“Donal Haldane, you are no help at all!” the queen declared, as Marie wailed and Alyce began sobbing. “You make it all sound so dreadful and official. But girls, you may be certain that, when the time comes, the king will choose you gentle husbands—else he shall not often have his queen in his bed!” she added, with an admonitory glance at Donal.
Donal managed a half-hearted chuckle at that, indulgent of what he knew was an attempt to reassure the frightened girls, and Jessamy drew both of them into the circle of her arms again.
“Shu-shu-shu,”
she murmured, “we shall not speak further of marriages just now. Your Majesties, methinks these pretty maids have grieving to do, which is best done in private, in Aunt Jessamy’s arms. Come, darlings. I shall have an extra bed made up in my own chamber for the night. Nothing need be done in haste. We have time and enough to ponder what the future may bring.”
ALYCE awoke the next morning to find herself alone in Jessamy’s great bed. Marie was nowhere to be seen. She could hear activity through the partially open doorway into the next room, so she rose and made hasty ablutions, re-braiding her hair and dressing hurriedly in her blue school gown, which was all she had, and poked her head next door to investigate.
Next to the fire, Jessamy and Mistress Anjelica were pulling a tawny gold under-tunic over the head of a child—revealed to be Krispin, as his tousled head emerged from the neck of the garment. Nearby, a somewhat recovered Marie was braiding the hair of Jessamy’s youngest daughter, now eight. Both children looked to have grown a handspan since Alyce last had seen them. Krispin grinned at her as his mother turned aside to retrieve a comb from the mantel. Now nearing five, he was turning into a handsome young man.
“Look, Mama!” he said, pointing.
“Well, good morning,” Jessamy said, as she and the others turned and saw Alyce. “We were going to let you sleep awhile longer.” She grimaced as she tried finger-combing Krispin’s tangled hair, and handed the comb to Anjelica.
“Good heavens, Krispin, did you stand on your head while you slept? Jeli, I’m about convinced that this child invites mice to nest in his hair when he goes to bed for the night. God alone knows how he manages to get his hair so tangled, just from sleeping.”
Alyce smiled bravely and came to crouch down beside Krispin, who had his boots on, but with the laces dangling. The boy grimaced as Anjelica began working the tangles out of his hair.
“Good morning, Krispin—and Seffira,” she said.
Seffira broke away from Marie to come and give Alyce a welcoming hug.
“Cousin Alyce, I’m so sorry. Mummy says your papa has gone to be with my papa. I’ll bet that makes you sad.”
Marie pressed her lips tightly together and turned away, obviously schooling her own composure, and Alyce felt her throat start to tighten. She spent several seconds returning Seffira’s hug before gently propelling the child back to Marie’s ministrations.
“It makes me
very
sad, Seffira,” she agreed, turning her attention to the lacing of Krispin’s boots. “And my brother was hurt, too. That also makes me sad.”
“Where did he get hurted?” Krispin wanted to know, yelping as Anjelica worked at a particularly troublesome tangle.
“In Meara,” Alyce replied without thinking. “Oh—it was his knee that was hurt,” she added, realizing what the boy was really asking. “But it happened while he was helping catch some bad men—and he was very brave.”
“What did the bad men do?” Seffira asked.
“Well, some of them had killed our papa. And some of them had tried to kill the king’s brother.”
“They tried to kill Duke Richard?” Krispin asked, indignant. “He’s the bravest knight in the world! When I grow up, I want to be just like him!”
“Well, that’s a very fine thing to want,” Alyce agreed, as Anjelica finished combing the boy’s hair, only just controlling a smile. “Duke Richard is a very brave knight.”
“Mummy, I want to wear my page tabard today!” Krispin declared, sliding from his stool to head for a trunk against the outside wall. “Duke Richard likes us to look smart!”
Jessamy captured him before he could get very far, and Anjelica came after him with a fur-lined over-tunic.
“Well, Duke Richard isn’t here right now, dear, so let’s save the tabard until he gets back,” Jessamy said, as she and Anjelica pulled the garment over Krispin’s head.
“When will that be?” Krispin demanded.
“In a week or two,” Jessamy replied. “That’s after we’ve been to Mass next Sunday, and maybe after we’ve been to Mass
another
Sunday.”
