"Words, Archbishop," Morgan said.
Loris clenched and unclenched his fists several times, then gestured to a pair of his guards. "Bind him." As the two moved to obey, pinning Morgan's arms behind him. Loris returned his attention to Kelson.
"Your Highness, I realize that you have been under considerable stress during these past weeks, and I am willing to forget the words that passed between us earlier. And if you should wish to return to your quarters and rest now, I am certain that the Council would understand under the circumstances."
Kelson fumed. "Under what circumstances, Archbishop? Do you really think I'd abandon Morgan to your mercy—or my mother's? And regardless of my personal feelings in the matter, I think it's rather important that the next King of Gwynedd be present at any session this important. Don't you agree, Archbishop?"
Loris' eyes flashed, but he had finally realized the folly of continuing his argument. The fact had finally sunk home that this boy before him was, indeed, the next King of Gwynedd, however unorthodox his ideas might be at present.
Loris bowed low, but there was challenge and defiance in his eyes.
"As you wish, Your Highness," was all he could be heard to murmur.
CHAPTER FIVE
O Qod, with your judgement endow the "King, And with your justice, the "King's son.
Psalms 72.-*
THE COUNCIL was in turmoil when Kelson and Morgan finally arrived.
There were several dozen men besides the Council Lords in the chamber now, for Jehana had given permission for certain other of Brion's retainers and advisors to join the Council for this final confrontation with Morgan. Extra chairs, mostly unoccupied at present, had been set up behind the regular seats on either side of the Council table. But their would-be occupants milled about in seeming confusion, arguing and discussing at the top of their voices. Though unable to vote, the newcomers had nonetheless explicit ideas on what should be done with the powerful Deryni Lord who was the topic of their conversation. Whatever feelings Lord Alaric Morgan inspired in humans, total apathy was not one of them.
At the head of the table, Jehana sat very quietly, trying to appear more composed than she felt. From
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time to time, she glanced down at the pale hands folded hi her lap and fingered a wide, ornate gold band on her left hand.
Mostly, though, she was trying to ignore the entreaties of Bishop Arilan, to her right. She knew, from long experience, that the young prelate could be extremely persuasive, especially when he had a favorite cause to espouse. And he had made it pointedly clear where his loyalties lay during the voting earlier. Indeed, there had been few Morgan supporters more enthusiastic or vehement.
As Kelson entered the room, followed by Loris and his guards, all discussion hi the room came to an abrupt halt. Those who were not already on their feet rose respectfully and bowed as Kelson passed, and all others hurriedly found then- places. Kelson took his place at the foot of the table beside his Uncle Nigel, While Loris crossed slowly toward Jehana.
But neither Kelson nor Loris was to receive the major share of the attention today. For as Morgan entered, flanked by four of Loris* guardsmen, all eyes shifted immediately to follow his progress across the chamber. There were whispers and low-voiced discussions as they realized he was bound, and they exchanged suspicious glances as Morgan was placed to the right and slightly behind Kelson's chair. Kelson's face was grim as he sat down.
As the assembly took their seats, Loris bowed before Jehana, then placed the Queen's writ on the table before her. Its pendant seals tapped hollowly against the tabletop—the only sound in the still room.
"I have served the Council's writ and procured the prisoner as you commanded, Your Majesty," Loris said. He turned to an aide and took Morgan's sword. "I now present the prisoner's sword, as proof of his surrender to the just summons of the—**
"Archbishop!" Kelson's voice rang out in the hushed chamber.
Loris froze, then turned slowly toward Kelson, and all eyes followed. Kelson had risen to his feet.
"Your Highness?" Loris replied warily.
"You will bring the sword to me, Archbishop," Kelson said steadily. "Morgan is my prisoner."
Kelson's voice had taken on that crack of command which had been so much Brion's trademark, and for just an instant, Loris started to obey. Then he recovered, and cleared his throat nervously.
"Your Majesty?" he questioned, turning to Jehana for support.
