The King's Deryni

by Katherine Kurtz

  THE expedition departed early the next morning, as planned. Alaric rode with them as far as the river, along with Zoë, her father-in-law, and an escort of Lendour knights who would return with them. They watched at the ford as the queen’s party headed northward toward Cardosa. Sé looked back and caught his eye as they turned, and nodded in unspoken agreement.

  Riding back toward Cynfyn, Alaric had little doubt that Sé would succeed in his mission. He spent the return journey chatting with Zoë and Sir Pedur, who began acquainting him with developments since his last visit.

  He passed the next week back at Cynfyn interacting with the men who held the castle for him, learning more of the responsibilities of each, sometimes sparring with some of them. Most days, he also spent time with his Chandos cousins, who adored him.

  The firstborn, Kailan, was nearly nine, and Charlan a year younger, both of them active and inquisitive, very like their father Jovett and their mother Zoë. Their little sister, Alyce Maria, was only five, but did her best to keep up with the boys, and reminded Alaric of his own sister, Bronwyn. He hoped the two would meet, one day.

  In the evenings, he presided over the high table with Sir Pedur and his wife, generally making himself available to the men and women who would be his future subjects.

  But the waiting was tedious, with no real routine to occupy his time. He practiced with the squires and with some of the younger knights, and took his Chandos cousins out on rides about the countryside, also giving them pointers on riding and ring-tilting, but he had altogether too much time just to think, and to worry. He felt hopeful that with Sé along, the queen’s request would prevail, but they were going into Torenth, where anything could happen. Not that Alaric was in any position to do anything about it. Pray, perhaps.

  So with nothing to do regarding the queen’s mission, he found his thoughts returning to the king. As the days passed, he imagined the king’s festive ride downriver to Desse with his wedding party, the easy sail down the Eirian until they passed the southernmost point in Carthmoor, and then the cautious dash across open water to the Bremagne coast.

  From there, they would have skirted the shore southward until they reached Rémigny, the Bremagni capital, where the royal bride awaited. He could not imagine that last part, because he had never been to Rémigny, but he had a vivid image in his mind of the king’s beautiful and spirited bride.

  Nor was he truly disappointed to be missing the royal wedding. As he had told the king, he had attended grand court occasions before. But this was the first time he could remember when the two of them had been so far apart, and for so long. It made him vaguely uneasy, though not for any specific reason he could articulate except that his father had made it clear that Alaric had an important destiny to fulfill with the king.

  Nor was there anyone in Cynfyn with whom he could discuss such things, with Llion away. His Aunt Zoë might understand a little, and he knew he could trust her; but she was not Deryni, though she was married to one, and had been the closest of friends with Alaric’s mother. He could only hope and pray that the king was safe and well, and that Llion and Sé and the others likewise were encountering no untoward difficulties.

  So he counted off the days until Llion and Sé and the others were likely to return, and sometimes found himself fingering the medal Sé had left with him, rasping a thumbnail over the raised design and wondering where Sé had gotten it.

  One side bore an equal-armed cross with smaller crosslets in the angles of the large cross; the other showed the haloed head of a saint. It could be just about any male saint—he had not thought to ask Sé at the time he was given charge of it—but he wondered whether it was meant to depict St. Camber, the patron of Deryni magic.

  He supposed it was safe enough for a Deryni like Sé to wear it openly in the far eastern reaches of the Anvil of the Lord. Alaric had a St. Camber medal of his own back in Rhemuth, left to him by his mother, but he mostly refrained from wearing it because of the reactions it might provoke. Perhaps when he got back, if Sé’s spell worked, Alaric could use his own medal in a similar fashion.

  His waiting was rewarded a few nights later when, as he had for several nights before, Alaric lay down in his bed and settled into the receptive edges of trance the way Sé had instructed him, cupping the medal in his hand. He was on the verge of slipping into true sleep when he sensed Sé’s touch in his mind.

  Sé!

  Nicely done, came Sé’s response. We have accomplished our mission, and all is well. We should be back to Cynfyn within the week.

