Homage and Honour

by Candy Rae

  * * * * *

  Lokrhed (Third Month of Summer) – AL157

  Crisis (12)

  “Brentwood’s feeling sore. He is the Lord Regent for Susan and with his son taking the Brentwood seat he had two votes guaranteed. Now it’s only one again but he’ll come round in time. It’s Baker and Gardiner you must watch out for. Sam Baker will try to lure the others away from your support, not to supplant your wife if that’s what you are thinking, but to put your son in her place now that the betrothal is signed. He’ll give you trouble,” said Charles Cocteau to David Crawford. “I wish we had not been forced to agree to it, it gives Sam Baker leverage.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The betrothal is a binding contract, Xavier and Michaela will be married in all but name,” explained Charles. “If something were to happen to Anne and to you, as Xavier’s father-in-law and as he would be still a minor, he would automatically become Lord Regent. It would be even better for him in some ways than if his grandson Richard had taken the throne. The boy is fifteen, a year, perhaps two, from dispensing with a regency and ruling alone.”

  “Xavier is only seven,” said David, understanding the ramifications at last.

  “You get my point, well done! You are beginning to think like a southerner. There might be hope for you yet. Now, have you come to any decision as to your household appointments? Not the domestics, they will continue as usual, but the others?”

  “I’m a simple farmer me. Go on, what appointments?”

  “Ladies-in-waiting, Governesses, Arms Master, Captain of the Guard, Secretary, Treasurer. The list goes on forever.”

  “It is like something we learned in lessons about ancient times.”

  “Did I not say; this is the ancient times all over again? It was designed so,” said Charles with some humour. “The petitions will start soon enough, as soon as Susan dies and Anne is declared Queen but the most important is the Secretary, someone who knows government, the court and can stop you from making too many mistakes.”

  “You?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Charles said with a pleased smile, “and I would be delighted to accept the post if that is your wish. Now, we must continue with our lesson David. You must understand the rank protocols.”

  “I think I’ve got the hang of it,” a frown of concentration marked David’s brow. “At the top of the tree is the King or the Queen. If it is a Queen Regnant her husband precedes her in all matters of state although not on the ceremonial side.”

  “And is called the Lord Prince Consort. As you will be.”

  “It’s all so complicated,” complained David, “in fact, it is crazy.”

  “Our nobility is very sensitive and proud of their positions, this trend is much to do with their origins in the early days and it is what lets our society function. As I’ve explained before, nobles are always trying to better themselves, arranging good marriages for their sons and daughters. The ordinary citizens want to be granted noble rank, however low.”

  “Are you married?”

  “I should be. I was betrothed to a Kellen’s daughter, Sheila; she was a Lady-in-Waiting here at Court. She died in the plague.”

  “I am sorry, I didn’t realise.”

  “Thank you. It was an arranged match but she was a pretty little thing.”

  “Will you marry someone else?”

  “Father will be looking for a likely match but we digress. As I was saying, rank and the right marriage is of paramount importance here, obsessively so. With rank comes money, influence and most important of all, power. You must get it all clear and learn how to address each and every noble so that you do not cause offence and remember, the familial inter-relationships can give you a headache, which is why we pay for archivists and other officials to keep us right.”

  “You’d better tell me more,” said David, resignation in his voice, “I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

  “Oh, you’ll make mistakes aplenty, never fear. It’s my job to keep them to an absolute minimum.” Charles unfurled the chart that he had been holding rolled up under his arm and spread it out on the table in front of them. “These are the genealogical trees of the main noble houses; that of Baker, Cocteau, van Buren, Duchesne, Gardiner, Brentwood and Graham. Learn them.”

  “What? All of it?”

  “Every noble and royal child does and it’ll help you to put faces to names when you meet them at Court.”

  David was looking at the large parchment with dismay. “I’ll never remember all this. First though please, run through the lower rank structures again.”

  Charles sighed and began again at the beginning.

  “Barons, Kellens and Thanes, the three lowest ranks of the nobility, can be descended, via the male line of course, from a ducal house. If they are, then they can use the appellation My Lord, if not so descended, then no. There are a number of Baronies that have existed from the early days such as Karovitz, Senot and Ross. The present Lord Marshall is from one of these original families. Until he became Lord Marshall, his position within the noble protocol lists came after those barons of ducal lineage.”

  Yet another piece of parchment was placed before David who groaned again; his head was reeling as he tried to assimilate it all.

  “What’s this?”

  “Background notes about the undercurrents and the political alliances that exist now, in Conclave. You must understand who is supporting who and why.”

  “What about my wife?”

  “My mother is explaining this to the Queen. Her position is different but just as important. She also must be aware of who is who. Don’t worry; she’ll keep her right, she is an old campaigner. My Father intends to appoint her as Royal Governess.”

  “He appoints her? Not Anne?”

  “Would you or she have any idea who would be the best choice for the job?”

  “No,” admitted David.