Jehana looked sharply at her son. "Kelson, if you think—"
"His Excellency will bring the sword to me, Mother," Kelson interrupted. "By law and custom, that is my right. I am still head of this Council, if only in name."
"Very well," Jehana said, her eyes flashing angrily, "but that won't save him, you know."
"We shall see," Kelson answered enigmatically, taking his seat.
Loris took the sword to Kelson and placed it on the table with a curt bow. As he returned to his chair beside Jehanfc and Archbishop Corrigan, Kelson glanced aside at Morgan.
Morgan had said nothing since entering the chamber, but he had watched the exchange with approval. He kept his features impassive as the councillors settled back to await Kelson's next move, for the men sitting here in judgement would not be easy to sway. There would be no quick victory by lawful means, and right now those were the only means they dared use.
He gave a mental shrug as he eased the leather thong binding his wrists behind him. It would be inter-
J
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esting .to see if Kelson could salvage anything from the
situation.
Kelson looked around the room with only half-concealed disgust, making a steeple of his fingers the way Brion had done when he was particularly vexed. His eyes swept each face searchingly, then returned to that of his mother at the opposite end of the table.
"Nigel," he said, not taking his eyes from those of his mother, "I believe you were given strict instructions to delay the Council meeting until I could arrive. Perhaps you can explain?"
Nigel, too, stared down the table at Jehana. He was certain Kelson knew he had tried. What he said now would be solely for the benefit of the men seated around this Council table.
"Indeed, I can, Your Majesty," Nigel replied coolly. "I did try to inform the Council that you had asked for a postponement, but there were certain others who ignored that request. Her Majesty, the Oueen. informed us that you were engaged in more important matters. She insisted we begin without you."
Jehana lowered her eyes as Kelson frowned.
"Is this true, Mother?"
"Of course, it's true!" Jehana snapped, jumping to her feet. "There were things to be done, Kelson— things that should have been done a long time ago. At least your Council shows some common sense. Your precious traitor Morgan was convicted by a vote of five
to four!"
Kelson started to reply hotly, then thought better of it and rechose his next words. Beside him, he was aware of Morgan shifting his weight from one foot to the other, felt the edge of the general's cloak bmsh against his knee. He forced himself to relax and scan the tense Council again.
"Very well, my lords," Kelson said evenly. "I see that nothing I can say will change your minds at this
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point." Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Jehana taking her seat triumphantly as he continued. **I would ask one indulgence before I pass judgement in this case, however. I shall require each of you to recast your vote as you did before." His eyes continued to sweep the Council, slightly challenging. "As I understand it, you are questioning General Morgan's fidelity to Crown and Church. I should like to know who believes this patent lie."
Lord Rogier stood uneasily and turned to Kelson. "Are you challenging the findings of your lawful Council, Your Highness?"
"
Not at all," Kelson answered promptly. "I merely wish to reassure myself that your verdict was, indeed, secured through lawful means. Come, gentlemen, we waste precious time. How say you? Is Morgan, indeed, traitor and heretic? Nigel?"
Nigel stood. "Lord Alaric is innocent of the charges, Your Majesty."
"Thank you, Uncle," Kelson nodded as Nigel took his seat. "And you, my Lord Bran?"
"Guilty, Your Highness."
"Lord lan?"
"Guilty, Your Highness."
"And Rogier?"
"Guilty, M'lord."
Kelson frowned. "My Lord Bishop Arilan, how say you?"
"He is innocent, Your Majesty," Arilan replied confidently. He ignored the glares coming across the table from Corrigan and Loris.
"Thank you, Excellency," Kelson nodded. "And you, Ewan?"
Ewan could not look at his prince. He had never particularly disliked Morgan, but he had seen Brion die. If the rumors were true ...
"Well, Ewan?"
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"He is guilty, Your Majesty," Ewan whispered.
Kelson nodded sympathetically and then skipped over his mother to confront Archbishop Corrigan with the fatal question. There was no doubt in his mind how this prelate would react, though.
"My Lord Archbishop?"
