Childe Morgan

  For the adults, that evening saw a lavish feast of many removes, at which Prince Brion sat in a place of honor between his parents and was served by Prince Nigel and then by the king’s counselors of state. More impromptu gifts followed during the course of the meal, which was also interspersed with divers entertainments. In the intervals suitable for dancing, the prince also acquitted himself well, soon losing his self-consciousness and partnering several of the younger ladies of the court with ease and grace.

  “He is becoming a fine man,” Kenneth murmured to Alyce as they watched the prince dancing with a daughter of the Earl of Marley.

  Alyce nodded, smiling slightly. “Aye, and he will turn many a head before he weds—and not a few, even afterward.”

  “Pray God, he’ll prove to have his father’s discretion,” Kenneth replied. “It must be a fearful thing, to be a king.”

  Later, when Kenneth and Alyce retired to their room, Alyce broached a delicate subject with her husband.

  “Darling, I need to ask you about something,” she said by way of preamble, as she brushed out her hair. “You may have noticed that I spent much of the afternoon chatting with Vera. We were lamenting the heat, and she pointed out that summer in Culdi is far milder than here in the capital or even at Morganhall. She has invited me to accompany her and Jared when they head back in a few days, to stay through the summer—maybe even until the baby arrives. It would be a change for Alaric as well; you know how he adores the company of his McLain cousins.”

  From the bed, Kenneth leaned back on his elbows and gazed fondly at his wife, somewhat taken aback by the prospect. With the summer shaping up to be a warm one, he had already decided that his wife and son should retreat to cooler climes to await the birth of the child Alyce was carrying, but he had thought to send her to his own keep at Morganhall, with his sisters, hardly a day’s ride north of the city.

  “We had already discussed sending you and Alaric to Morganhall,” he said. “’Tis far closer to court.”

  “True enough,” Alyce agreed, “but even if I stayed with you in Rhemuth, I doubt I should see much of you, given that summer is the season when the king most needs you at his side. And so far as my health is concerned, surely the distance matters little enough in these early months. Granted, I should miss what moments we might, in fact, be able to squeeze from the king’s demands, but at least it would be cooler in Culdi.” She lifted the mass of her golden hair up off her neck and tossed it over one shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief.

  Kenneth pulled a sour face, but it was also one of resignation, for he knew she was right.

  “Carrying a child must be difficult enough, without doing it in the heat,” he said. “I shall speak to Jared in the morning.”

  Chapter 16

  “There were two women, the daughters of one mother.”

  —EZEKIEL 23:2

  IN the end, Lord Kenneth Morgan decided to accompany his wife and son northward to see them safely settled for the summer. Traveling in the combined entourage of the Duke of Cassan, the Earl of Kierney, and their respective households, the journey was pleasant enough, though a sultry stillness had settled along the river, only easing as they started their ascent into the foothills above Culdi.

  There Kenneth saw them ensconced at Earl Jared’s country house above the town, and left Sir Llion as governor for his young son, along with two men at arms. Entrusting wife and son and their modest household to the protection of Earl Jared, he then headed back to the capital and a busy summer of service to the king.

  For young Alaric, the lazy summer days flew by in the company of his McLain cousins: Duncan, who was his own age, and the somewhat older Kevin, who was the heir. For Alyce, the ensuing weeks were to be among the most idyllic she had spent since her time at Arc-en-Ciel, made all the sweeter for the company of the sister whom she had not known until adulthood. In addition, the seclusion away from court enabled the two women to share some of their Deryni training, for the pair had been exposed to very different teachers.

  The latter part of that summer also marked the beginning of Prince Brion’s official life, as he embarked with his uncle, Duke Richard, and a small entourage on an extended progress into some of the outlying areas of the kingdom he would one day inherit. He rode the bloodred mare, whom he had named Sevalla, reveling in the harmony of horse and rider that was building between them—and marveled at her easy gaits and intelligence and amiable disposition.

