Elaine shrugged, a tinge of wistfulness crossing her fair features. “It is far away, I know. But his sons must be born on his own lands—and I hope I shall give him many! Besides, when he is duke, he will be called often to court—and I shall come with him, when I can.” She gave them a bright, delighted smile. “And both of you shall be married and with families of your own, before you know it.”
“Pray God that it will be to as much contentment,” Alyce said, with a glance at her friend, whose smile had turned a little wistful.
TO the relief of both girls, the king gave no indication that he intended to rush the disposition of their marriage portions, but allowed them to return to their previous pursuits in the queen’s household. Alyce focused on the education of the royal children, while continuing to avail herself of the royal library and the scholars who passed through court—and delighted in executing commissions of special documents for the king’s chancery, for which Zoë provided illuminated capitals and embellishments.
Marie’s pure voice soon brought her to the attention of the royal music master, who groomed her for performances both in the chapel royal and as entertainment in the king’s hall; and her skills with loom and embroidery needle were much sought by the artisans who spent their days creating tapestries for the great hall. In addition, the sisters’ suggestions to the queen regarding Lady Vera Howard met with royal approval, to the end that Vera soon joined the ranks of the queen’s demoiselles.
“Believe me, Lady Rosmerta was
not
happy to receive the queen’s summons,” she told them privily, the first night after her arrival, as she dug in the recesses of a capacious leather bag. “She will have been even less happy when she discovered that I left with
these
.”
She pulled out a wooden box the size of a man’s two hands and opened the lid for Alyce’s inspection. Inside, wrapped individually in pieces of crumpled linen, were most of the items of jewelry listed in their father’s bequest: several rings and brooches, a bracelet, and a necklace of emeralds the size of a man’s thumbnail, with blue fire at their hearts.
“Ooooh, Alyce!” Marie breathed, as Alyce lifted out the necklace.
“I remember seeing our mother wear this,” Alyce murmured, turning it in the candlelight. “Family tradition has it that it once belonged to the Lady Tayce Furstána, a first cousin of the King of Torenth, whose son became the first Duke of Corwyn.”
“Then, it’s good that it comes back into the family,” Vera said, looking pleased with herself as Marie plucked out a gold bangle set with opals and sapphires. “And doesn’t that bracelet appear in that painting of Stevana at Cynfyn?”
Alyce nodded. “Aye, the one at the top of the main stair.” She watched her younger sister slide the bangle onto her wrist and turn it appreciatively in the light.
“So much for Rosmerta,” Marie said, smiling smugly.
“Not entirely,” Alyce replied, taking the bracelet back from her sister. “She’ll probably try to claim that Vera stole them. But we’ll take them to the queen for safekeeping, and send to Ahern for the letter Father left.”
Chapter 16
“Then shall the lame man leap as an hart . . .”
—ISAIAH 35:6
MUCH to their relief, no complaint came from Rosmerta, but Alyce sent to their brother anyway, that a fair copy might be made of the bequest, witnessed by Father Paschal under seal.
The next several months passed quickly, with all the ladies of the royal household happily focused on the upcoming nuptials of Elaine MacInnis and Jared McLain, which took place at the end of June in St. Hilary’s-Within-the-Walls, the royal basilica adjoining Rhemuth Castle. As a personal favor for the wedding day, Alyce allowed Elaine to wear the Furstána emeralds. It was an occasion of pageantry and celebration, for Jared McLain was Earl of Kierney and heir to the Duchy of Cassan; but it was a day also tinged with sadness, for the newlyweds soon left for Kierney. The new Countess Elaine would be sadly missed from the queen’s household.
That was the summer, in the fifteenth year of King Donal’s reign, that Donal Haldane began his great inquest of all the lands in Gwynedd, even more ambitious than the one carried out by his father, King Malcolm, to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of the great Battle of Killingford.
Then the royal commissioners had sent deputies only into the heartlands of the kingdom: from the Purple March southward across the great Gwynedd Plain as far as Carthmoor and Corwyn, and northward along the Coamer Mountains through Lendour and as far north as Eastmarch. This time, the inquiries would include all of Old Kheldour: the Duchy of Claibourne, the Kheldish Riding, and the Earldoms of Marley and Rhendall. Donal had hopes for including Cassan and Kierney as well, but they lay close to rebellious Meara, so he was not certain that local conditions would permit such activities—but that decision could wait while the rest progressed.
