Homage and Honour (36 page)

“They all love
you, as I do.”

“Not quite the
same,” Anne twinkled.

“So what do you
have in mind? The court?”

“Course not.
Just me, you, Annette can’t come of course with her being pregnant
again. Xavier? Do you think they’d let him go? He’d love to see
Jessica again.”

David shook his
head, “Conclave will never allow it. They’ll let us, perhaps Ruth,
but not the boys.”

“Xavier will be
disappointed.”

David thought
about his sons. Prince David, now almost eight, was a
happy-go-lucky little boy, unlike his elder brother Xavier. Anne
and David had done their best to mitigate the worst of the
traditional training of young noble and royal males. Xavier was not
like his predecessors. Limited though their influence had been,
Anne and David had managed to ensure that their son knew everything
they could teach him about the kingdom he would inherit. His
governors had obeyed the Prince Consort’s instructions. Xavier knew
how other countries were governed. He had a conscience. He knew
about the dispossessed, the degradation of slavery and the excesses
of the nobility. He also had first hand knowledge about how women
were treated.

David and Anne
could only hope that they had done enough.

* * * * *

Quartet (8)

Hannah was
humming to herself as she and Kolyei journeyed the last miles
through the rtathlians of rtath Whendei towards their domta. She
was in the last month of her peripatetic tour as a doctor covering
an area in the centre of the rtathlians of the Lind and after this,
she would return to Vada to take up her duties as a fully-fledged
Holad doctor.

Lost in
pleasurable anticipation of the fulfilment of her greatest dream
she nearly fell off when Kolyei stopped in his tracks.

: There is
trouble :
he vouchsafed.

: I had
guessed that. Where? :

: At the
domta. There is a birthing that is not going well :

: Run Kolyei,
as fast as your paws will take us :

He bounded
forward
: Janisya, their Holad says that if we do not get there
soon she fears the mother will die :

: Run :
Hannah urged
: run like the wind :

Talmanya raised
agonised eyes in Hannah’s direction as she and Kolyei entered the
daga. She was too weak to do more. Janisya hovered anxiously over
her.

Hannah took one
look and sank to her knees, pulling her medipack off her
shoulders.

“We’ve got to
get this down her,” she told Janisya, scrabbling round inside the
pack, throwing un-needed items out in her haste. “How long has she
been in labour?”

“Two days,”
Janisya answered. “It is her first.”

“Always the
hardest,” agreed Hannah, mixing the medication. “You should have
called us sooner.” She scrambled over to the labouring Lind, laid a
hand on her distended stomach then moved down to feel around the
end of the birth canal.

“The babe is
stuck,” she announced and kneed herself up to Talmanya’s head.

“Breathe
deeply,” she instructed in a low voice
: Kolyei, tell her :
“The way out is not so obvious first time, the ltscta needs my help
: Kolyei, tell her to concentrate on breathing in and out
:

Kolyei did
that.

Hannah took a
deep breath.

“I’ll have to
try and turn the little one. It’s trying to come out wrong end
first.”

Slathering her
hand with antiseptic cream, she stuck her hand up inside the birth
canal, feeling around for the ltscta, thanking the Lai that it was
not stuck further up but had managed to get down a considerable
way. Her arms were of normal length for a person her size but would
not have been long enough to reach the uterus.

“Got it,” she
said as she found first one leg and then another. Sweating with the
effort, she turned the babe, ignoring the pitiful moans of Talmanya
who was by now drifting in and out of consciousness.

The little one
came free with a slither and a rush of blood and other liquids and
Talmanya groaned.

“Is dead.”

Hannah freed
the mucus from its mouth and started to perform artificial
respiration.

Breathe,
please breathe.

: Two
breaths and five heart compressions for a ltscta :
Kolyei
reminded.

Now that the
birth canal was free the other ltsctas began to slither out into
the world and Janisya ignored what Hannah was doing as she tended
to them,

After what
seemed like a lifetime there was a splutter and a cough and the
little one began to breathe for herself. Using her jacket, Hannah
wrapped up the ltscta to keep her warm until the rest of her lin
appeared and they could be put to the teat.

