Childe Morgan cm-2

by Katherine Kurtz

  «Indeed, they do», Jovett agreed, as the boy’s mother and his half-sisters did their best not to laugh. (Both candidates had ducked their heads to cover their own grins.) «But he doesn’t hit them very hard — and not with the sharp edge. It’s done with the flat of the blade, like so».

  A dagger suddenly appeared in his right hand from a hidden wrist sheath, and he solemnly reached out to tap Alaric lightly on the right shoulder, the left shoulder, and then on the top of the head. A look of awe came over the boy’s face, and he glanced first at his mother, then back at Jovett.

  «Am I a knight now?» he whispered.

  «No, not yet», Jovett replied with a chuckle, making the blade disappear again. «It has to be done with a sword; and it takes more than just the sword-touch to make a man a knight. But when you’re grown, you will be a knight, I promise you. And though I should be delighted to confer that honor when the time comes, I rather think it will be the king who knights you — or maybe Prince Brion».

  «But he’s only a boy», Alaric said, confused.

  «Well, yes, but he’s going to be the king someday, just like his father. But before he can knight anyone else, someone older will knight him — because only another knight can make a knight».

  «Oh», said Alaric. «Could Papa knight me?» he asked, twisting to look up at his mother.

  «Well, he could, darling», Alyce replied. «He is a knight. But someday you’ll be a duke, and the king usually likes to knight dukes himself. However, when you are grown», she added, at signs of incipient rebellion on the upturned face, «and you’re a knight, too, you will make knights — because dukes and earls have the right to knight their own men. If you were a knight now, it would be your honor to knight Yves and Xander here».

  She jutted her chin toward the two candidates still kneeling beyond Jovett, who both saluted the boy with a right fist to the breast — and did their best to restrain grins of honest delight. Alaric gazed at them appraisingly for a long moment, then drew himself to attention and gravely saluted them back.

  «Well done!» Jovett declared, chuckling as he clapped the boy on the shoulder in approval. «My lady, he already has command presence».

  «Aye, he does», she replied, ruffling the boy’s hair fondly. «But now, Alaric, you must give these young gentlemen permission to rise. They’ve been kneeling quite long enough, though I’m sure they were happy to do so. A nod or a slight bow is sufficient».

  Very soberly, the boy made the two candidates a very proper bow, also gesturing with both hands that they should stand. Obediently the pair rose, also bowing to Alyce and the two women with her. Alazais flushed prettily as Alyce turned to motion her forward.

  «My dear, permit me to make these gentlemen known to you: Yves de Tremelan and Xander of Torrylin, soon to be knights of Lendour. Gentlemen, my husband’s youngest daughter, Alazais Morgan. And I believe you know his eldest, Lady Zoë».

  Amid the murmured exchanges of courtesy, Alyce became aware of a heightened buzz of conversation rippling through the hall and then a gradual quieting. Simultaneously, those milling in the center of the hall began to drift to the sides, clearing a center aisle and also the space directly before the dais. Being already withdrawn into a far window embrasure, Alyce and her Lendour party had only to turn their attention toward the dais where, very shortly, a chamberlain came forth with his staff of office and rapped smartly on the oak floor of the dais.

  «My lords and ladies, pray, attend».

  The royal family began to enter and assemble in their appointed places, not down the center aisle, because of the inclement weather, but directly from the doorway to the left of the dais, which led to the withdrawing room behind.

  First came the younger royal children and their attendants, followed by the queen’s ladies and the king’s household, including Sir Jiri Redfearn, Kenneth, and several of the king’s other ministers of state. As the king and queen appeared, attended by Prince Brion in page’s livery, the chamberlain again rapped with his staff of office and announced, «Their Majesties: Donal Blaine Aidan Cinhil Haldane, King of Gwynedd and Lord of the Purple March, and Richeldis his queen, and also His Royal Highness the Prince Brion, Prince of Meara».

  The royal couple proceeded to their thrones, but did not yet sit. Prince Brion stood attendance on his mother. The two Archbishops MacCartney followed close behind — Desmond of Rhemuth and William of Valoret, both of them coped and mitred appropriate to the season — and were shown to chairs of state to the right side of the dais. Before taking their seats, Archbishop William blessed the assembled company, «In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen».