  “Then let him do so,” advised Charles, “they’re only interim appointments anyway, the Conclave still has to ratify them and you can make changes later. My advice is to say little and think much to begin with. Now that you’ve appointed me your Private Secretary I can guide you on political matters and, if you do as I have advised and appoint the Son Heir Tom Brentwood as Comptroller of the Royal Household, he will do the same for you and Anne in the more convoluted area of court behaviour. Now that his father is no longer the Lord Regent, Tom has lost his seat on Conclave because the Duke will soon retake his own ducal seat.”

  “We could give him either the Smith or the Sahara seat?”

  Charles was pleased with the fact David seemed to be thinking about the full ramifications and had obviously learnt that lesson well even though Charles could not agree with David’s solution.

  “Neither my father nor William Duchesne will like that.”

  David sighed. “It’s all so complicated,” he complained again.

  “I told you politics here are convoluted,” grinned Charles. “That is the primary job of a King, or Prince Consort in your case, to keep the Dukes happy. There have been two Civil Wars here; we don’t want to add to that number.”

  “And we mustn’t forget the Larg.”

  “Indeed, they would love to see us fighting amongst ourselves, weakening us beyond the point where we are able to defend our borders. If there was internal strife and if your wife and children were killed, they might well decide to invade us, to destroy us before attacking the North. That is what the Lord Marshall fears and I agree with him, as do my father, Duke William and Duke Jeremy of Graham. That is why the latter chose young Brandon van Buren as husband for his Daughter Heir Marcia. The lad may be young but he was recommended by the Lord Marshall as the best there is to defend his dukedom in the event of a war with the Larg. Tom Brentwood was supposed to have married the younger sister but with her disappearance, that went out of the window. I know he wants young Annette, sooner rather than later, to continue the bloodline so beware.”

  “Annette i
s twelve.”

  “Old enough to be betrothed and I believe Tom Brentwood likes them young and pretty. Don’t be surprised if his father speaks to you about it. Tom is his only son and overdue for marriage. He’ll not want to wait.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Don’t knock it. As I said, it’s what keeps the kingdom ticking over in a more or less peaceful fashion. My advice is to go along with it. Betrothals can be broken, even the binding contract between Michaela Baker and Xavier if that’s what you want.”

  “What Xavier wants,” David corrected him, “it is his life you are all playing around with. He might fall in love with someone else.”

  Charles grinned, “the coming years might prove rather refreshing, love matches amongst the nobility an amazing change. Some of the older Dukes might well have apoplexy.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “That’s more than I am,” said David.

  * * * * *

  Sanrhed (Fourth Month of Summer) – AL157

  Quartet (4)

  Susa Lynsey of the Vada and her Lind Bernei, after extensive (and intensive) discussion with Weaponsmaster Rhian, the training staff and a number of the Ryzckas, had decided to extend the training programme for second year junior cadets.

  The cause of this alteration of the programme was her increasing nervousness about the re-emergence of the Larg.

  The senior cadets, as part of their training, had always spent around a month on patrol with an active Ryzck. This practice was a well-established one. They spent this time under the eyes of a mentoring vadeln-pair, usually a very experienced duo, who guided the tyros through their attachment.

  Susa Lynsey was now going to extend this practice to include all juniors that Rhian considered able enough. This decision was not without many inner misgivings.

  The Vada did not begin training vadeln-pairs until both human and Lind had attained the age of fourteen, the age when a Lind was considered adult. Some of those whom Susa Lynsey was considering were barely fifteen years old.

  Rhian took out the list of second year cadets. She had the final decision about which pair was ready and which not.

  Pencil in right hand she ran her left index finger down the names; beside some of the names she marked a cross. These were the duos that were not ready.

  When she came to the quartet, her pen sat poised uncertainly over one name.

  She was not sure if Beth and Xei should go.

  After some more thought she marked a cross against Beth, then put a question mark beside the cross.

  Hannah, after a slow start, was beginning to catch up with Tana and Jess on the military side of training. She was, however, a full two levels ahead of them on the academic side. Despite what Tana was wont to call her indolent nature, Hannah wasn’t indolent over her bookwork. She was a clever girl and, Rhian remembered, had a brother training to become a doctor.

  “You never give me the impression that you are really working,” Rhian had said to her on more than one occasion.

  “I expend the amount of energy that is needful,” Hannah had answered with a slow smile.

  Perhaps all Beth needed was a bit of encouragement.

  Rhian scrubbed out the cross and replaced it with a tick.

  The weather was hot. The sultry heat made lessons, inside and out, purgatory for cadets and trainers both. Tempers were fraying and the cadets could be heard complaining that Weaponsmaster Rhian had never been more exacting and difficult, a sentiment shared by all who came under her tutelage.

  It was, as Tana said, the most relaxing weather she had ever experienced. Even Beth declared it a first.

  “Of course,” she explained as Tana argued that she must have experienced something like it when she had lived in the Southern Continent, “Castle Graham is built at the coast, on a hill so it gets a fair bit of breeze.”

  She rose to her feet, “better go and rest as the good medics have instructed me.”

