Childe Morgan cm-2

by Katherine Kurtz

  «Oliver de Nore», Alyce said coldly. «I heard that he was named Auxiliary Bishop of Nyford over the summer, and it’s likely that he’ll be given a diocese of his own within the next few years. Both the archbishops like him, as do several of the other diocesan bishops — and that counts for a lot, when it comes time to fill vacancies».

  «A pity», Vera said, yawning again. «You’d think they’d see right through him…». She sighed. «But I don’t believe we shall resolve this tonight, dear Alyce. I must get some sleep. I return to my dear Jared in the morning. Several days from now, at any rate. I do love you, dearest sister».

  «And I, you», Alyce murmured, patting her sister’s hand, though she did not drift off until long after Vera’s breathing had shifted to that of deep slumber.

  Chapter 13

  «Rejoice not over thy greatest enemy being dead, but remember that we die all».[14]

  Some miles south, in the king’s private withdrawing room in Rhemuth Castle, the candles burned far later as Kenneth and the king also discussed the very troublesome Bishop Oliver de Nore. Kenneth had briefed the king for several hours immediately after his return, recounting everything he could remember of the encounter at Hallowdale. Sir Xander had also been present for the first part of the briefing, but when he could offer nothing additional, Donal had dismissed him — and then had stormed around the confines of the chamber like a caged lion, swearing fluently and occasionally kicking chair legs or remnants of kindling on the hearth.

  «So, will you do something about it?» Kenneth asked, when the king had finally wound down from his initial tirade and asked him to retell the story one more time, to be certain he had all the facts straight.

  Donal stiffened, leaning on a windowsill to gaze outside at the lowering twilight, then let out a long breath in a sigh of frustrated defeat.

  «There frankly isn’t much I can do», he admitted reluctantly. «Unfortunately, de Nore is the archbishops’ business. He is under their authority, and they are practically a law unto themselves, when it comes to matters of faith».

  «Sire…»

  «No, listen to me. You saw how they reacted after that whole miserable situation surrounding Krispin’s murder. God knows, you and Alyce were a part of it. She was, at any rate. It isn’t often that a king has to grovel before a pack of priests, but I groveled. It was the only way to get the Interdict lifted, because I did kill one of their own — or rather, I ordered him killed; it’s much the same thing, when you’re a king. I still was responsible, even if I didn’t execute him with my own hand».

  «It is part of a king’s right and duty to exercise the High Justice, Sire», Kenneth said stiffly. «God’s law allows for that. In fact, sometimes God’s law requires that, if a king is to do his duty to his people. That duty is assumed when the archbishop anoints the new king with holy chrism, confirming his right and duty to rule with justice. And then the king lays his consecrated hand upon the sacred Scriptures and swears an oath to do just that, in justice and honor».

  «I know that, dammit!»

  «I know that you know it, Sire. I was there when you swore that oath, all those years ago, and I know that you meant and mean to honor it. But those men in Hallowdale — and women, God help them! — took the law into their own hands. They took it upon themselves to act as judge, jury, and executioners, and we shall never know whether their victims really were Deryni, or had really done anything untoward, or had done anything besides being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Where is the justice in that, Sire? Where is your duty to protect and defend your people, even against bishops, who are also your subjects?»

  * * *

  They were questions with no easy answers, given the circumstances of the incident at Hallowdale. Kenneth’s more official report, somewhat cooler for having slept on it, quickly polarized opinions in the crown council, when they learned of it the next day. Especially summoned to the meeting was the Archbishop of Rhemuth, who did not always attend; but when confronted regarding the probable role of one of his bishops, Archbishop William would only defend Oliver de Nore and assert that his brother bishop could not be held responsible for how uneducated peasants interpreted the sermons preached by his circuit priests.

  Kenneth, for his part, would not back down from what he had witnessed with his own eyes; and Sir Trevor as well, long in the king’s confidence despite his youth, corroborated the accounts of Kenneth and Xander, when he returned to Rhemuth a few days later with Alyce and Alaric and the rest of Kenneth’s household.

