«That's settled, then», the queen was saying, as she clung to her husband's arm. «You won't forget, now?»
«Of course I won't forget», the king replied. «Now, off with you — both of you», he added, with a nod toward Alyce. «Sir Kenneth and I must finish this document».
The queen arched an eyebrow at him and kissed the air in his direction, smiling, then headed for the door, Alyce hurrying to keep up. When they had gone, Donal sat back down at his place, grinning as he topped up his cup of wine.
«I do love being married, and to that woman», he confided, lifting his cup to Kenneth and then taking a sip. «Kenneth, have you never thought to remarry? You're still a young man».
Kenneth reached for his own cup to cover his discomfiture, wondering whether his interest in Alyce was that obvious.
«Hardly young, Sire. I am three-and-forty, and I have two daughters to support besides Zoë — and I assure you that I am exceedingly grateful of her place here at court. My sisters are raising the younger ones, so I need not worry for their daily care, but they all must be dowered. Hardly room there, I think, for a new wife and children».
«Humph. Then it seems I must find you a rich heiress», Donal said lightly. «You've certainly earned some more tangible mark of my favor than a mere thank-you. How many times is it, now, that you have saved me or one of my family?
«I was only doing my duty, Sire, as your liegeman», Kenneth protested.
Donal gave a snort. «More than that, I think». He cocked his head at the younger man, considering. «I don't suppose you might fancy that lovely filly who was just here with the queen? We heard you talking about horses».
Kenneth felt himself flushing, momentarily at a loss for words. Did the king think he had been campaigning for this all along?
«I would — never aspire that high, Sire. The gift of Lady Alyce's marriage is a powerful bargaining tool. You must use it to bind some great lord's loyalty. You already have my loyalty — and my life, if needs be».
«Yes, I'm aware of that», the king replied, his gaze going distant as he mulled the possibility. «That's why the notion suddenly makes a great deal of sense. For such a marriage would also bind the loyalty of your sons — one of whom would be the next Duke of Corwyn».
Kenneth could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, hardly able to comprehend what he was hearing — and tried not to let himself even begin to hope that it might come to pass.
«Allow me to consider this further», the king said then, standing in his place as Kenneth also got hastily to his feet. «We'll finish this tomorrow. Meanwhile, think on the possibility — that is, if the idea appeals to you».
«It does, Sire — how could I not be honored that you would even think it? But I–I am old enough to be the lady's father. She may not wish…»
«Nonsense. She shall marry where I say she shall. She knows her duty». The king picked up his wine cup and took a deep quaff. «Go now. I must give this further thought. We shall speak again on the matter».
Chapter 25
«A wise man shall promote himself to honor with his words, and he that hath understanding will please great men».[26]
Nothing more was said for many days. It was well into Advent before Sir Kenneth Morgan again found himself in a setting that permitted private conversation with the king.
He and Tiarnán MacRae had spent several hours that morning with the king and Seisyll Arilan, reviewing a sheaf of commissions delivered earlier from the royal chancery, all requiring the royal assent and seal. The snug withdrawing room was the perfect refuge from the weather outside, with a goodly fire on the grate and tapestries hung on the walls to keep the damp at bay: a favorite place for the king to work in wintertime. The scent of cinnamon, cloves, and lemons spiced the air, wafting upward from a pot of mulled wine warming near the fire.
«Thank you, Seisyll, Tiarnán. I think that will be all for now», the king said, leaning back in his chair to stretch. «Kenneth can help me deal with the rest of these. How is your leg this morning?» he added to Kenneth, as the others withdrew. «It's a dreadful day outside. Does the cold make your wound ache?»
Kenneth busied himself gathering up the documents, trying his best to be casual as he jogged them into a tidier stack and placed them in front of the king for signature. He had tried not to think too much about what they had discussed the last time they spoke privily — and especially, had tried not to get his hopes up.
