by Candy Rae
“But it is not your marriage specifically that I asked you to come and see me,” said the Crown-Prince. “The wedding will not happen until next summer and you don’t need to be here for the betrothal ceremony. A proxy will do as well. I know what it is like to be a young man with little to occupy his time. I have therefore decided that you will perform a series of visits.”
“Visits?” asked an intrigued Elliot, Isobel Cocteau forgotten. “Visits where? To the Islands?”
“Not just to the Islands although that will be a part of it.”
Where?” demanded Elliot.
The Crown-Prince looked hard at his son. “When I was your age I was sent on a tour, a State Tour. As well as visiting, in detail, each and every one of the duchies …”
Elliot groaned. “I’ve been to them all and I’d rather not again until I have to. Being in Sahara is like dancing on hot coals.”
His father laughed.
“Not Sahara, though that is an idea for a later date. State visits to the Dukes of the Western and Eastern Isles are long overdue as is one to the Earls of Galland.”
Elliot groaned again.
“I don’t think I want to.”
“Want is not an option. You’re seventeen son, time to undertake your royal responsibilities.”
Elliot looked blue. He had been looking forward to a fine time now that he was finished with the schoolroom. His father continued. “It is time you took a share of such duties, tiresome and onerous as they may seem. They are a necessary part of kingship and the sooner you get used to it the better. I can’t go, your grandfather is getting on and isn’t well. The Duke of Kirkton now, it is imperative that he receive a visit. The Eastern Isles have always been that bit more traditional than the Western Isles, I believe a member of that ruling house is married to a young person from Vadath, but let’s not take any chances.”
“Are they paired with a Lind?” asked an excited Elliot. “Who is it?”
“Don’t interrupt boy, now a state visit will do very nicely. It will remind the Island Dukes of where their loyalties lie. I know how boring such visits can be, especially at your age, but …”
“But what?”
His father looked pleased with what he was suggesting. “How about an extension to this ‘tour’ by a few months?
“A holiday?”
“Not exactly, but what about a fact-finding holiday to the northern continent?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was thinking that perhaps you and one or two of your Companions, under the nominal charge of someone older might like to go on an incognito tour round Argyll. You should understand more than you can learn from textbooks about our northern neighbours. Knowing your friends and enemies is the secret to a long lifespan Elliot. Politically we and the north are poles apart but I think you should see what is underneath. ”
“That’s a wonderful idea Father.” Elliot thought for a moment. “You said someone older. Who?” He had had a sudden vision of an elderly guardian being foisted on him, spoiling his adventure.
“Well,” Crown-Prince Paul’s eyes twinkled. “Someone old enough to control you all but young enough to have some fun. What about Baron Philip Ross?
“Your own bodyguard? You must be joking. He’d be no fun at all.”
“How little you know him,” murmured the Crown-Prince. “Yes, I think he will do fine. He is not too old, but he is old enough to counter the objections I foresee in Conclave. He has the rank which should keep old Gardiner happy and he can protect you which will please the Lord Marshall.”
Elliot looked sulky. He had been imagining a fine time and now it looked as if this fun was likely to be curtailed. Baron Philip Ross was not noted for his sense of humour.
“Either Baron Ross or you don’t go at all,” his father warned.
Elliot understood.
He bowed to his father and went looking for James Cocteau to tell him about the wonderful news and to ask about his young sister.
Having decided that Baron Philip Ross must be in charge of the tour, the Crown-Prince sent for him to tell him. The Lord Marshall was also at the interview and he took the opportunity to express his concerns about the continuing safety of the Prince-Heir although he was careful to mention no names.
Baron Philip Ross was an intelligent man, he had been in the Crown-Prince’s service for over a decade; he understood something of what was behind the words and drew his own conclusions.
“I’ll take good care of him My Prince, Lord Marshall,” he promised.
“Elliot will want to take young James Cocteau with him,” said the Crown-Prince, acknowledging Philip Ross’s words with a nod of understanding, “a scatterbrain but a nice enough lad, for the other I am not sure, I’m hoping that you can guide him in the matter.”
“I’ll try,” said Philip Ross. “I think one other only, a small party will have more change to remain undetected.”
“No chance of that,” Peter Duchesne said, “detected but observed to be unimportant must be your aim.”
“Right, go for it,” ordered the Crown-Prince. “Four. No servants. It will be good for him,” he added with an enigmatic smile which both Peter Duchesne and Philip Ross returned, realising what Prince Paul had in mind for his seventeen year old son.
Elliot flung himself into a frenzy or preparation.
His first decision was which two Companions he would take with him, a decision that was fraught with much soul searching because whichever two he chose, three would be disappointed. Although a retinue would accompany them on their visit to the Islands, as soon as the party took ship for Argyll the servants would be sent home.
Elliot’s father believed his son needed to ‘toughen up’. A few months without servants running around catering to his every fancy and whim should go a long way of ridding the heir of his indolent habits. Part of the new regime was to force the Prince to help make the decision about who was to accompany them.