  They gave up the bodies? Alaric asked.

  They did. I shall tell you more when I see you.

  This is excellent news. May I tell the others? He had an impression of amusement before the other responded.

  Perhaps not the best of plans. While they do already know that you are Deryni, as am I, best not to flaunt your abilities. Some skills are best kept private.

  Alaric immediately realized the wisdom of that advice, and sent his agreement.

  I shall send a rider ahead when we are a day out from Cynfyn, Sé informed him. Then you will have legitimate reason to know of our success, and to ride out to meet us. Until then, stand by each evening, as you have tonight, in case I have need to advise you further—though I do not anticipate such a need. We shall see you soon.

  With that, Sé ended the communication, with the wish that his student might sleep well. Alaric, for the first time since they had left, did sleep deeply and dreamlessly, and set about the next day’s activities with renewed enthusiasm.

  • • •

  SEVERAL days passed without sign of the promised courier, but on the first day of June a lookout atop the castle wall announced the approach of a rider who, to Alaric’s delight, proved to be Llion.

  “They have the bodies,” he called to Alaric and to Pedur Chandos and his wife as they met him at the gate, though Alaric already knew. “Everyone is well, and they’ll be here in another day. I need a bed first, but we can ride out to meet them in the morning.”

  Llion declined to be drawn out by Sir Pedur and the other knights concerning exactly how the mission had been accomplished, pleading exhaustion; but when he had wolfed down a hasty meal and duly retired to the apartment that was his when in Cynfyn, Alaric went with him. There, Llion was more than willing to elaborate, at least to Alaric.

  “I mayn’t speak of this to anyone else,” he said candidly. “In fact, I cannot. But as you might have supposed, Sé and Savion were largely responsible. Sigismund and even the duke seemed almost afraid of them. It makes me wonder what power the Anvilers have in the far east.”

  Alaric nodded thoughtfully. “I wish I knew more about them. But go on.”

  “There’s little more I can say. The two stood flanking the queen while she made her request, saying not a word; the ducal court was silent. She appealed to the duke and his retainers as a grieving mother, and pointed out that, while she did not question Sigismund’s grief, he had only known Xenia for a couple of years, while Richeldis had known her all her life.”

  Alaric shook his head in disbelieving admiration. “The queen is brave, I’ll give her that. What did the Arkadians say, when she had made her case?”

  Llion raised a droll eyebrow. “What do you think? When she had finished, Count Sigismund exchanged a glance with the duke, then nodded to the queen and said that he certainly would allow them to take the bodies back to Rhemuth.

  “And that was it. With so many Deryni in the room, I suspect that there was a great deal more going on, but nothing that I could detect. And Sir Sé declined to comment, later on. That very afternoon, we were escorted to the cathedral and told to wait beside a new wagon that the duke provided. Sé and Savion accompanied Sigismund and a party of Arkadians inside, and they shortly emerged with a brightly painted coffin that was loaded onto the wagon. We left that very afternoon. It was as if they couldn’t get us out of the
re fast enough.”

  “Or couldn’t get Sé and Savion out of there fast enough,” Alaric muttered. “I wonder what was threatened.”

  “I have no idea,” Llion replied. “And I’m not certain I want to know.”

  “You said one coffin; I assume the baby was buried with Xenia?”

  “So I assume. But I can’t imagine that Sé didn’t check to make sure.”

  “No, he would have checked,” Alaric replied. “In any case, it will be good to meet up with them again tomorrow.”

  • • •

  HE and Llion departed just after dawn with an honor guard of fresh troops to escort the queen and her daughter, and met the royal party a few hours out from Cynfyn. That night, the coffin rested in the castle’s chapel, where the queen summoned the household and asked Father Creoda to lead them in prayers for the deceased. Before Alaric could join the others, Sé quietly drew him apart. Savion was waiting in the yard with their horses, so Alaric knew the conversation would be brief.

  “I imagine you’ll want your medal back,” he murmured, pulling its chain from beneath his tunic and taking it off.

