«God help me, I can do no more», she whispered, tears brimming as she weakly lifted one trembling hand first to her own forehead, then to Brion’s. «Go now, my prince, and rest beside the fire».
Vague awareness flickered in his eyes as he opened them, but he rose like a sleepwalker and did as she commanded, staggering a little to sink down on the hearthrug and cradle his head on one arm. As soon as he had settled, Kenneth sat on the bed beside his wife and gathered her into his arms, briefly bending to touch a kiss to her fevered brow.
«Too late», she murmured, her voice thin and thready. «I only had strength to complete some of the work. I have awakened the Truth-Reading talent, which will stand him in good stead as king…and I sensed a stirring of shields — I know not how much they would withstand. But more, I cannot. So tired…»
«No more now, my love», he whispered. «Rest. Regain your strength. There will be time and strength enough to complete your work later, when you are well».
«Would that it were so…». Her reply was all but inaudible. «But I am spent. That work now will fall to Alaric, when he is grown. In the meantime…you must guide our new king as best you can, and guard our son so that he may fulfill what has been ordained. Promise me…»
«No! You will recover to finish the work!»
«I cannot», she replied, weakly shaking her head. «Promise me!»
«I–I promise», Kenneth breathed, tears blurring his vision.
«I will haunt you, if you keep not your promise», she said with a faint smile. «One thing more: I wish to be buried at Culdi, in the chapel that Earl Jared built for his stillborn daughter».
«At Culdi?» Kenneth blurted. «Why at Culdi? Shall you not lie here, with my Morgan ancestors? Or at Cynfyn or Coroth, with yours?»
Alyce briefly closed her eyes, a faint smile curving at her lips. «Culdi once belonged to St. Camber, my love — if anyone should ask why. And I will lie with Corwyn-kin. Little Alicia McLain would have been my niece. Remember that Vera is my twin».
He shook his head, looking troubled. «I had put it from my mind».
«And you must keep it from your mind», she replied. «No one must ever know, for her children must be protected. But because of this kinship, I wish you to foster our children with her and Jared when they are older, for you will be much at court with the king. You are cousin-kin to Jared through several branches of your family, so no one will think it odd. In time, as our children grow to maturity, it is my hope that Vera will be able to teach them something of their Deryni heritage. Would that I could be here to see those years…»
«You will be!» Kenneth whispered emphatically, wishing that words could make it so.
She shook her head weakly, fatigue and fever drawing her toward eternal sleep.
«Bring me my children, dearest husband. I would bid them good-bye…».
«Alyce…!»
But she drifted into unconsciousness then, so Kenneth took advantage of it to fetch the children, as she had requested. Bidding Melissa to bring the infant Bronwyn, he went himself to wake his sleeping son. Llion roused as he entered the room, sleepless anyway, for concern about Alyce, but Kenneth raised a staying hand as he went to Alaric’s bedside.
The boy stirred reluctantly, the grey gaze hazy with sleep, but Kenneth wrapped him in a sleeping fur and hoisted him onto his hip, carrying him back into the room where Alyce lay, leaving Llion stationed outside the door. Sitting carefully beside her, he let Alaric down onto the bed, bare legs dangling over the edge. Melissa had laid the sleeping Bronwyn on the other side, in the crook of her mother’s arm, and was wringing out a fresh compress over a basin of water.
«She still burns with fever, my lord», the maid whispered, as she wiped Alyce’s brow, unable to look at him.
Biting at his lip, Kenneth waved her back and took one of his wife’s slack hands in his to gently chafe it.
«Darling Alyce, your children are here», he murmured. «You wanted to see them…»
After a moment, her eyelids flickered and her eyes opened, though they were fever-bright and not focusing well. Her drifting gaze found her son’s, and she mouthed a kiss in his direction before turning her head to press her lips to the top of her daughter’s downy head.
«God’s angels guard you, dearest daughter», she whispered. «I wish we had been given the time to know one another better».