  The matter clearly was not ended. In an effort to clarify exactly what had occurred, and who was responsible, the king did send a commission of inquiry to Hallowdale early in November, but those interviewed stuck doggedly to their assertion that those burned had been discovered to be notorious Deryni, well deserving of their fate, and the villagers had only been following the exhortations of a traveling preacher.

  The king had even taken the precaution of sending along Sir Morian du Joux, the Deryni brother of the woman who had borne the ill-fated Krispin. Summoned to the capital from his usual assignment at the court of the royal governor of Meara, and proven loyal through service to the king on numerous occasions in the field of battle, Morian was little known east of Rhemuth, and had been instructed merely to observe the questioning of the villagers of Hallowdale, employing his powers only to detect lies. Kenneth was not permitted to accompany him, for the council thought him too biased, but the king did send Duke Richard, who alone of the commission was aware of Morian’s unique talents — and the danger he faced, if the local folk should realize what he was, in that emotionally charged atmosphere.

  But Morian was never detected, and the testimonies appeared to have been truthful, as far as they went, given the villagers’ rife superstition, misinformation, and lack of sophistication. By all the evidence available, both Richard and Morian concluded that the man and woman executed by the villagers probably had, indeed, been Deryni, even if the exact nature of their alleged crimes could not be determined. (No one would comment on the alleged execution of a child, and Morian had been forbidden to press the issue.) The role of the preacher and even his exact identity remained unclear, and the man had moved on, in any case. Which left the inquiry largely where it had begun.

  It was all mostly over by early December. After due reflection on the results of the inquiry, and another meeting with Archbishop William, attended by Duke Richard as well, the king reluctantly was obliged to put the matter aside — though he did promise Kenneth and Alyce privately that if further such incidents came to his attention, he would take a more aggressive stance. It was not what Kenneth had hoped, but he, too, had to put the matter aside, as king and council settled back into the routine of governing through the short days and long nights of winter. The subject of Hallowdale still arose occasionally — though more for the offense against the king’s authority than the fate of the victims. But gradually the ministers’ energies shifted back to a more comfortable and commonplace succession of advisory meetings with the king, mild court intrigues, and the occasional serious discussion of trade treaties and border disputes. All of this was punctuated by bouts of arms practice moved into the great hall, as the weather worsened, the occasional hunt, and many a less formal discussion before the fires in the great hall, of an evening after dinner. An ongoing topic of happier speculation was the celebration being planned for the following June, to mark Prince Brion’s coming of age.

  The king’s other children were also a focus for Alyce’s attention in those months leading into Advent, and especially the ones nearer Alaric’s age. After returning from Arc-en-Ciel, Alyce had fallen back into her role as wife and mother, advisor to her husband concerning Lendour and Corwyn — and thereby, advisor to the king regarding these regions — and companion to the queen. She had also obtained permission to enroll Alaric for the schooling given the royal princes and princesses and the children of the queen’s other ladies.

  Despite all of this, Alyce found those mont
hs of waning autumn and early winter bleak and lonely, for Kenneth had been all but obsessed by his quest for justice in Hallowdale. She did receive frequent letters from Zoë, assuring her of her happiness and the fulfillment she felt, working at Jovett’s side — and late in November, joyful news of Zoë’s first pregnancy — but the letters only made Alyce feel the absence of her heart-sister more keenly, even though she and the queen soon picked up the former intimacy of their friendship and became nearly inseparable. It helped, but she still missed Zoë and the companionship they had shared for so many years — and Vera, whose kinship she must never allow to be discovered. Even Kenneth did not know.

