by David Weber
"Normally, no." The ambassador's eyes gleamed with unmistakable delight. "In this instance, however, Her Majesty has personally authorized it. Moreover, the House of Lords has determined that your dignities as a noblewoman of a sovereign ally of the Kingdom will equate to those of an earl of the realm. Should you accept them—and Her Majesty's Government asks you to consider doing so most seriously—you will become Countess Harrington as well as Steadholder Harrington."
Honor stared at him, unable to believe a word of it yet unable to disbelieve, either, and felt Nimitz's tail twitch against her spine.
"I—" She paused once more, then shook her head and smiled crookedly. "Are you sure about this, Protector Benjamin?"
"I am. All of Grayson is."
"Then I suppose I have to accept. I mean," she blushed hotly, "I would be honored to accept."
"I know precisely what you mean, Captain. We've jumped out and bagged you without warning, and you'd really rather we did it to someone else, but you'll accept anyway." Her blush went wine-dark, and his smile became a grin. "On the other hand, this sort of thing sometimes happens to people who hold pistols to a government's head, and I think—" his grin grew positively wicked "—that once you get over the shock, the idea will grow on you."
She laughed. She had to, and he laughed with her.
"I don't deserve it, Sir, but thank you. Really."
"You're welcome—really. And now there's just one more little thing." He rose and gestured to her. "Stand please, Captain Harrington."
Honor obeyed, and the Protector extended his hand to Admiral Matthews, who drew a blood-red ribbon from a small, velvet case and draped it across his palm. An exquisitely wrought, many-rayed star of gold hung from its end, and the Protector shook the ribbon out almost reverently to display it.
"Captain Honor Harrington, it gives me more pleasure than I can possibly say, to present to you, in the name of the people of Grayson, the Star of Grayson, for heroism in the service of our world."
Honor inhaled and came to attention almost automatically, and Mayhew rose on his toes to loop the ribbon about her neck. He adjusted it with care, and the star's bright glory shone like a flame against her space-black tunic.
"This medal is our highest award for valor," he told her quietly. "Over the years, it has been worn by some truly extraordinary men, but never, I think, by one more extraordinary than the woman who has received it today."
A moment of utter silence filled the cabin, and then Langtry cleared his throat.
"And now, Captain," he said, "there's one more formality before you accompany Protector Benjamin and myself back planet-side for the formal treaty signing and your investiture as Steadholder."
Honor simply looked at him, too dazed by all that had happened to do anything else, and he smiled at her. Then he stepped back and opened the door to the admiral's dining cabin, and Alistair McKeon and Alice Truman walked through it, beaming as if to split their faces.
Honor's confusion was complete. She'd thought Alistair was still aboard Fearless, waiting with Scotty Tremaine and his other survivors to return to Manticore with her. But here he was in full mess dress—and where he'd gotten it when all his gear had gone up with Troubadour she couldn't begin to imagine—and carrying a sheathed sword. Alice was just as formally dressed, and she carried a small silk cushion.
She crossed the cabin and set the cushion on the decksole. Then she held out her hands, and to Honor's utter surprise Nimitz leapt lightly into them. Alice cradled the 'cat in her arms and stood back and came to attention as Alistair stopped at Langtry's elbow.
"Kneel, please, Captain." The ambassador gestured to the cushion, and she obeyed as if in a dream. Steel rasped as he drew the shining blade, and McKeon retired a half-pace behind him with the sheath and came to attention.
"By the authority vested in me as Her Majesty's Ambassador to Grayson and by Her express commission, acting for and in Her stead and as Knight Grand Cross of the Order of King Roger," Langtry said in his deep voice, "I bestow upon you the rank, title, prerogatives, and duties of Knight Companion of the Order of King Roger." The glittering steel touched her right shoulder lightly, then her left, then back to her right once more while she stared up at him. Then he smiled and lowered the blade once more.
"Rise, Dame Honor," he said softly, "and may your future actions as faithfully uphold the honor of the Queen as your past."
FB2 document info
Document ID: 09a35fa6-8123-4c85-9b81-af132018eaca
Document version: 1.1
Document creation date: 2003-04-05
Created using: EditPad Lite, FBTools, Any2fb2 software
Document authors :
Александр Карабанов (Терпеливый)
Source URLs :
http://lavka.lib.ru/
Document history:
v 1.0 — создание FB2 — Александр Карабанов.
v 1.1 — дополнительное форматирование — Alexandr.
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