The ladies of the household also gave him gifts. Little Bronwyn, with guidance and a little assistance from Vera, had hemmed him a handkerchief of fine linen. Vera and the ladies of the ducal household had been industrious during the long winter nights and were able to present him with a new linen shirt and several wool under-tunics to see him through the winter at court.
“But don’t grow too much until the spring,” Vera warned him, as she made him try on each garment. “We’ve made them a little large, but you’ll be glad of the extra layers, when it’s really cold.”
And, indeed, frigid temperatures soon became a serious concern. The weather turned filthy two days later, casting serious doubts as to whether the roads would be passable in time for the journey to Rhemuth. Vera had to bow out of the trip owing to a heavy chest cold.
But Jared duly organized the expedition despite snow and ice, and led his modest contingent into Rhemuth two days before the planned spectacle of Twelfth Night, with banners flying. He took both Alaric and Duncan with him as pages, and Kevin as his squire, for a duke was expected to travel with a suitable retinue. Tesselin rode as his personal aide, as well as half a dozen Cassani bordermen. Llion accompanied them, of course, for he would be entering the king’s service along with his young master.
It seemed strange to be back at court without his father, but to Alaric’s surprise and delight, the apartment formerly assigned to his father was now become his and Llion’s. It was more than Llion would have merited on his own, but Alaric was, after all, a future duke and earl.
“I’ll keep my old bed, of course,” Alaric said, as the two of them stashed their saddlebags in the apartment. “I suppose you ought to take my father’s bed, rather than your old trundle.”
“I couldn’t,” Llion said. “It wouldn’t seem right.”
“Nonsense,” Alaric replied, quite reasonably. “Your job is still to help protect me, as my father did. Plus, you’ll be on Duke Richard’s staff. That’s something of a promotion. And I believe you said something about marrying my sister?”
At Llion’s sudden look of owl-eyed dismay, Alaric grinned. “Good. I didn’t think you’d make her sleep on the trundle bed with you. Don’t worry. I think we’ll be fine here.”
Llion could not argue that point, and dutifully moved his things into the small sleeping chamber previously occupied by Kenneth. Later, when he and Alaric joined Jared in the great hall for the evening meal, the duke drew them to places near his own chair, close to the king’s.
Alaric wore his Cassani page’s tabard, expecting to serve Jared one last time, but instead Jared seated him at his right hand, to underline his future rank, and bade him wear the Lendour signet outside his clothes, as further reminder to the court of who he was and would be. Kevin and Duncan served them, as squire and page. The experience was bittersweet for Alaric, because he knew how much was about to change. Further, it was appearing less and less likely that Alazais would be attending Twelfth Night court, much to the disappointment of both Alaric and Llion.
The day of Twelfth Night dawned even colder and more blustery than any the previous week, with portents of a new blizzard to come. The sky was a dull, sullen white, pregnant with snow, and it suited Alaric’s mood as he washed and dressed for court, again donning his Cassani tabard and the McLain sash, though he layered them over several of the new wool under-tunics for warmth, and slung a fur-lined cape over that.
This time, the Lendour signet remained under his clothing. His new dirk rode at his right hip on the belt Duncan had made for his last birthday; he knew it would be allowed, at least for court. Llion put on a long grey court robe with his Lendour badge bright on the sleeve, though the latter was covered by his own thick cloak. They were nearly ready to head down to the hall when a knock sounded at the door, which immediately opened to admit Jared.
“Good, you’re about ready,” the duke said, casting a critical eye over both of them. “Beastly day out, which should cut down on attendance, but I’ve managed to arrange for some major concessions. I hadn’t realized how much influence dukes have. The king wishes to see both of you in his withdrawing room at once.”
The king was not the only one waiting when Alaric and Llion entered the room behind the dais. Brion was standing before the fireplace amid a sea of Haldane crimson worn by himself, Duke Richard, Queen Richeldis, and Prince Nigel. Duke Richard’s deputy, Sir Ninian de Piran, was also present, but stayed near the door, wrapped up in a tawny cloak lined with fur.
