“I, Jared Douglas McLain, do enter your homage and become your liege man for Cassan and Kierney. Faith and truth will I bear unto you and your lawful successors in all things, so help me God.”
“And I receive your homage most gladly, Jared Douglas McLain,” Brion replied, “recognizing you as Duke of Cassan and Earl of Kierney, and I pledge you my loyalty and protection for so long as you keep faith with me and my house.”
With that, the king released Jared’s joined hands and held his open palm out to Prince Nigel, who set a heavy gold signet in his hand. This Brion slid onto Jared’s left forefinger.
“Receive this ring as a seal of fidelity to the oath you have sworn, and as a symbol of your authority.”
Gesturing for Kenneth to bring forward the ducal coronets, he took the one intended for Jared and placed it on his brow.
“Receive this princely coronet as a mark of my esteem and trust, and as a symbol of your rank,” he said, turning then to take back Jared’s sword from his brother Nigel and lay it across Jared’s hands.
“And finally, as a sign of my charge to defend the lands I have entrusted to you, I return your sword.”
“All these charges I shall respect and keep in honor, my Liege,” Jared said, then kissed the cross-hilt before slipping the sword into its hangers at his waist.
He kissed the royal hand, then rose to turn and beckon Vera forward. Taking up the smaller ducal coronet, he set it on his wife’s tawny hair, kissed her on both cheeks, then beckoned for Kevin to join them. Alaric followed with Kevin’s coronet, wide-eyed and proud to be part of this historic occasion.
“Sire,” Jared said, lifting a hand toward his elder son, “I present my son and heir, Kevin Douglas McLain, and ask that you grant him the courtesy title of Earl of Kierney, to hold that style and title until he comes of age, and then to hold it in truth, eventually to succeed me.”
“I am pleased to grant your request,” the king said. “Young Kevin, kneel and swear fealty to your father.”
Straight-backed and solemn, Kevin came to kneel before his father and offered up his joined hands, which Jared enclosed in his. The eleven-year-old’s voice was steady as he made his oath.
“I, Kevin Douglas McLain, do become your liege man of life and limb and earthly worship. Faith and truth will I bear unto you, to live and to die, against all manner of folk, so help me God.”
“And I, for my part, will be a faithful liege to you, Kevin Douglas McLain, giving justice and protection so long as you keep faith with me, so help me God.”
Jared reached across, then, to take the coronet that Alaric offered, placing it on his son’s head and then raising him up to kiss him on both cheeks.
“Congratulations, son. Now the real work begins!”
“I will not fail you, my lord,” Kevin replied, eyes shining.
There followed the more usual activities of a Haldane Twelfth Night court, for which Alaric, Duncan, and Kevin retired from the dais to rejoin Tesselin and the Cassani men. Duchess Vera was invited to sit with the queen and her ladies.
First came the new pages to be enrolled for pages’ training: five wide-eyed seven- and eight-year-olds in clean white tunics and black britches and boots, each to kneel before the king, state his name, and make his promise of loyalty before receiving the scarlet page’s tabard that would mark him for the next half-dozen years as a Haldane page. Kenneth had joined the king on the dais, so Alaric watched with Duncan and Kevin, dreaming of the day when he, too, might wear the king’s livery—though now he knew, from hard experience, that a page’s life was about far more than a smart surcoat.
Next up were the pages being promoted to squire. Alaric found himself standing on his tiptoes to see past Llion, grinning ear to ear as Paget Sullivan came forward with his father to make his pledge of fidelity to the king, then allowed his father to buckle on the blued-steel spurs of a squire. Alaric could imagine his friend’s pride as he received his squire’s dagger from the king’s own hands and kissed the blade in salute.
