«You sent for me, Sire?»
He sighed and looked around at her, waving dismissal to the page who had brought her and also casting an absent glance at Tiarnán and the young priest, who now were conferring in low tones.
«I've had ill news from Ratharkin», he said without preamble.
«Yes, Sire», she murmured. «Not of Duke Richard, I trust?»
«No, he is well, thank God, but Keryell Earl of Lendour has been slain, along with several others, and his son is sorely wounded. His daughters must be informed. I'll not burden you with details that are better saved for them, but you should know that young Ahern may yet succumb to his injuries — though he was yet alive when the news left Ratharkin».
«That is, at least, one blessing», she murmured. «Have you word of Sir Kenneth Morgan? His daughter is also at Arc-en-Ciel».
'Tell her that he is well», the king replied. «He brought the news, and I have sent him to bed». He shook his head wearily. «I do not envy you this mission, my lady. Would you rather I sent another?»
«No, Sire», Jessamy said softly. «Better it comes from me than from a stranger».
Donal nodded. «Thank you. I had hoped that would be your answer. I've asked Sir Jiri Redfearn to assemble an escort. He should have horses ready by the time you reach the stable yard».
«Thank you, Sire», Jessamy murmured. «Do you wish us to stay the night at Arc-en-Ciel or to return immediately? The weather…»
«…is beastly, I know», the king said, finishing her sentence. «Let the girls decide — though I see no need for overmuch haste. Kenneth said that the bodies of the slain will not reach Rhemuth for a week or more». He paused a beat, sorrow in his face. «You'd best be on your way».
«Very good, Sire», she whispered, sinking in an obedient curtsy.
* * *
An early dusk was descending as the sister-portress admitted the half-dozen riders drawn up in the driving rain outside the convent gate. Lady Jessamy MacAthan was well known at Arc-en-Ciel, and her instructions were accepted without question as she bade one of the sisters to take Sir Jiri and his men into the outer parlor to warm before the fire.
«Pray, bring them dry blankets and food and drink as well», Jessamy said, letting another sister take her own sodden cloak and exchange it for a dry robe lined with fur. «I come on the king's urgent business, and must speak with Alyce and Marie».
«They are with a visitor, my lady», Sister Iris Agatha informed her. «Their family chaplain. Do you wish me to interrupt them?»
Jessamy looked at the blue-robed sister sharply. «Father Paschal is here?»
The sister nodded. «He is, my lady. They do have permission for him to call on them. Their father gave his leave shortly after they joined us».
«Oh, I'm well aware of that», Jessamy assured her. «I'm simply glad to learn that he's here. Unfortunately, I bring ill news concerning Earl Keryell. He's been killed in Ratharkin, and the girls' brother is seriously wounded. I've been sent to fetch them back to Rhemuth. I'm sure Father Paschal will wish to accompany them».
«Indeed, I'm sure he will», Sister Iris Agatha replied, eyes wide with surprise and compassion. «Are we — at war with Meara?»
Jessamy gave a weary shrug. «I would assume not, since the king said nothing of that. I have no details, save that Zoë Morgan's father brought the news — so she, at least, may rest easy. May we go now?»
* * *
When, after a discreet knock, Zoë herself opened the door of the writing room adjoining the convent's main library, Jessamy brushed past her with only a perfunctory greeting, leaving Sister Iris Agatha standing outside as she pulled the door shut behind her. Across the room, the Corwyn sisters were rising from seats before the fire, near to a slight, black-robed figure bent over a brown leather satchel.
«Tante Jessamy!» Alyce cried, delighted, though her face fell as she saw the older woman's somber expression, and her sister grabbed her hand, apprehension growing. Now sixteen, Alyce de Corwyn was coming into stunning young womanhood, with creamy skin and dark-lashed eyes the same blue as her fur-lined over-robe. Marie, a year younger, was of rosier complexion, with a bronze braid instead of Alyce's gold, but equally attractive.
«Tante Jessamy, what's wrong?» Alyce asked, when the older woman did not immediately speak. «What can have brought you out in such dreadful weather?»
