KHELDOUR—small kingdom north of Gwynedd, famous for textiles and carpets; under human rule.
MARLEY—Crown earldom in northern Eastmarch.
MARYWELL—town in northern Gwynedd where a Festillic garrison ran amok.
MEARA—kingdom to the west of Gwynedd; under human rule.
MOORYN—kingdom to the southeast of Gwynedd.
NYFORD—site of the new capital being built by Imre, formerly nought but a sleepy river town; in central Gwynedd, near Saint Illtyd’s Monastery.
RENGARTH—town in southern Eastmarch.
RHEMUTH—ancient capital of Gwynedd under the Haldanes.
RHORAU—seat of Lord Termod, cousin of King Imre.
SAINT FOILLAN’S ABBEY—establishment of the Ordo Verbi Dei, about three days’ ride southeast of Valoret, in the mountains, where Camber and Rhys found Prince Cinhil Haldane.
SAINT ILLTYD’S MONASTERY—establishment of the Ordo Verbi Dei, on the river near Nyford.
SAINT JARLATH’S MONASTERY—mother house of the Ordo Verbi Dei, two hours’ ride north of Saint Liam’s Abbey.
SAINT JOHN’S CHURCH—parish church near Fullers’ Alley in Valoret, where the Draper family records were kept.
SAINT LIAM’S ABBEY—Michaeline-staffed abbey school, four hours’ ride northeast of Valoret.
SAINT NEOT’S MONASTERY—stronghold of the Order of Saint Gabriel, an esoteric, primarily Deryni religious order; in the Lendour highlands.
SAINT PIRAN’S PRIORY—establishment of the Ordo Verbi Dei, a day’s ride north of Saint Jarlath’s; Joram and Rhys interviewed the first two “Benedicts” there.
SAINT ULTAN’S PRIORY—establishment of the Ordo Verbi Dei, on the southwestern coast of Mooryn.
TAL TRAETH—Cathan MacRorie’s manor house in Valoret.
TORENTH—kingdom to the east of Gwynedd, ruled by Deryni.
VALORET—Festillic capital of Gwynedd, 822–905.
About the Author
Katherine Kurtz was born in Coral Gables, Florida, during a hurricane. She received a four-year science scholarship to the University of Miami and graduated with a bachelor of science degree in chemistry. Medical school followed, but after a year she decided she would rather write about medicine than practice it. A vivid dream inspired Kurtz’s Deryni novels, and she sold the first three books in the series on her first submission attempt. She soon defined and established her own sub-genre of “historical fantasy” set in close parallels to our own medieval period featuring “magic” that much resembles extrasensory perception.
While working on the Deryni series, Kurtz further utilized her historical training to develop another sub-genre she calls “crypto-history,” in which the “history behind the history” intertwines with the “official” histories of such diverse periods as the Battle of Britain (Lammas Night), the American War for Independence (Two Crowns for America), contemporary Scotland (The Adept Series, with coauthor Deborah Turner Harris), and the Knights Templar (also with Harris).
In 1983, Kurtz married the dashing Scott MacMillan; they have a son, Cameron. Until 2007, they made their home in Ireland, in Holybrooke Hall, a mildly haunted gothic revival house, They have recently returned to the United States and taken up residence in a historic house in Virginia, with their five Irish cats and one silly dog. (The ghosts of Holybrooke appear to have remained behind.)
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1976 by Katherine Kurtz
“Bethane” copyright © 1982 by Katherine Kurtz. First published in Hecate’s Cauldron (DAW Books, 1982).
Map by Shelley Shapiro
Cover design by Michel Vrana
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3117-2
This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Saint Camber
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Also by Katherine Kurtz
The Deryni Novels
The Chronicles of the Deryni
Deryni Rising
Deryni Checkmate
High Deryni
The Legends of Camber of Culdi
Camber of Culdi
Saint Camber
Camber the Heretic
The Histories of King Kelson
The Bishop’s Heir
The King’s Justice
The Quest for Saint Camber
The Heirs of Saint Camber
The Harrowing of Gwynedd
King Javan’s Year
The Bastard Prince
The Childe Morgan Trilogy
In the King’s Service
Childe Morgan
The King’s Deryni
Other novels
King Kelson’s Bride
This one is for
JOHN H. KNOBLOCK
who started me on my intellectual love affair
with the medieval world and its church,
and for all the other men and women
of whatever faith
who helped to turn that cerebral fascination
into an affair of the heart,
whether or not they were aware of it.
In our own ways, we all feed our sheep.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
Behold, the former things are come to pass, and new things do I declare: before they spring forth I tell you of them.