When Cornelius Seaton likewise had been invested, along with a new boy from Howicce, the queen came forward to bid all three boys exchange their pages’ tabards for the more elegant scarlet tunics of a Haldane squire, with the king’s cipher embroidered on the left breast. Paget was beaming as he adjusted its folds and cinched it with the plain red leather belt that squires were allowed. The tunics were for more formal occasions and court functions; at other times, a hip-length crimson vest sufficed, over the same white tunic that the pages wore, but even the crimson vests bore the king’s cipher: a privilege coveted by all the boys in training. The fathers of the boys looked on in pride as the king gave a final admonition to the newly liveried squires.
Sir Evan Sullivan looked appropriately proud, as did all the fathers. Sir Errol Seaton appeared to be gloating, and Bishop de Nore was not far away, accompanying father and son as they melted back into the crowd. He cast a contemptuous glance at Alaric as he followed his brother-in-law and the new Seaton squire back to his sister.
“That should be the worst of it,” Llion murmured close beside Alaric’s ear.
Alaric said nothing, only ducking his head in agreement.
The knightings came last, with only three young men slated to receive the accolade on this day, for a number of candidates had elected to be knighted with the king, the previous summer, even if a bit early. First to be called forward was Claud de Saeva, son of the king’s castellan, Sir Robert. Claud had grown up in the castle, training from early childhood with the royal household, so he was well qualified for the honor. Godwin Godreddson was the second son of Captain Godredd Colbertson, an officer of the Marley heavy cavalry, and esteemed for his tactical sense, as Alaric had discovered when called to the king’s withdrawing chamber to explain Orkény’s battle tactics.
The third and final young man slated for the accolade was Innis de Pirek—or Innis Pirek-Haldane, as was more technically correct, for his family was descended from a distant Haldane cousin, though young Innis had elected to put aside that part of his name, lest he be accused of currying special privileges in the Haldane court. His elder brother, knighted several years before, still used the name—Sir Michael Pirek-Haldane—and their father, Sir Quentin Pirek-Haldane, was the Earl of Carthane. Earl Quentin had made the long ride to Rhemuth for his younger son’s knighting, but he did not look well. He leaned heavily on his elder son’s arm as they followed Innis and the Carthane banner forward. A squire in the colors of Carthane carried the sword intended for the candidate, with the straps of the golden spurs looped over the quillons.
“Who presents this candidate?” Brion asked, as the party drew up before the dais.
“I do, my Liege,” Earl Quentin said steadily, though he was weaving a little on his feet. “This is my beloved son, Innis de Pirek, as he prefers to be called, and I ask that you grant him the accolade of knighthood.”
“I am happy to grant your request, my lord,” Brion said easily. The Haldane sword was cradled in his left arm, with the tip extending over his left shoulder, and he nodded to the earl’s elder son.
“Sir Michael, if you would be so good as to invest your brother with his spurs. And perhaps one of our new squires might bring the earl a stool?”
Instantly Paget Sullivan scrambled to fetch a stool for the Earl of Carthane, setting his hands under the older man’s elbow to help him ease onto the seat and then staying close when Earl Quentin seemed a little light-headed. Both of them watched avidly as Sir Michael knelt to buckle the spurs on his brother’s heels.
“I wish Earl Quentin to know how much I esteem his son’s abilities,” Brion said easily, scanning his audience while Michael worked on the spurs. “Young Innis has demonstrated an admirable tactical instinct in the past few months, and I am minded to take him with me on an exercise in the spring. I doubt he shall see any heavy action, but the experience will be good for him. Thank you, S
ir Michael,” he said, as Michael finished with the spurs and rose. “Innis?”
As he gestured toward his feet, young Innis de Pirek mounted the dais steps to kneel before him and Brion shifted the sword into his right hand, raising the blade above the candidate’s head.
“Innis de Pirek-Haldane, son of Quentin, in the name of the Father”—the sword descended to touch the candidate’s right shoulder—“and of the Son”—the blade arched to the left shoulder—“and of the Holy Spirit”—the blade lifted to touch briefly on the crown of Innis’s head—“be thou a good and faithful knight.”