At last the
afterbirth emerged and was pawed away by Janisya. Now Hannah could
place her burden beside her brothers and sisters.

“It is a
miracle,” announced Janisya, gazing at Hannah with wonderment and
respect.

“Just plain
common sense and a bit of knowledge,” Hannah answered as she
watched the five babies suckling from their mother.

: Now can I get
my harness off? : asked a plaintive Kolyei
: Talmanya says that
the little one you saved is to be called Hannahya :
He was so
proud of her he felt he could burst.

: Tell her I
am honoured :

* * * * *

Weaponsmaster
(1)

Rhian,
Weaponsmaster of the Vada for the last eleven years looked up from
her desk and out the office window. There was a loud commotion
emanating from the courtyard. She could hear voices, human and
Lind. There was a fair amount of higher-pitched, young voices
amongst the tumult and that told her one thing.

The contingent
of new vadeln-paired from Argyll had arrived at last and just in
time for the beginning of term. They had been expected two days ago
but wet weather had delayed them. Even Lind could not run fast when
they were hock-deep in water and mud.

Rhian smiled as
she listened. She could hear her Second, Pieter (Danel had retired
some years ago) striving to make his voice heard above the bedlam
then all at once it stopped. Pieter’s Lind, Mldisya had taken
matters into her own paws and ordered immediate silence. Mldisya
was a large Lind; her commanding presence could and did overawe
more than a group of recruits.

Rhian put her
pen down, stood up and made her way over to the window, the better
to see what was going on.

What she saw
caused her to smile even more. The recruit duos were lining up into
three ranks, each boy or girl standing straight and tall beside
their Lind partner, eyes fixed on Pieter and Mldisya.

To one side of
the crowd stood Tana and Tavei, the former looking every inch a
Vadryza, her kepi at its usual jaunty angle.

“That’s much
better,” Pieter said, “soon, some of the older cadets will come to
take you to your quarters. Your names are on the cubicle doors and
inside you will find your basic uniforms and supplies. You have the
rest of the day to settle in, to make sure that your uniforms fit;
the quartermaster’s stores will be open if you need to exchange
anything. The ‘old’ cadets will look after you today, generally
show you around. Their Lind will take your Lind to the hunting area
if they need to eat. Believe me; your Lind are just as eager as you
to find out where the amenities are located. You will come together
again for your evening meal in the cookhouse. I believe the cooks
have made a special effort this evening as a welcome. Tomorrow you
will officially become Vada Cadets and training starts the day
after. I see your guides are arriving. Settle in now. Parade at
Third Bell tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

The courtyard
emptied pretty well immediately after that, the Lind going off to
the fields where the meat herds were kept (they were hungry after
their long run west to Vada) and the cadets picked up their
hold-alls and followed their guides to the barracks.

This year,
apart from the three adult vadeln-pairs there were over sixty new
cadet duos, so many that a second barracks had had to be made
available to accommodate them. A long low building that had once
housed the Stronghold’s infirmary had been made ready. As there
were more boy recruits than girls, it had been given over to the
boys, with a smattering of final year cadets to keep order.

Only one new
cadet was left with Pieter and Mldisya, not a teenager like the
others but a rugged, stocky man in his mid-thirties.

This, surmised
Rhian, would be the Argyllian Garda cavalry officer, Captain Johan
Williamson who had been chosen by Baltimalya. These days not many
adults made bondings with the Lind although the records showed that
in earlier times it had been more usual. Pieter walked over and
shook his hand. They walked off together in the direction of the
permanent staff quarters. The man had taught tactics in the Garda
Academie at Settlement and Rhian had plans to utilise these
abilities.

Their
four-pawed southern neighbours were recovering from the pestilence
that had decimated their numbers a century and a half ago and once
again the North was under threat.

* * * * *

Sanrhed (Fourth Month of Summer) -
AL166

Queen (3)

It was a fine
day when the royal ship
Geraldine
arrived at Port
Settlement. Excitement was at fever pitch for this, the first time
ever a Monarch of Murdoch had made a state visit to the country of
their one-time enemy, Argyll.