  “Thank you, I do.” Sé closed the medal and chain in his hand and nodded to Alaric. “You did well—and you learn very quickly. You should find this skill useful in the future. And I am glad we were able to serve the queen in this way.”

  Alaric gave the Deryni knight a faint smile. “I don’t suppose you’re ever going to tell me how you managed to persuade the duke to let Xenia go.”

  “I don’t suppose I am.” Sé’s answering smile confirmed that further questioning would be pointless. “But, time enough for such matters when you’re grown,” he went on, laying a hand on Alaric’s shoulder in farewell. “For now, I am well pleased with your progress.” His hand tightened momentarily on Alaric’s shoulder, then released him. “God keep you, my young friend. Until next time.”

  With that, he was striding into the night and the torchlight near where Savion waited with the horses, to quickly disappear into the night.

  • • •

  THE recovery party lingered at Cynfyn for two days more, to allow the queen and Alazais to rest, for they had learned on their return that there now was no reason to hasten back to the capital. In Alaric’s absence, a messenger had arrived with word that the king was returned to Gwynedd with his new wife, who had entered Rhemuth at the center of a grand procession that wound its way up to the cathedral for a blessing of the couple and the crowning of Gwynedd’s new queen, who had taken the Gwyneddan form of her name at her coronation: Jehana.

  “Too late to worry about that now,” the old queen said to Jamyl, on hearing the news. “Sadly, we have missed that celebration—and my return with the body of the king’s sister will hardly be cause for the same kind of rejoicing. Meeting my new daughter-in-law can wait a few more days.”

  Alaric knelt with them for prayers that last evening, remembering the departed Xenia, only a few years older than himself, and mourning her sacrifice on the altar of political expediency. Alaric’s grandfather Keryell and his Uncle Ahern lay beneath the floor here at Cynfyn: two Deryni earls to guard the dead princess. Alaric had never known either of them, but his mother had told him of the legacy they had left him. Before God, he vowed to be worthy of that legacy, and to serve the king to the best of his ability.

  Chapter 40

  “Ye have condemned and killed the just . . .”

  —JAMES 5:6

  THEY departed for Rhemuth the next day, along with Sir Jovett and half a dozen of his knights who had assisted in the mission into Torenth. Thanks to the industry of Zoë and her mother-in-law during their absence, all in the party wore black mourning bands on their sword arms. Xenia’s brightly painted coffin bore a black pall, now dusty from their journey. The horses pulling the funeral wagon sported black plumes in their headstalls.

  The night before they were to reach Rhemuth, Jamyl sent a fast courier ahead to inform the king of their coming, and their success. The next day, just at noon, they approached the city walls and eastern gate to be met by an honor guard of Haldane lancers, with black crape banding their sword arms and more black fluttering from their lances.

  The lancers formed up to either side of the gate, dipping their black-pennoned lances in salute as the wagon bearing their dead princess passed between their ranks. The king and his bride of only a few weeks awaited their arrival just before the gates, along with his remaining sister, his brother, and his uncle, all of them in blackest mourning. Both sovereigns wore their crowns, but no other adornment. As the cortege approached them, the dowager queen rode out from the rest and urged her mount toward her son, with Jamyl and Alaric closely following. She nodded to Brion and then to Jehana as she drew rein.

  “We have returned with your sister and her child,” she said to her son, head held high. “And dear Jehana, I am so sorry not to have been here to welcome you, but it did not seem fitting that a Haldane princess should lie in a foreign grave. When you are become a mother, you will understand.”

  “I do understand, madame,” Jehana said softly, with a deep bow in the saddle. “The king was wise to send you on this mission. Who better than a mother, to appeal to those who kept her?”

  “I did choose to go,” Richeldis replied archly, with an inclination of her head. “My son did not send me. But you are right that he was wise not to try to stop me.” Smiling, she leaned across to gently clasp Jehana’s forearm. “You will learn these things in time, my dear. It is ill advised to stand between a queen and her children.” She cast a weary smile at her other two children, at Nigel and Silke silently sitting their horses, then returned her attention to her eldest son.

