Childe Morgan cm-2 Read online

  Alyce remembered the chamber only vaguely. She had visited Coroth perhaps half a dozen times as a child, and once to bring Marie’s body home. Though she had met the Corwyn regents on that occasion, she remembered little of it, for Ahern then had been the heir, and both of them besides had been mourning the death of their sister.

  A lighter atmosphere prevailed today as Crescence conducted her and Kenneth to a pair of high-backed chairs set before the round council table. Zoë and Jovett followed with Alaric in tow, shushing him as he tried to swing from their arms. A watchful Trevor Udaut brought up the rear of the little procession.

  The council members were already assembled — eight of them — and had risen as Kenneth and Alyce entered. Most of the faces looked vaguely familiar to Alyce, from the brief introductions of the night before, but she could assign names to only a few. At least the bishop was easy to identify by his purple cassock. And Sir Laurenz Udaut nodded and smiled faintly at her look of recognition.

  «My lord, my lady…» Crescence murmured, inviting the two of them to sit.

  Kenneth waited until Alyce had settled into her chair before himself taking his seat to her right, nodding to the council to also be seated. While they did so, Kenneth took Alaric onto his lap, and Zoë, Jovett, and Trevor Udaut grouped themselves behind them.

  «My lords», Crescence said again, this time addressing the council as he settled at Kenneth’s right, «I present to you Alyce Lady de Corwyn, mother of our future duke, and her husband, Sir Kenneth Morgan, whom the king has created Earl of Lendour for life. Sir Kenneth — or, more properly, Lord Kenneth — is now, by these letters patent, premier regent of Corwyn, in right of his son».

  Crescence laid a document on the table before them, with the pendant seal of scarlet wax affixed to its bottom, and inclined his head. As it was passed along to the grey-haired man sitting at the opposite side of the table, Crescence said to Kenneth, «My lord, my lady, these are your regents for Corwyn. May I present them to you?»

  Kenneth quirked a wry grin that swept the table.

  «Thank you, Sir Crescence. And gentlemen, please allow me to point out that I may be the father of your future duke, and one of his regents, but I am only newly become an earl. Until a few weeks ago, I was a simple knight like many of you. Perhaps we would all be more comfortable if you each introduce yourselves, and tell me briefly of your responsibilities. I regret that I cannot yet attach names to all of your faces. We need to remedy that».

  A brief murmur of agreement whispered among them, and then the dark-clad man seated to the left of Kenneth and Alyce slightly raised one hand.

  «I’ll begin, then, my lord. Sir Miles Chopard, secretary to this council».

  «Thank you, Sir Miles». Kenneth nodded in acknowledgment, then flicked his gaze expectantly to the man beyond.

  «Michael O’Flynn, Earl Derry», the next man said. «Counsel to the duchy. And this is my son Seamus». He indicated a somewhat younger man than Kenneth, seated slightly behind and to his left, with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes.

  «My lords», Kenneth replied, inclining his head.

  «Síoda Kushannan, Earl of Airnis», said the next man, grey-haired and distinguished looking in the robes of a scholar of Grecotha. «I served Duke Stíofan, your lady wife’s grandfather. That was a very long time ago», he added, smiling.

  «Then, I shall welcome your experience», Kenneth replied. «And you, my lord?»

  The slender, dark-haired man seated beyond Earl Síoda folded his hands with fastidious care, pursing his lips appraisingly.

  «Lord Rathold, my lord, counsel to the duchy. And my colleague is the Bishop of Coroth», he added, opening a hand toward the silver-haired cleric at his left elbow.

  «Esmé Harris, my lord», the bishop said, inclining his head. «I shall pray that God grants you wisdom in your new estate».

  «The bishop speaks for all of us, my lord», said James of Tendal, seated directly across from Kenneth and Alyce. «I am, as you know, the hereditary chancellor. In the absence of a duke, I suppose you might say that I stand in the king’s stead in Corwyn. My son Robert serves as my aide, and will eventually succeed me». He nodded toward the younger man at his left elbow, who smiled and inclined his head.

  «My lord».

  To Sir Robert’s left, Trevor’s father smiled and shifted in his chair.

  «Sir Laurenz Udaut, my lord. Special counsel».

  Kenneth nodded and shifted his gaze to the priest seated at Udaut’s left. «And you, Father?»

  The priest inclined his head. «Tivadan, my lord. Chancellor of the Exchequer».

  «A vital function», Kenneth said with a smile. «And you must be…?» he said to the man between Tivadan and Sir Crescence.

  «Hamilton, my lord. Seneschal of Coroth Castle. I bid you welcome».

  «Well met, Lord Hamilton», Kenneth said. «I look forward to working with all of you».

