* * *
Despite Alyce’s protestations that she was only pregnant, not ill, Kenneth insisted that she travel by coach when they left for Rhemuth a few days later. In truth, the conveyance provided far less comfort than if she had made the journey a-horse, but she had Melissa in the coach with her, to keep her company, and Alaric at least started the journey with them.
But he very quickly became bored with this mode of transport, and soon put up such a fuss about being treated like a baby that his father permitted him to ride with Sir Llion for part of each day.
They arrived in the capital early in June of 1095, with but a week remaining before Prince Brion should achieve his fourteenth year and come officially of age. The milestone was mainly one of law, for everyone was well aware that few fourteen-year-olds were ready to assume the full duties of monarchy, but it meant that now, should Donal die untimely, his son and heir would not be required to rule through a regency council.
Such a council was already in place, to be sure, for handling the affairs of the kingdom when the king was occupied elsewhere in his realm. Donal had selected his crown council with care, and had named his brother Richard to preside whenever he was absent — a precedent that young Brion almost certainly would follow, when his father’s council eventually became his council. It was a reassurance for all concerned, and the prince was as familiar with the council’s workings as could be expected of even a precocious fourteen-year-old born and bred to be king.
But along with the public recognitions scheduled to take place with council and court, Donal Haldane intended another, more private recognition to mark his heir’s coming of age, to be witnessed by only a select few. The night before the actual birthday festivities, after a private supper with his son, Donal summoned Kenneth and Alyce to join them in his private withdrawing chamber within the royal apartments. Donal himself admitted them.
«Thank you for coming», the king said quietly, standing aside to let them pass and then closing the door behind them. Prince Brion had been sitting at a small supper table lately cleared of the clutter of their meal, and rose as the two came into the room. He looked both eager and faintly apprehensive, perhaps in anticipation of what further the night might bring.
«Sire», Kenneth murmured. «Your Highness».
He cast a puzzled glance at his wife, uncertain why they had been summoned, but Alyce thought she knew, and set a hand on Kenneth’s hand in subtle control, her attention focused entirely on the king.
«Sit down, please», the king said, waving them to seats at the little table and himself taking a seat. «I want to explain to all of you what I intend to do tonight. Kenneth, if all goes awry, it may fall upon you to be involved later on, which is why I asked you to be present. Alyce will understand immediately what I am about».
As he spoke, he had been unfastening the wire clasp that held the Eye of Rom in his right earlobe: a great cabochon ruby the size of his little fingertip, set in ruddy gold. This he removed and held before them, gently turning it to and fro so that its heart caught the glow from the candles on the table.
«Only seldom will any of you have seen me without this», he said softly, with a glance at Alyce and Kenneth. «I have told Brion the story of the stone many times as he was growing up, but it will be new to the two of you. According to my family’s tradition, it was one of the gifts the Magi gave the Holy Child, after it had fallen from the heavens on the night of His birth. Every Haldane king since Cinhil the Great has worn it — some of them for rather longer than others», he added with a faint attempt at humor. «It is known as the Eye of Rom; I do not know why».
He set it aside and retrieved a small wooden box from the sideboard behind them, then pushed his chair back from the table, at the same time beckoning Brion closer. «Alyce, please bring that cushion for Brion to kneel on. Put it here in front of me».
Both obeyed, Alyce depositing the cushion on the floor at the king’s feet and moving to his left. Brion knelt, gazing up trustingly as his father set the box in his hands. Opening the box, Donal plucked out a small, stoppered vial of green glass and a wad of cotton wool, which he passed to Alyce. He then delved into the box again to remove a small, folded packet of crimson wool held by a bright steel pin, its head formed in the shape of a stylized Haldane lion. This he kept in his hand as he leaned past Brion to set the box on the table behind.
«It is not given to any man save the king to actually wear the Eye of Rom», Donal said, pulling the pin from the red wool and handing it to Alyce, who had uncorked the vial and moistened the cotton wool with the pale green liquid it contained. «Nor is the Eye the source of the Haldane power, though it seems to be instrumental in its emergence in due time».
