“Have you decided yet which of you will be my sword brother?” Keverin asked.
Strictly speaking, he should have asked one of them to perform that duty himself, but he couldn’t choose one over the other. He'd stood for Jihan at his wedding to Ahnao, and probably would have chosen Jihan for his sword brother had they been at Athione.
“I will of course,” Gylaren said smugly. “I outrank you, Purcell.”
Purcell grumbled, but he was smiling. “That means I get to play Julia’s father then.”
Gylaren made to protest but then he frowned. “Damn, you’re right.”
Keverin laughed remembering a conversation he’d had with Julia a long time ago about this moment. “I wish Jihan didn’t have to stay with the army. It feels wrong having only us three there.”
Gylaren nodded. “I know what you mean, but one of us had to take overall command while we get you properly married, and Jihan knows the defences best. Besides, strictly speaking there are only three Lord Protectors here, not all four.”
That was true, but Keverin still thought of Gylaren as their fourth. In fact, his son Niklaus was Lord Protector of the South these days, but he had been ordered to stay at Meilan to protect against an attack through the pass by the soldiers of Tindebrai stationed at Orrisa. God help him should such a thing occur. Meilan’s best guardsmen were here under the command of his brother, Lord Gydrid.
The door to his suite opened to admit Lady Ahnao. Keverin and the others bowed to her and she curtsied. She was getting better at it, and hardly wobbled. Gylaren took her hand and helped her rise. She looked wonderful in her pale blue dress. If he wasn't mistaken, she'd worn this one to Gylaren’s coronation.
“Is it time?” Keverin asked eagerly.
Ahnao smiled. “Julia is ready, but you have to go down first. I’ve come to fetch… let me guess. Purcell?”
Purcell laughed. “Right first time.”
“Come then, Julia is waiting.”
Purcell escorted Ahnao out of the room and on to the women’s quarter of the keep.
Keverin took a deep shaky breath. He was well on his way to a half century in age, yet he felt as excited as a boy a third his age. He couldn’t wait to see Julia, couldn’t wait to hold her hand, to kiss her and marry her and hold her forever.
“Here, we need to get you ready. Let me crown you,” Gylaren said and laughed. “Fitting don’t you think, a King doing the crowning?”
Keverin leaned forward and Gylaren placed the crown of white flowers on his head. “Does it look all right? It doesn’t look silly does it? I want Julia to like it.”
“She will, not that she’ll notice the flowers. She’ll be too busy looking in your eyes…” Gylaren paused, remembering his own wedding so long ago, and his dead wife. “Yes, well. Like I said, she’ll love you no matter what you look like.”
Keverin took his friend’s hand, feeling his pain. “Thank you for that.”
Gylaren nodded looking away. “So… I guess it’s time we went down.
Keverin nodded and followed his King out the door.
* * *
“You look wonderful, Julia,” Purcell said. “I am honoured to stand in your father’s stead today.
Julia tightened her hold on his arm. “Thank you.”
They paused at the carved wooden doors of the chapel for a count of five before they opened to admit them. Julia’s eyes lit with pleasure when she saw Keverin waiting by the altar. He looked beautiful in a pearl coloured doublet. The arms had slashes in them and revealed a dark green interior to match his sash. He turned to watch her as she entered, and smiled. Julia’s breath quickened, and it was only Purcell’s measured pace that prevented her sprinting up the aisle and jumping into his arms.
Gylaren whispered something to Kev, and he nodded not taking his eyes from her. Gy was standing next to him performing his duty as sword brother. His sword was bared point down and grounded between his feet, ready to protect Keverin. His was the only weapon allowed inside the chapel, and wasn’t at all necessary. No one but a sword brother would dare bring a weapon into a chapel and into the God’s presence, but the tradition dated back to the Founding and maybe before that.