  Of the Quartet it was, surprisingly, the southerner, Beth who had been the most badly affected by the heat and she, like the other less resilient, had been assigned to light duties until the weather deigned to break. She had not been the first to come down with heatstroke.

  “Last year’s summer was the hottest on record,” complained Tana, “this year’s must be the hottest and wettest on record. To compensate for the freezing cold winters I suppose.”

  “Indubitably,” agreed Jess. “We’ve got a free period now,” she added, “and I’m going to get on with that essay we’ve to do for history. You?”

  “I’ve done it,” answered a complacent Tana.

  “You have not!”

  “I have though.”

  “Must be a first, you’re usually doing essays by candlelight at the last possible moment.”

  “It was interesting,” answered Tana in defence, “Hannah’s finished hers too.”

  “I expected that.”

  “I suppose you’ve been helping Beth again,” censured Tana. “You shouldn’t Jess, she’ll never learn if you do.”

  “She still finds written work difficult,” argued Jess, “remember, a year ago she could barely read and write. I think she’s doing wonderfully. She just needs a bit of help from time to time and this essay’s a hard one. At least, helping her, all the research is done, I only have to write the thing.”

  Tana had to agree with the logic of this and decided to spend what remained of their free period doing a bit of studying on her own account instead of going for a swim which had been her first idea.

  The second year’s final academic exam was looming on the horizon and she and the others in her year-group would have to pass it before they could advance into their senior cadetship.

  As Francis McAllister, first Susa of the Vada had declared many decades ago now, he did not want to lead a bunch of ignoramuses into battle and had insisted on certain academic standards being achieved.

  Hannah spent as long as she could studying, not that she was allowed to forget about the more practical aspects of her training. Most qualified medics in the Vada were attached to a Ryzck and shared all that they did. Holad vadeln-pairs could be and had been killed on active service. So the naturally indolent Hannah spent as much time on the practice field as in her cubicle studying.

  Jess and Tana were the more normal type of student, academic lessons had to be got through somehow but they preferred the military training.

  Beth, despite her valiant attempts, still remained a problem despite her best efforts. Academic pursuits were difficult and sword-work still so. She did her best but her teachers were of the opinion that she would never pass beyond the merely competent with the long rapier the Vada used.

  Whilst the other three had decided on their futures, Hannah the Holad and Tana and Jess a Ryzck, Beth was still swithering. The Holad would be an impossibility for her, her academic skills would never be equal to the task and she believed that she would never be accepted into a Ryzck.

  However, Weaponsmaster Rhian did not consider her a failure.

  A tenday into their second year the cadets had begun to learn how to fight with knives and to everyone’s surprise, Beth had proved herself to be a natural with the shorter weapon. She was naturally quick and light on her feet, a legacy from her deportment and dance lessons as a child. She hated sword-practice but enjoyed these classes, taught by an elderly man who, before he had vadeln-paired with his Asniya, had been a thug and street fighter amongst the slums of Port Lutterell.

  His redemption from his old ideals had been pretty much immediate and Rhian’s predecessor Anders had been quick to realise his potential. Allan and Asniya were notionally attached to the Fifty-first Ryzck, known as the Susa’s Own.

  Beth had soon become one of his favourite pupils and Allan often used her to show the less able how knife fighting should be done.

  He taught her all he knew about street fighting, stalking and much about how to get here and there without being seen.

  “At least
,” Beth was wont to joke to her three friends, “at least I could make my living as an assassin or a thief if nothing else presents itself!”

  * * * * *

  Tana jumped out of bed and looked over at her life-mate.

  Tavei, with a pained sigh, closed his eyes tight and pretended to be asleep as he sensed her rise from her bed. Tana enjoyed a ride before breakfast, before chores if she was on an early morning detail. Now that it was full summer this wasn’t so bad he was reflecting as he composed himself to sleep again but usually she insisted they go hail, rain or shine, winter and summer. This morning though, he was tired and had decided to tell her that he was staying where he was.

  Tana picked up on what he was thinking. She shrugged as she walked down the corridor and into the common room that separated the boys’ wing of the barracks from the girls’.

  That morning a couple of early risers from the boys’ corridor were sitting waiting to watch the reaction as everyone came in.

  With delight Tana perused the noticeboard. She and Tavei were to go on attachment with the Eighteenth Ryzck and Beth and Xei were going too.

  * * * * *

  “Why is it that sometimes I get the impression that our Lind compatriots know far more than we do?” Weaponsmaster Rhian turned a quizzical eye towards Lynsey, Susa of the Vada.

  “You feel sometimes that you are being manipulated into making the decision they think is best?”

  “You’ve got it! That’s precisely what I do feel, sometimes, most definitely.”

  “And this is one of those times?”

  “Don’t you think so? Now why would you and against what we all know is your better judgement, let young Beth and Xei accompany Tana and Tavei with the Eighteenth? She may be good with a knife but her sword-work! I ask you! I was going to suggest a less dangerous attachment.”