A Love For All Seasons Read Online Free Page B

ebony. It was as if each one of Colin's three score years had taken a bit of him in passing, thinning and pruning him until, one day far too soon, he'd be no more.
    "Come into the light," the former tradesman commanded, his strong voice belying his delicate state, "that I might better see you."
    If Colin could speak so, he was not as frail as he appeared. Rob did as he bid, holding out his arms to give the man a better view. Years of sadness and care disappeared from the monk's thin face as he studied his dearest friend's former student. After a moment, he cocked his head to one side.
    "You are the last man I expected to emulate the Lionheart," he said, referring to both the manner in which Rob wore his hair and beard and to Walter of Stanrudde's protégé’s dislike of the French-speaking aristocrats who ruled this land.
    Rob shrugged, lowering his arms. "These days, many men choose to wear their hair almost to their shoulders and keep their beards trimmed close to their jaws. I do but keep fashion with a horde of others."
    Colin raised a chiding brow. "What? No admission that you know how well it becomes you? Aye, and with that gown of yours," he pointed to the floor-length blue tunic embossed with embroidered lozenges, each oval containing a stalk of wheat done in golden thread, "were I a lass, faith, but I'd swoon."
    As Rob laughed, the monk relaxed into the low-backed chair. The look on Colin's face intensified as if he sought the man concealed beneath the finery. It surprised Rob to find after years of being heralded as the best and brightest of his trade, he now nervously awaited this single man's judgment. At last, approving creases cut into Colin's lean cheeks.
    "Beanpole," the monk teased gently. "I think me you're even taller now than when you departed Stanrudde. You should have stopped growing a full head sooner."
    Tension drained from Rob at this ancient and familiar complaint. "I know taller men," he retorted, giving what had always been his standard response. "Have you forgotten there was once a time when you and Master Walter found my height handy? While other lads could duck and hide in a crowd to escape their master's eye, I was instantly visible."
    "So you were," Colin replied, his eyes gleaming at their old game. Jerking his head to the side in a general rightward direction, he said, "See that?"
    "What?" Rob asked in confusion, glancing between the bed, the brazier, and the stack of pallets at the far wall that had been provided for his servants.
    "The bed, you great twit," Colin said in fond irritation.
    Rob looked. It was a nice enough piece, with a mattress long enough for him to sleep comfortably upon it. At each corner of the mattress poles, onto which a spiraling line had been carved and painted a pretty green, thrust upward to support a wooden roof over the bed. A second set of horizontal poles supported curtains of thick, warm wool dyed a rich red color. He shrugged. "Aye, what of it?"
    Colin grinned. "It's our finest piece, usually reserved for the bishop's visit. You have no idea the agitation your stay has caused our esteemed abbot. I'll take that as a gauge of your success in the business of selling koren, guessing you've done right well for yourself."
    Pleasure and humility warred within Rob. "What I've done was built upon the generosity of others, yours, Master Walter's, and Master Wymund's. Moreover, I had help at the onset. Not only was there Master Walter's bequest, but Master Wymund made Arthur and me his heirs when his second wife also left him childless."
    "He made Arthur his heir as well?" The words leapt from Colin's mouth before he could restrain them. Rob smiled as he watched a man given to blunt speech seek the facade of polite disinterest that better society demanded of its members.
    "Of course, what I mean to say is," the monk tried again, his brow drawing down in frustration, “that Wymund stated such an intention before accepting you and Arthur as his apprentices. However, I