The infant stirred, the blue eyes briefly opening to meet her mother’s in a salute of soul meeting soul; then she snuggled closer and went back to sleep with a sigh. Eyes bright with tears, Alyce pressed another kiss to Bronwyn’s soft cheek, then glanced beyond to Melissa, who was waiting anxiously.
«Please take her back to her cot, dear Melissa, and bless you, for your love. Care for her when I am gone».
Silently weeping, Melissa ducked her head in agreement and came to gather the infant into her arms, then ducked to kiss Alyce’s free hand before turning to flee the room. Young Alaric watched her go, confusion in the grey eyes, then turned back to his mother in concern.
«Mama, why is Melissa so sad?» he asked.
Alyce briefly closed her eyes, tears brimming among her lashes, then took his hand in hers and drew him closer as Kenneth fought to hold back his own tears.
«She’s sad because I have to go away, my darling», she told him honestly. «I don’t want to go, but I must».
He cocked his head at her, a pout pushing at his rosy lips.
«Did the king say you have to go?» he demanded.
«No, no, darling. He would never do that. I wanted to help the king — and I have helped him, as best I can. I want you to promise me that you will help him, too — all the days of your life. Will you do that for me?»
Without hesitation, the boy lifted his chin and nodded bravely, tracing a cross on his chest with one small forefinger.
«Cross my heart an’ hope to die, Mama!»
«No, cross your heart and live, my love!» she corrected, gazing into his eyes and again making that soul-connection. «Grow up to be a wonderful, strong, courageous man like your papa! Now, come and give your mama a big hug and a kiss».
He crawled closer to fling himself down beside her with his arms around her neck and his face nestled against her shoulder, starting to cry. She held him close for several seconds, memorizing the feel and the smell of him for all eternity, then passed her hand across his brow and took him into trance.
Kenneth bowed his head, unable to watch — and incapable of comprehending whatever it was that passed between mother and son as her life waned — but he looked up again as Alaric stirred, to sit up and then bend down to kiss her cheek a final time, his tears in check.
«I be good, Mummy», he whispered.
«I know you will, my darling, my Airleas», she murmured, blinking back her own tears. «Go with Papa now».
She closed her eyes then. It took all of Kenneth’s strength of will to lift their son down to the floor and lead him to the door, where Llion was waiting outside to take him back to his room.
«Is she —?» Llion began softly.
Kenneth shook his head. «Please take the boy back to bed now, Llion, and stay with him through the night. I’ll remain here until…»
With that, he ducked his head, unable to speak more of it, and put his son’s hand into the young knight’s larger one, firmly pressing the pair of them out into the corridor and closing the door behind them. Returning to his wife’s side, he retrieved the king’s silver bracelet and went to the fire to slip it back on the royal wrist, also tucking a fur-lined cloak around his sleeping sovereign. Brion’s own cloak had fallen open so that the Lion brooch was exposed, so he unpinned it and put it in the king’s hand, closing the slack fingers around it.
Then he returned to his wife’s side to keep vigil until the end, carefully lying down beside her to slide an arm beneath her shoulders and cradle her to his breast, lips pressed tenderly against her feverish temple. Sometime during what remained of the night, he drifted into sleep, and she, i
nto eternity.
Chapter 24
«She hath given up the ghost; her sun is gone down while it was yet day».[25]
Sir Kenneth Morgan awoke shortly before dawn to find his wife cold and still beside him. The last candle had guttered out and the fire had gone to smoldering ashes, providing only a faint glow against the chamber’s gloom.
He lay there until dawn began to stain the sky beyond the chamber’s arched window, holding her lifeless body close, gently stroking her golden hair, allowing himself the rare indulgence of tears. But as the house began to stir, he collected himself and gently rose, splashed water on his face, went briefly to his sisters’ rooms and to Vera’s, to inform them of her passing. On his way back, he summoned Melissa to begin doing what was needful for his wife’s body. After that, he roused the sleeping king to impromptu squiring duties, both of them retreating to his writing room, where Kenneth set about making arrangements for her funeral.
«I have several letters to write, and I need to get you back to Rhemuth as quickly as possible», Kenneth said, pulling out pen, ink, and parchment, all business now. «I’m thinking to send you back with Llion. I hate to take him away from Alaric at a time like this, but he’s the only one I can trust to be discreet about the fact that you’ve been here. Do you remember much of what went on last night?»