  Riding northward first, along the River Eirian, the royal party stopped briefly at Culdi, to call on the Earl and Countess of Kierney and the Countess of Lendour, then ventured westward into restless Meara, where they were the guests of Lord Lucien Talbot, the royal governor at Ratharkin. There, attended by Duke Richard, Prince Brion sat in court for several days beside the governor and heard cases brought before the local assize. Over dinner on the evening before they were to depart, the governor offered his assessment of the prince’s performance.

  “Frankly, Your Highness, I was more than pleased,” Lord Lucien allowed. “You obviously have paid attention to your tutors, and have learned from the fine examples set by your father and your uncle.” His gaze flicked to Richard in honest admiration. “I do not say this merely to flatter, sir. Your royal nephew bears the Haldane sense of justice in full measure.”

  Richard inclined his head in acknowledgment, smiling faintly. “Thank you, Lucien. It is always heartening to have one’s own opinion confirmed by an unbiased source.”

  “But do the Mearans agree?” Brion said impatiently. “One day I shall have to govern these people, Lord Lucien. And Uncle, you are all but obliged to tell me I am doing well, because you are my teacher.”

  His smile broadening, Richard leaned closer to lightly punch the prince in the left bicep. “It is precisely because I am your teacher that I must be honest in my assessment, Nephew. But granted that you still have much to learn—as have we all—your instincts are sound, and you have a good heart. Your father may be justly proud, and I am proud. I think you will make a more than passable king.”

  “From you, Uncle, that is high praise, indeed,” Brion replied with a grin.

  ANOTHER week they stayed in Ratharkin, making short excursions into the surrounding countryside to meet a few of the local folk and assess the local temper, then headed northeastward. They stopped the first night out at Oisín Adair’s stud farm of Haut Emeraud, where Brion inspected some of the other horses in Oisín’s distinguished string of breeding stock, and thanked Oisín again for finding the incomparable Sevalla.

  Following the river seaward through the earldoms of Trurill and Transha, the prince and his uncle paid courtesy calls at both courts, then continued across the lush plains of the Purple March and thence northward into the mountainous lands of old Kheldour, where they spent several weeks in the company of Ewan Duke of Claibourne, come into his title earlier in the year.

  “I cannot tell you how honored I am, my lords, to have two Haldane princes at my table,” the duke said, after the final day’s successful hunting. Three deerhounds lay at their master’s feet, but they were dining on wild boar tonight, not venison, brought down by Duke Richard’s spear in the culmination of a most satisfactory chase. Earlier in the evening, Duke Ewan’s duchess had joined them briefly so that their six-year-old heir, Lord Graham, could bid the company good night, but now only the three men remained, two princes and a duke, savoring the last of the meal and a fine flask of Bremagni wine.

  “It has been an instructive visit,” Richard replied, lifting his cup in salute, “and we thank you for your hospitality.”

  THE remainder of Kenneth’s summer was likewise well occupied with important work. In the several months after Prince Brion’s coming of age, the Earl of Lendour undertook several embassies for the king, traveling to Joux, Vezaire, and twice to the Hort of Orsal’s summer residence at Horthánthy, across the straits from Coroth, where he also met with Corwyn’s fellow regents. Interspersed amid trade negotiations with the nearest of the For
cinn states, he had hoped he might learn more about the death of Prince Nimur of Torenth and, more important, gain some indication of the sort of man Brion eventually would have to face in Prince Károly, the new Torenthi heir; but even the Orsal’s agents could tell him little regarding the change of succession, or Károly the man.

  In all, it could be counted as a successful season’s work, though he had managed only two short side trips to Culdi to visit his family. Toward the end of September, therefore, having reported to the king on his latest mission, he requested and obtained leave to make a more extended visit, for the end of the month would see Alaric’s fourth birthday.

  “Did you bring me a present, Papa?” the boy asked, tugging at his father’s boot as Kenneth dismounted.

  “Oh, I think I might have a present for you,” Kenneth replied. He swept the boy into a hug, returning the enthusiastic kiss that Alaric planted on his cheek, then set him down to take Alyce into his arms.