  «And we with you, my lord», said the chancellor. «And we are honored to meet our future duke at last», he added, jutting his chin toward Alaric, who had listened gravely from his seat on his father’s lap. «He looks a sturdy lad».

  Kenneth smiled faintly. «It is certainly my intention that he should become the man you would wish, eventually to govern Corwyn. I trust that Lord Kushannan will ensure that he learns of his illustrious great-grandsire and other things pertaining to his illustrious ancestry». He glanced at Alyce. «Did you know Duke Stíofan?» he said tentatively.

  Alyce smiled and shook her head. «Alas, he died before I was born, my lord. But on many a winter’s night my mother told tales of him to me and Ahern and Marie, when we were very small. And Alaric bears his second name, Anthony». She brushed a fond hand against her son’s cheek. «Speaking of whom, perhaps Zoë and I should take this young man elsewhere, now that proper introductions have been made, so that you gentlemen can accomplish something useful in what remains of the morning».

  As she made to rise, Trevor Udaut pulled back her chair and the other men came to their feet. Kenneth eased Alaric to the floor to put the boy’s hand in his mother’s.

  «Mama!» Alaric whispered, loud enough for all of them to hear. «Do we have to go now?»

  «I think it’s best, darling», she replied, crouching down to his level to look him in the eyes. «Papa and these good gentlemen have work to do. Besides that, I wanted to show you where your Grandmama Stevana played when she was a girl».

  The boy’s lower lip started to quiver in a pout, but at Zoë’s additional cajoling, he let himself be led from the room.

  * * *

  Later that evening, as they lay abed, Kenneth acquainted Alyce with the progress of the day’s meeting, and pronounced himself well satisfied.

  «The king has chosen his Corwyn regents well», he said. «Having met them now, I feel far less daunted than I did before, about having the duchy run from a distance. If you had been allowed to rule in your own right, of course, we’d be here most of the year, which would make things much easier. But given the realities of the situation, I’m quite confident that we can manage».

  «Well, there have been regents since my grandfather died, after all», Alyce pointed out, «and that was eight years ago. My father was never Duke of Corwyn; only Earl of Lendour. And sadly, Ahern only ever got to govern Lendour, and then only for a few months». She sighed wistfully. «He would have made a wonderful duke».

  «And you would have made a wonderful duchess», Kenneth said, kissing her on the nose. «And you are the duchess, in all but name».

  She smiled and snuggled closer to his side, taking up the invitation his lips had begun.

  * * *

  Beginning the next morning, they settled into what was to become their regular routine for the next few weeks. After breaking their fast in the castle’s great hall, where they made a point of chatting with whichever courtiers were present for business later in the morning, Kenneth, his aides, and his future son-in-law adjourned to the council chamber, where they would spend the
day hammering out the business of the duchy with its regents. Often Alyce would accompany him, sitting at his side as advisor and sounding board, but on that first day, she and Zoë rode down to the cathedral with Alaric in tow, attended by a maid, Sir Trevor, and Sir Xander of Torrylin, who had accompanied them from Lendour. It was market day, and the cathedral square was crowded with the stalls and goods wagons of local farmers and craftsmen.

  «Oh, Alyce, look!» Zoë whispered, as they paused on the cathedral steps while Xander engaged a pair of local men to look after their horses. «Do I see silks on offer over there?» she asked, pointing toward a distant stall where lengths of shimmering silks and damask glistened in the morning sunlight.

  «So it would appear», Alyce replied. «I told you that traders from farther east pass regularly through Corwyn’s port. After we’ve been inside, I thought we might try to find some lengths of silk for your wedding gown. Xander», she said a bit louder, «you and Melissa may wait here. Feel free to browse at this edge of the market, if you wish». She did not include Trevor in the order, knowing he would be a discreet shadow for necessary protection.

  «Ah, so that’s why you wanted to come down here so early», Zoë said, as she and Alyce continued up the steps, Alaric between them and Trevor dutifully following. «You’d mentioned eastern silks on the ride from Cynfyn, but I hadn’t expected such prompt attention to the mission».

  «Well, I can’t have you disgracing the family when you walk down the aisle to meet Jovett, can I?» Alyce said brightly. «Whether you’re my heart-sister or my daughter, it’s my responsibility to make certain you’re well turned out. Besides», she added with a sly wink, «you helped me with my bridal finery, as I recall».

  «True enough», Zoë agreed. «Oh, Alyce». She sighed as they reached the west door and paused to gaze up at the carving above the tympanum, depicting the Last Judgement. «The last time we walked through this door, it was to bury poor Marie. We have shared some sad times, haven’t we?»

