Dismissed - Andy Fransen (AC Forsaken)

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• published: 05 Sep 2013
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Possible spoilers... A passage of Haytham's journal, 10 December 1735, the day of Edward's funeral. "...Perhaps it had turned out that the source of her strength was him. Perhaps the carnage of that terrible evening had simply been too much for her to take. They say it happens to soldiers. They get 'soldier's heart' and become shadows of their former selves. The bloodshed changes them somehow. Was that the case with Mother? I wondered. 'I'm sorry, Haytham,' she added. 'It's all right, Mother.' 'No - I mean, you are to go to Europe with Mr Birch.' 'But I'm needed here, with you. To look after you.' She gave an airy laugh: 'Mama's little soldier, uh?', and fixed me with a strange, searching look. I knew exactly where where her mind was going. Back to what had happened on the stairs. She was seeing me thrust a blade into the eye socket of the masked attacker. And then she tore her eyes away, leaving me feeling almost breathless with the raw emotion of her gaze. 'I have Miss Davy and Emily to look after me, Haytham. When the repairs are made to Queen Anne's Square we'll be able to move back and I can employ more staff. No, it is me who should be looking after you, and I have appointed Mr Birch the family comptroller and your guardian, so that you can be looked after properly. It's what your father would have wanted.' She looked at the curtain quizzically, as if she was trying to recall why it was drawn. 'I understand Mr Birch was going to speak to you about leaving for Europe straight away.' 'He did, yes, but- ' 'Good.' She regarded me. Again, there was something discomforting about the look; she was no longer the mother I knew, I realized. Or was I no longer the son she knew? 'It's for the best, Haytham.' 'But, Mother...' She looked at me, then away again quickly. 'You're going, and that's the end of it,' she said firmly, her stare returning to the curtains. My eyes went to Miss Davy as though looking for assistance, but I found none; in return she gave me sympathetic smile, a raise of the eyebrows, an expression that said, 'I;m sorry, Haytham, there's nothing I can do, her mind is made up,' and there was silence in the room, no sound apart from the clip-clopping of hooves from outside, from a world that carried on oblivious to the fact that mine was being taken apart. 'You are dismissed, Haytham,' Mother said, with a wave of her hand. Before - before the attack, I mean - she had never used to 'summon' me. Or 'dismiss' me. Before, she had never let me leave her side without at least a kiss on the cheek, and she'd told me she loved me, at least once a day. As I stood, it occurred to me that she hadn't said anything about what happened on the stairs that night. She had never thanked me for saving her life. At the door I paused and turned to look at her, and wondered whether she wished the outcome had been different."