Too Many Princes (23 page)

All four were somberly dressed, and wore serious expressions, but they greeted Therula courteously with bows and kisses to her hand. Habrok embraced Cliodora with great care, as if he might bruise her.

“
Clio said you wanted me?
”
Therula asked.

Calitar nodded.
“
We were wondering if Albrett will be here. Has there been any word from Duke Johanz?
”

“
Mother made the invitation,
”
Therula said.
“
Johanz sent his best wishes, but he said his wife is ill. He won't leave her side.
”

“
Such devotion,
”
Axenar said, but he glanced slyly at his brother.

As he spoke, Therula frowned slightly. She thought she understood why the men wore such sober expressions. Carthell was the highest ranking of all Crutham's duchies. It had a rich history of its own, and had been independent until Unferth's grandfather married the duke's daughter and joined their domains to form present day Crutham. Johanz' nephew, Rickard, had been one of the princes who died recently. Could he possibly be using the loss as a pretext to assert his independence?

“
Don't tell me you wanted to see Albrett,
”
Habrok rumbled, glancing sidelong at Calitar and Axenar. Those two had had their share of quarrels with Albrett and Rickard, in times gone by.

“
Of course we do,
”
Calitar answered. His face was perfectly composed, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“
We like him much better now that we only see him once a year,
”
Axenar added.

“
You know,
”
Therula said quietly,
“
the dukes of Verelay, Begatt, Daraine, Gerfalkan and Firice are all here, but Johanz isn't. I wonder who will represent Carthell.
”

“
So do we,
”
Habrok said.

“
Have you had a chance to talk to Oskar about it?
”
Therula asked.

“
No,
”
the big man said plainly. Gunnheld laid a hand on his arm. Without asking, Therula knew Habrok must also feel excluded from the centers of power. Before she had a chance to respond, trumpets rang out. Heads turned expectantly, and the babble of voices died away.

“
Here they come,
”
Cliodora exclaimed, nervously excited.

“
I know. Hush,
”
Therula murmured.

The procession appeared at the far end of the hall. Above the crowd, Therula could see the banner of Crutham, glittering cloth-of-gold stitched with a black tower. Behind it came banners of the provinces. Therula counted quickly. Carthell's banner was there, the silver wolf on a purple field, but it was hard to feel reassured by that alone.

Glorious music floating down from the gallery as the rest of the procession came into view. Tarther led off, in his full array as Captain of the Royal Guard. He carried the Cruthan sword of state before him, sheathed, point down. Tarther's face was solemn, but his cheeks seemed to sag with the weight of age.

Therula wished Oskar had listened to her and let Habrok carry the sword. After all, Habrok was the Champion of Crutham, leader of all its armies. What better chance for him to show solidarity with his brother, the new king? Tarther was a timid choice. He represented continuity and took no risks. It was a missed opportunity, and an unnecessary snub to Habrok, who had always been loyal, even submissive, toward Oskar.

Next came Alustra, bearing Unferth's crown on a cushion of black velvet. The symbolism was obvious, a passing of power from one generation to the next—and Alustra's support for her son.

She moved with measured steps, resplendent in a black brocade gown with Tanixan styled shoulders and collar. Her veil was sewn with bits of polished onyx which flashed in the candlelight as she moved. Therula felt deep sadness as her mother passed. This would be one of Alustra's last official duties as Queen of Crutham. Her face, beneath the veil, was perfectly composed. It was impossible to see the emotions Therula knew must be raging within her. Certainly Alustra must feel proud of her son, but she loved being a queen. It had to hurt that she had been supplanted, even by her own child.

Behind Alustra came more banners. Begatt's blue stag head on silver, Daraine's green with golden sun, Firice's red with silver sword, Verelay's gold griffin on a field of blue, and the wolf of Carthell. Behind each banner came a delegation of noblemen to witness the ceremony. Most of them were led by their own dukes. Carthell was an exception. Therula glanced aside as the purple banner passed and saw her brothers' intensity as they watched.

“
They're mostly soldiers,
”
Calitar murmured.

“
Even if Kathlen is ill,
”
Axenar added softly,
“
Johanz should have sent his son as a representative.
”

“
Or our dear Albrett,
”
Calitar said.

“
I'm sure Oskar is aware of this.
”
Habrok spoke just a bit too calmly.

“
If he isn't, Mother is,
”
Therula told them reassuringly.
“
She will know how to handle this.
”

“
I'm sure you're right,
”
Gunnheld whispered back.

The courtiers stepped back, clearing an opening at the foot of the dais. Alustra mounted the steps, while the procession divided and formed a half-circle at the perimeter. The queen stopped at the edge of the platform and turned to face the assembly, and the music echoed away.

