Legion's smile vanished. He prayed the babe wasn't the servant girl's. To dispel the thought, he turned to the king. "Didn't you realize Liza might well conceive while they were gone this long?"
"I thought of it. I wanted him to stay on that island until his conduct changed. Perhaps it has; perhaps it hasn't. We'll see. If he's had no liquor, maybe things will be better." He swung his hawk-like gaze back to his eldest son. "Otherwise, I'll send him to live at Ivor. I will not put up with his moods and tantrums any longer."
A'Lex's brow furrowed beneath the heavy sweep of his salt and pepper hair. He ran a hand over his beard and worry creased his chiseled face. The Vice-Commander of the Serenian Forces made himself smile. "Papa, Conar is home. Don't borrow trouble before the man even steps foot on Serenian soil."
The King snorted. "If he causes trouble, again, Legion, it will be the last trouble he causes. I will snatch away his inheritance in the twinkling of an eye. Mark my words. Conar's days are numbered here if he does not toe the line. I'll have no more whoring, drinking or ill-temper. I'll give the crown to Coron."
Legion closely watched his father as the older man stepped down from the wharf and onto the long dock leading to the quay.
* * *
Teal du Mer, his lazy, gypsy eyes laughing with mirth, turned to Sir Hern Arbra, Master-at-Arms of Boreas Keep, and grinned. "Boy or girl? Fifty says it's a boy!"
Hern eyed him suspiciously. He didn't care for the half-breed nobleman with his black shining hair and amber-tinted skin. He mistrusted the white-toothed smile on the dimpled, cherubic face. Teal had given him many a headache as a lad while training with him. He had also stolen more than a few gold coins from the old soldier.
"I don't like wagering with you, du Mer!" Hern sniffed, his stony face breaking into a deep scowl. He squinted at the gypsy. "You have a tendency to cheat."
"You have a fifty-fifty chance of winning, Arbra. What better odds can you have?"
"I'll wager one hundred it's a girl," Legion piped up.
"You're on!" Teal exclaimed, turning a dark, challenging brow to Hern. "And?"
"All right, damn your hide, du Mer!" Arbra sneered, hating the gypsy smirk. "Hundred says it's a girl!" Gloomily he looked at Legion, but seeing the cocky grin Legion sported, he thought better of his wager and corrected himself. "Make that two hundred, gypsy!" He saw Legion grin harder, cock his head toward the ship. Hern looked, his eyes going wide as he saw what Legion meant for him to see. "Correction!" he snarled at du Mer. "Five hundred it's a girl!"
"I'll take it!" Teal chortled. There hadn't been a royal-born girlchild in the McGregor line since Conar's aunt, Dyreil, sixty-two years earlier.
* * *
"Papa is breaking tradition," Conar whispered to Liza, his face filled with sudden apprehension. He didn't trust the intense look on his father's face as the King came up the gangplank. "He has never come out to the ships to greet anyone."
Liza settled their child in his arms. "Smile, Milord. That look on your face shouts your anxiety." She turned to her father-in-law as he joined them on deck.
"I am happy to see you, child," Gerren said as he took Liza in his arms, kissing her cheek with pleasure. "It has been too long."
"We are happy to be home with you." She touched her lips to her father-in-law's cheek. "And we have a surprise."
The pride and joy of motherhood flashed across her lovely face and Gerren heaved a sigh of relief. At least all was well for the moment. His gaze flicked slightly over his son and then settled on the bundle in Conar's arms.
"My new grandchild?" Gerren asked, ignoring Conar.
"We named her—" Conar stopped as his father looked at him. He cleared his throat. "We named her Nadia, Highness."
Gerren nodded, acknowledging the name. "Your mother's middle name." He could see Conar's uncertainty, his wariness, but it didn't matter. He was still angry with the boy. A year's time could not diminish what Conar had done. Should the Tribunal ever find out, Conar would be severely punished for his affair with Gezelle, who now stood only a foot or two from her Overlord.
Liza felt the coldness coming from Conar's father. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. "It would honor us greatly if you were the first to show our daughter to her people, Papa."