With Anne and
David was Ruth, the only one Conclave had permitted to come with
them. David had been correct.

The journey had
done the Prince Consort good. He did not look as ill as he really
was; there was a sparkle to him, the lines on his face less
pronounced.

As Anne, David
and Ruth prepared to disembark those accompanying the royal party
also made ready. There were a large number of them.

Two Dukes had
decided to accompany their Queen on this all-important visit.

“I’m looking
forward to this,” said Duke Jeremy Graham to Duke Henri Cocteau.
“Chance of a lifetime? What?”

“Closer ties
are necessary, especially in trade,” agreed Henri, “if we are to
get through the years ahead of us.” He looked over at the pier to
where the Honour Guard was forming. It was made up of infantry and
behind them stood a small contingent of cavalry, their breastplates
reflecting the sun.

Behind
them
, he screwed up his eyes to see the better, yes, the
Vada. There was around seventy of them; two Ryzcks as he recalled
their troops were called. Vadath too wanted to honour Queen Anne’s
visit with their presence.

The gangplank
was positioned and tied fast to the ribbon-decorated deck rail.

There was a
roll of drums and the Argyll band struck up a tune, a jaunty air in
keeping with the carnival flavour of the occasion.

Henri Cocteau
watched his son Charles walking towards the gangplank, accompanying
a sober-looking individual dressed in midnight blue, Councillor
Keane, Henri assumed, the senior governmental official in
Argyll.

Charles bounded
up the gangplank and approached his father and Duke Jeremy.

“My Lord of
Graham, Father,” he began, “I am bid to make you welcome. Is the
Queen ready?”

At a click of
his fingers, one of the pages came running and was sent scurrying
off to the Queen’s cabin.

“What’s the
form Charles?” asked his father.

“Well, there’s
no precedent, but I think we’ve come up with something acceptable.
Their Majesties and Princess Ruth and their retinues disembark and
are greeted by the representatives of Council. Then Her Majesty
will review the honour guards with the Prince Consort by her side.
You and the Duke of Graham and the Lord Marshall may accompany
them.”

“Her Majesty?
To review troops!” spluttered Jeremy Graham. “Surely not?”

“It is
different here,” responded Henri Cocteau, his voice calm in
response to the Duke of Graham’s visible outrage.

“Bodyguard?”
queried Philip Ross. He was dressed in the full splendour of his
Lord Marshall’s uniform.

It is forming
up now,” answered Charles with an inward grin at Jeremy Graham’s
discomfiture.

The Duke of
Graham spluttered again when he saw what troops were to comprise
the bodyguard.

“The
Vada
,” stressed Charles, “will take responsibility for the
Queen’s person. They believe that she is
their
responsibility. I did not like to contradict them. Our Queen did
originate in Vadath.”

“You cannot be
serious?” Jeremy Graham found his voice.

“This is
Argyll. I advise that we conform to their way of thinking,”
answered Charles. He smiled a quick smile at his father, a smile
that told the older man just who might be a part of that guard. He
drew him aside.

“Is she?”

“Yes and
there’s more.”

“Out with
it.”

“Remember that
daughter of Duke Jeremy that went missing about ten years ago?”

“I do recall
something. She was betrothed to Tom Brentwood’s boy was she not?
Jeremy scoured the countryside for her. You
don’t
say?”

Charles’s eyes
danced with wickedness.

“The Vada
recruits from far and wide it seems, wider and farther than we
thought. The Contessa Elisabeth Graham stands with her Lind at
Princess Jessica’s side. I wonder if her father will recognise her.
She’s not the prim little miss I remember when I visited Castle
Graham. Her Vada badge tells me that she’s in the service of Susa
Lynsey, on her personal staff no less unless I’ve got it wrong. Her
Lind is a long legged creature. They might be some kind of special
messengers although they’re not with the Express. I’ll bet my life
too that Elisabeth can take care of herself. I watched the Vada in
practice the other day, she can run rings round most of them when
it comes to using those knives she carries.”