With a deft flick of his wrist, Brion raised the sword to kiss the holy relic in the pommel, then reversed it smartly and passed it to Duke Richard, hilt first, before extending his hand to Innis.
“Arise, Sir Innis de Pirek, and be invested with the other symbols of your new rank.”
Sir Innis rose, beaming as he was directed to one side to allow the queen and the two princesses to gird him with the white belt. While they did so, Alaric noticed that the new knight’s father was weaving on his stool.
“Llion?” he whispered, jutting his chin at the earl as Llion glanced down.
Llion went to the earl immediately, crouching at his side to ask whether he was all right. Young Paget looked worried; Michael, the earl’s son, had gone forward to present his brother with the sword. Innis was kneeling now before the king, setting his hands between those of his sovereign.
“I, Innis de Pirek, do become your liege man of life and limb,” Innis was saying.
“My lord,” Llion whispered to Earl Quentin, trying not to make a scene, “you are not well! Let me take you to a place where you can lie down.”
“No!” the earl whispered fiercely. “I will hear my king make his oath to my son!”
“But, sir—”
“No!”
“And I, for my part, will be a faithful liege to you, Innis de Pirek, giving justice and protection”—
The earl had been clinging hard to Llion’s shoulder as he strained to hear the king’s return oath, but Llion felt the hard grip loosen as the king spoke the final words, “so help me God.” He sensed the exact instant in which the old man became a dead weight in his arms, as the spent body relaxed against his, and he deftly caught the coronet before it could fall to the floor, looking up in sorrow as Michael and then Innis turned and saw them.
“No! God, no!” Innis cried, dashing back to his father to fling his arms around him and hug him close, Michael following to hover close above them, looking stunned. The king, too, came down off the dais, concern in his eyes, followed by the diminutive Archbishop Paul, who removed his miter as he came and handed it off to a courtier before sinking to his knees to pray for the dead man’s soul.
“I felt him pass, Sire,” Llion said softly, drawing back to let the earl’s two sons, descendants of Haldane kings, tenderly cradle their father in their arms. “I would guess that it was his heart. But he was determined to see you knighted, Sir Innis.”
“He had been ill for some months,” Michael said dully, “but he insisted on making the journey from Carthane. I am his heir, and I know he loved me, but Innis was always the favorite.” He set a heavy hand on his brother’s shoulder, shaking his head. “But at least he got his final wish, Innis: to see you knighted.”
“Yes, and he would wish to see you confirmed at once,” Innis said softly, tears in his eyes as he then looked up at the king. “Sire, my brother is now become Earl of Carthane. Is it possible to—acknowledge him right away, in our father’s presence?”
The king glanced uncertainly at his uncle, but the older man only nodded slowly. “It can be done,” he murmured. Coming down from the dais, he took off his fur-lined mantle and shook it out before spreading it on the floor beside the dead earl. “Let us have a few more mantles, please,” he added to the watching court, even as the king himself was removing his and adding it to Richard’s.
Several more mantles followed the royal ones, many hands helping to shift the old man’s limp body onto this makeshift couch, and even young Alaric took off his small mantle of Corwyn green and rolled it into a pillow for Sir Innis’s dead father. The king gave him a wan smile as he accepted the offering and tucked it under Sir Quentin’s neck. Archbishop Paul took advantage of the lull in activity to come closer to the deceased, kneeling to anoint him with oil as was proper, then signing the body and himself with the sign of their faith before withdrawing.
Meanwhile, Sir Innis took off the sword he had just received and laid it in his father’s hands like a cross, and Michael retrieved the signet ring from the earl’s dead hand, passing it to his brother. Seeing the coronet still in Llion’s hands, the king signed for him to bring it as he returned to the dais and took his place before the throne, then beckoned for the new Earl of Carthane to approach. Sir Michael handed off his own sword to his brother, then came to kneel before the king, his brother standing behind him with the sword across his hands. The shocked queen and the two princesses had moved closer to witness the event about to unfold.