Brion shook his head as Kenneth sat down at his writing desk and set pen to parchment. «Very little. And when we first arrived, I kept wondering when someone was going to recognize me».
«You are fortunate that, outside court, most people have little idea what you look like — yet — and most squires look greatly alike. That will change once you’re crowned, of course. Meanwhile, rejoice in your freedom».
«I had already noticed the difference, back at Rhemuth». Brion paused a beat before continuing, sinking down on a stool not far from Kenneth. «This is a terrible time to ask this, Sir Kenneth, but will you stay beside me, be my guide?»
«Always, my prince», Kenneth said softly, setting down his quill.
* * *
A while later, Sir Llion came with a servant bearing a breakfast tray, and with questions regarding the arrangements.
«Llion», Kenneth said, setting the tray aside and dismissing the servant. «Just the man I wanted to see. I’ll need you to accompany this squire back to Rhemuth with as little fuss as possible, and no questions asked».
Llion glanced at the «squire» in Haldane livery, then looked again more closely, his eyes widening.
«I am who you think I am», Brion said, smiling faintly as he stood a little straighter and shook hands with a dazed Sir Llion. «But Sir Kenneth says I may trust you. And I’d rather the rest of the household didn’t know I’ve been here. I needed to see Lady Alyce before she died, and it never would have happened if I’d had to go through formal channels. Will you keep my secret?»
«Of course, my Liege», Llion murmured. «Ah — aren’t you being crowned in less than a week?»
«All the more reason to get him back to Rhemuth», Kenneth answered, handing Llion a letter he had penned to Trevor, informing him of Alyce’s passing. «And can you find him something besides Haldane livery to wear? There will be heavy traffic on the roads to Rhemuth, as people begin arriving for the coronation, and I’d rather no one took too close a look at him».
«I get to wear a disguise?» Brion asked, a pleased twinkle in his eyes.
Llion snorted, unable to contain an answering smile. «Sire, you will be following a long tradition of kings who go among their people incognito». He glanced at Kenneth. «Will Morgan livery do, my lord? I should be able to locate something that will suit».
«My king, wearing my livery…» Kenneth rolled his eyes. «See to it, then. And Llion…»
«My lord?»
«Please tell Lady Vera and my sisters I’ll be down directly. And ask Father Swithun to attend me, if you will». He sighed. «We have sad duties to perform today. Sad duties for all of us».
* * *
Sir Llion left with the king within the hour. Kenneth, for his part, had the household assemble at noon in the hall, where the priest led them in prayers for their departed lady. Alaric was taken to play with Duncan, Kevin, and the steward’s son, who was a year older. Afterward, Kenneth announced that his wife’s requiem would be celebrated the following morning at the local church outside the manor walls, where she would be interred with generations of Morgan ancestors and wives. He did not add that later, when suitable arrangements could be made in Culdi, her body would be moved from Morganhall.
A little later, Kenneth retrieved his son and took him up on the roofwalks of the house, well-bundled against the cold, where they could see for miles. There they inspected the roof slates and lead gutters, chatting of commonplace things while Alaric stooped from time to time to prod at the remains of a pigeon’s nest or occasionally retrieve a feather or bit of speckled shell. The boy seemed oblivious to what had occurred only hours before, and studiously avoided mentioning his mother.
They supped together and paid a visit to the infant Bronwyn before Kenneth tucked his son into bed for the night and retired to write more letters, the ones he had been avoiding. The one to Zoë was the most difficult: his beloved Zoë, soon to give birth to her own second child, who would be devastated to learn of the passing of her heart-sister. The one to Mother Judiana, at Arc-en-Ciel, was little easier — and he had no idea where to write to Sé Trelawney, though perhaps Jovett would know. Jovett, at least, would be at the coming coronation, and might even be in Rhemuth already.