That summer was gentler than some in recent memory, so the commissioners were able to make good progress as the lazy summer days eased into autumn. Likewise, as the months wore on, the demoiselles de Corwyn made plans for their promised visit to their brother in Cynfyn—with some trepidation on Alyce’s part, for her sister and Sir Sé had been exchanging letters with alarming frequency since Easter, along with the progress reports that Ahern sent regularly, first from Corwyn and then from Cynfyn once again. Though Vera was obliged to remain behind, having no legitimate reason to accompany them, Alyce enlisted Zoë to come along and help her keep Marie in line regarding Sé.
The news was encouraging, at least where Ahern was concerned. Earlier in the spring, he had made his promised visit to Coroth—by horse-litter and coach, much to his disgust—again accompanied by Duke Richard as he was presented to the council ruling Corwyn until he should reach the statutory age of twenty-five.
From there, after escorting Ahern back to Cynfyn, Richard had returned to Rhemuth, in case his presence should be required in Meara that season—and Ahern had set about recovering as much as he could of his former abilities. It had caused him no little pain as he began to exercise again, for he was constantly testing the limits of his strength and endurance, but he was determined that his injury should be as little an impediment as possible.
He had taken up the bow first, before he could even stand for very long, for he could shoot while perched on a stool, with his stiff leg propped in front of him. Competence with a bow did not require agility of foot, but strong arms and a steady eye.
By midsummer, his accuracy had surpassed even the level it had been before he rode off to Ratharkin the season before. When he could stand longer, he also resumed whacking at a pell with his sword—dull drill, starting over with exercises he had first learned as a small boy, but it served the double purpose of building up his sword arm again and venting his frustration at his limitations.
As the summer wore on, he began to shift his thinking to his strengths instead. He would always find it more comfortable to walk with a stick, and would never recover the agility on foot that he formerly had enjoyed; but he found, to his relief, that riding was not the impossibility he had feared—though he must mount from the right instead of the left, since he could not bend his left knee. In time, he would learn to vault astride, unimpeded by the stiff knee.
His first few times back in the saddle—using a mounting-block, much to his disgust—his thighs had ached for days afterward, and his seat had been atrocious. But lengthening the stirrups improved his stability and his comfort, and gave him the leeway to develop a different style and balance to accommodate the stiff knee.
Soon, as his healing stabilized and his strength returned, he was riding at the quintain again, resuming his drill with sword and lance. Sé and Jovett worked with him daily, and Sir Deinol, his seneschal in Cynfyn, kept him to a disciplined regimen of physical training. Early in the autumn, as campaign season waned, Duke Richard again rode over from Rhemuth, also escorting the young earl’s sisters for their promised visit, and, after watching Ahern train for several days, declared his belief that, if Ahern continued his present progress, the accolade of knighthood might not, after all, be beyond his reach in another year’s time.
No news could have lifted Ahern’s spirits more, or those of his sisters. Hearing Richard’s declaration, Ahern resolved to redouble his efforts, taking advantage of Richard’s presence to beg his personal tutelage, which Richard gladly gave.
“He
could
do it, couldn’t he?” Alyce said to Sé and Jovett, the day before she, Marie, and Zoë were to start back for Rhemuth with Richard and his party. “He could still win the accolade.”
Standing along the barrier fence of the tilting yard, the five of them were watching prince and future duke spar from horseback with blunted swords. Both men were laughing, and Ahern let out an exuberant “Aha!” as he scored a stinging hit on Richard’s shoulder with the flat of his blade, much to Richard’s consternation and delight.
Sé smiled and nodded, watching every move of both men. “There’s precedent. Over a century ago, there was a King of Gwynedd who mostly fought on horseback. Javan Haldane was his name. He was born with a clubbed foot, so he had to wear a special boot—which made him not very nimble when it came to swordplay on the ground, but on a horse, there were few who could match him. Mounted, his actual sword and lance work were excellent, and he was a superb bowman.