“Ah, there they are,” the king said, raising an arm in summons as Jared ushered the pair into the room. “Come here, lad. We have business to transact before court.”
Mystified, Alaric allowed Jared to escort him before the king, glad of the warmth from the fireplace. Brion was already dressed in his full court attire, including the state crown of leaves and crosses intertwined, and Richard and Richeldis likewise wore the coronets of their rank. Nigel wore his crimson squire’s doublet.
“Excellent,” the king said, as Richard eased closer and the queen sank onto a stool. “Llion, stand there beside Jared. Some of what I’m about to do concerns you.”
Alaric glanced back over his shoulder as Llion moved closer, though the young knight looked just as bewildered as Alaric felt. Jared’s hand was heavy on his shoulder, and he wondered whether he had done something wrong.
“Duke Jared informs me that you are somewhat apprehensive about court this morning,” the king said, bracing his thumbs in the front of his bejeweled white belt. “I am told that it might have something to do with the likely presence of a certain bishop of your unhappy acquaintance.
“Yes, I am well aware of the incident with my lord of Nyford last year,” the king added, at the flicker of concern that sparked briefly in the boy’s grey eyes. “I am also aware that his nephew has been an ongoing source of aggravation for you. Be assured that young Cornelius is being watched very closely. And I am happy to report that the weather appears to have prevented His Grace of Nyford from attending court this year.”
Alaric mostly managed to contain a sigh of relief. De Nore and Cornelius had, indeed, been on his mind increasingly, as the time drew nearer to leave Duke Jared’s protection and join the king’s household. But though he knew that dealing with them and others of their ilk would become an increasing necessity of his life, the older he got, he had thought himself mostly resigned to it.
“I’m guessing that you are relieved to hear that,” Brion went on, rightly gauging the boy’s reaction. “Duke Richard and I have made a further decision that should ease any lingering concerns. You will not be participating in the public ceremony of reception as a Haldane page.” At Alaric’s expression of surprise, he went on. “We have conferred with Duke Jared, and we have agreed that, since you have already gone through a semi-public ceremony when you became Duke Jared’s page, it would be appropriate simply to receive you now, privately, in order to avoid drawing particular attention to your change of status when we go into court. That will become apparent as soon as you appear in Haldane livery, of course, but at least it avoids putting you into the center of attention right away. May I assume that this meets with your approval?”
Alaric shot an inquiring look at Jared, who nodded, then gave a quick nod of assent.
“Yes, Sire.”
“Very well, then. Jared Duke of Cassan, do you relieve this page of his duties to your house?”
“I do, Sire, though I am sorry to lose his service,” Jared said, removing his hand from Alaric’s shoulder.
At the king’s nod, Llion reached around Alaric’s neck to unfasten and remove the cloak covering his Cassani surcoat, which Jared then pulled off over the boy’s head and handed to Llion. When he would have removed the McLain sash as well, Alaric’s hands darted to it protectively, and he glanced quickly at the king.
“Sire, is it permitted to keep the sash, if Duke Jared agrees? Not to wear it; just to have i
t. I would take it as a sign that I remain under the protection of the Chief of Clan McLain—as well as yourself, of course.”
The king exchanged a quick glance with Jared, then nodded slightly.
“If Duke Jared has no objection, then I have none,” he agreed. “But you do understand that I cannot allow you to wear it with your Haldane livery.”
“Yes, Sire.”
The king nodded to Jared again, tight-lipped, and Jared ducked his head as he bent to untie the sash and remove it, folding it in two before passing it to Llion. The young knight gently clasped Alaric’s shoulder before backing off a pace with the cloak and sash.
“Very well,” the king said, briskly lifting the Haldane sword from its scabbard and resting its tip on the floor between them, both hands overlapped on the pommel. “Alaric Anthony Morgan of Corwyn, is it your desire to become a page of my house, to serve me above all others?”
