But Vera knew far more of such matters than she, and had been taught how to ease the process.
“Don’t resist,” she whispered. “Relax your shields. You’re trying too hard.”
Don’t make it happen . . . let it happen,
she went on, shifting easily into mind-speech.
Good . . . just relax. We can do this. . . .
Once past that point, as Alyce yielded to her twin’s greater skill, their deepening rapport segued into a sharing that was profound. It left both of them blinking back tears of wonder, grinning and even laughing aloud as they embraced, and brought Marie back to the rear of the chapel to see what was so amusing.
“That’s all very well for the two of you,” she said, flouncing onto a seat beside Alyce in mock resentment and showing them her hands. “I’m all sticky with pine sap—though it does smell rather nice,” she added, sniffing at her fingers, “and the two of you have just been gossiping away.”
“Not gossiping—communing,” Vera murmured. “Oh, it
is
going to be wonderful, having sisters—though we’ll have to be very careful.”
AT first, they did, indeed, go very carefully, though the friendship suddenly blossoming among the three of them soon became obvious to all.
“I knew the three of you would get on wonderfully,” Ahern told Alyce, after Mass on Christmas Eve, as he hobbled painfully beside her on his crutches. “I think she’s always been my favorite of Rosmerta’s fosterlings. Father always liked her, too.”
Carefully shielding the
reason
for Keryell’s fondness, Alyce merely said, “She
is
great fun.”
“She is,” Ahern replied. “I shall hate to see her leave. Unfortunately, Rosmerta will be taking all her household with her, when she goes back to her father. You
did
know that our esteemed step-mama is leaving . . . ?”
“Well, there’s nothing for her
here,
now that Father is gone,” Alyce replied.
“Yes, well, good riddance,” he said, his voice brisk. “But Sir Deinol’s wife has agreed to act as my chatelaine for the time-being, since I know that you and Mares can’t stay indefinitely.”
“You know that we
would
stay, if we could,” she assured him.
“No, I know that you must go,” he said. “Just promise me that you’ll write often, and that you’ll come to visit, when you can.”
LATER, when she told her sisters of the conversation, they reluctantly agreed that Ahern should not be told of the blood-tie that bound them, at least for the present.
“If he did know, though,” Alyce said, “it
would
make it easier in some respects. I think
he
thinks he fancies you, Vera—but we can’t have him courting his sister.”
Vera rolled her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”
“No, but it’s clear that he’s fond of you.”
“The dear boy. He
is
sweet—but in a few days, that won’t be a factor,” Vera said. “He’s right that I’ll be going with Rosmerta. Until my parents say otherwise, I have no choice.” She shrugged at their knowing glances. “Well,
they
think they’re my parents. Right now, the three of us are the only ones who know the truth of the matter—and Father Paschal, of course.”
“Why can’t we tell Ahern?” Marie asked.
“Because he’s terrible at keeping secrets,” Alyce replied. “At least he always was, as a child. Anyway, he doesn’t need to know right now. It would be unfair to burden him with such knowledge while he’s still recovering his health—and figuring out how to be an earl. Once we’ve gone back to Rhemuth, he’s going to be very alone.”
“I’m afraid she’s right,” Vera said to Marie. “This isn’t the time to tell him. Our parents paid too high a price to make sure no one knows what I am. We mustn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Exactly,” Alyce said. “But we
can
do something to get Father’s plans for you back on track. I thought to ask the queen about bringing you to court, when we go back to Rhemuth.”
“To court?” Vera breathed.
“Why not? You’ve already been part of an earl’s household. Don’t think for a moment that this wasn’t part of Father’s plan for you. I’m sure he intended to arrange an extremely advantageous marriage, so that your eventual children—his grandchildren—would be in positions to improve the lot of our people. And no one would know that any of you are Deryni.”
Vera was nodding by the time she finished, and Marie was grinning.
The queen is very kind,” Marie said. “And so many handsome young knights at court! Think what a fine marriage you might make!”
“There is that,” Vera agreed.
“Then, it’s settled,” Alyce said. “We’ll make inquiries as soon as we return.