He unfolded the wad of fabric to reveal a small ear-hoop of twisted gold wire nestled in the folds of crimson wool. Underneath the earring was a small scrap of hard leather, which Donal palmed before setting the nest of crimson wool in Brion’s left hand. He then reached behind his son to retrieve the Eye of Rom, turning it in his fingers as he leaned back in his chair. Alyce, meanwhile, was carefully wiping off the pin.
«It is customary that the heir should be introduced to the Eye of Rom on the eve of his coming of age, against the day when he shall bear its burden», Donal continued, setting the Eye in Brion’s right hand and closing the prince’s over the jewel. «Accordingly, though you will not wear the Eye tonight, I shall prepare you for its future wearing. Until then, you will wear that in its place».
He gestured toward the hoop of twisted gold in its nest of crimson, then glanced at Alyce and carefully received the steel pin back from her. Across the table, Kenneth watched silently, hardly breathing.
«Wipe off his earlobe now», Donal murmured, nodding toward the wad of faintly green-stained cotton wool. «The right one. Then come to his other side and steady his head».
Alyce did as he commanded, again moistening the cotton wool. The green liquid had a pungent, medicinal smell, but she found it not unpleasant. Even so, Brion flinched slightly at its touch, eyes closing briefly.
She wiped the earlobe several times, front and back, then set the wool aside and moved to the prince’s other side, took his head between her hands and braced his forehead against her waist. As she did so, his father set the tip of the steel pin against his right earlobe, positioning the scrap of leather behind, and gave a sharp thrust.
Alyce felt Brion tense as the sliver pierced through, but he did not move as Donal twisted the pin slightly to enlarge the wound and then squeezed the earlobe, withdrawing the pin as blood welled from the front wound. He then slid his left hand around the back of Brion’s head to brace it and touched Brion’s closed right hand in signal for him to open it, picked up the Eye, and touched the stone to the blood trembling, jewellike, on the boy’s earlobe.
Brion flinched as the stone touched his blood, breathing in with a hiss and briefly stiffening under his father’s hands. In that instant, Alyce, too, felt power stirring, surging between father and son and spilling over slightly against her shields. Even Kenneth appeared to sense that something was happening that he could not see, still seated taut and white-faced at the other side of the little table. But then Brion relaxed again and breathed out a sigh as the king withdrew the stone and set it aside, now marked with his heir’s blood — and Brion, too, with its potential.
Wordlessly the king retrieved the hoop of twisted gold and handed it to Alyce, his intention clear. Carefully she took it and wiped it with the cotton wool, again charged from the green vial, careful to clean well around the twisted wires, then handed it to the king and again held Brion’s head steady as Donal made ready to insert the hoop of twisted wire through the hole just created.
«This will probably hurt more than the first time», Donal murmured, positioning the end of the wire and starting to guide it through the raw flesh, twisting as he pushed.
Brion closed his eyes again, jaw tensing as Donal guided the twisted wire through and fastened it, though he did not flinch.
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«There, it’s done», Donal breathed. «The earlobe may be tender for a few days. Try to keep it clean while it heals, and move the wire back and forth in the wound several times a day».
Relaxing a little, Brion gingerly touched the earring and his ear, a faint smile playing at one corner of his mouth. Then, with an apologetic shrug, he glanced back at the silver goblets discarded on the sideboard and leaned back to retrieve one, holding it nearer the candle and trying to catch a glimpse of his reflection. Donal snorted.
«You look very dashing», he said gruffly. «You’re apt to set a fashion trend among the other young men at court».
«To be sure, he shall», Alyce agreed, smiling and casting a glance toward Kenneth, who was quickly recovering his aplomb.
Brion grinned at that, still a boy in that instant. Shortly thereafter, after sharing a celebratory round of excellent Fi-anna red brought up earlier from the royal cellars, the four participants in the night’s work retired to their respective chambers, all of them with much to ponder in the times to come, and a prince with odd dreams to drift through his sleep.