Bishop Gideon stood in front of the altar with his hands clasped before him, smiling benignly. He had been Athione’s resident priest and Keverin’s tutor for years. In recent times, the Holy Father raised Gideon to the position of bishop, after recalling the previous holder of the office for dabbling in politics against his Holiness’ wishes. Julia called Gideon her friend and her confessor, though such things as confessors were unknown in Deva. He listened to her fears and desires, and often advised her when she asked him for help. Although a bishop now, he still wore a plain white priest’s robe with its rope belt. It seemed to glow in the candlelight.
The chapel was a small one, about half the size of the one at Athione. Lord Gelain and his consort Lady Direlle were standing near the front with Mathius and Lucius. Lorcan was standing sandwiched between them in his new robe. Julia smiled at them all as she slowly walked toward Gideon. Ahnao and Ellyn were standing on the left opposite the mages, looking beautiful in their best dresses, and beside them was Analise and Gydrid. The light from hundreds of candles lit the chapel, revealing the happy smiling faces of people she knew from the Clans as well as those she knew from Deva. Lords young and old bowed as she passed.
She smiled at Lord Robsort, and nodded to Lord Horton. Blaise, one of Keverin’s oldest friends bowed but then against all custom blew her a kiss. She caught Brian’s eye as she neared him. He was standing with Burke and Alvin, both looking nervous and out of place next to the imposing Lord Horton. She winked at Alvin and he grinned. Kadar, the chief of her adopted clan was here, and with him were her friends among the shamen. They all looked splendid in their best leathers, especially Kerrion and Larn with the colourful beadwork decorating their clothes. Kerrion was her adopted father in the clans. She had worried about hurting his feelings by leaving him out of the ceremony, but he had just laughed about it. He said that as her husband to be was Devan, she should be married according to his customs. She wished Jessica could have been here, and she did miss Jihan’s presence, but other than that, it was a perfect day.
Gylaren stepped in front of Keverin, protecting him and raising his sword to lightly touch Purcell’s chest. “Who comes?”
“I do—Purcell, Lord Protector of the East, stand before you with my daughter.”
“And who is your daughter?”
“She is Julia, betrothed to Keverin Lord Protector of the West and much beloved by him.”
Gylaren smiled and put up his sword. He stepped back and out of the way. Purcell raised Julia’s hand and kissed it, before joining Gylaren. Keverin stepped forward to Julia’s side. She looked at his face with eyes shining and full of love for him. Together and holding hands, they finished their journey to the altar where Gideon waited.
Gideon raised his hands, thumb to thumb and middle finger to middle finger, forming a circle. “Good friends, we gather here today to witness this joyous celebration of love between Julia and Keverin, and to support them in their decision to be joined as one in the sight of the God. Who brings this woman to be married to this man?”
Purcell stepped forward. “I do.”
Gideon nodded. “By what right?”
“By her wish and my love for her, I stand in her father’s stead.”
Gideon turned to Keverin. “Who brings this man to be married to this woman?”
Gylaren stepped forward. “I do.”
“By what right?”
“By his wish and my love for him, I stand as sword brother.”
Gideon lowered his hands. “So be it. Let it be known that Julia and Keverin are come to this holy place of their own wills to be wed. If anyone knows of any reason why this may not be so, let them speak now.”
Gideon made a show of looking to the spectators, but no one spoke up. Julia smiled as Keverin squeezed her hand. It was silly, but she had tense
d when Gideon asked if anyone had objections. After a long pause and when no one said anything, Gideon placed a hand on Julia’s head and reached up to do the same with Keverin. Keverin had to lean forward so he could reach.
“May the God bless this union, may it be fruitful and long. What do you bring as tokens of your love?”
Lucius handed the rings to Gideon and stepped back.
Gideon held them in one cupped hand and covered them with the other. “Let us bless these tokens. Circles represent the God and eternity, and though our lives are finite, God’s love for us is everlasting. Through Him may we know ourselves; through His love may we find love and the force that gives new life. In making this commitment to loving each other, you share that which is best in us all and give light back to the world. His blessings be upon these rings and your love, Julia and Keverin, always.”
Gideon handed the rings to them. “Speak your vows so all might hear your pledges.”
