Childe Morgan cm-2

by Katherine Kurtz

  Zoë gave him a smile as she finished fastening the shoes on Alaric’s feet, then let her father set him back on the floor so she could pull his new tunic over his head; no one would know that the shirt underneath was less than clean. Then, while she hurriedly ran a comb through his silky hair, Alyce fastened a little fur-lined green cloak around his shoulders, pinning it at the throat with a silver gryphon brooch.

  «There, that’s perfect. Now you look like a proper little future duke», Alyce said, standing back to inspect him. «Shall we all go down to court?»

  * * *

  The great hall was filling fast, though the dais at the far end was yet unoccupied, save by pages and squires and other functionaries completing their preparations for court to come. A faint haze of wood smoke hung on the air from the three great fireplaces, leavened by the clean tang of pine resin from the torches along the walls and under-laid by the aroma of damp wool and damp courtiers; for many of those summoned to Twelfth Night Court were obliged to travel from lodgings outside the castle precincts. Sleet and rain were still pummeling the darkened glass of the clerestory windows that overlooked the castle gardens to the left of the hall.

  But all within was festive and gay. High above, banners of most of the great families of Gwynedd hung from the hammer-beams and rafters, bright splashes of color against the oak and stone. Behind and above the twin thrones set at the center of the dais, a great tapestry of the royal arms of Gwynedd declared whose hall this was, the Haldane lion gazing over all with regal disdain. The buzz of conversation from the gathering court set the place alive with anticipation.

  «Ah, Kenneth, I’ve finally found you», said a handsome man of about Kenneth’s age, who had materialized at his right elbow.

  Kenneth turned to regard Sir Jiri Redfearn, like himself, one of the king’s most trusted aides. Jiri looked relaxed and unruffled, and gave Alyce and the other two ladies a graceful inclination of his ginger head.

  «Jiri. Well met», Kenneth said amiably, acknowledging the other man with a nod.

  «The king desires a word before court», Jiri said. «He’s in the withdrawing room. Perhaps the ladies would care to warm themselves by one of the fires — except for Lady Alyce and the boy. They’re summoned as well».

  «Of course», Kenneth replied. «Do you know what this is about?»

  «I do, but it isn’t for me to say», Jiri answered, though he smiled slightly as he stood aside, indicating that they should precede him. With a glance at his wife, Kenneth took young Alaric’s free hand and headed them around the dais to the left, leaving Zoë and her sister to wonder.

  Though intended as an informal audience chamber for matters requiring discretion, and a staging area before ceremonies of state, the withdrawing room also functioned as the king’s preferred workroom during the winter months — and clearly was serving all three functions today. Two liveried senior squires were putting the final touches to the king’s court attire, fussing over the hang of a sweeping sleeve, and documents in varying stages of preparation mostly covered the surface of a table drawn up before the fireplace. A scribe and the king’s eldest son were finishing the seals on the documents that required them, the young prince in page’s livery.

  «Ah, there you are», the king said, turning as Jiri admitted the three and then withdrew.

  Donal Haldane had aged but little in the four years since placing the hand of Alyce de Corwyn in that of Sir Kenneth Morgan, bestowing upon him the richest heiress in the kingdom. His carriage was still erect, the clear grey eyes still steady and direct, with just a hint of good humor crinkling their corners, but the once-sable hair now glimmered mostly silver against the collar of his robe of Haldane crimson, and his close-trimmed beard was nearly all gone to grey — though even Kenneth was going grey, and he was twenty years younger.

  «You summoned us, Sire?» Kenneth said, neck bending in an easy bow as Alyce dipped in curtsy. At her prompting, little Alaric also produced a fair bow of his own.

  Not quite suppressing a smile, Donal nodded and dismissed the squires and scribe with an impatient wave of his hand, though he signed for Prince Brion to carry on with his work. But for the vagaries of fate and happenstance, Alaric Morgan also might have been his son — though perhaps it was as well that Donal Haldane had had no part in the getting of the boy. Fortunately, only he and the boy’s parents knew how very nearly it had been otherwise; and the pair’s generous spirits and utter loyalty to their king had ensured that the outcome was satisfactory for all concerned. The king now intended to reward that loyalty.