“Oh.” Krispin set his hands on his hips and gave an exasperated sigh, then grinned. “That’s all right, then. If it got dirty, he wouldn’t like that.” He looked up engagingly at Anjelica. “We get something to eat now, Jeli?”
“Yes, we get something to eat now, love,” Anjelica said, taking the boy’s hand. “Seffira, you come as well. Prince Brion will be waiting for both of you.”
As she left the room, both children in tow, Jessamy sighed and settled on Krispin’s stool, turning her gaze toward Alyce and Marie. “I think Anjelica and I are getting too old for running after little ones,” she said. “Mothering is a job for the young. Alyce, it’s good to have you back, even under such circumstances. How did you sleep?”
Alyce ventured a bleak smile. “Well enough, all things considered.” She shook at a fold of her skirt, mud-spattered along the hem. “Would you look at the state of this gown?”
“There’s a brush behind you, dear. And after we’ve broken our fast, we shall ask among the other ladies and see what can be assembled in the way of essentials.” She went to one of the large coffers in the room and lifted the lid to rummage. “Meanwhile, let’s see if we can’t find something suitable in here. The first thing we’ll need will be proper mourning for both of you. The king has ordered a Requiem Mass at noon, for all those slain.”
“I hate black,” Marie said bleakly, as Jessamy produced an armful of fine black wool from the depths of the coffer and shook it out, testing the length against one, then the other of her charges.
“I’m sure you do,” Jessamy murmured, one eyebrow raised, as she pressed the gown into Marie’s arms and continued her rummaging. “Unfortunately, the two of you are no longer children. This is the royal court, and all eyes will be upon you in the days to come, and especially once your brother returns to Rhemuth.
“Therefore, both of you
must
wear mourning,” she concluded, hauling out another black gown for Alyce. “And with your fair coloring, you’ll both look quite stunning—though that is hardly the purpose of the exercise. Now, go and try those, and then go down to the hall for something to eat. This afternoon, we’ll have the sempstresses up to take measurements for a few new things. Off with you now.”
IN the coming days, while they awaited Ahern’s return, along with the body of their father, Alyce noticed a subtle change in the way they seemed to be perceived at court. Whether out of sympathy for their bereavement, or the queen’s personal intervention, or simply because they were now older, both the sisters found themselves far more readily accepted than when they last had lived at court, four years before.
Which should not really have surprised them. Because of the nature of appointments to the queen’s household, faces came and went, some girls staying only for a season, with many a nubile young lass coming from as far afield as Carthmoor, Marley, and Rhendall in search of suitable husbands—a crusade whose excitement was usually shared by all the younger members of the royal household, often in the form of new wardrobes.
Perhaps because neither of the demoiselles de Corwyn yet entertained aspirations of matrimony for themselves—and had an unmarried brother who was the very eligible future Duke of Corwyn—most of the girls now serving in the queen’s household rose eagerly to this latest challenge, bending their efforts to the assembly of suitable gowns. Some of the garments were made afresh, a few gleaned from others’ coffers, but the result was a modest wardrobe for each in the allotted time.
Among the instigators of this energy and largesse was a baron’s daughter from Cassan, called Elaine MacInnis, some two years younger than they, whose cheerfulness and sense of style had already made her the petted favorite of most of the older women.
“It’s a pity that you must wear black for a while,” Elaine said to Alyce, as she and Lady Megory, one of the queen’s permanent household, adjusted the hem on one of the new gowns taking shape in the hands of the sempstresses. “But we’ve given you something else for Christmas and Twelfth Night at Cynfyn. It’s
almost
black—a very deep green—but it will have rather nice embroidery at the neck. If we get that part done, of course. Lady Jessamy is working the pattern.”
Elaine’s good nature was contagious, and Alyce soon found herself relaxing a little—which, in turn, seemed to enable others in the royal household to relax as well. This boded well for the future, if the goodwill persisted when they returned from Cynfyn.
In the meantime, she and Marie spent many an hour starting to settle into other aspects of life at Rhemuth: making the closer acquaintance of the children, exploring the castle’s corridors, daring occasional forays into the royal library and scriptorium, and praying daily for Ahern’s safe return. Later, they would look back on those days as a welcome interlude of ordinary contentment, temporary respite from the renewed sorrow to come.