Saying nothing yet, Jessamy came to slip an arm around the waists of both girls and hug them close in greeting, gazing past them at the man in R'Kassan clergy robes, who straightened to give her a guarded inclination of his head. Clergy trained at the great R'Kassan seminaries were widely respected for their erudition and soundness of doctrine, but it was not widely known that priests like Paschal sometimes ventured quietly into Gwynedd by special mission, usually as private chaplains and tutors of noble children.
That some of them were Deryni was even less well known. But because their first duty was to their patrons rather than local bishops, and because they tended to keep a low profile, they usually were left alone. Jessamy had met Paschal briefly at Carthanelle, when Keryell of Lendour had given his daughters into the queen's keeping, and she was well aware of who and what he really was.
«Lady Jessamy», Paschal said neutrally, though his eyes showed a hint of wariness at her presence. «I trust you are in good health».
Inclining her head, Jessamy drew the girls with her closer to the fire, and Paschal.
«I am, Father, I thank you», she said, belatedly remembering that she had left Zoë standing anxiously beside the door. «Zoë, come here, child. There's been ill news from Ratharkin. Your father is unharmed, but…»
Marie's hands had flown to her mouth as Jessamy spoke, and she gave a little gasp.
«Is our father dead?» she breathed, her voice quavering with dread.
Wearily Jessamy gave a nod, drawing the younger girl into the circle of her arms and letting Zoë go to Alyce.
«I fear that he is, my dear. I am so very sorry. He fell in the king's service, protecting Duke Richard. I have no further details at this time».
«And what of our brother?» Alyce demanded, clinging to Zoë. «Say that he is not dead as well…»
«He was alive when the news was sent», Jessamy allowed, «though I am informed that he was wounded. But we must not give up hope, dear child».
Going suddenly white, Alyce sank down on the stool where she had been sitting, an anxious Zoë sinking beside her as Marie began sobbing in Jessamy’s arms.
«Our brother is dead, isn't he?» Alyce murmured numbly, starting to shake in Zoë's arms as Father Paschal came to sit on her other side. «He's dead, but you aren't telling us».
At Jessamy's pointed glance toward Zoë, Father Paschal reached across to set his hand on her shoulder, extending controls. As her eyes closed and she slumped against Alyce, Jessamy nodded her thanks and returned her attention to Alyce, all the while stroking Marie's hair.
«Darling, that isn't true», she said truthfully. «I cannot guarantee that he is still alive, but I swear to you that, when the news was sent, he still lived. Read the truth of what I am telling you, Alyce — or Father Paschal can confirm it for you, since I know he has been reading me as we speak. I wish I could give you more certain reassurance, but I cannot, dear heart. You must keep hope alive, and storm heaven with your prayers. They expect that it may take as long as a fortnight for Duke Richard and his party to return to Rhemuth. Meanwhile, the king asks that you return to court».
Jessamy's calm, reasoned statement broke the final barrier holding back Alyce's tears. For the next little while, she leaned against Father Paschal and sobbed her heart out, with Zoë oblivious beside them.
When, finally, the sobbing eased and Alyce raised her head, snuffling and wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, Paschal allowed Zoë to stir, blurring her awareness of the passage of time. As Zoë straightened, she pulled off her veil and handed it to Alyce, who did a more thorough job of wiping her eyes and then blew her nose. Marie, too,
had begun to compose herself, and Jessamy pulled off her veil and bade Marie use it mop her face.
«My dears, I am so very sorry», Jessamy murmured. «Would that I could have brought you better news. Shall we ask Zoë to bring you something warm to drink?»
Alyce started to shake her head, still dabbing at her nose, but Jessamy was already urging Zoë to go, and Father Paschal was also indicating that this was a good idea. When Zoë had gone, Marie came to sit beside her sister, laying her head on Alyce's shoulder and snuffling softly. Alyce glanced around listlessly, hugging her arms across her chest, men whispered, «We shall never come back here, shall we, Tante Jessamy? Now that our father is gone, I fear that the king will see us soon married».