  Court began with the usual business peculiar to Twelfth Night Courts, with the king receiving a dozen new pages into royal service and promoting several senior pages to squire. Prince Brion was among the latter, having turned twelve the previous June, and proudly knelt before his father with three others to pledge his ongoing fidelity.

  After each of the new squires had received a pair of blued-steel spurs and a dagger from the king’s own hand, they exchanged their simple pages’ tabards for the more elegant scarlet tunics of royal squires, with the king’s cipher embroidered on the left breast. Prince Brion was the first of the four to be so invested, and stood thereafter at his father’s elbow as duty squire for the remainder of the afternoon. Last of those received as squire that afternoon, separate from the first four, was Jamyl Arilan, nephew of one of Donal’s council lords, who previously had trained as page and squire at the court of Illann King of Llannedd, brother to Queen Richeldis.

  «Master Jamyl, you are most welcome», Richeldis said to him, as she helped him don the scarlet tunic of a Haldane squire. «My brother speaks highly of you. I wonder that he was willing to give you up».

  Jamyl smiled, a poised and confident young man of fifteen, and handsome as his uncle must have been in his youth.

  «The king your brother is a man not easily parted from what he wants, my lady, as well you know», Jamyl replied, «but the king your husband can be very persuasive. And I am given to understand that my lord uncle also pled my cause». He nodded to Seisyll Arilan, standing behind and at the king’s right hand. «I am honored now to be the second Arilan serving the Crown of Gwynedd».

  Richeldis inclined her head in acknowledgment of the gracious reply, and glanced at Seisyll, proudly watching.

  «We thank you for your efforts, my Lord Seisyll», she said. «I am certain that this new squire will be an asset to our court».

  «That is my fondest wish, Majesty», he replied with a bow.

  Next on the agenda was the dubbing of the season’s new knights, some come from far afield to receive the accolade from the king’s own hand. Most had been in training with Duke Richard, or at least had served as squires at court for several years, and now, having achieved their majority, were deemed ready to assume the duties and privileges of knighthood. All of the candidates had kept their vigil the night before, following a ritual bath and robing.

  The court candidates came first, according to the usual custom, with each being brought before the king by his sponsor, there to kneel and be invested with golden spurs. The candidate then received the sword accolade from the king’s hand or, in some cases, from the hand of his father or other older male relative who was also a knight, after which the queen girded each new knight with the white belt, symbolic of the purity of his new vocation. After being presented with a goodly sword, the new knight then placed his joined hands between those of the king and pledged his fealty to the Crown of Gwynedd.

  Court candidates were somewhat sparse that year, though the half-dozen dubbed were of excellent quality. Jaska Collins and Ulf Carey excelled at horsemanship. The twins Thomas and Geoffrey de Main, whose swordsmanship was equaled by few others of their age, were so different in every other respect that they might not have even been brothers. Trevor Udaut had been the king’s personal squire for the past several years, and would remain in royal service. Phares Donovan, the las
t of them, was a keen archer, especially from horseback.

  «Do you like the looks of that one?» Zoë whispered to Alazais, as the queen girded Sir Phares with the white belt. «He’s very well connected».

  «Zoë, stop it!» Alazais hissed, with a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder at the Lendour candidates.

  «Well, he is well connected, Zaizie», Alyce agreed, slipping an arm around her youngest stepdaughter’s waist. «His father was castellan to the Earl of Marley».

  «And it doesn’t hurt that he was squire to Prince Brion», Zoë added, «and is utterly devoted to him. Hopefully, he will also prove to be a friend to Alaric», she added more softly.

  For answer, Alyce only slipped her arm through Zoë’s and briefly laid her head against the shoulder of this, her sister of the heart, grateful that Zoë also would always be a friend to her son. Very shortly, she knew, the king would make public his latest decision regarding all of their fates. Kenneth’s appointment as Earl of Lendour would greatly ease her position as well as his, for she would share his rank — and finally have a status at least somewhat commensurate with her station as mother of a future duke.