—Isaiah 42:9
I By long forbearing is a prince persuaded, and a soft tongue breaketh the bone.
—Proverbs 25:15
II But continue thou in the things which thou hast learned and hast been assured of, knowing of whom thou hast learned them.
—II Timothy 3:14
III For death is come up into our windows, and is entered into our palaces.
—Jeremiah 9:21
IV For it is better, if the will of God be so, that ye suffer for well doing, than for evil doing.
—I Peter 3:17
V Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the truth?
—Galatians 4:16
VI I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.
—II Timothy 4:7
VII And them shalt be called by a new name, which the mouth of the Lord shall name.
—Isaiah 62:2
VIII Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep.
—Proverbs 24:33
IX A
s a wise masterbuilder, I have laid the foundation, and another buildeth thereon. But let every man take heed how he buildeth thereupon.
—I Corinthians 3:10
X The father of the righteous shall greatly rejoice: and he that begetteth a wise child shall have joy of him.
—Proverbs 23:24
XI Grant unto thy servants, that with all boldness they may speak thy word, by stretching forth thine hand to heal.
—Acts 4:29–30
XII I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some.
—I Corinthians 9:22
XIII For though I be absent in the flesh, yet am I with you in the spirit, joying and beholding your order.
—Colossians 2:5
XIV I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labour in vain.
—Galatians 4:11
XV I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all his people.
—Psalms 116:14
XVI For every high priest taken from among men is ordained for men in things pertaining to God, that he may offer both gifts and sacrifices for sins.
—Hebrews 5:1
XVII Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you.
—I Peter 1:13
XVIII Even the mystery which hath been hid from ages and from generations, but now is made manifest to his saints.
—Colossians 1:26
XIX Order ye the buckler and shield, and draw near to battle. Harness the horses; and get up, ye horsemen, and stand forth with your helmets; furbish the spears, and put on the brigandines.
—Jeremiah 46:3–4
XX And the servant of the Lord must not strive; but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient, in meekness instructing those that oppose themselves.
—II Timothy 2:24–25
XXI And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.
—Galatians 6:9
XXII For thou shalt be his witness unto all men of what thou hast seen and heard.
—Acts 22:15
XXIII I desire to be present with you now, and to change my voice; for I stand in doubt of you.
—Galatians 4:20
XXIV For neither at any time used we flattering words, as ye know, nor a cloak of covetousness; God is witness: nor of men sought we glory.
—I Thessalonians 2:5–6
XXV How is he numbered among the children of God, and his lot is among the saints!
—Wisdom of Solomon 5:5
Preview: Camber the Heretic
Appendix I: Index of Characters
Appendix II: Index to Places
About the Author
PROLOGUE
Behold, the former things are come to pass, and new things do I declare: before they spring forth I tell you of them.
—Isaiah 42:9
It was the spring of 905, half a year since the crowning of Cinhil Haldane at Valoret; half a year since the last Deryni king, Imre of Festil, had been deposed and defeated by Cinhil’s new-won magic; since Imre’s sister Ariella, heavy with his child, had fled the halls of Valoret to seek sanctuary with the hosts of Torenth to the east.
The Deryni Lord Camber MacRorie had been the hero of that day—Camber and his children: Joram and Evaine and Rhys—and Alister Cullen, proud Vicar General of the Order of Saint Michael, which had made the physical fact of the Restoration possible.
Now the Haldane throne was steadying, Cinhil’s queen safely delivered of twin sons to replace the one murdered by Imre’s agent before Cinhil’s emergence. King Cinhil, though reluctant still to set aside his former monkish life, was perhaps beginning to understand his role as monarch.
But Camber was ill at ease, for he knew that the last Festillic chapter had yet to be written, nor would it be written so long as Ariella lived, and Imre’s bastard with her. All the winter long, there had been no word out of Torenth, though all knew that to be her place of refuge. She was biding her time. The child would have been born by now. Soon, soon, she would make her move. Perhaps she was beginning, already.
And in a high solar room of a castle called Cardosa, remote in the mountains between Torenth and free Eastmarch, the woman in question stood before a tabled map of the Eleven Kingdoms and plotted her revenge. A babe suckled at her breast, but she paid him no mind as she stared at the map and sprinkled water from her fingertips onto the lands of Gwynedd, the while muttering words beneath her breath, her mind locked on one ill-willed purpose.
Each day for a week she had worked her magic now; soon she would see its fruition. Her army was gathering, even as the spring rains washed the mountain passes clear of snow and bogged the plains her enemy must cross to try to stop her. Soon, soon, she would make her move. Then the upstart Haldane priest would wear the Gwynedd crown no more.