* * *
The next day began with the customary birthday court to mark the prince’s natal day, though he had already been awakened early to receive his gift from his parents.
«It’s out in the stable yard! Come quick!» his brother Nigel said urgently, shaking him awake before first light. «I knew they were going to do it! She’s absolutely gorgeous!»
From Nigel’s exuberant outburst, Brion knew instantly what his brother was talking about, and threw on the previous day’s clothes as quickly as he could, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he wrenched open the door to his sleeping chamber.
Lord Kenneth Morgan was waiting outside with Nigel, leaning against the wall opposite the door, arms crossed and a sly smile on his handsome face.
«I suspected it wouldn’t take much to roust you this morning, Your Highness. Good morning, and congratulations on your natal day. If you’ll come with me…»
«Is it true?» Brion whispered, wide-eyed, as he followed Kenneth down the corridor toward the stair tower, Nigel eagerly trailing in his wake. «Lord Kenneth, is it true?»
«Is what true, my prince?» Kenneth replied, with an innocent glance over his shoulder. «That today, you are of age? Yes. That last night, your father gave you a tangible token of that coming of age? Yes». Brion’s hand flew to his right ear, and he winced as it twinged when his fingers brushed the earring there. «That your birthday present is waiting for you in the stable yard? Yes. That the present is the R’Kassan steed for which you have been longing?» He glanced back again as they reached the head of the stair and grinned. «Yes».
With a burst of delighted laughter, Brion pressed past him and pelted down the turnpike stair, keeping his balance against the newel post to his left, skipping every second step. Nigel followed right behind him, Kenneth bringing up the rear.
Out in the stable yard, his parents and his other brother and sisters were waiting with Sir Seisyll Arilan and several more of the king’s ministers, all of them hastily dressed, all of them looking inordinately pleased with themselves. As the two elder princes appeared, Oisín Adair emerged from the opening of the stable arch leading a bloodred R’Kassan mare, whose lead he handed, without ceremony, to Prince Brion.
Chapter 15
«Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes».[16]
It was a matter of more than half an hour before Brion could be enticed back inside to prepare for court, for nothing would do but that he should be given a leg up onto the mare’s bare back, face creased in a delighted grin, so that Oisín could lead him around the stable yard for a few turns.
The grin lasted well into the morning, when he had bathed and dressed for more formal undertakings. He was still smiling as his parents solemnly led him into the hall where the court of Gwynedd awaited him.
There, after being presented by his father as Gwynedd’s lawful heir, now come of age, he was invested with a golden circlet and seated in a chair of state at his father’s right hand, no longer relegated to the stool at his father’s feet, which hitherto had been his place. From there he received the homage of all the peers of the realm, as his proud parents looked on.
Kenneth and Alyce were among the first to swear, after Duke Richard and the Dukes of Cassan and Claibourne. No one could swear as Duke of Corwyn, since the duchy was awaiting Alaric’s majority, but he knelt between his parents in a heraldic tunic quartered of the arms of Corwyn and Lendour, though the Lendour coat was differenced by a label of three points, since he now was the heir rather than abeyant would-be earl. For a while, he was even allowed to remain in the hall, as the less-formal part of the proceedings continued.
«Mummy, is this where Prince Brion gets presents?» he whispered urgently, tugging at Alyce’s sleeve.
«Yes, darling, but you must be quiet, or Sir Llion will have to take you outside to play. Can you be very quiet for me?»
The boy agreed, but after the first few presentations, his exuberance and the rising heat in the crowded great hall got the better of him, so that Llion was obliged to escort him outside.
«Llion, was I naughty?» he whispered when they had gained the refuge of the castle gardens beside the hall — where, in truth, most of the other young children of the court had also adjourned, along with a few of the older ones. Seven-year-old Kevin McLain was overseeing several of them, including his half-brother Duncan, Prince Jathan, and the two Haldane princesses.
«No, Master Alaric, you were not naughty», Llion assured him, «but you were somewhat noisy. This is Prince Brion’s day».