Chapter 14
“Now therefore let me go up, I pray thee, and bury my father.”
—GENESIS 50:5
IT was early December when the bodies of the slain came back to Rhemuth, with the first snows powdering the rooftops and gusting down off the plains north of the city. For those whose loved ones had resided at the capital, that essentially would be an end to it, as their families laid them to rest from the churches where they had worshipped in life. For Keryell, there still remained the final journey home, and for his son and heir, the uncertainty of his own future.
Duke Richard and Seisyll Arilan rode at the head of the cortege, and retired immediately with the king, to give him an update on the situation in Meara. Most of the Haldane lancers had remained in Ratharkin with Earl Jared, in case he needed assistance in the immediate aftermath of what had happened there, but with winter setting in, it was unlikely that any serious trouble would erupt again until the following summer. The Dukes of Cassan and Claibourne had returned to their lands with their troops, and remained on alert, but they, too, would be locked down against any serious campaign until the weather eased late in the spring.
For Alyce and Marie, the reunion with their brother was tearful but joyous. Young Ahern had survived the initial crisis of his wound, despite his insistence on being moved, and thus far had even kept his leg; but he was exhausted and in great pain by the time he arrived in Rhemuth with the baggage train that brought the bodies. To everyone’s great relief, the surgeons now predicted that amputation probably could be avoided, but the shattered knee would heal stiff and unbending. That was better, by far, than losing the leg, but he was well aware that his injury probably had put paid to any career as a warrior or, indeed, for any other activity requiring great mobility. Whether he would even ride a horse again remained another question yet to be answered.
Fortunately, Ahern possessed a keen mind and varied interests, as had many an earl and duke before him, and had received a solid grounding in the administrative skills necessary to his rank—and owned the distinction of belonging to the only ducal family in which his Deryni bloodline was at least tolerated. He also possessed a precocious grasp of military strategy that had already brought him to the attention of both the king and Duke Richard—acumen that, once he was fully recovered, might still enable him to make useful contributions as a tactician.
But few could see much trace of that promise in the gaunt, white-faced youth strapped to the horse-litter that Master Donnard led into the castle yard that bleak December day, shivering with fever and with splinted leg aching and rattled from the journey overland from Meara. And though his sisters bore up bravely at the sight of the shrouded bundle that was their father’s body, wrapped in the red and white banner of his arms and escorted by Sé Trelawney and Jovett Chandos, it was Ahern for whom they now wept, for he scarcely knew them as they came to shower him with relieved kisses, so racked was he by fever.
Torn between duty to the living and the dead, Alyce delegated Marie and Sé to go with Master Donnard and the king’s own physician to see their brother settled into quarters in the castle. Meanwhile, she and Jovett accompanied her father’s body to the chapel royal, where Father Paschal and the royal chaplains would keep watch through the night.
But they remained there only long enough for the obligatory prayers proper on receiving a body at the church before retiring to Ahern’s bedside. There she and Marie kept tearful company beside him until he slid at last into merciful sleep, eased past pain by the physician’s medicines but also helped along, when he slept at last, by Alyce’s Deryni touch. The two of them stayed beside him—praying, hoping—until Jessamy finally insisted that they go to bed.
The following day, the king and queen and all the court of Gwynedd attended the Mass offered by Father Paschal for the soul of Keryell Earl of Lendour—in the chapel royal rather than Rhemuth Cathedral or even the basilica within the walls of Rhemuth Castle, for Ahern was insistent that he be allowed to stand upright before his father’s coffin, braced on crutches and supported by the two young knights who had brought him from Ratharkin. His sisters stood to either side, gowned and veiled in black, and managed not to shed a tear where anyone could see.
Prince Richard Duke of Carthmoor led the cortege that set out the following morning for the Lendouri capital of Cynfyn, where Earl Keryell would be laid to rest with his ancestors. In addition to an honor guard of Haldane lancers, King Donal had sent along half a dozen of his senior knights to remain in Cynfyn and assist its seneschal in setting up the council that would advise the new Earl Ahern until he came of age, still ten years hence. The late earl’s chaplain, Father Paschal, was also in the party, along with the sisters of the new earl, several of the queen’s ladies as chaperones, assorted domestic servants, and the two young knights who had accompanied Keryell from Ratharkin.