“We shall follow the same general form that we used for Duke Jared,” the king said to Sir Michael in a low voice. “You may begin when you are ready, by informing me of the earl’s passing.”
Michael managed a curt nod, bowing his head briefly, then boldly lifted his eyes to those of the king.
“Sire, I regret to inform you of the passing of my father, Quentin Pirek-Haldane Earl of Carthane, in the hour just past, and request that you recognize me as his successor and permit me to enter into your homage for the lands now accruing to me. In token thereto, I surrender up my sword.”
Turning to retrieve his sword from his brother, Sir Michael offered it to the king across his two palms, and Brion duly received it and passed it into Duke Richard’s keeping. As Michael then offered up his joined hands, Brion clasped them between his own before nodding for the new earl to continue.
“I, Michael Pirek-Haldane Earl of Carthane, do enter your homage and become your liege man for Carthane. Faith and truth will I bear unto you and your lawful successors in all things, so help me God.”
“And I receive your homage most gladly, Michael Pirek-Haldane,” Brion replied gravely, “though I receive your news with a heavy heart. I acknowledge you as Earl of Carthane, and pledge you my loyalty and protection for so long as you keep faith with me and my house.”
With that, the king released the earl’s joined hands and, with only a flick of a glance toward Sir Innis, opened one hand to receive the signet ring that lately had adorned the hand of the old earl.
“Michael Earl of Carthane, receive this ring as a seal of fidelity to the oath you have sworn, and as a symbol of your authority,” he said, slipping it onto Michael’s left forefinger. “Receive, also, this coronet of your new rank, as a mark of my esteem and trust,” he went on, taking the coronet from Llion and setting it on Michael’s brow.
“And finally, as a sign of my charge to defend the lands I have entrusted to you, I return your sword to you.” He received the sword from Duke Richard and laid it across Michael’s hands. Michael kissed the crossing of hilt and blade and then thrust it into the hangers on his belt.
“All these charges I shall respect and keep in honor, my Liege,” Michael said steadily. “And now, with your permission, I beg leave to attend to my dead father, and pray that you will not long allow this sadness of mine to intrude upon the festivities of this house. There is a time for everything under heaven, and my father’s time is now with the angels.”
“Rise and go with God, Earl of Carthane,” the king said quietly, extending his right hand to the earl and raising him up to bestow a fierce embrace.
In answer, the earl bent to seize the royal hand and kiss it, then turned with tears in his eyes to join his brother and the men of Carthane who were gently shifting the old earl’s body onto a litter to take it from the hall. Silence followe
d the sad cortege as they made their way out, only slowly giving way to the murmur of comment when the doors had closed behind them.
In light of these developments, Jared decided to delay taking Duncan and Alaric as pages that day. The feast that followed court likewise was subdued.
Chapter 19
“If they obey and serve him, they shall spend their days in prosperity . . .”
—JOB 36:11
THE mild weather ushering in the new millennium did not last. A series of winter storms that swept in from the north and west left the mountain passes blocked and even the river roads all but impassable, well into February.
Accordingly, little further news of Meara arrived in Rhemuth for more than a month. Jamyl Arilan might have provided the king with more recent information, gleaned from his access to the Camberian Council, but he dared not even hint of such knowledge, lest he compromise his true identity. However, he did contrive to keep the Council apprised of the king’s reaction as further Mearan news at last began to trickle in to Rhemuth; the Council, in turn, gave Jamyl guidance on how to advise the king if he did, indeed, decide on the Mearan venture.
“We’ve finally had word that the Mearan marriage did take place,” Oisín informed Jamyl late one February night, as the latter slipped into his place at the great ivory table in the Council’s meeting chamber. It was just the two of them tonight, and Oisín looked tired in the wan light of the great crystal above their heads. “The weather has been atrocious, even over on the coast, but Morian managed to pick up some information.”
Jamyl sat back with a sigh, shaking his head. “So she went and married Delaney. Brion will be livid when he hears.”
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