«Thank you for asking, Sire. I'm mostly mended, I think. I rode for an hour yesterday, though I am feeling the effects today. But I attribute that more to a month out of the saddle than to the actual injury. In all, I am content».
«And I am happy to hear it». Donal scrawled his signature to a commission, glanced at the next, then pushed the remaining pile back to Kenneth. «There must be an easier way to deal with these. If you'll lay them out in a line, on that table over there, I'll move along behind you and sign them. They're the new year appointments, for Twelfth Night court. I approved them weeks ago».
Kenneth did as he was directed, then fetched a wax jack and lit it from one of the candles set on the table where they were working, for the documents must next be sealed. As Donal moved back to the first document, removing his signet ring, Kenneth brought the wax, tipping a little of it at the foot of the first decree.
«Thank you», the king murmured, setting seal to the wax and then moving along the line with Kenneth. «I've done some further thinking on that matter we discussed earlier».
He imprinted his seal again. Kenneth had stiffened, the wax jack in his hands, and turned his gaze cautiously on the king.
«Sire?»
«I am minded to give you the hand of Lady Alyce de Corwyn». He looked up as Kenneth froze. «That is what we were discussing, was it not?»
Kenneth found himself going scarlet, and only belatedly moved on to the next document, fumbling slightly as he drizzled the next dollop of wax.
«Sire, I–I had not dared to hope. I am — most grateful, but this still does not address the question of whether the lady will have me».
«If I say she'll have you, she'll have you», the king retorted. «It will be up to you to make the match work. You're a good man, Kenneth, and I should very much like to have your sons serve my sons. If they were also half Deryni, that would please me even more».
«Half Deryni», Kenneth repeated dazedly. «I confess that I had almost forgotten that».
«That the Lady Alyce is Deryni?» The king snorted. «I think that means far more to churchmen than to sensible folk like you and me. It doesn't frighten you, does it?»
«No, of course not», Kenneth replied hastily.
«She'd be an adornment for your arm», the king pointed out. «And her son will be Duke of Corwyn. Your son would be Duke of Corwyn, and you would be his principal regent — which means that you would enjoy all the benefits of being duke yourself, other than the title. Alas, I can't give you that, but your descendants would have it».
Kenneth found himself grinning ear-to-ear, hardly able to take it all in. «That isn't what attracted me, Sire».
«No, of course it isn't. But it doesn't hurt if one's prospective bride is rich».
'True enough».
«Good. Then, it's settled. I'll have the necessary documents drawn up. The betrothal can be announced at Twelfth Night court».
* * *
Alyce learned of the king's decision several days later, just before Christmas. Quite unexpectedly, Zoë had been sent to Morganhall to spend Christmas with her younger sisters and aunts, so Alyce let herself be caught up in the preparations of the queen's household for the Christmas and Twelfth Night festivities to come.
The Llanneddi mountain ponies for the elder princes had arrived the week before — and one for Krispin as well — so Duke Richard had organized an equestrian display for the squires and pages under his tutelage, inviting the queen and her ladies to observe an impromptu competition.
Alyce was sitting with the queen, watc
hing the young princes tilt at rings on their new ponies, when the king came to sit beside her. Somehow, the queen's other ladies had found things to do that took them out of the royal enclosure.
«A pity it's so cold», Donal said, not taking his eyes from where Prince Brion was preparing to take another run at the rings. «Other than that, are you enjoying the afternoon?»
«I am, Sire», Alyce replied. «The princes are riding very well today».
«So they are», Donal replied. «We have their mother partially to thank for that». He paused to lift the queen's hand to his lips in salute. «It was she who insisted that only Llanneddi ponies would do».
Alyce smiled. «For their size, Sire, they are the finest mounts one could wish — better, even, than R'Kassans, to my way of thinking, if only they grew somewhat larger. I had one when I was young. I adored her».
«There is another who would be adored by you», the king murmured, smiling as he took her hand in his and kissed it. «Oh, not I — or, only in the sense that I adore all the beautiful ladies in my queen's household».