  It was as mother to a bright and active young son that she found her greatest fulfillment, as he became less and less her baby and more and more a person. Alaric was quick and facile, a mannerly child, and easily kept up with other boys half again his age. Prince Brion and his brother Nigel were enough older than Alaric that they paid him little mind, save to include him in the teasing they gave their younger brother and their sisters, but Alaric and all the younger children interacted well. He longed to begin his page’s training, though he was yet too young for that, but he relished the lessons he shared with the royal princes and the sons of some of the favored courtiers. All the royal children were thriving, with the youngest now three years old — a matter of some concern to the queen, for there had been no royal pregnancy since Jathan.

  The prospect of a brother or sister for Alaric was much on his parents’ minds as well, as the nights grew longer and the weather worsened, for Alaric had also turned three, a week before Prince Jathan, and Alyce had yet to conceive again. Periodic reports on the progress of Zoë’s pregnancy only underlined Alyce’s own failure, and she worried that she had, indeed, miscarried earlier in the year; but she suspected that Kenneth’s ongoing fervor over the incident at Hallowdale was also taking its toll.

  «You must let it go, my darling», she told him one wintry night early in December. «You must accept that there are some things that you simply cannot change, however much your honor cries out for justice. We Deryni have long been aware of this inequity. Come; we shall light a candle for those unfortunate victims, and then let them rest in peace, for they surely are in the bosom of God’s love».

  He agreed to make the gesture, and went with her hand in hand down drafty and deserted corridors to the chapel royal in fleece-lined slippers and heavy night robes bundled over nightshirts and sleeping shifts, there to light a solitary candle against the darkness and weep together by its light, holding one another against the grief and the fear, for it could have been Alyce burnt at the stake in that distant village, or another like it — or even in the cathedral square of Rhemuth itself, if she were ever discovered in flagrant transgression against the narrow strictures set by the bishops against those of her kind.

  Later when they had returned to their chamber, their urgent lovemaking was silent and even violent, as if Kenneth tried, by sheer force of will and flesh, to imbue his wife with something of his fierce protection and strength, though he knew that, if the unthinkable occurred, he might not be able to protect her as he had done before their marriage.

  It was a sober winding-down of what had been a year punctuated both by joy and by sorrow. Alyce had hoped that she might have conceived on that night, to cancel out some of the sorrow with hope and new life, but the next weeks of waiting did not prove it so. As Advent counted down to the eve of Christmas, the weather grew increasingly foul, and it became clear that even the rebirth of the Light would be cloaked in gloom.

  The king and his family kept the feast of Christmas quietly that year, as befitted the religious aspect of the season, but a ferocious ice storm during the night of Christmas itself curtailed the appearance of the royal family at the cathedral the next morning for the traditional St. Stephen’s Day Mass and distribution of royal largesse afterward. It was a far cry from that other St. Stephen’s Day when Kenneth Morgan had finally summoned the courage to make his proposal of marriage to Alyce de Corwyn, but the two of them made a virtue of the weather as an excuse to keep mostly to their apartments that day, while Llion amused their son.

  On the day following, the Feast of Holy Innocents, the weather improved enough — barely — for the queen and her ladies to venture down to the cathedral at midday with the delayed largesse, for many of the people of the city depended on this bounty from the royal coffers to survive the winter. A resolute Prince Brion assisted his mother and her ladies in distributing the gifts of food and silver pennies from the cathedral steps, well wrapped up against the weather in fur-lined hat and cloak and stout boots, but the younger children they left in the care of those responsible for their supervision when parents could not be around.

  For Alaric, that meant stalking the castle halls with the younger princes and several of the junior squires, overseen by Sir Llion. The king had already rescheduled his customary petitioners’ court until the morning of Twelfth Night, though he still would hold it on the steps of the cathedral, and had planned a day’s hunting while the queen carried out her royal duties; but he and his party returned after only a few hours, wet and half-frozen and without success in the field.

  The weather deteriorated steadily in the week leading up to Twelfth Night Court, such that it became clear that many of those normally expected would not be able to complete the winter journey to Rhemuth. On the eve of Epiphany, however, an exhausted and half-frozen rider arrived from Coroth with news that soon would dominate nearly every conversation within the walls of Rhemuth Castle.

