The first time he saw Nairobi, he walked into a horse. He was lucky it was only the horse’s flank and the groom was right there to take control of the animal. He didn’t appreciate just how close he had come to getting his head bashed in by the horse’s hooves. He didn’t think he would have noticed even if he had got a clopping on his head.
The second time he saw her, he was so overcome with passion, he dedicated a song, a story and a painting to her name. The song went something like this:
You’re as pretty as a dawn
As warm as a hearth fire
Spry like the sea
Steady like a rose
And my heart wants to sing
Every time you’re near
The song of your praises
Filled with molten verses
I wish I could speak
Of such things to a lady
But I’m a poor old man
With no words nor phrases
So accept this humble song
As a gift of my affections.
He knew it wasn’t the best and perhaps Nairobi had heard better but it was his best and so he got it transcribed on an expensive parchment that smelled of roses and presented it to her upon their third meeting.
He had expected that meeting to go many ways but he hadn’t expected her to break into tears, or for him to be summoned to the study of an irate Lord Mereko.
Arthur was soon explained the reason for both.
Since he was the Keep Performer, in many ways he himself was a nobleman, even if he didn’t have a title or lands. And Nairobi was only a lady in waiting to a noblewoman’s second daughter. The difference in their ranks had what had prompted the tears no doubt.
But had anyone thought to ask Nairobi, she would have disabused them of this notion. She had cried not because of the differences in rank but because no one had ever written her a poem before. She had been so overwhelmed; she had sought comfort in tears.
So the events precipitated a fourth meeting where Arthur only wished to apologize for his errors and uncouth ways.
By then Nairobi had got a hold on her emotions and knew the words were no jest. So she had been bold and said, “Sir, if you would present the parchment to me now, I would have no objections to such a gift from someone as illustrious as you.”
The words had made them both giggle. They were on the other side of forty and yet were behaving like youngsters in the first throes of passion.
Arthur presented the parchment to her, took permission from his lord to court the lovely lady and just to be on the safe side, took permission from the noblewoman and the daughter. None had objections so the two started to court, quite energetically, like they didn’t want to waste any time.
*
Nairobi’s presence in his life soothed the restlessness that he had been plagued with since he had accepted his position in Lord Mereko’s household. He no longer felt like he was whiling away time by trying to educate the gentry. He no longer felt he was crawling out of his own skin. He stopped thinking of running away. He had a new purpose now and he put his mind completely to that purpose i.e. the courting of Nairobi.
On one such occasion, where they were in his rooms, enjoying a quiet evening together, Nairobi having lost some of her timidity after spending months with Arthur, she finally asked him something she had been meaning to ask for a long time.
“Why are all your stories sad Mr. Chubs?”
His first instinct was to remind her to call him by his given name but he squashed it. He had tried to break that habit but it surfaced even now, especially when she asked a rather personal question. He could understand the need to revert to formalities to reduce the sting of the conversation.
He took a breath and then let it out noisily. “They’re not all sad Nairobi,” he said, imitating her by calling her by her full name instead of the nickname he had given her.
She looked into the fire, then out the window. She did not speak. It was that more than her words that worked as a rebuke and called Arthur’s conviction a lie.
So he tried again. “I think my stories reflect who I am.”
“You’re not a sad person Arthur.”
He smiled. “I am not. But sadness is a big part of me and since I cannot express it any other way, I express it thus.”
She huffed, almost like the child she was minding. “Men and their exalted emotions. Women don’t have to go around making other people miserable by making up sad stories. Why must you?”
Seeing the shock on his face, she said, “What you think women…”
He raised his hand to stop her. “I do not understand the question.”
Nairobi chewed on her upper lip, making it glisten. Arthur forgot all about their argument for a moment. She looked rather fetching in her green shawl and red dress, painted in orange and yellow hues from the fire. He wanted to forget all about their conversation and simply take her in his arms so they may dance or simply take pleasure in pressing kisses on one another. He made to take her hand but she was not done, it seemed, with the conversation.
“Oh Mr. Chubs…why must you make everyone miserable with your stories? You are here to entertain. Why cannot you tell happy stories, or adventurous ones, or ones where the hero and heroine marry? Why must you show hardships? Why must you make us remember that our lives aren’t good and that it is all hopeless?”
Arthur was so taken aback by that volley; he was sure he would have had need to sit had he not already been sitting. And then he barked out a laugh. Oh how Tully would have shivered with rage at her words!
“You think I jest?”
“No, my darling, absolutely not. How about I make a story for you right away about love and togetherness, hmm?”
She seemed amiable to the idea and let Arthur hold her hand as he tried to paint a merry picture.
He found it a most difficult task.
This is Chapter 14 of 26 of The Travelling Librarian series. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.
Psst: I also have 2 ebooks on Kindle – and if you’re on Kindle Unlimited, they’re free!
- Read The Gunslinger here.
- Read 23 Letters of Love here.
tales of Suchita 
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