“
Here I have the crown of Crutham.
”
Alustra spoke slowly, pitching her voice to be heard clear and far.
“
As the king has died, it is my duty to summon our heir, who will take his father's place as king. Come forth, Oskar of Crutham.
”

Oskar stepped forward and bowed low.
“
I am here, Mother.
”

“
My son.
”
Alustra allowed a hint of warmth to color her official voice.
“
Are you prepared to carry out all the duties of your royal office?
”

“
Yes,
”
Oskar answered firmly,
“
I am.
”

“
Then kneel,
”
Alustra instructed. Oskar obeyed, bowing his head with exaggerated humility. A page stepped forward to take the velvet cushion from Alustra, while she held the golden crown glittering before her.

In a ringing voice she cried,
“
I, Alustra, Queen of Crutham, declare before all noble witnesses and our honored guests that this man, my son Oskar, is the true and legitimate heir to the throne of Crutham. I entrust my authority to him and pledge my loyalty until the day I die.
”

Therula swallowed a lump in her throat as Alustra raised the crown high and then bent forward, placing it carefully on Oskar's head. A sigh went through the watchers, whispering like the wind. Therula glanced at Habrok. He, who could have worn the crown himself, showed no emotion at all.

Movement on the dais drew her eye back with a jerk. Oskar mounted the steps slowly, dramatically. As he climbed Alustra stepped back, bowing before him with sweeps of her veil. Tarther approached from the other side. He knelt, offering the Sword of Crutham with both hands, haft outward.

“
Into your hands I placed this weapon,
”
Tarther intoned,
“
as the emblem of your power and rightful authority. May your justice be feared.
”

Oskar laid his hand briefly on the hilt.
“
I accept this sword, and I shall use it to defend my people and to carry out justice.
”

He turned to face the audience and stood still, allowing Tarther to belt the sword on. While Tarther did that, Alustra lifted the royal cloak from the throne. As soon as Oskar's sword was buckled on, she laid the cloak over his shoulders. Alustra let her hand linger on his shoulder for a moment in a loving gesture. Oskar turned and took his mother's hand. They both bowed, as if in a dance, and Tarther offered his arm to guide Alustra down the stairs.

Slowly Oskar sat on the throne, shifting the Sword of Crutham so that his right hand could rest lightly on the pommel. He sat for a moment, alone and splendid, looking over the silent court.

“
I accept these honors with grief in my heart,
”
Oskar declared.
“
In my father's name, I swear I will do all to uphold the honor of Crutham.
”

Therula tensed. Was that a jab at Unferth?

Oskar went on,
“
Although my sword is ready for the defense of my kingdom, I would have it known to all that Crutham would rather offer the hand of friendship than the fist of war. Let this be so.
”

Tarther, at the base of the platform, bellowed out,
“
All hail King Oskar!
”

The Great Hall erupted into cheers as the courtiers released their restrained emotions. Therula joined in, wishing she felt true joy in her heart. She should have been happy, yet tears pricked at her eyes. There was something hateful in Oskar's aplomb, the way he accepted the applause as his just due. As if their father's death meant nothing. Near the dais, Eben leaned toward the Silletsian representative, perhaps explaining some detail of the ceremony. Therula's sister, Bettonie, stood embracing their mother at the base of the steps. Therula wondered what was wrong with herself, that she didn't feel the same joy in Oskar's triumph.

As the cheers began to fade, Duke Edwarin of Daraine stepped forward.

“
All hail King Oskar!
”
he cried.
“
Before these witnesses, we of Daraine declare our duty and faith to King Oskar and his realm of Crutham. May your reign be rich in years and goods.
”

More cheers rang out as Edwarin bowed before Oskar. Even as he stepped back, the Duke of Verelay strode to take his place.

“
All hail King Oskar!
”
Duke Robbart began.

As Verelay began to pledge his fealty, Calitar murmured,
“
I guess we'd better get in line.
”

“
Aye,
”
Habrok said firmly.
“
We want no question of our loyalties now.
”

“
Too true,
”
Axenar agreed.

Technically, Edwarin's oath should be binding upon Calitar and Axenar, since they were part of his household, but Therula understood why they needed to make their own oaths.

While the men began to work their way forward, Therula eased herself backward. This part of the ceremony would last for some time, until every vassal had renewed his vow of loyalty. By tradition, all who spoke could also offer the new king their advice, or bring forth grievances. Some of them would go on for quite a time, as Robbart of Verelay was demonstrating. Oskar's siblings would also need to pledge to him, including even Therula and Cliodora. Therula was in no hurry to speak her oath. In truth, she had no idea what she would say.