«I see more babies up there!» Blaine cried.
At the same time, Brion started to turn the bird over for a closer look at the markings on its throat, but Krispin recoiled, wrinkling up his nose in disgust.
«Ugh, it's got crawly things on it! Leave it alone!»
Brion abandoned the bird at once, wiping both hands against his crimson tunic, and Blaine hastily backed off a step, lower lip a-quiver. He collided with the crouching Michon, who slipped a comforting arm around him and also took the opportunity to do the same to Krispin.
«It's all right, son. That's part of nature's way», he said, reassuring young Blaine and, at the same time, quickly daring a very gentle touch of the other boy's mind — and then a deeper probe, when the first touch seemed not to be noticed. «Do you think we ought to bury him?»
«That's a good idea», Brion said. Already showing signs of leadership, he immediately started to scoop out a suitable hole with his bare hands.
«Maybe he's just sleeping», young Blaine said hopefully, as he watched his brother dig.
«No, I'm afraid he's dead, son», Michon replied.
«But — why did he falled out of the nest?» Blaine insisted. «Why didn't the mama bird or the papa bird help him?»
«I'm sure they wanted to», Michon assured him, redirecting the boy's attention to the adult swallows watching from above. «I'm sure they're very sad. Don't you see them looking down at us? They're watching to make sure we take good care of their baby».
«Oh», said Blaine, apparently satisfied with this explanation.
«Shouldn't we wrap him in something soft then, before we bury him?» Krispin asked, turning to look at Michon. «I can get a handkerchief from Mama…».
«I have another idea», Michon replied, for he did not want the boy to go just yet. «Birds are nature's creatures. Why don't you line his little grave with leaves, or flower petals? That would make him a very soft bed».
«An' it will make him smell better, too!» Brion said, looking up with a pixie grin as he continued to scoop fresh earth. «Blaine, you go get some flowers».
As Blaine raced off to pillage the nearest rosebush, ruthlessly pulling off the heads of several blown blooms, Krispin glanced up again at Michon, still taking comfort from his embrace.
«You know a lot about birds, don't you, sir?» he asked.
«Well, I know a lot about a few things and a little about a lot of things», Michon admitted. «I do know that your particular bird would have grown up to be a very fine swallow. I love watching them wheel in the sun…».
And as Blaine returned and the three boys set about shredding roses and lining the little grave, Michon continued to crouch among them to encourage and advise — and was able to probe undetected into young Krispin's mind, discovering most of what he had come there to learn.
Chapter 12
«Thy men shall fall by the sword, and thy mighty in the war».[13]
I've finally managed a look at Krispin MacAthan», Michon announced to the Camberian Council a few days later, accessing their meeting place from the Portal at Rhemuth Cathedral. «I cannot tell you for certain that he is Donal Haldane's son; but I can tell you that I do not believe Sief can have been his father».
After deflecting their startled flurry of questions and demands for clarification, he reached his arms to either side to link hands with Barrett and Vivienne, flanking him left and right, and waited while the others did likewise, drawing them quickly into a deep rapport that enabled them to share what he had learned. When they came out of the trance, his fellow councilors glanced uneasily among themselves, uncertain what it all meant.
«Far more useful, of course, would have been to question Jessamy directly», Michon reminded them. «Krispin himself knows nothing of the man whose name he bears, save what he has been told. And if Donal Haldane is his father, I still have no idea how that came to pass».
«In the usual way, one would assume», Oisín murmured, in a droll aside to Seisyll.
«Whatever his paternity», Michon went on, ignoring the remark, «we are fortunate, indeed, that Krispin MacAthan — or Krispin Haldane, as he probably should be called — exhibits none of the worrying characteristics that made his grandfather so dangerous. Nor does he seem to favor his mother, in that regard. If anything, he somewhat reminds me of Morian — who will need to be told that he need not pursue our previous request», he added, with a glance at Oisín. «All things considered, his Deryni heritage, combined with whatever it is that makes the Haldanes so curiously formidable, seems to have produced a child of quite interesting potential».