Corrigan met Kelson's gaze levelly. "Guilty, Your Majesty. We have not yet even begun to list the sins of the Deryni!"
'"A simple 'guilty' is sufficient, Archbishop," Kelson snapped. "The entire race is not on trial here. One man is. A man, I might add, who has done much for
Gwynedd."
"Who has done much to Gwynedd!" Corrigan interjected.
"Enough, Archbishop!" Kelson retorted. He fixed the prelate with an icy stare, then moved on to the McLains, grateful for a few friendly faces. "Duke Jared?"
"Not guilty, Sire," the old Duke replied.
"And Lord Kevin?"
"Innocent, Your Majesty."
Kelson nodded, mentally tallying the votes. "I know that Lord Derry also voted for acquittal, so that makes —five to five," He looked down the table at his mother. "I hardly think that constitutes a conviction, Mother."
Jehana flushed. "Lord Derry was not permitted to vote, Kelson. He is not a member of this Council."
Kelson's eyes narrowed dangerously, and several of the Council Lords mentally cringed. It was the old Haldane glare they had learned to fear and respect in the boy's father. Was it possible that the boy would be able to continue in his father's footsteps? That look had meant trouble in the old days.
Kelson nodded slowly. "Very well, I had intended Derry to vote hi Morgan's place in his absence, but
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since Morgan is here now, he can vote for himself. I think there will be no question how his vote goes."
"Morgan cannot vote!" Jehana said. "He's on trial."
"But he is still a member of the Council until convicted, Mother. Until and unless his powers and prerogatives are stripped away by lawful action, you cannot deny him his vote—especially since he was not even allowed to speak in his own behalf."
Jehana leaped to her feet, her face red with fury. "And if you cannot deny him his right to vote, neither can you deny me mine! Since you decided to join us and assume leadership of the Council, I am no longer so bound. And I say Morgan is guilty as charged, which brings your vote to six to five against him. Your precious Morgan is doomed, Kelson! What do you say to that?"
Stunned, Kelson sank back hi his chair, his face going white as the import of his mother's words overwhelmed him. He could not look at the tall figure standing so statuelike to his right. He could not force himself to meet those grey eyes and admit defeat. Dejectedly, he let his gaze sweep the Council once more. And as his glance flicked from Derry to the empty seat beside him—Lord Ralson's empty seat—a ghost of a plan began to take shape in his mind.
He forced himself to continue his visual circuit of the room, forbidding any indication of growing hope to show on his features. He must not let them guess that he now had a plan. He had not heard the bells toll three yet, and until they did, he must stall for time whatever way he could.
He sat up and folded his hands wearily, allowing an expression of resignation to shape his features.
"My Lords," he began, letting a trace of real weariness tinge his speech, "it seems that we have lost." He gestured vaguely to include Morgan and Nigel in his "we." "I—I would beg your indulgence in one more
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matter before I pronounce sentence, however. I would request that the full charges against General Morgan be read out first. Are there any objections?"
Jehana controlled a victorious smile and sat down again. "Of course not, Kelson," she said, picking up the writ and handing it across to Ewan. "Lord Ewan, would you read the charges in their entirety?"
Ewan swallowed and nodded, then stood and cleared his throat apologetically. "To His Grace, Lord Alaric Anthony Morgan, Duke of Corwyn, and Lord General of the Royal Armies. From the Queen and the Lords in Regency Council in session this twelfth day of the reign of Kelson Cinhil Rhys Anthony Haldane, King of Gwynedd, Prince of Meara, and Lord of the Purple March.
"Your Grace: You have been summoned before the Royal Council of Gwynedd to answer to certain charges pertinent to your behavior toward the Crown. Namely, you . .."
As Ewan began reading the charges, Kelson at last risked a glance at Morgan. He had wondered all through the proceedings why Morgan had not even attempted to clear himself, but he saw now that any defense, no matter how clever or true, would have been useless with the mood of the Council as it was today. In all the world, there was nothing a Deryni could have done or said to convince them of his innocence.