THE household of the late Keryell Earl of Lendour kept the feasts of Christmas at Castle Cynfyn, though the observances were muted because of his recent death. Two days after Saint Stephen’s Day, to no one’s particular regret, his widow announced, from the back of a horse, that she was departing at once for her father’s lands near Dhassa.
“Madam, I am certain that my father did not intend that you should be turned out of your home,” Ahern said dutifully, standing in the snowy yard with a hand on her horse’s bridle, and balancing on one leg and a crutch.
“No, I am resolved,” Rosmerta replied. “I have had several weeks to consider, while I waited for my husband’s body to come home. But God did not consent to give me children by Lord Keryell, so there is nothing for me here. I wish you well, Ahern, but you do not need my presence. You must make a life of your own.”
There was nothing he could say to that, for while his relationship with his stepmother had been civil, at least in his father’s presence, there had never been true warmth between them.
“At least permit me to send an escort with you,” he said, beginning to weave on his feet.
“I thank your courtesy, but my father has sent men of his own,” she replied, nodding toward the half dozen liveried men interspersed among the sumpter animals and the mounts of her household and servants. “I desire to greet the new year with the family of my birth. God grant you health, my lord.”
With that, she headed out the castle gate, her daughter at her side and with Vera among her household—hopefully, only for a few weeks or months, until Alyce and Marie could speak to the queen about her.
BY Twelfth Night, the customary time for formal transactions of important business in any lord’s hall, Ahern was sufficiently improved in health to preside at his first official court as Earl of Lendour—yet unconfirmed in his full authority, because of his youth, but lawfully acknowledged by the presence at his side of Duke Richard, who witnessed the investiture of the new earl’s council of advisors and took their fealty in the name of the king his brother. Two days later, Richard bade all farewell and departed for Rhemuth, and life began to settle into some semblance of a pattern of daily life for the new young earl.
Not for several weeks, as Ahern and his seneschal reviewed the inventories of the late earl’s possessions, was it discovered that certain valuables had gone missing.
“You don’t suppose that Rosmerta could have taken these?” Ahern asked, as he showed the list of missing items to his sisters. “Some of the jewelry was left to you in that letter from Father.”
“Then, I expect that Rosmerta’s coffers have been considerably enriched by the appropriated items,” Alyce replied. “Can aught be done about it?”
Ahern shook his head. “Probably not. Just be glad that she didn’t have any sons. If she had, I’d probably be dead—and she’d be working on the two of you.”
Marie wrinkled her nose. “I still don’t understand why Father married her.”
“‘Better to marry than to burn,’” Ahern muttered, coloring slightly as Alyce looked at him sharply. “Well, he was a man of—passions,” he added, somewhat lamely. “Though, in this case, I think I’d rather he had diddled with serving wenches.”
Alyce only rolled her eyes, though she made a mental note to ask their sister to look into the matter further.
Meanwhile, the winter snows swept in, rendering travel difficult, especially for an invalid who must still travel by horse-litter—though, in truth, young Ahern had made no plans to move before the summer, when he would visit his lands in Corwyn. Fortunately, he gained strength almost daily, though his shattered knee continued to give him pain, albeit tempered by the nursing of his sisters.
Early in February, however, Sir Kenneth Morgan arrived with orders recalling the demoiselles de Corwyn to Rhemuth—with his daughter Zoë at his side.
“The queen particularly asks for your presence,” Kenneth told them, when the girls’ joy at their reunion had subsided enough for him to get a word in edgewise. “Her lying-in will soon be upon her, and she greatly desires that you attend her.
“She also has graciously offered my dear Zoë a place at court, as further incentive to speed your return,” he added, slipping a fond arm around his daughter’s waist.
“Alyce, I was presented at Twelfth Night court!” Zoë blurted, joy in her sea-gray eyes. “You should have seen my beautiful gown! And I’ve brought a new gown for each of you as well: presents from the queen and Lady Jessamy. We’re done with our school habits! I’m to stay at court with Father, and attend the queen—and try my hand in the king’s scriptorium, if I desire it!”
Few developments could have cheered Alyce more—and the queen’s request underlined a more serious reason for their return to court, for all were well aware of the dangers of childbed. Still, Alyce turned to her brother in concern.