“It is, Sire,” the boy replied, head held high. “And please understand that I am not reluctant to enter your service. It is just that I had always hoped that my father would be here to witness my oath to you—and I am grateful to Duke Jared for having me as his page for this past year and more. But Father Swithun has reminded me that there is a time for everything, in due season. And my duty now is to you, as my king and liege.”
Duke Richard inclined his head in approval, and set a hand on the king’s shoulder. “That was well spoken, lad. And the king shares your sorrow at the untimely passing of your father; we all do.” He nodded toward Brion. “Let us take the oath and be done with it, Nephew. This lad has a great deal on his plate right now. We need not make it any more difficult for him than it must be.”
Brion nodded and returned his attention to the boy, who knelt and placed both hands on the quillons of the king’s sword.
“Alaric Anthony Morgan of Corwyn,” the king said, “do you promise loyalty and service to me and to my house, accepting the discipline and instruction of those set in authority to train you, to learn the ways of a future knight and duke?”
“I do, my Liege, so help me God,” Alaric replied, his eyes not leaving those of the king. “And because of the special circumstances of my future service, I would now offer you my fealty, as I did for Duke Jared when I entered his service. If that is allowed.”
Nodding, the king shifted his hands to rest over Alaric’s on the quillons of the sword.
“I am willing to receive your oath.”
“I, Alaric Anthony Morgan, heir of Corwyn and Lendour, do become your liege man of life and limb and earthly worship, to serve you in good faith and without deception before all others, so help me God.”
“And I receive your oath and fidelity, Alaric Anthony Morgan, heir of Corwyn and Lendour, and I pledge to you the same protection and fidelity that is the right of all my house. So help me God.”
With that, the king returned his sword to its scabbard and turned to where his mother sat with a Haldane tabard now across her lap. Immediately she rose and came to them, assisting her son as he slipped the tabard over Alaric’s silver-gilt head.
“Wear it well, young master,” she whispered in his ear, smiling as she tugged one side into place. “I adored your mother.” Then: “Brion, I should like to have this page attend me at court today—if I may.”
The king raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” At her sidelong look of challenge, he immediately ducked his head in agreement and gave a wry smile. “Certainly, Mother.”
“Excellent!” She drew Alaric to her with an arm around his shoulders. “How soon do you wish to begin court?”
“As soon as we can get everyone assembled. Where are my sisters?”
She nodded at Alaric. “Your first assignment as a Haldane page is to fetch my daughters,” she said. “You know the way to my solar?”
Alaric nodded. “Yes, Majesty.”
“Then, go. They were nearly ready when I left, so there should be no delay. And Llion, give him back his cloak before he leaves. We don’t need any of our pages catching their death of cold. Go, lad!”
Sketching her a quick bow, and fidgeting as Llion slung the cloak back around his shoulders and fastened it, Alaric then headed out of the withdrawing room and bolted up the back stairs. He found the princesses just leaving the queen’s apartment, both gowned in Haldane crimson, accompanied by a black-clad lady-in-waiting with two silver circlets looped over an arm.
After more than a year’s absence from court, he almost did not recognize the elder of the pair. Xenia, at fifteen, had become a poised and haughty young woman, with masses of shiny ebon curls tumbling down her back and abundant curves where there had been few before. Silke, by contrast, was still a merry child with her ebon hair still in a single braid, whose grey eyes lit with immediate delight.
“Alaric? It is you!” she squealed, though he deftly fended off the embrace she attempted. “With all the snow, I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
The more practical Xenia cast an appraising glance over him, some of her hauteur evaporating in the face of Silke’s enthusiasm. “You’re taller,” she said, trying not to show that she, too, was pleased. “And why are you wearing Haldane livery? I thought you were page to Duke Jared.”