The words transported Jessamy back to the awful night her own father had died, though at least she did not think that Donal would force these girls into a totally detestable match. At least not while their brother yet lived.
«He has said nothing to me on that account», she said truthfully. «And provided your brother recovers — and God grant that he shall! — he will have some say in whom you wed. But this is not the time to worry overmuch about that».
Alyce said nothing, only slipping an arm around her sister's waist, spent by her weeping. I suppose we must go tonight to Rhemuth».
«No, we have the king's leave to delay until tomorrow», Jessamy replied. «And I think you would take comfort in bidding your friends farewell. Perhaps in the morning, before we leave, Father Paschal would offer Mass for your father's soul», she added, with a glance at the priest, who nodded.
«I shall ask Mother Judiana», he said. «I'm certain she will have no objection. And of course I shall accompany you to Rhemuth — and to Cynfyn, after that. My place now must be at Lord Ahern's side — and to comfort his sisters».
Jessamy nodded. «Then, we should see about getting a few things packed, girls. You need not bring much with you…»
«But, what of my books, my manuscripts?..»
«Those can be sent later», Jessamy assured her. «More important just now is to find warmer clothing for both of you, for the ride back to Rhemuth will be cold as well as wet. I did bring some oiled cloaks for you, such as the soldiers wear, well-lined with squirrel, but you will need warm gloves and hats».
«I'm certain those can be found», Alyce said dully. «Oh, Tante Jessamy, what's to become of us?»
«You shall be the toast of the king's court», Father Paschal said with a tiny smile. «And when the time comes, your brother shall find himself inundated with suitors for your hands».
«If he lives», Marie said bleakly.
Chapter 13
«Let your laughter be turned to mourning, and your joy to heaviness».[14]
They rode out of Arc-en-Ciel shortly before midday of following morning, though whether the falling snow was better than the rain and sleet of the day before, Jessamy could not say. Alyce and Marie rode together, Jessamy beside the priest, with Sir Jiri's household escort divided ahead and behind and Jiri himself bringing up the rear. All of them were well-muffled against the cold and the very sticky snow, and no one said much. As Jessamy had suggested, they carried little with them.
By the time they reached Rhemuth later that afternoon, the light snowfall of the morning had become far more serious, to the point of seriously slowing their progress. Accordingly, all in their party were weary and chilled to the bone by the time they rode into the castle forecourt. As grooms took the horses on into the stable yard, Sir Jiri Redfearn immediately conducted his party through the great hall and into the withdrawing room behind the dais, pausing en route to let them shed their sodden outer cloaks beside one of the great hall fireplaces.
In winter and in the increasingly chilling days of autumn, Donal was wont to use the chamber as his preferred workroom, and today was dictating correspondence to a clark working at a table near the fire, pacing as he spoke. Behind him, several more men were quietly conversing on a bench and several stools closer to the fire. All of them rose as Jessamy and the two girls entered the room, followed by the priest, and Donal lifted a hand in signal for the dark to cease his writing.
«Brother Brendan, we'll finish that later; you may go», he said. «And the rest of you as well — save for Sir Kenneth. Ladies… please come and warm yourselves by the fire; you must be frozen. And you as well, Father. Please be welcome. Ivone, warm up that wine for them, and Jiri, please ask the queen to join us».
As Sir Jiri left on his errand, and most of the men before the fire gave way to the newcomers and left, Donal exchanged a measuring glance with Jessamy, who returned a nod of reassurance. He then bent his gaze toward Alyce and Marie, who were sinking uncertainly on the bench to either side of Jessamy, steeling themselves for the further news they did not want to hear. Behind them, the squire was setting out cups for mulled wine, and Sir Kenneth had emerged from shadow, his sandy hair glinting in the firelight as he gave a grim nod to Alyce and Marie.
«Dear Alyce and Marie», the king said gently, moving a stool in front of them and sitting, «I am so sorry to bring you back to Rhemuth with such ill tidings. I hope your journey was not too taxing».