  “Mmmm,” he said, when he had kissed her soundly. “And here is my dearest wife, and our daughter as well,” he added with a smile, splaying the fingers of one hand over her rounded belly and then bending to kiss the bulge. “Are both of you well, darling?”

  “We are well, indeed, now that you are here,” she replied. “Are you permitted to stay for a while?”

  “Not as long as I would like,” he said, bending to scoop up Alaric again and brace him on his hip, “but longer than before. But I could hardly miss being here to celebrate the natal day of our little man.” He gently tousled Alaric’s white-blond head. “Has he been behaving in my absence?”

  “He has, indeed,” Alyce replied, “though he and Duncan together do lead poor Llion a merry chase, and sometimes they lure Kevin into trouble as well.”

  “They shall be leaders among men!” Kenneth declared, giving his son another hug. “And Llion is pleased with his progress?”

  She glanced back to where the young knight was bantering with Trevor Udaut, who had accompanied Kenneth and was holding their two horses, one with a large wicker pannier strapped to its saddle’s cantle.

  “I believe you can go ahead with your plans,” she said, smiling.

  “Excellent.”

  THE next day was Alaric’s birthday. It began like most days, with Melissa helping him to dress while they chattered about what the day might bring. As a special treat, he was allowed to go downstairs with his parents to eat in the great hall with the adults—a privilege not often granted, though he managed to acquit himself with grace and good manners. Porridge was easy enough to master, and ended up mostly in his stomach, sparing his clean tunic. The honey drizzled on his chunk of fresh bread proved somewhat more challenging, but he managed to confine the few wayward smears to his face and hands, which his father helped him wash off when he was finished.

  “That was very nicely done,” Kenneth told him as he set aside the damp cloth he had used for the deed. “You’re becoming quite the young man.”

  Alaric merely gazed up at him hopefully, well aware what day it was, and that gifts were customary on one’s birthday.

  “Now,” said Kenneth, setting his balled fists on his hips in a pose that reminded Alyce where their son had learned that same posture. “You asked yesterday about a present.”

  The boy’s eyes lit, and he grinned as he glanced at his mother.

  “Well, you’d better go out to the stables and speak to Llion,” Kenneth told him. “I think he got little sleep last night, looking after it for you.”

  The boy took off at a dead run, Kenneth and Alyce following more sedately, so that by the time they reached the stable yard, Alaric was staggering from the stable arch with a long-eared brindle puppy clasped under its front legs, the hind legs and tail dangling nearly to the ground.

  “Papa, he’s wonderful! Thank you!” the boy cried.

  “I’m glad you like him,” Kenneth replied, coming to catch up the animal’s hind end. “But you must support his weight, if you’re going to pick him up. It makes him feel more secure. Better yet, let’s put him down on the ground.”

  Watching earnestly, young Alaric released his end of the dog as his father set the back legs on the ground. The puppy immediately squirmed around to start licking his face, staggering with the ferocity of his tail-wagging as the boy hugged him close.

  “He likes me!” Alaric laughed, face scrunched up against the puppy’s kisses. “What’s his name, Papa?”

  “Well, he hasn’t got one just yet,” Kenneth replied, “so I reckon you’ll have to give him one.” He smiled. “You should also know that Prince Brion picked him out especially for you. The mother is one of the prince’s own favorite hounds, and he thought you would like a royal dog. He should be quite a hunter when he’s grown—and he’ll get quite large. Prince Nigel has one of his littermates.”

  Alaric’s face had been creasing in an even bigger grin as the puppy’s lineage was unfolded, and he suddenly plopped down in the dust of the stable yard as the puppy tried to climb into his lap, tail still wagging furiously as it continued licking his face.

  “I got a royal dog!” he crowed. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Papa!”

  Chuckling, Kenneth took Alyce’s arm and walked her on toward the castle gardens, where they whiled the morning away in sweet conversation and gentle dalliance before Kenneth took off with Jared and the other men for an afternoon’s hunting.