“Very sadly, none of that could save him, in the end. He was betrayed by his former regents, ambushed in the field. Archers shot his horse out from under him and then cut him down without mercy, along with two of his closest friends. I believe one of them was a distant cousin of yours, Lady Zoë.”
“Charlan Kai Morgan,” Zoë said, nodding quietly. “My father shares a middle name with him. I remember being taken to his grave when I was a child. He’d been King Javan’s squire when he was still prince. He died at Javan’s side, trying to defend him.”
“Then your father is the latest in a long tradition of loyal Morgan service to the Haldanes, isn’t he?” Jovett said admiringly. “Aside from Duke Richard, perhaps, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have at my back in a fight than Sir Kenneth. Well, maybe Sé,” he amended, with a teasing glance at the other young knight.
“Well, now that Ahern is making such an amazing come-back, we
will
make a rather formidable trio, won’t we?” Sé said easily.
All of them gasped as Ahern evaded a particularly deft maneuver on the part of Duke Richard and wheeled his mount for another pass.
“Would you look at that?” Jovett cried.
“It’s all thanks to you and Sé,” Alyce said, unable to take her eyes from the field.
“No, it’s all thanks to Ahern’s determination,” Sé countered. “We simply encouraged him to do what only he could do—
and
we bullied him occasionally, in the beginning, when the frustration made him falter. But his recovery has been a result of his own hard work. A lesser man might have sat back with his leg propped up and rested on the laurels of his valor at Ratharkin. But just look at him!”
He gestured toward the field, where Ahern and Richard were engaged in an astonishing display of horsemanship, breathless with the sheer joy of partnership between rider and steed, wheeling their mounts and darting, feinting, neither ever managing to land a blow on the other.
“What more could one ask of any man?” Sé went on. “Especially one who has answered the challenges he has done. And he is still only sixteen. What will he be two years from now? I have little doubt but that Richard will urge the king to grant him the accolade. On that day, you may be certain that Jovett and I shall be present.”
THEY stayed but another day in Cynfyn before heading back for Rhemuth, arriving early in October. The children of the royal household all were thriving, especially the newest prince, but the choicest gossip stirring the queen’s household was the news that the Lady Elaine, wed in June to the son of the Duke of Cassan, in distant Kierney, was expecting their first child the following May.
“Goodness, they didn’t waste any time!” Alyce said, as she and Marie joined Vera in her room for a snack of cakes and ale, to share the news from Cynfyn. Since Zoë was also with them, and had not been told of Vera’s true parentage, the three sisters took care to guard their speech.
“Well, Jared will be duke someday, so he needs to secure the succession,” Vera said. “The same could be said about your brother. I don’t suppose his eye was caught by any of those pretty maids in Coroth?” she added, with a twinkle in her eye.
Alyce shook her head. “Not that I was aware of. He seems to have been far more focused on getting back his health—and he’s succeeding marvelously!”
In ever-more-delighted detail, she described Ahern’s dexterity on horseback, and his skill on the field with Duke Richard.
“We talked about little else on the way back from Cynfyn,” she concluded. “Duke Richard was most impressed by how far he’s come.”
“It sounds like he’ll receive his accolade after all, then,” Vera said. “That’s wonderful news. Now we just have to find him a lovely girl to be his future duchess. How about you, Zoë? Alyce, wouldn’t you and Marie love to have Zoë for a sister?”
“
I
would,” Marie said promptly.
Zoë blushed furiously, flattered by the compliment, but Alyce’s smile of agreement had a more thoughtful cast to it. In fact, she had noticed Ahern watching Zoë more than once, when he thought no one was looking—and Zoë herself had seemed somewhat taken by the young earl, and certainly dazzled by his horsemanship and sheer determination.
“I would say that such a development is not beyond the realm of possibility,” she allowed. “He did seem—attentive.”
“Alyce!” Zoë protested, blushing even more.
“I predict nothing . . . ,” Alyce said, raising both palms in a protestation of innocence. “I merely comment on what I have noted, when neither of you thought I was watching. And I would be willing to bet that a letter from him will arrive before the month is out.”