Alyce looked at him sharply, then at the queen, whose expression declared her exceedingly pleased with herself.
«Alyce, dear, he is trying to tell you that he has chosen you a husband», she said. «And in that bumbling way of males, he is trying to be mysterious about it».
Suddenly she glanced out to the field, where Prince Brion was now galloping down the tilting lane, taking one — two — three rings in a row. Both his parents had risen to their feet as he passed, but sadly, he hit the fourth ring a glancing blow and missed taking it.
«Oh, well done, son!» Richeldis cried, waving her kerchief and bouncing up and down on her feet. «Donal, he has never done that well before! Wasn't it a brilliant run?»
The king sat back down, tugging at her to sit as well, but he was smiling.
«He did well», the king admitted. «Did you not think so, Lady Alyce?»
Alyce, who had also come to her feet, likewise sank back to her seat beside the king, still reeling from the queen's announcement. Surely they could not be referring to Prince Brion.
«You have chosen me a husband, Sire?» she managed to murmur.
«I have. He was riding earlier. In fact, you commented on his horsemanship, and his skill with the lance».
Numbly Alyce made herself review the last few hours, but no one came immediately to mind. If the man had been riding at the tilt earlier, it was not likely that he was one of the much older men at court — for which she was grateful — but who?
«Alyce», the queen murmured, leaning across the king conspiratorially, «he's referring to Sir Kenneth Morgan. Did you not remark that he rode prettily? And I know that the two of you got on well, while he was convalescing».
Alyce sat back in her chair, somewhat stunned. Though she had much enjoyed his company, it had never occurred to her to think of him as a potential husband.
«You needn't look so surprised», the king said. «I owe Kenneth Morgan my life, more than once — and I must be certain that Corwyn is in safe hands. When I am gone, I will lie easier in my grave, knowing that his sons — and yours — will follow on the ducal throne».
«Oh, pish!» the queen said, with some feeling. «That isn't what a young maid wants to hear about her future husband. Besides, that's years away. Have a care for the child's feelings. It's she who must marry him, after all».
«Hmmm, so she must. But I'm sure he'll make you a fine husband, my dear. You've seen him ride today — and you know that he can carry on an intelligent conversation. What more could a woman want?»
* * *
That night, lying sleepless in her bed, Alyce reflected that, though her own wishes had little to do with her eventual fate, she was, in fact, quite content with the king's choice for her — especially when she considered how differently it might have gone. Though he might, indeed, be more than twice her age, Sir Kenneth was kind, intelligent, better read than most — and the difference in their ages would become increasingly less apparent as the years passed. Furthermore, unlike many of the gentlemen of the court, he could converse on a wide variety of subjects besides battles and coursers and hounds.
But he did not converse with her of anything the next day, or even the next — though she watched for an opportunity to speak with him. In truth, the king seemed to have taken a perverse pleasure in sending him off on obscure errands, as the feasts of Christmas approached. Indeed, just before Christmas itself, he disappeared altogether for several days.
She wondered whether he might have gone to Morganhall, to visit Zoë and his other daughters and sisters. She wondered whether Zoë yet knew — darling Zoë, who briefly had been her sister and now, it appeared, was to be her stepdaughter as well. Though she longed to write and tell her friend, she had refrained, knowing it was Kenneth's place to tell his daughter first. Neither could she write to Vera, not until the betrothal was announced.
Christmas Eve came and went, with no word, and Christmas itself. Nor was Kenneth present on Saint Stephen's Day morning, when the king and his family usually made a public appearance, processing down to the cathedral in their festive attire.
After Mass, if the weather was not too bad, it was the king's custom to hold informal audience on the cathedral steps, where citizens of Rhemuth might approach with petitions. To one side, the queen and her children always distributed largesse to the poor: clothing, and parcels of food, and a silver penny to each mother who approached with a babe in arms.