  «One of the privileges of wearing a crown is that I am not obliged to explain my actions to my subjects», Donal said, by way of preamble. «But given the extraordinary position in which we all find ourselves, as mentors to a very underage future Duke of Corwyn, I thought it wise to give you advance notice of a decision I intend to announce at court this afternoon. The deed itself is already done; it only wants being made public. Brion, would you please bring me that warrant concerning Lendour?» he added, with a glance at his son and heir.

  Quickly, the boy glanced over the rows of documents on the table and extracted one, which he brought immediately to his sire. Donal gave it a perfunctory glance, then extended it toward Kenneth.

  «I am today creating you Earl of Lendour for life, de jure uxoris», he said, just as Kenneth’s hand touched it. «Not only is this fitting reward for your many years of faithful service», he added at the looks of surprise from both Kenneth and Alyce, «but you need sufficient rank to function as regent for a future duke. Besides that, I intend to use you for some important diplomatic work in the next few years, and you’ll be more effective as my envoy if you’ve a rank closer to those with whom you’ll be dealing».

  «Sire, I — had no idea…» Kenneth finally managed to murmur, as Alyce beamed. «But I shall certainly strive to be worthy of the trust you have shown me in this matter».

  Donal allowed himself a broad grin. «Rarely have I seen you at a loss for words, Kenneth Morgan», he said. «It also pleases me that, in so honoring you, I also allow dear Alyce to enjoy at least a part of the style to which she would have been entitled, had she been born male. But I would never wish that», he added. «She makes far too charming a woman».

  «Sire, you need not flatter me», Alyce said happily, slipping an arm around Kenneth’s waist. «This is my lord husband’s day».

  «And yours», Donal corrected. «I would have preferred to make Kenneth duke for life, and you a duchess, but that might be more than my other lords of state could stomach, to set a simple knight so far above them. Even so, there will be jealousy in some circles».

  «True enough, Sire», Kenneth agreed, still stunned by the king’s generosity.

  «This does, of course, put you in the interesting position of being your son’s vassal, when Alaric comes of age», the king added with a sly grin, «but you can always resign the title at that time, if you wish — perhaps retire to the country with your lovely wife. By then, you’ll be older than I am now, but hopefully your health will still be good».

  The last comment seemed casually made, but something in the king’s almost-wistful tone caused both Kenneth and Alyce to exchange uneasy glances.

  «Sire, is there something we should know?» Kenneth asked cautiously, keeping his voice low.

  «Nay, I am well enough», the king replied, though Kenneth thought the denial came all too quickly.

  «The announcement will cause comment, of course», the king went on, taking the warrant back from Kenneth and returning it to Brion. «But it is something I have been considering for some time. A few of the council know; most do not. Come the spring, I have it in mind that the three of you should journey to Lendour, by slow stages, to take up your new holding and introduce your eventual successor to his people». He nodded toward the wide-eyed Alaric. «For that matter, perhaps you should travel on to Coroth after that, make a grand circuit of it. The Corwyners should also meet their future duke».

  «They should
, indeed», Kenneth murmured, with a swift glance at his wife and son. «And is it your intention that we should remain in Lendour?»

  «Good Lord, no!» Donal replied. «I need you at my side, just as I’ll have you at my side today.

  «Now, for some further specifics». The king clasped his hands together and shifted his gaze to Alyce. «You are aware that, once he lived through the dangerous first few years of infancy, I have always intended to acknowledge young Alaric as heir of Lendour and Corwyn. I shall do that today, in the context of knighting the Lendouri candidates. I believe there are two this year?»

  «Yes, Sire. Yves de Tremelan and Xander of Torrylin».

  «I have heard good report of them», the king replied. «Trained by Sir Jovett Chandos and his father, are they not?»

  «They are, Sire», Kenneth confirmed.

  «An excellent young man, young Jovett», Donal said with a nod. «I’ve been watching his progress. You might keep him in mind as a deputy when you are absent».