Keverin took the ring and turned to Julia, his eyes shining and full of love for her. He gently slid the ring onto her finger and said in a strong voice, “I, Keverin, in the name of the spirit of God that resides within us all, by the life within my body and the love in my heart, take thee Julia as my chosen wife. I pledge to desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee, and be possessed by thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in this life and beyond.”
Tears spilled over Julia’s cheeks, as she slid the ring onto Keverin’s ring finger. “I, Julia, in the name of the spirit of God that resides within us all, by the life within my body and the love in my heart, take thee Keverin as my chosen husband. I pledge to desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee, and be possessed by thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in this life and beyond.”
Gideon raised his hands above his head. “I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss!”
Julia threw herself into Keverin’s arms, ignoring the polite laughter and kissed him as if her life depended upon it.
* * *
23 ~ Duel
Gydrid drank his third glass of wine, remembering how happy Julia had looked at her wedding. He tried not to think about what Keverin and she were probably doing in her room right now, especially as he did so want to be doing the same things with Analise. He shook his head. What kind of man coveted another man’s betrothed like this.
A drunken one?
He snorted at the whimsical thought and swallowed the last of his wine. Analise laughed at something Lady Ahnao said to her on the other side of the room, and Gydrid groaned. She never laughed like that with him anymore, not since their journey to Devarr. He missed her laugh, and he missed their long talks about… about everything! He missed the way she smiled, and the way she had to flick her hair away from her eyes when the breeze played with it. He wanted to do that for her and many other things besides, but he couldn’t. She wasn’t to be his; she was to wed Lord Llewyd, the pustulant second son of pustulant Halstead! How he loathed the man. The thought of his Analise wedded to Llewyd was abhorrent.
Thinking of the man seemed to conjure him forth. Gydrid watched Llewyd enter the room as if he owned it. He stood in the doorway watching his peers with a cynical smile upon his face, probably trying to decide whom to inflict his presence upon. Gydrid wondered if he had learned that expression from his father, Lord Daemon. He had certainly learned his father’s way with women, and his love of the hunt and gambling as well; both men were famous for it. Infamous was closer to the truth. Surprisingly, Llewyd’s older brother, Bruce, had turned into a decent sort, and Gydrid liked him well. Not that Analise and Bruce together was any more acceptable to him, because it wasn’t.
Llewyd crossed the room toward Analise like an arrow, straight and true. Gydrid turned away scowling, and went to refill his glass. His head was buzzing already, but not enough. He needed to get drunk, that’s what he needed. Maybe then, he would summon the courage to tell Analise how he felt about her. While he poured his drink, the rest of the wedding guests laughed and chatted about inanities as if there wasn’t a whacking big army outside waiting to do them all in. Gydrid drank his wine and filled his glass again. He really shouldn’t drink so much. He might need to fight on the morrow… to the flames with it! He could fight drunk as well as he could sober—badly.
He chuckled quietly to himself.
At least he had been of worth to his father on the way to Wardenvale. His idea of supply caches had worked perfectly. The army had haemorrhaged men as they left behind strong contingents to protect the supplies, but although the numbers seemed large at the time, the guarding forces were nothing compared to the entire force Deva had mobilised. His father’s army was the largest Deva had ever fielded, and Gydrid should be proud of his part in it, but the historical significance of the moment was lost on him now. It was the future he was considering, his future and Analise’s place in it.
Where would he be in a year’s time, or five? He didn’t know. Dylan would be in Devarr with his family and supporting their father as heir to the throne. His other brother, Niklaus, was Lord Protector of the South. With the God’s blessing, he would have found a consort and provided Meilan with an heir of his body. But what of Gydrid? When Niklaus had children to take his place as heir, he would be the King’s unneeded youngest son. He had never taken the same joy in the fighting arts as his brothers did. He couldn’t see himself living at Meilan as one of Niklaus’ captains, or even worse, in Devarr as his father’s chamberlain.
Travelling had been a dream of his before the war. Perhaps he could do that. He could visit all the places he had read about, retrace the steps of some of the great scholars and see for himself what had changed and what had remained the same. He could write a book perhaps, a book about what he had learned on his travels… Gydrid sighed. Why had his old dreams of travelling and learning lost their lustre? Had he changed so much in such a short time?