Alyce remembered proprieties well enough to glance toward Father Paschal, still standing a little apart from them.
«It was very cold, Sire, but thank you for your concern. May I present Father Paschal Didier, our father's household chaplain and our tutor of many years. He happened to be visiting Arc-en-Ciel when… the news arrived».
Donal spared a sparse nod in acknowledgment of the priest's bow and gestured for him to sit, Kenneth also taking a seat near the king, though farther back.
«I am grateful for your presence. Father — though I would wish that we met under happier circumstances». He sighed and turned his attention back to the two girls. «I fear I have no further news beyond what Kenneth brought yesterday, so I cannot tell you whether your brother yet lives. His injury itself was not life-threatening, but the damage was severe, and infection is always a concern».
«Perhaps we might know more regarding the nature of his wounds, Sire», Alyce replied, strain making her voice quaver. «Is he fit to travel? Pray, do not spare us, for I have learned much of surgery and physicking at Arc-en-Ciel, and would know what we must expect».
At Donal's glance, Kenneth cleared his throat uneasily and sat forward a little.
«Alyce, your brother and your father very probably saved Duke Richard's life», Kenneth said, not answering her question. «Mearan separatists had plotted to slay the duke and as many as they could of the delegation, but Lord Ahern discovered the plot in time to raise the alarm, so that we were not taken totally by surprise. In the fracas that followed, your father then killed at least four attackers before he finally took a mortal wound».
Marie closed her eyes, biting back tears as Kenneth continued.
«Your brother also acquitted himself well, and aided me in wrestling your father's killer to the floor, holding him helpless until others could take him captive, along with several more of the rebels. Rarely have I seen a lad of his age fight more bravely or with more skill».
«You have avoided speaking of his wound», Alyce pointed out.
Kenneth briefly bowed his head, then looked at her again, not sparing her.
«Unfortunately, the fighting was still in progress, my lady, and your brother took a leg wound that shattered the left knee. The surgeons are hopeful that he will survive, but he may lose the leg».
«Dear God», she breathed.
«Alyce, my brother's own battle-surgeon is caring for him», Donal assured her, as the queen and one of her ladies entered the room and all of them rose. «Ah, there you are, my dear. Our Alyce and Marie are in need of your comfort».
Shaking her head in sympathy, Richeldis came to Alyce and Marie with open arms, sadness written across her pretty face as she enfolded both younger girls in a sisterly embrace.
«Dear Alyce, Marie — I was truly sorry to hear about your father».
«Than
k you, Madam», Alyce murmured, as her sister began crying again. «Sire, my brother — is it truly safe to move him, wounded?»
Donal moved aside so that his young wife could take his seat on the stool, for she was again with child.
«I am told that he would not stay at Ratharkin», said the king, «and that he asked for you often in the days immediately after his injury». He smiled grimly. «Master Donnard felt that it was safer to move him than to have him pine for his sisters' loving care».
Alyce had been biting at her lower lip as the tale unfolded, her fear mirrored in her eyes, and she swallowed with difficulty before speaking.
«But — he is going to live…?»
«Alyce, I can only tell you that he was alive when I left a week ago», Kenneth said, «and that the surgeons are hopeful that he shall remain so. He is young and strong».
«If it's any consolation», Donal added, «Richard hanged the perpetrators to the man — eight of them — and we have the names of several more who appear to have eluded capture, at least for now. I fear this means that we must expect more trouble in the future, but perhaps the example of those executed will at least postpone another Mearan expedition for a year or so. And your father's sacrifice for Gwynedd will not be forgotten».
Tears were spilling from Alyce's lashes now, but she brushed at them impatiently with the back of one hand, lifting her chin bravely.
«And what is to become of us, Sire?» she murmured.
«Alas, that cannot be determined until we know whether your brother will survive», Donal said reluctantly. «He became Earl of Lendour upon the death of your father, of course, though it will be another ten years before he may wield the full authority of that office; but I shall certainly allow him a say in your fate. For now, until he is mended, your place is at his side».
Alyce inclined her head, blinking back more tears.
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