Dominy raised an elegant eyebrow. «Pray, define 'interesting, in this context», she said.
Several of them smiled ruefully at that, and Michon shrugged. «The boy is only three. If we cannot bend him to our purposes, he can always be eliminated later on. But this one bears watching, I think. Actually, the boy is nearly of an age to begin his training as a page — which means that he will be far more accessible in the future. Accordingly, it might be profitable for Seisyll to watch for opportunities to gain his friendship».
«I have been doing that for the past three years», Seisyll replied, «but it is true that he should become more accessible in the future. And it's a relief to know that we need make no immediate decisions».
«There is another decision that will require our attention sooner rather than later», Michon went on. «I saw Keryell's girls while I was at Arc-en-Ciel. They've both become quite the beauties».
«Probably as well, then, that they are locked away in a convent for now», Dominy said mildly. «What are they now? Maybe fifteen or so?»
«Fourteen and fifteen», Barrett replied. «Ripe enough for marriage».
«Yes, well», Seisyll muttered. 'The last time I spoke to Keryell about his plans for them, he was quite willing to be guided by our recommendations. And I can guide the king, of course. I have him thinking about several likely candidates who would inject the right Deryni blood into the Corwyn line».
«Those matches aren't nearly as critical as they once might have been», Oisín pointed out. «Rather, we should be thinking about a match for their brother Ahern. He is easing nicely into the promise of his line, and his father has been campaigning him rather heavily the past year or so. When the time comes, he should make quite a formidable Duke of Corwyn».
Vivienne had been nodding as he spoke. «Ah, yes. Surprisingly good bloodlines. I know that no one was pleased when Keryell seized Stevana de Corwyn and married her by force, but the outcome has been most salubrious — and even Keryell himself seems to have come around to the discipline of the Council».
«Perhaps we should send him on a mission to Carthane», Dominy said. «Something must be done about Bishop Oliver de Nore…»
* * *
But for Donal Haldane, while Carthane and its Deryni persecutions remained a troublesome source of periodic unrest, it was westward that he looked with increasing uneasiness, for Meara remained yet unsettled. His sons were thriving, the harvests plentiful, and with the decade at its mid-point, even Nimur of Torenth seemed to have turned his aspirations away from Gwynedd, campaigning eastward past Arjenol that season. By September of 1085, when Queen Richeldis presented Donal with the dainty daughter she had longed for, christened Xenia, the king could look back on several seasons of peace, though most of the year to date had been bracketed with military readiness.
That spring, acting on rumors of growing unrest in Meara, Donal had appointed his half-brother, Duke Richard, to assume active field command of the Gwyneddan Army. Richard, in turn, had spent the summer organizing the Gwynedd levies and drilling the standing units — and to good purpose, for August had seen a royal birth in Meara: a son, to the Princess Onora, who was daughter of the present Mearan pretender, Prince Judhael.
The birth of a male heir had rekindled Mearan aspirations to independence, even though the marriage of Donal's father with Roisian of Meara was to have settled the Mearan succession after the death of her fat
her without male issue. Prince Judhael was Roisian's nephew, son of the Princess Annalind, who had been Roisian's twin.
But the widow of the last prince, the Dowager Princess Urracca, had promoted the cause of Annalind, the younger twin, over that of Roisian, whom she deemed a traitor to her land for having married Malcolm Haldane. All three were now long dead — mother and both daughters — but Annalind's son Judhael had begun to attract renewed support among Mearan separatists. During that winter following the birth of Judhael’s grandson, his wife — who was Llanneddi, aunt to Queen Richeldis — wrote several times to her niece in Rhemuth, warning that, if a Mearan accommodation could not be reached, their respective husbands were headed for war.
All through that winter and into the spring of 1086, much of the gossip and speculation at the court of Rhemuth was focused on the prospect of rebellion brewing in the west. At midsummer, the king gave his brother Richard a commission as acting viceroy of Meara and sent him to Ratharkin to set up a court of inquiry, with instructions to enlist the full assistance of the Lady Jessamy's brother, Sir Morian du Joux. By this, he meant Deryni assistance.