  «An urgent dispatch from the Corwyn regents, Sire», the messenger blurted out, even as he half-collapsed to one knee before the startled king and extended a sealed dispatch in a gloved hand that shook from cold and fatigue. It was Sir Robert of Tendal, Kenneth realized, as the young man pulled off his fur-lined cap, son of the Chancellor of Corwyn. «The Crown Prince of Torenth is dead!»

  «Prince Nimur? He’s dead?» Donal repeated, shocked. He and Richard and Kenneth and a few of his other closest advisors had been finalizing the schedule for the next day’s court ceremonials around a table set before the fire in the king’s withdrawing room, fortified by steaming cups of mulled wine. At Sir Robert’s bald announcement, however, every face had turned first toward the gasping newcomer, then toward the king, mouths agape.

  «Tell me what you know», Donal ordered, at the same time breaking the seal and unfolding the missive. «Richard, pour him some wine, and someone give him a seat closer to the fire».

  Still breathing heavily, numbly fumbling his way to the stool that Jiri Redfearn quickly vacated, Sir Robert peeled off his sodden gloves and gratefully accepted the mulled wine that Duke Richard set between his hands, nodding his thanks as Kenneth removed his own cloak and draped it close around the man’s shoulders.

  «I know very little beyond what is in the letter, Sire», Sir Robert said, after an audible gulp of the warm wine, as the king scanned the letter. «The Hort of Orsal sent what word we have. His envoy said that rumors had reached the Orsal’s court midway through December that the prince was ill. Given the vague nature of the report, and the state of the weather at this time of year, that alone did not seem to justify sending urgent word to Coroth or to you». He paused to fortify himself with another gulp of wine, then set aside the cup and held his shaking hands closer to the fire.

  «Then, four days ago, a fast galley arrived in Coroth with word that Prince Nimur had died, just before Christmas, and that Prince Károly had been proclaimed the new heir, to be installed at Torenthály on the first day of the new year».

  «Károly?» Lord Seisyll blurted, as Donal gaped in astonishment. «Not Prince Torval?»

  Sir Robert shook his head, still collecting himself. «There was no mention of Prince Torval».

  «But Károly is the third son. How can that be?» Duke Richard murmured.

  «I don’t know», Donal replied, numbly handing the missive to his brother. «Something must have happened to Torval as wel
l. There is no mention of him in Sobbon’s letter. But as news of Prince Nimur’s death spreads, I have no doubt that further details will eventually become available».

  «Perhaps from a Torenthi ambassador at tomorrow’s court, Sire», Seisyll murmured distantly, though he could guess at the cause of Nimur’s death, and thought he might have access to more immediate information that, unfortunately, could not be shared with the king.

  Donal sighed, briefly gazing into the fire as if far, far away.

  «A chilling thought has come to my mind», he said after a few seconds. «One perhaps not worthy of me, in the face of another father’s undoubted grief over the death of his son». At his ministers’ looks of question, he went on. «Prince Nimur was in his prime, trained from birth to be a king one day. He would have made my heir a formidable adversary. Károly is a decade younger than his brother was, and would never have expected to be the heir. That could make all the difference, when I am gone».

  Murmurs of agreement whispered through the room, along with protests that the king’s demise was surely far in the future, all subsiding as the king rose.

  «We’ve done enough for tonight», Donal said, heading for the door. «I must think further on this new development. This undoubtedly will unsettle the balance of power in Torenth. Pray God that it delays any realistic plans for making a move against Gwynedd».

  * * *

  The king’s early adjournment of their meeting enabled Seisyll Arilan to begin his own inquiries immediately, regarding the death of Torenth’s crown prince. Fortunately, Michon de Courcy was always resident in Rhemuth at this time of year, because of Twelfth Night Court; and this year, unlike the previous year, Seisyll had been able to arrange for Michon to occupy the guest room next to the king’s library, where the castle’s Portal lay.