That James Cocteau would go was a given but he was due to marry soon; still Elliot decided, newly married or not, he would give James first refusal. James Cocteau was his best friend. Besides, Elliot liked James and wanted him with him. The choice of the other companion was more difficult but Elliot eventually chose Kellen Derek Merriman, a lad a year older than him and James. Although Philip Ross had not mentioned this to his royal charge, Derek Merriman was an excellent swordsman. This would be very useful if, as the Lord Marshall had hinted, there was an assassination attempt on the Prince-Heir.
It was the end of the month before all the arrangements were in place and the party ready to set out. Elliot was anxious to be gone and easily persuaded his father that they should not take the royal barge to the coast.
“It will be quicker by horse,” he argued.
“It will be quicker and safer,” Baron Ross added.
Crown-Prince Paul agreed, although he was still not convinced of the truth behind the Lord Marshall’s warning about his brother.
The four, with a bodyguard, retinue and outriders would travel overland to Castle Duchesne where they would take ship to the Eastern Isles. After a tenday there they were to spend the same amount of time with the Dukes of the Western Isles before moving on to the island where was situated the seat of government of the Galland Confederation. After these visits, to which Elliot was resigned, he, James Cocteau, Derek Merriman and Philip Ross would take ship on an armed merchantman when their adventures would begin in earnest.
Elliot, James and Derek may have been looking for adventure but Philip Ross was not. It was a great responsibility to be put in charge of the Prince-Heir of Murdoch. He was hoping for a nice educational, unadventurous journey along the Southern Trade Route (perhaps a visit to Vada if that could be arranged), north up the Middle River Trade Route to Stewarton then west again towards Port Lutterell to take a ship home. If he had known what was ahead it was possible he might have refused to go, but he didn’t so he said his goodbyes to his wife and children with an equamity born of a li
fetime in royal service and in the belief that he would see them all again at year’s turn.
There was one change to the arrangements. Conclave decided, after due deliberation that Elliot must attend the betrothal ceremony. The event was scheduled for the first day of Lokrhed, the day before Elliot was to leave for the Islands.
* * * * *
Chapter 4
AL607 - Third Month of Summer (Lokrhed)
Elliot and Isobel
Elliot was in an advanced state of nervousness. He returned from his daily session in sword work under the eagle eye of the Royal Arms Master, hot and sweaty under his armour and in much need of a bath.
As he stomped into his quarters he saw with relief that his servants had prepared the bathing chamber. Steam was escaping from underneath the door and Elliot could smell the pleasing aroma of the herbs they had added to the hot water. Two servants were waiting to divest him of the armour and others were preparing the hot towels and his clothes.
In another part of the palace Isobel was making her own preparations. She was also in a fluttering state of nervous anticipation. This was the afternoon of her betrothal when Elliot, Prince-Heir of the Kingdom of Murdoch would plight his troth.
Her ladies for the day were in attendance. They were dressed in cream velvet.
Isobel stood in the antechamber, outwardly serene and allowed Kellessa Anne Fullarton to make minute changes to her attire. Anne was twenty-three, at present a junior lady-in-waiting to Crown-Princess Susan, Elliot’s mother. Alison and Mary Taviston were attempting to help Anne but they got in the way so many times that Anne shooed them away in exasperation, telling them to check the dresses of the other two. The Crown-Prince had put a stop to the bickering amongst the ducal houses as to who should attend Isobel and had decreed that two of Elliot’s sisters would take the fourth and fifth places. The fourteen year old Princess Susan and Princess Mary, eleven, were standing nearby, thrilled to be a part of their beloved big brother’s betrothal.
The three royal princesses were rarely seen at Court (the third sister, Janet, was eight). Both Crown-Prince and Crown-Princess believed that they were best kept away until they were at least sixteen. They lived at one of the royal manors under the care and tutelage of the royal governesses.
This day was in the nature of an unexpected treat.
Kellessa Anne Fullarton made another minute change to Isobel’s dress. To Isobel’s bodice had been stitched intricate chains of riverseed pearls and gold thread. It was these pearls that were causing all the trouble. The dresses had been made in a hurry, the pearls sewn on only the day before and a number hadn’t been sewn on as carefully as they should have been and a few had fallen off.
Still, Anne reflected, it couldn’t be helped. Isobel looked beautiful, in spite of the deficiencies in her attire. They won’t be looking at the dress.
The excitement had brought a most becoming flush to Isobel’s normally pale cheeks and her wide green eyes were dancing.
Anne Fullarton didn’t know Isobel well. Her father had delivered her to the palace three days ago. She was quiet but eager for any help and advice the experienced Anne could give her. There was a lot to be said for a convent education. The training Isobel had received from the nuns was standing her in good stead.
Quiet and docile, Isobel let herself be guided to the chapel door.
In another room, not far away, Elliot was taking a series of deep breaths. He, like his future bride, was dressed in cream velvet, the doublet fitted him like a glove and instead of the riverseed pearls that Isobel wore, was bestrewn with emeralds which glittered and sparkled in the light.
His attendants were dressed in green doublets and they wore soft black leather half-boots brought to a supple sheen by the endeavours of the palace servants.
Elliot wasn’t excited. There was a sense of inevitableness to this and he knew bachelorhood was not an option. His fingers were however trembling a little as he smoothed the fit of his doublet and admired himself in the mirror.