Serving as the prince's advisors and staff were Lord Seisyll Arilan, Sir Kenneth Morgan, and Keryell Earl of Lendour, who brought along his son Ahern. In addition, the king sent summons of array to two of his earls whose holdings lay near Meara's borders, and who thus had a personal interest in holding the peace in Meara: Jared of Kierney and Caulay of Transha, both of them in their youthful prime and both bringing small but powerful levies to enforce the king's authority, if necessary. Finally, as a sign of his personal authority, the king also sent along a squadron of Haldane lancers.
By Lammastide, Duke Richard had assembled his team in Ratharkin and begun to hear grievances. By Michaelmas, it had become clear that most or the Mearan complaints were groundless or trivial, and that the Mearans were but wasting the court's time.
Matters came to a head late in October, though the aftermath fell just short of all-out war. It was Keryell and Ahern who, on the eve of the Feast of All Saints, just managed to foil an assassination plot that might have claimed Richard, the royal governor, and perhaps several more high-ranking Gwyneddan men — except that Ahern de Corwyn had chanced to detect the rebels' intentions before they could be fully carried out, he being young and, therefore, not fully under their suspicion. Nor was it widely known in Meara that he and his father were Deryni.
The concerted response by the king's men was enough to prevent serious harm to Richard himself, but not enough to save Keryell and several Haldane lancers who were cut down in the fighting. Two of the assassins were also killed outright.
«How could this have happened?» Richard whispered, nursing a badly bruised hand in his chambers that night with Seisyll, Morian, and the two young earls whose levies had provided the military force for a successful defense. Sir Kenneth Morgan, tonight acting as Richard's aide, was pouring wine for all of them, and sported a bloodied bandage across his forehead and a blackened right eye. «Jared, how many others did we lose?»
«Five of your Haldane lancers, two of my own, and one of Caulay's, your Highness», Jared replied, «and we could lose several more from their wounds. Keryell's boy may lose a leg. The knee was shattered».
«Damn!» Shaking his head, Richard let it fall heavily onto his undamaged hand. «Bad enough, to lose his father. And now, if he lives, he'll be a cripple all his days».
«Your Highness, this canna be allowed tae go unpunished», Earl Caulay said, his border brogue thick with emotion, for the man he had lost had been a cousin. «If ye dinna nip it in the bud right now, there'll be another full-scale rebellion within five years, mark my words».
«I agree», Seisyll said. «The plot obviously had been long in the planning, and it very nearly succeeded. It seems clear that they were after you — and that is a direct attack on the king your brother».
«I can't argue with that», Richard said. «How many prisoners have we?»
«Eight», Morian replied promptly. «And we killed another ten».
«Did many escape, do you think?» Richard asked.
Seisyll exchanged a glance with Morian. The two of them had gone among the prisoners a few hours earlier, reading their guilt.
«I doubt it», Seisyll said.
«Most of the prisoners are known trouble-makers», Morian added.
Richard slowly lifted his head. At thirty, he was a seasoned warrior, already with a reputation on and off the field, but in this hour he looked far older.
«I am minded to hang them all, gentlemen», he said, «for only by sharp example may we hope to discourage future treachery of this sort. I do not doubt that Caulay is right: that we shall have to mount another punitive expedition here within the next few years. But stern measures now might postpone it a while longer». He sighed. «I like it not, that I must be the one to send word of our losses to my brother. I had not thought to lose him an earl on this mission, and especially not…»
His vague sigh in the direction of Morian made it clear that he was regretting the loss of Keryell's Deryni skills as well as the man himself. The others exchanged grim glances, but when no one else spoke up, Sir Kenneth said gently, «Shall I prepare the execution order, your Highness?»
* * *
Word of what Richard had caused to be done reached Rhemuth on a wet and blustery morning some five days later, though he and his returning troops — and the bodies of the slain — would not arrive for another fortnight. With the news from Ratharkin came lists: those killed or executed in the king's name and those who had died in his service.