  For a Deryni like herself, of course, it was a double-edged distinction, since it would thrust her into public prominence again, when she had only just begun to live down the notoriety of using her powers to unmask murderers at Twelfth Night four years ago. Already, she had seen the brother of one of the murderers, scowling across the hall at her.

  With luck, however, the new rank should help her keep Alaric safe until he was grown and could fulfill the destiny for which he had been born. Toward what else had her life been preparing her, than to support the House of Haldane in whatever way was needful?

  Next to be called forward were two candidates from Meara: Alun Melandry, son of the murdered former royal governor of Ratharkin, and Arthen Talbot, youngest son of the present governor. Alun’s knighting had a bittersweet quality to it, for he had seen his father put to death at the end of a rope by Mearan rebels when he was too young to do anything to stop it. His reception of the accolade now affirmed his determination to carry on in his father’s footsteps, where he would serve among the knights sworn to the service of the present royal governor.

  The son of that royal governor, by contrast, was relaxed and almost informal. Presented by his father, Sir Lucien Talbot, young Arthen knelt eagerly before the king, upturned face alight with joy. Behind him, Sir Lucien carried a goodly sword with which his son would be invested, with the straps of a pair of golden spurs looped over the quillons.

  «So, Lucien», Donal said with a smile, rising with the Haldane sword cradled in his arm. «How many sons of yours have I knighted now, including young Arthen here? Three? Or is it four?»

  «Arthen is the fourth, Sire», Lucien replied, bowing. «You knighted Caspar last Twelfth Night, and Julian the year before. And Joris was first, of course».

  «Ah, of course. Well, they all look incredibly like you. I can’t keep them straight. The others are not with you today?»

  «Alas, no, Sire, but they send loyal greetings and apologies for their absence. I fear that all of them had duties in Meara that precluded their attendance. But they look forward to having their brother join them in service».

  «I’m sure they do», the king replied, «though I imagine that the Mearans will hardly be glad to have another Talbot enforcing the king’s peace. Sir Alun», he said to the just-knighted Alun Melandry, «perhaps you would be so good as to invest your young comrade-in-arms with his spurs. Lucien, I am also disappointed to see that your lady is not with you this year», the king went on, as the grinning Alun knelt to perform his office.

  «As am I, Sire», the Mearan governor replied, «but the reason is a happy one. Our eldest daughter is soon to present us with our first grandchild, so her mother has gone to Laas to be with her for the lying in. When Your Majesty’s children are of an age to present you with your own grandchildren, I know you will understand».

  «Indeed, indeed», Donal said, chuckling. «When you return home, then, I trust that you will give your goodwife a full accounting of today’s honors. And send me word when the child is born». He glanced aside at Sir Jiri Redfearn, standing duty behind the throne. «Jiri, remind me to send an appropriate christening gift».

  «Yes, Sire».

  As Sir Alun rose, his spurring duties fulfilled, Donal’s gaze flicked back to the still-kneeling Arthen.

  «So, young Master Talbot. Are you certain you would not prefer to receive the accolade from your father?»

  «With all due respect, Sire», Lucien said, before the candidate could answer, «we could have stayed in Ratharkin if my hand were sufficient».

  «Arthen?» the king insisted. «Your father is a very honored and puissant knight, else he would not be my governor in Meara».

  «Aye, Sire, but you are my king», young Talbot replied. «I have always dreamed of receiving the accolade from your own hand. And I would lief swear you my fealty in person — for the bond between vassal and liege is as hallowed as that of blood».

  «Well, I cannot dispute that», the king replied, smiling as he shifted the hilt of the great Haldane sword of state into his right hand and lifted the blade before him. «Arthen Talbot, son of Lucien». The blade flashed downward to lightly touch flat on the young man’s right shoulder.

  «In the name of the Father, and of the Son», the blade shifted to the left shoulder, «and of the Holy Spirit», the blade lifted to rest on the crown of the young man’s bowed head, «be thou a good and faithful knight». Donal lifted the blade to kiss the holy relic enclosed in the pommel, then reversed it to rest the tip on the floor and offered his right hand to the new knight. «Arise, Sir Arthen, and be invested with the other symbols of your new rank».

