The Masterharper of Pern

CHAPTER FIVE

Robinton was nine when his father, looking for some musical score, came across those Merelan kept safely in her worktop drawer.

"Whose scribblings are these?" he demanded, pausing to read the top one.Without even noticing that his wife was speechless, he looked at two more before tossing the tight roll back in the drawer.

She seemed stuck in the doorway, an open message in one hand, a very odd expression on her face.

"What are you looking for in my desk?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice reasonable.She was furious with him for discarding the, to her, priceless examples of her son's musical genius, let alone going through her things.

"Any blank sheets.I've run out," he said, irritably pawing through the variety of objects, rather disgusted by the clutter."You really ought to clean this out once in a while, Mere."

"I keep cleaned pieces there, in plain sight," she said, enunciating each word with angry clarity and pointing with a stiff finger to the box on top of her desk.

"Oh, yes." Lifting several out, he began to examine each one.

"Mind if I borrow these?"

"As long as you replace what you take." She was having difficulty remaining calm and had mangled the message into a ball.

"Well, no need to get huffy," he said, suddenly noticing her stiff posture and angry glare.I'll get more at lunch." He started out of the room and then turned back."Who did write those tunes?You?"

He smiled in an effort to appease her anger."Not bad."

She was so angry at his condescending smile and tone that she blurted out the truth."Your son wrote them."

Petiron blinked in astonishment."Robie wrote those?" He started back to her worktop, but she moved swiftly from the door to stand in front of it."My son is already writing music?You're helping him, of course," he added, as if that explained much.

"He writes them with no help from anyone."

"But he must have had some help," said Petiron, trying to reach around her for access to the drawer."The scores were well written, even if the tunes are a trifle childish." Then his jaw dropped."How long has he been writing tunes?"

"If you were any sort of a father to him, paid any attention to what he does, ever asked him a single question about his classes," Merelan said, letting rip all her long bottled-up frustration, "you'd know he's been writing music” she stressed the word "for several years.You've even heard the apprentices singing some of the melodies."

"I have?" Petiron frowned, unable to understand either of his mate's shortcomings: not telling him about his own son's musicality and not informing him that apprentices were learning songs written by his own son."I have!" he said, thinking back to the tunefulness he'd heard from Washell's classes.Of course, the songs were suitable to the abilities of the age group but…He stared at Merelan, coming to grips with a sense of betrayal which he had never expected from her, his own spouse."But why, Merelan?Why keep his abilities from me?His own father?"

"Oh, so now he's your son instead of mine," Merelan snapped back."Now that he shows some prowess, he's all yours."

"Yours, mine, what difference does it make?He's what, seven Turns old?"

"He's nine turns old," she said, and stalked out of the room, slamming the door hard behind her.

Petiron stood staring at the closed door, the echo of the definitive slam ringing in his ears, the hand which held the clean sheets raised in entreaty, knowing Rob's age.But however did a man relate to his son until the boy was old enough to understand his father's precepts and philosophies?Able to appreciate his father's achievements?Able to accept his father's training?No, Petiron decided at that instant, he would keep Robinton under his direction, to be sure that he received the requisite training.Nor would Petiron make a favourite of his son in the Hall simply because of their relationship.The boy would have to measure up to the same standards as every other apprentice…

"Robinton!" he called as he strode purposefully to the boy's small room in their quarters.The door was ajar and the room rather neat, considering that a child lived in it.The bed was made, the few toys were neatly stacked on the shelf; and then he noticed the pipes beside the toys, and the small harp case.Someone else was teaching his son how to play the harp!

Now Petiron began to feel a righteous anger.Merelan was behaving in a most peculiar fashion.First by her silence over Robinton's ability and then by letting someone else train his son…

He strode out of the room and out of his quarters; he was starting down the stairs when Master Gennell came out of his rooms at the top of the steps.

"Ah, Petiron, I need a moment of your time…"

Petiron stopped, glancing down the steps, wondering where Merelan had gone in such a huff and where his son might be.The MasterHarper had the right to a moment of his time whenever he so chose.This was not a good moment, however, for any interview, no matter how pressing.For once common sense, rather than professional courtesy, prompted the MasterComposer.He had to find both his spouse and his son.Now!Before more damage could be done in the matter of Robinton's training.