CHAPTER ONE
By long forbearing is a prince persuaded, and a soft tongue breaketh the bone.
—Proverbs 25:15
Rain was falling steadily in the city of Valoret. It had been falling for the past four days, unseasonable for June. Outside the precincts of the royal keep, the cobblestone streets ran with mud and flood-borne refuse. Standing pools of rain and mud rose higher with each hour, threatening and sometimes inundating the doorsills of shops and houses.
Inside the keep, it was spirits which were dampened instead of mere physical surrounds. Chill, moisture-laden air rose foully from the middens through walls and garderobe shafts to rot the rushes underfoot in the great hall and waft among the rafters. Though fires blazed on three enormous hearths, their heat could not warm the icy apprehensions of the handful of lords assembled there.
No formal summons had gathered them. King Cinhil had been avoiding structured councils of late, much to the dismay of his would-be advisors. The men who now sat around a table before one of the side fireplaces were the same who had placed Cinhil on the throne six months before—men who now feared for the king they had made—feared for all whose safety and well-being they had thought to ensure by ousting a Deryni tyrant and restoring a prince of the old, human line to Gwynedd’s throne.
They were an odd assortment—all, save one, of the same race of sorcerer-magicians whose scion had lately ruled Gwynedd:
Rhys Thuryn, the young Deryni Healer, bending his shaggy red head to study a map whose strategies he did not really understand.
Jebediah of Alcara, Deryni Grand Master of the militant Knights of Saint Michael and acting commander in chief of King Cinhil’s army—if the king could be persuaded to use that army to proper advantage.
Alister Cullen, the graying, ice-eyed Vicar General of the Michaeline Order, and Jebediah’s technical superior, also Deryni, leaning with hands clasped behind his head to study a cobweb high in the beams above him—though the seeming casual posture concealed a tension shared by all of them.
Guaire of Arliss, young and earnest, and sole human member of the group. Heir in his own right to a considerable fortune, he was one of the few men of the last regime to retain a position in the court being formed under the new king.
And of course, Camber MacRorie, Earl of Culdi—chiefest Deryni of them all.
Camber had aged but little in the months since the Haldane Restoration, neither appearance nor manner betraying his nearly threescore years. The silver-gilt hair still gleamed bright in the light of torch and fire, and the clear gray eyes showed only a few new wrinkles at the corners. In all, he was as fit as he had been in the last decade—hardened and refined, if anything, by the privations and adversities all of them had endured since making their decision to replace the anointed king of Gwynedd.
But Camber, kingmaker that he was, was no more at ease than the rest of his colleagues. Though he had not wished to alarm them, Deryni or human, he suspected that the rain which fell so unceasingly outside was more than ordinary rain—that the enemy who had eluded them last year at the moment of triumph plotted still more grave offenses from afar; that the coming
encounter on the field of battle, no longer to be postponed by winter snows and the enemy’s indisposition, might be fraught with far greater dangers than steel and spear and arrow. The rain could be but a warning token.
He had confided his suspicions about the weather to the gentle Dom Emrys, Abbot of the Gabrilites—one man who might know for certain whether such things were possible, even for Deryni. The Order of Saint Gabriel was renowned and respected, even among humans, for the purity of its discipline, for its preservation of ancient wisdom and teaching of the healing arts.
But even Dom Emrys, that pale paragon of Deryni calm and sagacity, had only been able to suggest a way by which Camber himself might explore the question further—and that way was not without its dangers. Camber was familiar with the procedure at which Emrys hinted, but he had not yet brought himself to use it. He wished there were some less-hazardous method of investigation.
A movement at the table caught his eye, and Camber tuned back in on the conversation which had been continuing around him. Jebediah had been leading a discussion of their military preparedness, and was cursing the weather anew as he pushed troop markers around on the map. His scarred fingers were surprisingly agile on the delicate markers.
“No, even if Jowerth and Torcuill do manage to get through, I don’t see how we can field more than five to six hundred knights,” he said, replying to a question Rhys had raised. “That includes all the royal levies, the Michaelines, and few dozen more from the other military orders. Perhaps twice that many mounted men-at-arms. For foot and archers, say, five hundred and two hundred, respectively. We’d have more, but most of the main roads are flooded out. Many of the men we could ordinarily count on won’t be able to reach us in time to do any good.”
Rhys nodded as though he actually understood the significance of the numbers, and Guaire studied his clasped hands, understanding all too well.
Camber reached out to shift the map board to a better angle.
The Legends of Camber of Culdi Trilogy Page 40