  THAT night, after they had dined at Earl Jared’s table and Kenneth had shared the news of court with Jared and Vera and the others privileged to dine at the high table, Alyce and Kenneth retired to the chamber she had called home for the past three months. Alaric was tucked up in his bed in the adjoining room, the puppy curled up in the hollow of his arm, and Llion slept in the room just beyond. The castle was settling into stillness for the night, though red still streaked the summer sky in the west. A gentle rain had begun to fall with the lowering darkness.

  “I have missed you,” Kenneth murmured, watching her in the mirror as she brushed out her hair. “That, alone, is reason enough to bring me here. But there is another reason for my visit at this time—in addition to Alaric’s birthday. I’ve come to relay a message from the king.”

  She stiffened slightly, then laid down her brush to turn and look directly at him.

  “What message?”

  “He asks that you—Name Alaric.” He shrugged as she cocked her head to stare at him more sharply. “He said that you’d understand what that meant.”

  She sighed and nodded a little distractedly. “Oh, I do. It’s…a preparation for the time when Donal must set his Haldane imprint in place, so that Alaric will be able to act for Prince Brion when Donal is gone.”

  “By your reaction, I take it that this is something outside the normal,” Kenneth said quietly, “even magical. Is there danger?”

  She shook her head. “No danger. It simply isn’t often done for so young a child.”

  “I see.”

  She sighed and considered, then came to sit beside him on the bed. “I shall need your help.”

  “You know I will do anything you ask,” he replied, taking one of her hands to kiss its palm.

  Laughing gently, she leaned closer to kiss him on the mouth. “Darling Kenneth, what would I do without you? May I read exactly what the king told you?”

  “You mean, read my mind?”

  “Yes.”

  He inclined his head in agreement. “Do what is needful.”

  Smiling, she slid her hands to either side of his face, thumbs resting lightly on his temples.

  “Close your eyes and relax, dearest Kenneth,” she murmured.

  THE next morning was spent in domestic activities, Kenneth retiring to the stable yard with Llion and Jared and several of the other knights while Alyce occupied herself in the solar, settling before her loom and humming an ancient tune as her fingers slipped an ivory shuttle back and forth among the threads of warp and weft. In the garden below, she could hear children’s voices, shrill and excited: Alaric playi
ng with his two McLain cousins.

  She glanced outside and smiled at the sight, savoring the late summer air with its scent of sunlight on grass, clean earth, and recent rain. Alaric had found the damp flowerbeds and the pond and was rapidly initiating the slightly younger Duncan into the joyous mysteries of mud. The seven-year-old Kevin was doing his best to remain aloof and clean, as befitted the ducal heir to Cassan, playing quietly with his toy knights on a patch of stone paving beside a more formal fountain, but it was apparent that his interest in the younger boys’ mud was fast becoming more than academic.

  No matter. The late-morning sun was warm after the chill of the previous night’s rain. Melissa, Alyce’s maid, and Bairbre, the maid who looked after Duncan and Kevin, would be less than pleased at having to bathe three squirming boys this evening, but it was the first real rain of the autumn; the summer had been dry. Not for months had the weather permitted such boyish pursuits. Alyce laughed aloud when she saw that Kevin had finally succumbed to temptation and was making mud moats and mottes and castles with as much gusto as either of the younger boys.

  She heard a rustle behind her and turned to see Vera entering the room with Bairbre, her riding habit of earlier in the day exchanged for a gown of honey-brown the exact shade of her hair, which gave her grey-green eyes a tinge of the sea. While it was well-known that the two countesses were related by marriage, only the two of them knew that they were, in fact, twins, cunningly separated at birth by their Deryni parents so that the second-born Vera might be brought up secretly in a human family, without the Deryni stigma that had been Alyce’s lot for all her life.

  Now Vera was Countess of Kierney, by marriage to the widower Jared McLain, whose first countess had died giving him his eldest son and heir, who was playing in the castle yard with Alaric and Duncan. Not even Earl Jared knew that his second wife was full sister to Alyce de Corwyn, one of the last of the High Deryni heiresses.