Conar lowered his head. He had wanted to be the one to show off his child. He felt a twist in the region of his heart, but he knew his wife had meant well, trying to alleviate the tension between him and his father. If it would help, he would gladly relinquish the honor, but he knew in his heart nothing would help until he had a chance to sit down and talk privately with his father. Even then, he thought with fear, there might still be a serious rift between them.
Gerren took the babe from his son. "It would be my greatest pleasure, child."
As their fingers touched, the King grimaced with distaste. Even though he could see how much his reaction hurt Conar, he could do nothing to take back the unintended insult. He saw Liza put an encouraging hand on the boy's arm.
"I meant no offense," Gerren mumbled and saw Conar nod in understanding.
"None taken, Highness."
The King realized his son had not raised his head. There was shame in the soft voice, a dejection in the slump of the boy's shoulders.
"What have we here?" the king asked. He looked at the bundle nestled in his arms and put up an anxious and trembling hand to draw away the blanket from the girlchild's face.
Gerren drew in his breath. Looking at the precious child, his firstborn legal grandchild, as of this day next in line to the throne after Conar, he marveled at the white-blond hair covering the small oval head. The perfect rosebud lips were pursed in a pucker; tiny bubbles lined the lower lip. When the tiny eyes, so blue and beautiful, so like those of her father at the same age, opened, the King felt the catch in his throat dissolve. His face broke into a warm smile of love.
"Hello, pretty one." He planted a kiss on the smooth forehead.
"She's a good babe, Highness," Marsh Edan swore from his place near the ship's rail. "Sleeps all the night through and never fusses." His face turned beet red as the King glanced his way.
"Marsh has spoiled her terribly." Liza laughed. "He never gives her a chance to fuss, Papa."
"I was thinking of discharging Edan from the Elite so you could hire him on as the darling girl's nanny, Highness," Thom Loure snapped. He glared at Marsh. "Leave the King alone, fool!"
Gerren chuckled, clucking his tongue at the two Elites. He looked at his granddaughter. "Do you hear them, Nadia?" he questioned softly, running the tip of one finger down her cheek. "What shall we do with them, eh?"
"Your people are waiting, Majesty," Conar interrupted. His gaze was still on the planking. His voice was filled with pain, tears threatening to fall at the snub his father was giving him.
The King barely heard the hurt in his son's voice. He barely heard Liza telling Conar that all would be well. All he truly heard was the sudden soft mewing the babe made as it gazed at him, a tiny smile hovering on the lips.
"Shall I introduce you to your subjects, pretty one?" her grandfather asked. He looked at Liza, smiled, turned around, held the babe aloft, and spoke to his people in a carrying voice. "My people. I give you Prince Conar's firstborn child. The Princess Nadia!"
Loud cheers rang out; hands clapped with enthusiasm. Feet stomped the wooden plankways and piercing whistles rent the air. A royal girlchild was a sign of prosperity, abundance, and fertility for the future of Serenia. To have a Queen sit upon the throne meant the land would be fruitful and the seas plentiful.
* * *
Tolkan Coure glanced at Kaileel Tohre's set face as they leaned on the battlements of Boreas Keep. "Such clowning glee for a mere bitch."
"She'll never take the throne," Tohre snapped, eyeing the Arch-Prelate with distaste.
"But then, neither will her father."
Kaileel looked away. "I understand that now, Holiness."
"I am glad you finally do."
Kaileel's fl
esh tingled along his lacerated back as he glared down at Conar. He shifted his gaze to the bundle in the King's arm. "That little bitchlet will pay for all of her father's mistakes."
* * *
Teal's mind was numb with the news. "A girl? How can that be?" He sat on the stone steps and put his head in his hands.
Legion slapped him on the back. "There was a fifty-fifty chance."
Hern chuckled. "Pay up, du Mer! I have a very good place to spend your money!" He turned to a saucy wench who sidled close to him. "Five hundred coins will make what's left of this night very enjoyable!"