«But I wanted to see his presents…»
«You can see them another time, perhaps tomorrow. But look: There is your cousin Duncan over by the fountain, with Princess Silke. It looks like she and Jathan have found something of interest. Shall we go and see what it is?»
Meanwhile, the presentations continued in the great hall: a succession of gifts both great and small to mark Prince Brion’s coming of age. First, the ones from foreign dignitaries: a goodly dagger from the King of Howicce and Llannedd, who was the prince’s uncle on his mother’s side, its blade etched with a line of running Haldane lions with legs and tails intertwined. The King of R’Kassi had sent a silver-mounted and ivory-handled riding crop, along with a fine silver-mounted headstall, to go with the mare purchased from one of his breeders.
From the Prince of Andelon came a new set of steel vambraces engraved with Haldane lions, presented by the prince’s younger brother, Prince Khoren. A carved ivory box contained fourteen gold sovereigns, one for each year of Prince Brion’s life: this from the King of Bremagne, who had marriageable granddaughters. The diminutive Rather de Corbie, emissary of the Hort of Orsal, had brought a soft leather pouch containing half a dozen fine rubies.
There were also private gifts from friends and members of the court: a new mail hauberk from his uncle Richard, a set of crimson riding leathers from the other squires of the court, a matching hunt cap from the pages.
From Kenneth and his family came a treatise on the bloodlines of the great R’Kassan studs, in which Brion’s new mare was prominently listed, and also a history of Rhemuth Castle, lettered by Alyce and illuminated by Zoë during the previous winter. Additionally came silver cups and plates aplenty, and other divers gifts of various kinds.
The unexpected presentation of the forenoon, after nearly all the business of the court had been concluded, was a newly arrived delegation from the King of Torenth, which included one of the Torenthi king’s own sons.
«Prince Wencit is here?» Donal whispered, when Sir Jiri Redfearn had hurried down the sidelines of the crowded great hall to whisper in the king’s ear.
«Aye, and his daughter as well, Sire», Jiri replied. «Probably sent to test whether there might be interest in a royal match, though I expect that would be a dangerous
proposition».
Seisyll Arilan had crowded close as Jiri approached, and leaned in to clarify.
«I think it unlikely that such a match would be proposed, given recent relations between the two kingdoms, Sire», he said. «But it would be an expected courtesy for one sovereign to send one of his sons on the occasion of another king’s heir coming of age — and Prince Wencit is only third in line to the throne».
«He was bloody well fifth in line, six months ago», Donal muttered, «and the new number-two is his brother’s son, a five-year-old. Wencit is only two sets of heartbeats away from the throne. He is also said to be one of the most accomplished Deryni of his generation. Who else is with him?»
«The Princess Morag Furstána», Jiri replied. «And one of Nimur’s ministers: a Count János Sokrat. I believe you have met him before; probably sent along to keep the young Furstáns in line».
«Very well, announce them when they’re ready».
With a brisk nod, Jiri backed off and retreated up the great hall. Donal, with a glance toward Alyce, summoned her a little closer, to stand behind the thrones between him and the queen.
«At least three Deryni, Alyce», he murmured. «Let’s keep them honest».
She nodded, then did her best to become all but invisible as a chamberlain’s staff rapped three times on the stone floor to call the hall to order.
«Pray attend», came the call, echoing in the hall. «Ambassasdors from the Kingdom of Torenth: Count János Sokrat, accompanying the Prince Wencit and his sister, the Princess Morag Furstána».
A murmur rippled through the hall as the assembly parted to either side of the center aisle. Down this aisle came three black-clad figures, one of them female, attended by a single pair of Torenthi guards carrying a large, soft bundle the size of a small child. The man leading the delegation was tall and straight-backed, clad in a full-sleeved and ankle-length over-robe of black silk damask, open at the front to show a close-collared under-tunic of black silk. The gleam of a curved cavalry blade showed through one of the sides, both of which were slit to the waist for riding. His luxuriant beard was black, though starting to go grey, as was the long hair braided and clubbed in a warrior’s knot. The black flat-topped hat set square across his brow added a handspan to his height.
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