“… are a rutting pig, sir! I will die before I let you bed me!”
A hush descended upon the room and Gydrid turned to see Analise confronting Lord Llewyd. Gydrid had felt the bite of her tongue himself, but he had never seen that look of pure loathing on her face when she looked at him. He should have felt satisfaction that her opinion of Llewyd was in tune with his, but he didn’t. The chances were high that she would marry Llewyd despite her dislike for him. It would be a political marriage of the worst kind—not just a loveless one, but one of undiluted hostility.
“You would refuse me when all know Gydrid sampled you on his way to Devarr?” Llewyd replied and Analise paled.
Ahnao gasped. “How dare you!” she said in defence of her friend.
Shocked looks passed between the guests and then they turned to look at Gydrid with speculation. Gydrid winced and looked down in surprise to find he had crushed the glass he had been holding. Blood welled between his fingers and dripped onto the floor. He calmly put the broken remains aside and moved toward Llewyd. There could be no forgiveness for such an insult. Only blood would satisfy, and Gydrid was going to collect it for her.
“I have no idea how many of his men had you—” Llewyd was saying as Gydrid’s bloody hand clamped down hard on his shoulder and spun him around. His fist arrived and Llewyd went down.
He willed Llewyd back to his feet so he could hit the bastard again. “Get up,” he snarled.
Llewyd sat up and chuckled. “So, you can act like a man after all,” he said, wiping the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. “No man makes a cuckold of me. For that and laying hands upon me before witnesses, I demand satisfaction. I swear on my honour you’re a dead man.”
“You are filth. Analise is chaste and true—a Lady of the highest order… in every sense. I would sooner see you dead than wed to her, Llewyd, that’s true, but everything else you have said is a foul lie. I accept your challenge, with pleasure!”
Analise gasped and covered h
er mouth in horror. Ahnao leaned close and whispered something, obviously trying to comfort her friend, but Analise wasn’t listening. Her eyes were wide and brimful of tears. She looked at Gydrid as if looking at a ghost and that stung him. Did she have so little confidence in him?
Gydrid stepped back and allowed Llewyd to rise. “When and where?”
“I would have said here and now,” Llewyd said. “But it’s late and you’re bleeding. Shall we say early tomorrow?”
“Fine. The stable court suit you?”
Llewyd nodded. “Why not?” He inclined his head and left the room, pointedly ignoring Analise and Lady Ahnao.
Murmers started almost at once, the guests watching Analise and Gydrid. The accusation had found fertile ground. Gydrid glared at the watchers, and most had the decency to look away. Some of the guests took the opportunity to retire early, leaving only the hardiest of eavesdroppers behind.
“You mustn’t fight him, Gydrid. He’ll kill you,” Analise said, clutching her hands together to stop them shaking.
“It’s good of you to worry for me, but I’ll be fine. A scholar I may be, but I’m no slouch with a sword.”
“I know, but—”
Gydrid raised a hand to shush her. “Let’s not talk about Llewyd.”
* * *
Analise took her leave of Gydrid and Ahnao as quickly as she decently could, but she didn’t go to her room. She went in pursuit of Llewyd. Gydrid didn’t know what he had done, he couldn’t have heard about Llewyd’s duels or he would never have challenged him. Analise knew more than she ever wanted to know about Halstead’s lord and his children. Like father like son, they said, and it was true where Daemon and Llewyd was concerned. They were brutes, the both of them. Duelling over gambling debts was the least she had heard about them. They had both killed men for less reason than Gydrid gave Llewyd tonight.
Analise went straight away to the stables, expecting Llewyd to have ridden back to his father’s encampment and wanting her own horse to ride in pursuit, but to her surprise she found him standing outside the stable talking to his brother. They had their horses ready. She quickened her pace across the cobbles of the stable court, and reached them in time to prevent Llewyd leaving. Bruce, Llewyd’s brother, bowed to her and gave his brother a warning look before mounting his horse and riding away.
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