"Now, Petiron," Master Gennell said, frowning when he saw the hesitation, the conflict of duties.

"With respect, Master…" Petiron began, barely keeping his tone civil.

"Now, MasterComposer," Gennell said firmly.

"My son…" Petiron tried the only viable excuse available.

"It is about your son that I wish to speak with you," Gennell said, and his frown so surprised Petiron that he found himself altering his direction towards the MasterHarper's rooms.

"About Robinton?"

Gennell nodded and ushered the MasterComposer into his workroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"About Robinton." He waved Petiron to a seat before he sat opposite, clasping his hands in a way that indicated a matter of grave importance was about to be discussed."As MasterHarper, I have certain duties and responsibilities towards those in my Hall." Petiron nodded, and Gennell went on."I have assigned Merelan to Benden Hold for the next year."

"But you can't? ' Petiron half rose from the chair in surprised indignation.

"I can and I have," Gennell said in such a flat tone that Petiron sank back again."Oh, I know you are already composing new arias which only she has the voice to sing, but I think you've been overworking her” and Gennell held up one finger "and have been totally ignoring your son."

"My son…I need to discuss my son with you, Gennell.He has written? "

Gennell held up a second finger."You are apparently the only one in the entire Hall who is unaware of Robinton's genius."

"Genius?A few simple tunes…"

"Petiron!" Gennell's voice echoed the impatience in his scowl.

"The boy reads music, even music you have written, and plays it on pipe or gitar without hesitation or error.He has made instruments that are good enough to have a Harper stamp."

"That drum he made was not up to standard," Petiron began.

"At that, his first drum was nearly good enough.The others he has made in the past few months have already been sold.So have the multiple pipes and his first flute? "

"The pipes are in his room…"

"He is already considered an apprentice by the rest of the Hall's Masters, MasterComposer Petiron," Gennell said."We are careful to take him only at his own pace, and his progress has him ahead of most second-year apprentices."

Petiron's mouth dropped."But he's my son…"

"A fact that you only seem to have recognized very recently,"

Gennell said in much the tone he would take with an erring journeyman.

Then his expression softened."You are the best composer we have had in the Hall in over two hundred years, Petiron, and you are honoured as such.It is your single-mindedness which can produce such extravagant and complex music, but it has also given you less than perfect vision about other, equally important matters: such as your son and your spouse.Therefore, since I had a request from Benden Hold for a Master in the Vocal Traditions, I have assigned Merelan to the post.At her request.As the Benden Lord Holder has children Robinton's age, he will accompany his mother."

Petiron rose indignantly."I'm his father, have I no say in this?"

"Until a boy child is twelve, it is traditional for him to be in his mother's care unless fostered to a family."

"This has all been conducted with precipitous and unnecessary haste," Petiron began, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to control the rage that was boiling up inside him.Not only were his paternal rights being denied, but why was his spouse, usually so understanding, suddenly rejecting him?

"On the contrary, Master Petiron," Gennell replied, shaking his head slowly and sadly, "the decision was neither an easy nor an abrupt one."

"But…she was there!" Petiron waved a shaking hand towards his own quarters on the level above."She cannot have gone far…"

"A Benden dragon arrived this morning with a further entreaty from Lord Maidir for her to accept the posting, especially as his contracted harper, Evarel, has been advised to rest by the healer.

She took the message up to your quarters to discuss it with you.I admit to being surprised that she returned and accepted it.She told me that she felt it was in both her interests and Robinton's that she do so."

"Because I didn't know my son's age?" Petiron heard his voice rise to tenor range in surprise.

Gennell blinked in such an honest reaction that Petiron had to accept that that subject had not come up.Still, Merelan's acceptance of any posting away from him, away from the Hall, was so uncharacteristic of her that he could think of no reason at all beyond that rather trite one.

"About that I do not know, Petiron, but she and the boy will already have reached Benden Hold.She asked Betrice to pack up what she and Robinton will need.Doubtless you will hear from her shortly with a private letter."

Petiron stared at his MasterHarper, having great difficulty absorbing what he had just heard.

"If it is a mother's right to have her child until he is twelve, then I shall not interfere with her maternal instincts," he said so harshly that Gennell flinched."At twelve I shall have him." With that, both promise and threat, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the MasterHarper's workroom.