“Would you prefer that one of us remain with you?” she said. “I know that your knee still pains you.”
Ahern had graduated to a walking stick to help him hobble around the castle, and thwacked it lightly against the thigh of his propped-up leg, mustering a brave smile.
“No, the queen needs you more than I do,” he said lightly. “
I’m
not the one who’s having a baby. Go to her. I’ll manage.”
THEY left the following day, riding fast along the road that skirted the River Molling, as it lazed its way westward across the great Gwynedd Plain. They arrived in Rhemuth mid-February, only days before the queen was brought to bed of another Haldane prince. Eased by the ministrations of Jessamy and Alyce, the latter grown considerably more knowledgeable from her studies at Arc-en-Ciel, the queen’s labor was hard but short, at least some of her pains blunted by Deryni magic—much to the annoyance of a new royal midwife, who firmly believed that the travails of birth were a woman’s just recompense for the sins of Eve.
“You have another son, Sire,” Alyce said, emerging from the birthing chamber while Jessamy and Marie cleaned up mother and child. “He is perfect in every way, and his mother is well.”
Bursting into a wide grin, Donal gave a relieved sigh.
“Thanks be to God!”
Later that evening, when the mother had rested and the babe was rousing from sleep, the girls brought the rest of the royal children to see the new arrival.
“Come and greet your new brother,” Alyce said to Princes Brion and Blaine as she shepherded them into their mother’s bedchamber.
Zoë was carrying their sister, the Princess Xenia, who squirmed to get down as Jessamy helped the queen to sit more upright and the midwife lifted the child from his cradle to lay him in his mother’s arms. The king had already visited the pair, and now was gone to inform his council of the safe delivery of the new prince.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Alyce whispered, as young Brion stood on his tiptoes for a closer look.
“He’s just a baby,” piped Blaine, sounding a little disappointed.
“Well, he was just born,” Brion replied, quite reasonably. “Mama, can I hold him?”
Richeldis laughed gently as the babe nuzzled closer to her breast. “Maybe tomorrow, darling. Right now, he’s very hungry, and Mama is very tired.”
“But, you been in bed all day, Mama,” Blaine pointed out.
“Yes, but your mama has been working very hard,” Jessamy explained, smoothing the younger boy’s jet-black hair. “Shall I lift you up so you can see him better?”
Nodding solemnly, Blaine held up his arms to be picked up. Brion was already clambering up the side of his mother’s bed to see, assisted by Alyce. Xenia, too, was reaching toward the baby and her mother, so Zoë obliged by bringing her closer.
“Ba-bee!”
Xenia crowed, reaching out to stroke the infant’s blanket.
“What’re we gonna name him, Mama?” Brion wanted to know, grinning as a tiny hand closed on his forefinger.
“Well, your father has suggested Nigel,” Richeldis replied. “What do you think?”
“Nigel’s a good name!” Brion agreed, nodding. “Now I got
two
brothers, named Blaine an’ Nigel!”
“And a very pretty sister!” Zoë added, bestowing an audible kiss on the cheek of the squirming Xenia.
THE arrival of the new prince, coupled with having Zoë with them again, helped both Alyce and Marie ease back into life at court, now on a far happier note than the weeks before Christmas, while they waited for their father’s body to return. And as spring eased toward summer, preparations for the June wedding of another of the queen’s ladies likewise occupied both minds and hands, for the dashing Sir Jared McLain, Earl of Kierney, had claimed the hand of Elaine MacInnis.
“I still cannot believe my good fortune,” Elaine confided to Alyce and Marie, soon after their return to Rhemuth. “Apparently our fathers made the arrangements at Christmastime. He asked me on Saint Stephen’s Day, and our betrothal took place at Twelfth Night court.”
“How I wish we could have seen it!” Marie declared, honestly delighted. “What a couple you shall make—for he is one of the comeliest men at court. Everyone says that he’s ever so brave and dashing!”
“More important, he is kind and gentle,” Alyce agreed, not giving voice to a vague misgiving, for Elaine was but fifteen. “But—shall you live in Kierney, Elaine? I fear we shall never see you!”