Moaning miserably, shaking his head as he clapped his hands over his cheeks, Teal felt Legion prodding him with his boot. With a sullen look on his handsome, dark face, he glared up at A'Lex. "I hate you, Legion!" He reluctantly pulled his purse from his pocket. He sighed as he opened the drawstring and looked at his first real cache of coins in a long time. "I truly hate you."
"I know," Legion agreed, holding out his hand. "Pay up."
Teal sighed again then handed over the coins. He glanced at his friend and saw A'Lex grinning. There was something in the grin that boded ill for du Mer, who tensed. "What?"
Legion wagged his eyebrows. "Did you take a close look at the babe's banner?"
Teal looked toward the ship. He slapped the side of his head. The small banner showed up as pale pink in the flare of moonlight.
"Don't feel bad, du Mer!" Hern said. "No one else noticed, either! Pay up!" He wrapped his beefy arm around the wench's slim shoulders and held out his free hand to du Mer. "My hunger needs feeding!"
With a bitter look of resolve, Teal plopped five gold sovereigns into Hern's outstretched palm. "Enjoy!" He stood, thrust his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders.
Legion chuckled. "You're such a poor loser."
"You cheated," Teal grumbled.
"I know." Legion draped an arm over Teal's shoulder. "Come on, old friend. Let's get a good look at our godchild."
"Aye!" Hern released the wench. He winked at her. "Meet me at the usual place in about an hour, Dorrie. I've a younger lady to see!"
* * *
Conar stepped back from the gangplank as Legion, Teal, and Hern came toward him. He moved into the shadows cast by the tall spars and leaned against the foremast.
He smiled sadly as Hern took Nadia and brought the babe's face up to his own. He listened to the words being spoken to Liza, acknowledged the smiles sent his way by the three men, shook his head as Cayn, the Healer, lumbered up the gangplank and plucked the babe out of Hern's big hands.
"Let me see our girl, Arbra!" Cayn bellowed, his small round face belligerent as Hern tried immediately to take back the babe. "Get away!"
"They'll spoil her," Marsh sniffed. "She'll be up all night now."
Conar nodded, unable to speak past the pain in his heart. He saw his father turn toward him, saw the frown gather on the regal visage, watched as the big man turned his back on him again. Conar lowered his head.
"Go to him, Milord," Marsh said in a gentle voice. "Go speak with your father."
"He doesn't need me, Marsh."
The King turned.
"He needs to speak with you, Highness," Marsh dared say.
"It can wait," Gerren told the Elite. He smiled as Legion took the precious bundle from Cayn. Not looking at Conar, the King said, "On the day Conar was born, the Master Vintner put up a bottle of wine that his mother and I planned to open on the arrival of our son's firstborn." He glanced at Conar, who raised his head. "I plan to do that in her memory."
Conar felt a lump in his throat as he thought of the tiny, golden-haired woman who had given him birth. "She would have been pleased."
"With the babe, aye," King Gerren agreed.
Pain twisted Conar's heart. "But not with me."
"Not with you. You have shamed me many times, but your drinking and carousing after taking your Joining vows have caused me to lose respect for you. You have shown no reason why I should feel confident in your ability to govern your people when the time comes. You'll have to do far better for me to entrust Serenia into your keeping!"
"I know you are angry, Papa, but…"
"Anger does not begin to define my feelings. The more time I've had to think on your many perfidies, the less inclined I am to believe you worthy to sit the throne. We will discuss this later."
With that, the King walked away.
Liza wanted to cry. She could feel her beloved's sorrow like a silver flash of fire. She went to him and put her arm around his waist, drew him to her side. "He'll relent, Conar. You'll see."
"I hope you're right, Milady." He looked past her, his vision straying to the battlements of the keep, and tensed. His eyes locked with Kaileel Tohre's even from this great distance.
Conar could feel the promise in the look being sent his way. It was a feeling he knew all too well.
* * *
King Gerren stared out of the window of his chambers, his hand resting on the high ledge. A shooting star careened across the heavens. He closed his eyes. That often signaled a bad omen. "Go on."
