. “Take some time to consider it carefully. There will be other opportunities in due course, I’m sure, and if you decide that it’s too much to take on at once then that can be accommodated. The important thing is to make the right decision.” He laid his hand over hers and gave her a warm smile and a nod. “There’s no rush.”