  “I hope our arrival will not dampen the joy of your wedding festivities. I ask only that your sister be accorded the honors due her royal status, so we may lay her to rest with her kin.”

  “Arrangements have already been made,” Brion replied. “The archbishop will come to the palace tomorrow morning to consult with you regarding your wishes.” He turned his attention to Jamyl, waiting attentively at the dowager queen’s side. “And thank you for your services, Sir Jamyl. It cannot have been easy.”

  Jamyl only inclined his head in acknowledgment, as did Alaric, when the king nodded to him. His inclination was to say nothing of the assistance they had received from Sé and Savion, for he did not know how much Jamyl was prepared to tell. Jamyl seemed not to have any problem with Deryni, but would he protect Sé?

  For now, though, that hardly mattered, because the king was kneeing his horse aside to allow the wagon catafalque to precede him.

  Men with muffled drums fell in ahead of the wagon, beating out a slow march. Just inside the gates, a crucifer and thurifer and a score of green-robed monks from the cathedral chapter joined the procession, intoning prayers for the dead princess and her infant daughter.

  The somber sounds accompanied them as the cortege made its slow way through the city and into the castle yard, where eight black-clad knights waited to carry the coffin into the chapel royal. There it would lie overnight to allow members of the royal household to pay their respects, before being transported back to the cathedral for a state funeral.

  They buried Xenia and her daughter two days later, following a solemn Requiem Mass celebrated by the archbishop to commemorate her short life and that of her child. They laid her to rest in the cathedral crypt, beneath a ledger stone beside the sarcophagus that held the body of her father, King Donal, and near the bodies of brothers and sisters who had died before her. Alaric and Llion attended with the others involved in the recovery of the body, given an honored place near the family mourners.

  Dinner that night was subdued, to no one’s surprise. Alaric attended the old queen and Princess Silke, as he had for several years now, and the Redfearn twins continued their attendance on the king and his new queen.

  Afterward, Prys and Airey followed Alaric to
his quarters and there proceeded to tell him of their adventures of the past several months, and the latest gossip at court. The pair had become quite smitten with their new royal mistress during the wedding festivities in Bremagne and the journey home, as were the other squires and pages at court, and Alaric soon found himself quite prepared to let himself get caught up in their adulation for the new queen.

  “She’s beautiful and kind, and she likes to hunt . . . ,” Airey said dreamily.

  “Aye, and she loves to dance,” Prys chimed in. “Her ladies are organizing dancing lessons for the squires and pages—and the knights, too, if they want to come. She brought about eight ladies, you know, and most of them are young and beautiful!”

  Alaric, remembering what he had seen of the court at Millefleurs, could certainly believe that. He hoped the pretty Fallonese girl was not among them, though. She would be a complication he definitely did not need. For now, celibacy seemed by far the best choice.

  “She’s brought a couple of sisters, too,” Airey added. “Religious ones, you know. You’ll see them around, looking like crows in their black habits. I don’t know what order, but they seem awfully somber, even though they’re young. Well, one’s young. The other is, well, older. Mathilde and Clemence, they’re called.”

  “And there’s a young priest, too,” Prys chimed in. “His name is Father Aimone. I think he’s sort of Llion’s age, but he seems very strict. He says Mass for the new queen and her household every morning, first thing. I think he’d like all the squires and pages to attend, too, at least the ones who serve the queen, but Duke Richard says that isn’t necessary for future knights. He says once a week is enough.”

  “I’d keep a low profile, if I were you,” Airey said. “I don’t think he much likes Deryni.”

  Alaric mostly listened to all of this information, and resolved to keep an open mind and decide for himself about the new queen’s household.

  Meanwhile, once Jovett and his knights set out for Cynfyn, the day after Xenia’s funeral, Alaric tried to settle back into what had become the new normal. Llion escorted Alazais back to Morganhall to visit their daughter, but returned after only a few days, ready to resume his duties.