Conar was sitting in his father's favorite chair, his hands hanging between his spread knees. He looked intently at the pattern on the carpet. "I know you are still angry with me, Papa. What I did was—"
"Unpardonable."
"I suppose so."
"You know so. You are not stupid."
For a moment the room fell silent. Only the gentle ticking of the clock in the corner broke the quiet. Neither man spoke; neither man moved. It was Conar who could bear the stillness no longer. "Is there more wine, Papa?"
Gerren flung his hand to the bottle on the low table beside the settee. Conar walked to the table, poured two more glasses of wine, then came toward his father with one of the two glasses.
"You want me befuddled with this?" the king inquired.
"I just think you'll need it before I'm through."
His father poised with the glass to his lips, looking long and hard at his son before setting the wine, untouched, on the window ledge. "You have reason to believe I won't like what you're going to say?"
A dark shadow passed over Conar's face. He seating himself in the chair once more. "I know you won't, Papa."
"You think perhaps I will be even more angry with you?" the King inquired, his mouth set into a hard, unforgiving line.
"Something like that," Conar acknowledged and stood again, walking to the fireplace and leaning his arm on the mantle, dropping his head to his arm. He stared into the firebox.
Gerren folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin. "Say it and be done with it!"
"It is not easy."
"Have you cheated on your wife again?" The King was relieved when Conar shook his head. "Then has it to do with your relationship with Elizabeth?" He hated to ask for fear the union was once more on shaky ground.
"In part."
"Is there another woman?"
"No, Papa." He looked at his father. "And there is no other man. It has nothing to do with my devotion to my wife or hers to me."
"A devotion you but recently remembered."
Conar took a deep breath. "What happened between Liza and myself was not entirely my doing."
The King was aghast. "You blame your wife for your infidelity?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Then, pray tell what you do mean, sir! Don't stand there like a green youth who has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar one too many times. I will hear your confession now and be done with it!"
"It was partly my fault."
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"I sent her away because I had…" He couldn't say it.
"Because you had, what?"
Conar could hear his father's heavy breathing. He could almost smell the dislike and disappointment coming his way. He squeezed his eyes shut to blot out the anxiety crowding his mind, tried to force out the words through lips numb with fear.
"For the love of Alel, Conar
! Tell me what you have to say!"
"I sent her away, Papa, because I had done something I was ashamed of."
His father walked over to his son, and with a suddenness that stunned the younger man, grabbed Conar by the shoulders and spun him around. "Such as beating her?"
"I never…"
"You manhandled her! Do not try to deny that, Conar Aleksandro. I remember well those marks on your lady! We all saw the bruises!"
Conar could see his father's anger building. A vein bunched in the King's temple and the grip on Conar's shoulders grew hard and unrelenting.
"I never beat her, Papa!"
"Then what did you do?"
Conar hung his head. "I raped her that eve, Papa. That is where she came by the bruises."
Gerren's mouth dropped open. His grip on Conar lessened somewhat, but he did not release his son's shoulders. His mouth worked, his lips moved. His face turned chalk-white. When he spoke, his voice was a mere whisper. "Rape?" He could barely say the word. "You raped your own wife?"
"I was angry—"
"Angry?"
"It was more than that, Papa," Conar said, miserably. "It was as though I couldn't control what I was doing. I didn't know what I had done until after it was over. I may have been drunk; I don't know."
King Gerren took his hands from his son. "That's no excuse. A man does not do violence to the woman he professes to love unless he has either a guilty conscience or suspects she has cuckolded him. You suspected her with Galen. Is that the reason you did her harm?"
"Liza was innocent in that." Conar let out a long breath. "And, believe me, Galen has paid for what he did to my lady."
"And Brelan?" the King demanded. "You thought her entangled with him. What of that?"
"That was after the fact, but I have to admit I thought there was, but Liza was innocent in that as well, and, much to my relief, so was Brelan." He looked at his father. "If I had found out Brelan had slept with her, you'd have been minus one son, Papa."
"If you knew she had not been unfaithful to you, why would you have…? Why did you…? How could you…?" The King glowered. "What kind of man have I sired?"
WINDWEEPER Page 7