Alaric shrugged and smiled faintly. “I was. And now I am page to your brother the king—and your mother, today. But we’d best go. They’ll be waiting court for us.”
Xenia sighed and rolled her eyes, pressing the back of one hand to her forehead. “Oh, they’ll be waiting court for us!” she repeated in a mocking tone. “We are Haldane princesses, you know.”
“Yes, and your brother is a Haldane king,” the lady-in-waiting reminded them sharply. Alaric thought her name was Lady Megory. “He’ll not thank you for keeping everyone waiting.”
“Oh, very well,” Xenia murmured, hooking her arm through that of her younger sister. “Come, Silke. We’ll let this page lead the way.”
With that, the pair of them chivvied him on ahead of them as they clambered down the back stair to the king’s withdrawing room, the lady-in-waiting following with their coronets.
• • •
TO his relief, Alaric soon discovered that being a page to the queen enabled him to be far more anonymous than a ducal heir. He carried the queen’s train as the royal party entered the hall, helping her settle in her chair of state with her daughters at her feet, but after that he mostly stood attentively behind her, hands clasped behind his back, and waited to perform any errand the queen might require. While this placed him somewhat on display, he was very much in the background compared to serving the king, with ample opportunity to observe what was going on.
First, of course, after the presentations of the few foreign envoys who had braved the blizzard, was the reception of new pages, of which there were only two, but even Alaric knew that the boys were important. The first was Prince Cormac of Howicce and Llannedd, presented by his elder brother Ronan, who had become prince regent of the dual kingdoms in June of the previous year, following the incapacitation of their father, King Illann. Prince Cormac was a sturdy lad of about Alaric’s age, with a shock of wiry dark blond hair, much resembling his elder brother. Queen Richeldis became wistful and almost teary-eyed as she vested her youngest nephew with the Haldane tabard, watching proudly as he swore his oath to her son.
She then bade him stand beside Alaric while she prepared for the second new page: a dark-haired lad called Xavier Howard; Alaric thought he might be some sort of cousin of Lady Vera. Meanwhile, a servant quietly appeared with a fur-lined cloak for Prince Cormac, who had come before the king in his shirtsleeves to be invested, and was shivering until the servant draped it around his master’s shoulders.
“It’s warmer in Pwyllheli,” the boy whispered aside to Alaric, hugging the fur around his body.
Next came the new squires; again, there were only two being promoted from page. Aean Morrisey had nearly won the pages�
�� competition at the king’s birthday tournament, now eighteen months past; Justis Berringer had also performed well, though Alaric had done better, and had done as well as Aean. There was also an older squire formerly in the service of the Duke of Claibourne, who was joining the Rhemuth court to complete his training.
“I’ve heard of Tresham MacKenzie,” Alaric whispered aside to Prince Cormac, while two Claibourne men buckled on the blued-steel spurs of a squire. “He’s some kind of cousin to Duke Ewan. Supposed to be good with a sword.”
A gimlet look from the queen silenced any further whispered commentary—and in good time, for the knightings were next, though also sparse this year, because of the weather and because several candidates had been knighted early, to receive the accolade along with the king two years previous. Accordingly, there were only two: a sturdy young man called Varian Lemander, who came supported by two knights of Danoc, and a slightly older, studious-looking young man with a slight limp, waiting with his sponsors while the first knight was made.
“He’s called Claud de Saeva,” Alaric whispered in response to Prince Cormac’s look of query. “I’m told he took a bad fall in training and broke his leg. But he’s made a good recovery,” he added, then pursed his lips and feigned interest in his boots as the queen glanced in his direction, though she quickly returned her attention to the candidate now kneeling before her son.
Young Cormac managed to contain his curiosity through the remainder of Sir Varian’s knighting, which kept both him and Alaric from attracting any more unwelcome attention. When Claud de Saeva was then called forward, both boys watched avidly, for Cormac was intrigued by everything he was seeing, and seemed unable to resist making whispered asides to Alaric.
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