Now, the golden head was bowed, the grey eyes shrouded by the thick, long lashes. And Kelson could see at a glance that the general recognized his plight Even now, he was probably formulating some fantastic escape tactic, marshalling that awesome Deryni power to regain his freedom—that freedom which must be maintained at all costs if he was to be of any help to his young king. Of course, he could not know that Kelson had a plan.
Kelson realized he now had a double deadline to
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work against. For if Morgan made his move before Kelson could make his—and Kelson could not until the bells tolled out the hour—then all hope for a lawful settlement of the matter was lost.
Gingerly, Kelson eased his booted toe to the side, managed to bring it to within inches of Morgan's near foot. Then, as Ewan began the closing of the writ, Kelson shifted in his chair, at the same time nudging Morgan's boot with his.
Morgan glanced at the boy, saw an almost imperceptible shake of the head, and nodded. The boy had a plan. He would let him try.
". . . set before me this day, Jehana Regina et Domini Consilium." Ewan's voice rumbled to a halt and he sat down expectantly. But even as he sat, basilica and cathedral bells began tolling out the hour.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Kelson listened as the bells tolled, and mentally kicked himself when he heard the fourth hour struck. Four in the afternoon. He had been waiting for three, and it was already long past. He could have been acting long ago.
Silently, he stood at his place, still allowing no inkling of what he was about to do to show on his face.
"My Lords, Your Majesty," he began formally, bowing slightly toward his mother, "we have heard the charges against our general." He saw Jehana's sudden suspicious expression as she caught the royal "we."
He gestured toward Morgan with his right hand as he continued. "We have also heard the wishes—indeed, the demands—of the Council in this matter. However, it pleases us to consider one further item of business before pronouncing judgement on him."
There was a murmur of question which rippled through the assembly, and Kelson caught his mother's ill-masked look of surprise and fearful anticipation.
"It has occurr
ed to us," Kelson continued in the
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same conversational tone, "that our ranks have recently been saddened by the loss of our good and loyal servant, Lord Ralson of Evering." He gestured toward Ralson's empty chair, then crossed himself piously. The rest of the assembly followed suit, wondering cu-riousiy what he was about.
"Therefore," Kelson continued, "we have decided to appoint a new Council Lord to fill his place."
"You can't do that!" Jehana shouted, jumping to
her feet.
"We are aware, of course," Kelson went on, his voice cutting through Jehana's opposition, "that Lord Derry can never replace Lord Ralson, but we are certain he will bring his own measure of devotion to that honored post. Scan Lord Derry."
As the Council erupted with dissention, Kelson signalled Derry to rise. The young man glanced aside at Morgan for reassurance, but even Morgan looked a bit
Startled.
Kelson held up his hands for silence, then pounded the table with the hilt of Morgan's sword as the din continued. Jehana stood defiantly at the other end of the table, trying to make herself heard above the discord.
"Kelson, you can't do this!" she shouted, finally able to top the volume of the dying discussion around her. "You have no right! You know you can't appoint a new Councillor without the approval of the Regents. You're not of age!"
Kelson's eyes went cold and steely grey as he glared down the table, and the room was suddenly hushed.
"Lords of the Council, my esteemed mother has apparently forgotten that it was precisely fourteen years and one hour ago, in another room of this very palace, that she brought into this world a son: Kelson Cinhil Rhys Anthony Haldane; that as her labor ended, the
royal physicians placed me in her arms—and the bells tolled three in the afternoon!"
Jehana's face went ashen and she sank back in her chair, nodding slowly to herself, her eyes glazed, stunned.
"And you, my Lords: the reason for our Coronation tomorrow instead of today has apparently slipped your minds, also. As you are well aware, royal writ decrees that no King of Gwynedd shall be crowned in his own right until he has fully reached legal age. Since I was not due to reach that legal age until three this afternoon—too late for a Coronation, you must admit—the ceremony was scheduled for tomorrow. But I rule today!"
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