  He recalled himself and returned to more immediate concerns. «But we were speaking of Lendour’s two new knights-to-be. When the first one is called, I shall ask Alyce and Alaric to accompany them forward; Kenneth, you’ll already be with me».

  «Yes, Sire», both of them murmured.

  The growing chatter of children’s voices outside the door precluded further serious discussion as, with a smile and a shake of his head, Donal signed for Prince Brion to admit them.

  «We’ll play the rest as it comes», the king said to Kenneth and Alyce, as the door flew open to an influx of crimson-clad royal children and ladies-in-waiting, followed by the queen. The two princesses, aged eight and four, raced forward to give their sire a hug. Prince Nigel, but a month short of his seventh birthday, held the hand of his younger brother — little Jathan, born but a week after Alaric. A pair of squires preceded the queen, bearing the king’s court mantle and the state crown of leaves and crosses intertwined.

  «Darling, they’re waiting for us», the queen murmured, gathering her train closer to keep it from being trampled by exuberant children. «I do hope you won’t be much longer».

  She broke into a smile at the sight of Kenneth and his family and, when the couple had made their courtesies to her, came to greet Alyce with a quick hug. She then crouched down and held out her arms to Alaric, who ran willingly to her embrace.

  Richeldis of Llannedd had matured gracefully since her arrival at court as a fresh-faced royal bride of not yet fifteen, though frequent pregnancies had thickened her once-slender waist. Like the king, she was gowned in court crimson lined with sable, her dark hair dressed low on her neck and bound across the brow with a simpler version of Donal’s state crown. Laughing delightedly, she rose and turned toward the king, one hand caressing young Alaric’s silver-gilt hair.

  «Donal, would you just look at this little man?» she declared. «What a proper young gentleman he looks today!»

  «Aye, he does», the king agreed. With an impatient gesture, he signed for the squires to bring his state robe and crown. «Let’s see whether he acts the gentleman at court». He shrugged into the state robe and set the crown on his own head.

  «Alyce, I suggest that you take your charming son and join Sir Jovett and the two Lendour lads to be knighted today. Kenneth, you’re with me. And we shall hope that today’s announcement meets with more favor than the last one I made concerning the two of you».

  Chapter 3

  «In his days shall the righteous flourish, and abundance of peace, till the moon be no more».[4]

  Returning to the hall, Alaric’s hand in hers, Alyce quickly found Zoë and Alazais, who were waiting just beside the nearest of the fireplaces.

  «Goodness», Zoë said. «What was that all about?»

  «Nothing unpleasant», Alyce assured her, though she decided to be vague, to preserve the element of surprise that the king obviously intended. «It’s to do with recognizing Alaric as my heir. There’s to be some kind of official acknowledgment at court this afternoon.

  «And speaking of court», she went on, searching the hall, «we need to find my Lendour men. The king will be knighting two of my squires today, both of them with excellent prospects». She glanced archly at Alazais. «I think we should introduce them to our Zaizie, don’t you, Zoë?»

  Zoë chuckled softly at that, and Alazais blushed furiously; but one of the reasons Kenneth had brought his youngest daughter to court for the season was to expose her to eligible young men. Geill, the middle daughter, had married the summer before, to a knight in the service of Jared Earl of Kierney, whom both of them now served. Zoë was technically a widow, having been all too briefly married to Alyce’s ill-fated brother Ahern, but marriage was once again on her mind.

  «I think», said Zoë, «that Zaizie would very much enjoy meeting your incipient knights. I’m sure they are very worthy young men».

  «Over there», said Alyce.

  Her glance toward the deep window embrasures facing onto the castle gardens turned the gaze of both younger women in that direction, where the king’s half-brother, Duke Richard, was assembling the year’s crop of boys soon to be made royal pages, all in clean white shirts and scarlet breeches, faces scrubbed and hair mostly tidy. Assisting him were a handful of senior pages to be promoted to squire.

  The knights-to-be, about a dozen of them, were gathering farther back with their sponsors, having kept vigil the night before. Each now wore the distinctive garb indicative of the status about to be conferred: the white under-tunic, symbolic of purity; the black over-tunic, as reminder of the grave to which all would eventually succumb; and over all, the crimson mantle, betokening both the royal house to which they owed allegiance and the blood each was prepared to shed in defense of that house.