Later that evening, in the castle’s tiny oratory, Kenneth kept a solitary vigil beside his wife’s body, recalling her grace and strength and the lives she had touched. Nearby lay the volume of Delphine’s poetry that she had penned for him for Christmas. His sisters and Vera had paid their respects and retired.
He had debated whether to bring Alaric down to see her, but decided it was better that the boy remember his mother the way she had been, alive and vital and loving. Time enough, tomorrow, to endure the reality of her absence; for now, Kenneth could still pretend, for a little while, that she only slept, and would soon awaken. He had not yet decided whether a four-year-old should be expected to attend a funeral. Before leaving the nursery he left instructions with Xander that, when Llion returned, he was to be sent to the oratory immediately.
It was toward midnight when Llion at last made an appearance. Kenneth was sitting on a straight-backed chair beside his wife’s open coffin, wrapped in furs against the cold and trying not to fall asleep. Vera and Melissa had braided her golden hair like a coronet across the crown of her head and dressed her in a clean white shift, laying her in a mantle of Corwyn green that lined the coffin and spilled over its edges.
It had been Xander’s idea to drape the banners of Corwyn and Lendour across the lower half of the coffin, covering her from waist to toes. Earlier, Kenneth had folded back the veil of fine white linen covering her face, so that he could sear her image into his memory before they closed the coffin in the morning. This soon after her death, and by the flickering light of the watch candles set at the corners of the bier, he could, indeed, imagine that she only slept, that soon the rosy lips would part and the eyes would open to gaze lovingly into his, like a window into heaven.
«My lord?» Llion’s voice intruded softly on his grief, and Kenneth looked up with a start to see not only Llion but his wide-eyed son, one small hand closed in the young knight’s larger one, the other hand dangling an unidentifiable stuffed animal by its tail.
«I hadn’t thought to bring him down here, my lord», Llion apologized, «but he insisted on seeing his mother. Xander said you’d asked for me».
Sitting up straighter, Kenneth held out his arms to his son, who ran to embrace him like a limpet, burying his face in his sire’s shoulder. The boy was shaking as Kenneth held him tight and stroked the white-gold hair, and the face the boy finally lifted to his father was tear-stained, the lower lip aquiver.
«Here,
now, what’s this?» Kenneth whispered, wiping away some of the tears with his thumb and gazing into the boy’s eyes. «Where is my brave knight?»
For answer, Alaric took a quick glance over his shoulder at his mother in her coffin, then hid his face against the stuffed toy in his arms, smothering a sniffle. With curious detachment, Kenneth thought the animal might be a cat. It had droopy lengths of black wool trailing from the end opposite the tail, where whiskers might be.
For a long moment he merely continued to caress the boy, holding him close for comfort, until finally he glanced back to where Llion waited anxiously, and nodded dismissal. After a few more minutes, he gently kissed his son’s cheek and again drew back far enough to look him in the eyes.
«You must be very, very sad», he said quietly. «I know I’m sad».
Alaric sniffled, scrubbing at his eyes with one balled fist, then sniffled again and gathered his toy animal to his chest, not looking up.
«Papa», he said tremulously, after a moment, «why did Mama have to go away?»
«I don’t know, son. She got very sick — too sick for anyone to help her. But she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave us. She loved us very, very much».
The boy turned to look over his shoulder at his mother again, then squirmed to be put down on the floor beside the coffin, resting one hand tentatively on the green silk spilling from inside. After a few seconds, Kenneth slipped to one knee beside him, embracing him in the circle of one arm.
«I loved her so much», the boy said tremulously, gazing at the still form. «Can I kiss her good-bye?»
«You already did that, son», Kenneth said gently. «Maybe you don’t need to do it again».
«But I want to!» the boy replied, lifting his chin defiantly.
«All right, then», Kenneth agreed. «We’ll both kiss her good-bye. All right?»
Nodding, Alaric said, «You first».
«Very well».
Shifting closer toward the head of the coffin, Kenneth half-rose to lean over it and press a kiss to her forehead, then crouched back down and glanced down at his son. Alaric had edged closer, but then he thrust his stuffed toy into his father’s hands with a whispered, «Hold this», and began digging in the little pouch at his waist.
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