That Stephen's Day morning, Alyce was among the ladies attending the queen, helping distribute the gifts to the poor. The day was bright and sunny, if very cold. It was toward noon, when the largesse had nearly been exhausted and the servants were beginning to pack up to leave, that she glanced down into the square, at the bottom of the cathedral steps, and noticed Sir Kenneth and Zoë sitting on a fine pair of red-bay R'Kassan barbs.
She straightened to look more closely. Kenneth was wearing a sumptuous cloak of fine black wool lined with sable, the edges gold-embroidered with a double bordure of flory-counterflory, and had a velvet cap well pulled down on his sandy hair. He was fiddling with the ends of his reins, but Zoë was looking right at her, and lifted a gloved hand to wave furiously when she saw she had caught Alyce's eye.
Alyce waved back, and started down the stairs toward them, but it was Kenneth who dismounted and hurried up the stairs to meet her, offering her a tentative smile as he doffed his cap and inclined his head in greeting.
«Good morrow, my lady», he murmured. «Alleluia, the Son is born».
«He is born indeed, alleluia», Alyce replied, with the ritual response.
«My apologies for being absent without word», Kenneth said quickly. «I had urgent business with my daughters». He glanced around them, then gestured awkwardly toward the cathedral door. «May we speak inside?»
She inclined her head nervously and preceded him up the steps and through the postern door, her heart pounding in her breast. She had known this moment must come. Faced with it now, she was not certain how she felt.
Not speaking, Kenneth led her through the narthex and into the nave, glancing around and then guiding her toward a side chapel that appeared to be unoccupied. When they had entered, he pulled shut the barred gate of wrought iron, not looking at her, then went to the rack of votive lights before the statue of a saint. Cocking her head, Alyce realized that it was Saint Albadore, a patron of lost things. As she drifted closer to the little altar to join him, she saw that he was lighting one of the candles stuck into a pan of fine sand.
«Have you lost something, Sir Kenneth?» she asked softly.
«I have», he admitted. He lifted his wax spill from the lighted candle to blow it out. «I have lost my heart to one of the queen's ladies». He carefully set the spill back into a pot of them, still not looking at her. «Fortunately, she is also one of the king's wards. And to my utter amazement, he has given me leave to ask for her hand in marriage».
«To ask?» she repe
ated neutrally, though unaccountably, her heart had begun to flutter in her breast. «And suppose that she were not to agree?»
He looked at her then, unreadable emotion flickering across his calm, earnest face, and lowered his eyes. «A less honest man would say that it did not matter», he said softly, «for she would be bound to accept the king's wishes in this regard, and to marry where he chooses».
«And what would you say, Sir Kenneth?» she said very quietly. «For I know that you are an honest man».
He turned his face toward the statue of Saint Albadore, biting at his lower lip.
«I would say that I hope she would agree. I would say that I have come to regard her with great tenderness and respect, and that I would cherish her all the remaining days of my life». He turned his gaze to her longingly. «I would say that I know I am old enough to be her father, and that I have little to recommend myself so far as fame or fortune are concerned. Nor am I the dashing young swain she might have dreamed of. But if she were to accept my suit, she would find me a kind and loving father to our eventual children, and she would never want for loyalty or compassion».
She had been Reading him as he spoke, and knew that he believed what he was telling her. She had prepared herself for this moment since her conversation with the king, for she knew that he desired this match. She had not expected to be so touched by Sir Kenneth's words.
«These are all commendable virtues in any man», she said. «Indeed, I should think that any woman courted by such a man would regard herself as extremely fortunate».
«Would she?» he murmured, hope lighting his sea-gray eyes. «Would you?»
She ventured him a tiny, nervous smile.
«Sir Kenneth, we are both aware of the king's wishes in this matter — and you know full well that, if he has decided to give you my hand, then I am obliged to abide by his decision». Seeing him start to turn away, she reached out to take one of his hands in hers, clasping it between her two.
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