  Only just controlling a grin, Sir Arthen got to his feet, bowing as the queen came to gird him with the white belt of his knighthood, faintly blushing as she buckled it at his waist. Donal handed off the Haldane sword to Kenneth to hold. When the queen was done, Arthen’s father presented him with a sword, which he slipped into the hangers at his waist before kneeling again to set his joined hands between those of the king.

  «I, Arthen Talbot, Knight, do become your liege man of life and limb and earthly worship; and faith and truth will I bear unto you, to live and to die, against all manner of folk, so help me God».

  The king then returned the oath, pledging justice and protection for the new knight’s loyalty, after which the other Mearan knights in the hall gave a whoop of affirmation and surged forward to congratulate their new brother. The brief commotion served to bring young Alaric’s attention back to the head of the hall, for he had begun to grow restive at his mother’s side as the ceremonies stretched on.

  «Pay attention now, darling», she whispered in his ear, as the space before the thrones again cleared and the chamberlain rapped with his staff for attention.

  Jovett was lining up the Lendour candidates and bidding their two sponsors to fall into place behind them, each bearing a sheathed sword with spurs looped over the quillons. The newly squired Jamyl Arilan had been drafted to carry the Lendour banner when their turn should come around, and came smartly to attention as the chamberlain cleared his throat.

  «Let the candidates from Lendour approach».

  At Jovett’s nod, Jamyl started forward with the Lendour banner, Jovett following with the two candidates, their sponsors, and several more Lendour retainers. Young Alaric stood on his tiptoes to see them better, only restrained from following by his mother’s hands on his shoulders.

  «Your Majesty», Jovett said, making a graceful obeisance as his charges did the same and Jamyl dipped the banner, «on behalf of the regency council of Lendour, I beg leave to present two candidates for knighthood: the squires Yves de Tremelan and Xander of Torrylin».

  «And I am well pleased to receive them», the king responded, settling back slightly on his throne. «I have heard excellent reports regarding the accomplishments of both Lendour’s
candidates. However, a striking irregularity makes me loath to confer that honor».

  Chapter 4

  «He made him lord of his house, and ruler of all his substance».[5]

  Following on an instant of shocked silence, a murmur of question and consternation rippled through the hall. Jovett stood stunned, as did Xander; young Yves bore an expression of blank bewilderment, as did both sponsors. Alaric caught the tumult of the various reactions and looked up at his mother for reassurance. Alyce felt the sharp glance of question from her heart-sister, but only slipped her free hand around Zoë’s shoulders and slightly shook her head, sending a close-focused thought into her mind, as Deryni sometimes could do with humans.

  Don’t worry.

  Don’t worry? Zoë returned, carefully shaping the words in her mind. Do you know what this is about? Is this why the king summoned you before court?

  Somewhat, Alyce replied. Just wait and see.

  «Sire, I don’t understand», Jovett said uncertainly, as he exchanged glances with his two candidates and their sponsors.

  «Allow me to rephrase», the king said. «And please reassure your candidates. This has nothing to do with their suitability for knighthood». He swept his gaze across the waiting courtiers and their ladies, then nodded toward Kenneth.

  «Sir Kenneth, my sword, if you please — and Lady Alyce, please attend, and bring the boy».

  Bracing herself, head held high, Alyce kept her son’s hand in hers and led him before the throne, pausing before the first step of the dais to make her reverence. Young Alaric followed his mother’s example with a grave, courtly bow that brought a smile to the king’s lips. At their approach, Jovett had moved his knighting party to one side, where all of them watched anxiously.

  «I see that your young son flourishes, Sir Kenneth», Donal said, settling the Haldane sword in the crook of his arm, its hilt in his left hand. «You have performed your duty well, in providing an heir for Corwyn and Lendour — though methinks it can have been no onerous duty, with so fair a lady at your side». At his nod toward Alyce, a faint snigger rippled through the watching court, but she only inclined her head gracefully at the compliment.