James noticed the flutter of the fingers.
“Don’t panic Elliot,” he advised. “She’ll not eat you. She’s a nice child, you’ll like her.”
“Doesn’t matter if we like each other or not,” answered a rueful Elliot. “The die is cast, no going back now but I wish that I had been allowed to choose. I suppose I’ve always known it wouldn’t be possible.”
“Not for you,” answered James with sympathy. Although he was delighted that it was his sister who was marrying his friend he did feel that it was unfair that Elliot hadn’t even had the opportunity to at least voice his thoughts on the matter. Most noble marriages were arranged ones but those not of royal blood often had the chance to say yes or no, especially the bridegrooms.
He had met his own wife here at Court. He had even managed to talk and to dance with her before he had asked his father if it was possible a match could be arranged. He was very much in love and hoped Elliot would feel the same about his sister.
Princes did not often have the luxury of choice like lesser mortals though it was rumoured that in the past it had been so. Like all noble boys, James had been well-drilled in the genealogy of the royal and ducal houses by his tutors. He searched his memory. When last had an heir to the throne married a girl from a non-ducal house? Yes, that was when, Queen Hilary, wife of King Elliot the Sixth and it had resulted in outraged indignation from every Duke in the Kingdom. Not so very long ago, civil was had almost erupted when as a young man the late king had announced his preference for a bride not of Conclave’s choosing. She had been married off in a hurry. Her grandson was one of Elliot’s friends although not appointed as a Boy Companion.
At last Elliot informed them that he was ready and James backed away. James did not have the rank to act as his groomsman and that honour had gone to Elliot’s cousin, Duke-Heir Raoul van Buren.
Elliot, groomsman, companions and attendants in tow, made his way to the chapel door. Isobel, Elliot knew would be waiting for him at the altar. He took a panicky gulp of air to calm his nerves and nodded to the liveried servant who opened the door, bowing deeply as Elliot passed through. Elliot was accustomed to being stared at but he felt self-conscious and awkward as he made his way towards his intended in front of the decorated altar. His natural confidence and aplomb reasserted itself as he took his place (it was marked in chalk) in front of Father Romuald and met the priest’s compassionate gaze.
This was Father Romuald’s chapel, the private chapel of the King and of those who he chose to accord the honour of attendance. Archbishop Brentwood held no official position here and Elliot was glad that it was his friend and confidante who was to perform the short ceremony and not the stern-faced prelate.
He began to feel a bit better, until that is Father Romuald indicated with a nod that he should take Isobel’s hand in his.
Difficult as Elliot was fining the situation, Isobel was finding it a thousand times worse. She was only fifteen, had never been to Court before and the convent schoolroom had not prepared her for this. She had nearly fainted with fright as the lackey had opened the chapel door, she had swayed like a leaf. Isobel had recovered and head held high, back straight as she had been taught, had walked with grace to the altar and her destiny. There she stood, a small, slight figure, waiting for Elliot to appear. Through the lace veil she had seen Father Romuald standing calm in front of her and his calmness managed to envelope Isobel like a warm mantle.
Elliot took her hand in his. To Isobel’s surprise it was trembling.
Within the candle-mark, Margravessa Isobel of the Ducal House of Cocteau had become Princess Heir (Elect) Margravessa Isobel of the Ducal House of Cocteau, the future consort of the young man at her side. She snuck a quick look at him out of the corner of her eye but only for a moment. Elliot, she realised was doing much the same thing, not that he would be able to see very much through her veil.
At last the ordeal was over, Father Romuald intoning the closing words of the service and Elliot let go of her
hand. He murmured “My Lady,” as he executed a graceful bow then left.
As she had been instructed, Isobel fell to her knees. With her ladies she would remain in the chapel for another candle-mark, praying to God for her marriage to be a fruitful one.
As she settled herself, clasped her hands together and began to mutter her opening prayer she was conscious of her ladies kneeling beside her and of the congregation beginning to depart.
Isobel prayed.
In God’s eyes she was as good as married.
“Please God,” she prayed. “Make me a good wife to Elliot and give me the strength to live my life at his side as Princess and Queen.”
Beside her Kellessa Anne Fullarton nodded. The ceremony had gone well. Isobel’s dress had held together and Isobel was expressing exactly the right sentiments. She rather thought Isobel would do very well. She would ask the Crown-Princess if she could be transferred to Isobel’s service when Elliot returned home.
* * * * *
The Prince-Duke
Prince-Duke Xavier of South Baker, younger brother of the Crown-Prince sat watching the proceedings from the royal stalls to the right of the altar. The royal seats were old, uncomfortable and reserved for princes and princesses of royal blood. He was eligible to sit there as son of a king but he ground his teeth in frustrated impotence at the thought that his children were not, he having given up his rights of succession when he had married his wife and become heir to his wife’s duchy.
Xavier’s dissatisfaction with life had begun when he was six when he had realised that it was his older brother who was the important one and who would inherit the crown. As a younger son he was expected and required to remain loyal and to support his brother in the often difficult and frustrating task of ruling the kingdom.