  They all looked much alike, of course, thus uniformly arrayed, so Alyce sought out the red and white of the Lendour banner rather than any individual — and spotted it in one of the niches toward the rear of the hall. Cradling its staff in one green-clad arm was Sir Jovett Chandos, Alyce’s childhood friend and a stalwart defender of her rights in Lendour — and also, of late, a young man of particular interest to Zoë Morgan.

  «Alyce, there’s Jovett!» Zoë breathed.

  «Oh, my goodness!» the younger Alazais whispered, eyes wide as saucers as she cast her gaze at the two young candidates standing near Jovett.

  Alyce laughed gently, setting her free hand under the younger girl’s elbow as she began to press her and Zoë in the direction of the three. Young Alaric looked up at all of them in some bewilderment as he let his mother draw him along.

  «I seem to recall a somewhat different opinion two summers ago, when you came with us to Lendour», Alyce teased. «‘Silly boys,’ I believe you called them».

  «I never!» Alazais began somewhat indignantly. «No, wait…Not Yves and Xander?»

  «The very same», Alyce replied. «And I’m told that both of them are now become quite excellent swordsmen, well deserving of the accolade. Nor have I heard that either of them is yet spoken for», she added sotto voce, with a wink at her youngest stepdaughter.

  «Alyce, stop it!» Alazais hissed, blushing prettily.

  Jovett had noticed their approach, and immediately called his two charges to attention, for Alyce was Lady of Lendour, even if her sex denied her title to the earldom in her own right. Tall and straight in his court robe of emerald green, with his coppery hair sleeked back in a warrior’s knot, it was easy to see how Sir Jovett Chandos had caught Zoë’s fancy; and his mind and soul were no less comely than his appearance. As Alyce and her companions drew near, the two incipient knights sank to one knee and bowed their heads, and Jovett dipped the Lendour banner in salute.

  «Lady of Lendour!»

  «Sir Jovett», Alyce replied, smiling as she caught the billow of red and white silk in one arm and let him take her other hand to salute it with a kiss. He was Deryni like herself, though secretly so, and his unspoken greeting flashed across the bond of their physical contact, eve
n as his fond glance brushed Zoë.

  You look well and happy, dear Alyce — and young Alaric has grown.

  Sometimes by the day, it seems, came her grateful reply. Do be certain to admire his shoes, she added mischievously.

  «My lady», he said aloud, bending again in a bow to include all of them. «And can this really be young Master Alaric?» he added, as he righted the Lendour banner. «Why, what handsome shoes you wear today, my lord. Do you think they might fit me?» He drew back the skirt of his long court robe to reveal plain black boots with slightly pointed toes, gold spurs affixed to the heels.

  The boy’s look of bemusement went briefly calculating, then shifted to pleased recognition. «You’re Sir Jovett!» he declared, setting balled fists on both hips. «You have a big spotted horse!»

  «Spotted horse?» Alyce murmured, as she and Zoë exchanged puzzled glances.

  Feigning wide-eyed surprise, Jovett crouched down to the boy’s level, handing off the banner to one of the candidates as he did so.

  «Why, I do, indeed, have a spotted horse, young master. And she now has a spotted foal. I’m surprised that you remember».

  «I’m not a baby!» Alaric said indignantly. «Mama wouldn’t let me ride with you. She said I wasn’t big enough».

  With a glance up at Alyce and a suppressed smile, Jovett said, «Well, you’re much bigger now, so perhaps the next time you’re in Cynfyn, your mama will let you ride with me. But meanwhile, I should like to present two more of your knights». He straightened and jutted his chin toward the still-kneeling pair. «Or at least they’ll be knights in a little while».

  «Papa told me all about that», Alaric said wisely. «The king hits them three times with his sword an’ says, ‘You’re a knight.’ An’ they get gold spurs an’ a white belt an’ a sword, an’ then everybody says, ‘Hurrah!’»