Donal received the report, both verbal and written, in the snug withdrawing room behind the screens at the end of the great hall, and immediately called for an aide and a clark. Sir Kenneth Morgan had brought the news, muddy and rain-bedraggled, and shifted uneasily from one booted foot to the other as the king read, wringing rain from a sodden hank of sandy hair pulled back at his nape. Doing his best to stifle a sneeze, he let a squire exchange his dripping cloak for a warm, dry blanket and sat as Donal waved him to a stool set close before the fire, gratefully accepting the cup of mulled wine a page thrust into his fist.
«How bad is it really, Kenneth?» the king asked, still scanning the lists.
«Bad enough, Sire», Kenneth replied. «We were very, very lucky that our losses weren't worse».
As Kenneth closed cold-numbed fingers around his cup and took a long pull at his wine, Donal said, «I see here that you and Keryell may well have saved my brother's life — that you were the heroes of the day. Did you know that Richard said that in this letter?»
Kenneth nearly choked on his wine, looking up in surprise mixed with faint discomfiture. A knight of only minor holdings, about to turn forty, he had been the king's loyal servant for more than half his life — still well fit for field or council table, but hitherto quietly resigned that fame and fortune were unlikely to be his.
«I'll take that as a "no"», Donal said, quirking him a faint smile.
«I but did my duty, Sire, as I would have done for you», Kenneth said, when he had stopped coughing.
«Well, you did it very well, and I'll not forget. Now, go get yourself a hot meal and a bed». As Sir Kenneth rose to do the king's bidding, the summoned men entered, the aide saluting with fist to breast and the clark bowing over the writing case clutched to his chest.
«Again, well done», Donal said, as the exhausted man took his leave. «Tiarnán, I have just received ill news from Ratharkin», he went on, beckoning the aide closer. «Who are Earl Keryell's stewards in Lendour and Corwyn, in his absence?»
«In Corwyn, that would be the seneschal of Coroth, my Liege», the aide replied, glancing after Sir Kenneth. «For Lendour, I don't know; I would need to make inquiries. Has something happened to Earl Keryell?»
«Unfortunately, it has». Donal handed Tiarnán the lists he had just received. «There was an assassination attempt. Richard is safe, and he hanged all the perpetrators, but Keryell is slain, and
five lancers, along with several others from Kierney and Transha. Keryell's son is gravely wounded. I'll ask you to notify the families of the lancers; their names are there». He nodded toward the lists in Tiarnán's hand. «Father Farian will help you with the necessary letters, and I'll need to send some of my own. As for Keryell's daughters, I think that warrants more personal attention». He rose and stepped into the corridor to summon a page.
«Ivone, please ask Lady Jessamy to attend us», he said. Tell her I shall need her to ride to Arc-en-Ciel at once. And have Sir Jiri Redfearn assemble a suitable escort. It's vile weather to send her out, but this kind of news comes best from another woman — at least the bare bones of it».
As the page scurried off to carry out the king's instructions, Tiarnán quickly scanned down the lists, grim-faced, shaking his head.
«Ill news, indeed, Sire. I recognize several of these names — on both sides. And with Ahern injured and still under-age, it occurs to me that you'll need regencies in Lendour and Corwyn. Do you wish me to summon the appropriate men?»
Donal shook his head. «Not at this time. Just advise the stewards what has happened, and say that I have taken Corwyn and Lendour directly under my protection for the nonce, pending more permanent arrangements. If young Ahern doesn't live, Keryell's daughters are about to become very important heiresses».
* * *
The page who summoned Jessamy to join the king did not know the reason, but his instructions that she was to prepare to ride to Arc-en-Ciel told her that it must concern Alyce and Marie, or possibly Zoë Morgan, whose fathers were presently on assignment in Ratharkin. Everyone at court knew the precarious nature of Duke Richard's mission in Meara, and what other high-ranking lords were in his party.
The king was dictating to Father Farian when she entered the room, now dressed to accommodate the freezing rain outside. Nearby, Sir Tiarnán MacRae was busy with his own pen and parchments. One look at their faces warned her that the news must be bad, indeed.
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