  Alyce nodded, remembering the cathedral aisle strewn with the flowers that should have conveyed Marie to her bridal bed, and instead had lined the way to her tomb.

  «Aye, both of us», she murmured. The memory of her brother Ahern on that occasion brought unbidden the image of a similar sad journey to bring her brother home to rest at Cynfyn: Ahern, who briefly had also been Zoë’s husband.

  «But that’s all behind us now», Alyce went on brightly, forcing a smile to her lips as they continued into the church. «And we’ve shared joys as well. God willing, you shall soon be wed to your Jovett. The past is as it is. We must look to the future with hope».

  Just inside the doors, they paused to bless themselves with holy water from a stoup carved like a seashell, and Alaric stretched up to gravely dip his fingers in the water and copy what his mother did.

  «Mummy», he whispered, tugging urgently at her skirt as they started down the side aisle that led to the crypt entrance. «Does God live here?»

  «Yes, He does, darling», Alyce answered distractedly.

  «Oh», said Alaric. Then, «God must have lots of houses».

  Alyce and Zoë exchanged glances, and Zoë rolled her eyes.

  «He’s your son», Zoë whispered under her breath.

  Alyce controlled a smile and hugged Alaric to her side as they continued walking.

  «Yes, I suppose He does. God is always with us».

  Alaric stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at his mother with wide, apprehensive eyes.

  «Is God with us right now?» he whispered.

  «Yes…»

  The boy looked around surreptitiously and took his mother’s hand, pressing closer to her leg as he craned at the shadowed side aisles, lit by flickering candlelight.

  «Why I don’t see anybody?»

  «Well, God doesn’t have a body like you and me», his mother began.

  «No body?» Alaric whispered.

  «But that doesn’t mean He isn’t there», Alyce went on. «There are lots of things you can’t see, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Can you see the wind?»

  Alaric shook his head.

  «But you can see what it does, can’t you?»

  The boy’s brow furrowed as he considered the question. «I can see things moving», he said tentatively. «I can see the trees…»

  «Of course you can», she replied. «And would you agree that it’s the wind that makes the trees move?»

  Slowly he nodded, though he looked dubious. Then: «Mummy, that’s silly», he said indignantly. «God isn’t made of wind».

  So saying, he pulled away from her and ran on ahead to disappear into the open stairwell that led down to the crypt. Following, Alyce and Zoë saw him standing halfway down its length, silver-gilt head thrown back and small fists set stubbornly on his hips as he inspected the stone vaulting above their heads and the sea of tombs beyond. Soon he was wandering among the tombs and craning his neck for a better look at the effigies that crowned some of them. Alyce only exchanged glances with Zoë, rolling her eyes heavenward.

  «Well», said Zoë, «you wouldn’t have wanted a dull-witted child, would you? And not yet three, either. Good heavens, you don’t suppose he’ll want to be a priest?»

  Alyce chuckled mirthlessly. «My kind can’t be priests, remember? Besides, he’s going to be a duke».

  «Some duke», Zoë replied, smiling, then glanced around, sobering, for they were nearing Marie’s tomb, flanked by those of her mother and her grandmother.

  «They never put an effigy on it», Alyce murmured, running a hand across the surface of the tomb’s alabaster lid, then bending for a closer look at the lettering incised around the base.

  «Are you sure this is hers?» Zoë replied, crouching down beside her.

  Glancing over her shoulder first, Alyce briefly conjured handfire to light the lettering, confirming that it was, indeed, her sister’s tomb, then extinguished the light and rose. At the head of the tomb, a dried floral wreath paid mute tribute to the maid who lay within.

  «I wonder who left the flowers», Zoë breathed.

  Faintly smiling, Alyce reached out to touch one of the sear blooms.

  «It would have been Sé», she said softly.

  «How do you know?»

  «Father Paschal told me, the last time I saw him. He said that Sé comes every year, around the anniversary of her death, to lay a wreath and spend a night in vigil. He loved her very much. These would be nearly a year old. I wonder if he’ll come while we’re still here».

  «Do you ever hear from him?» Zoë asked.

  «Only when there’s need», Alyce replied. She rested both hands lightly on the edge of the tomb’s alabaster lid. «He seems to show up at important milestones in my life, like my wedding, Alaric’s christening». She shook her head gently. «Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if we had wed — not that I regret any part of my marriage with Kenneth. The king did offer to give him my hand in place of Marie’s, after Marie died. But I love him like a brother, Zoë. I never could have married him. Still, we would have been quite a match in power. And now, with his Anviler training…The knights at Incus Domini are very fortunate to have him».

  «Aye, they are», Zoë agreed. Sighing, she reached out to adjust the dried wreath, then bent closer and moved it slightly aside, her breath catching as she ran her fingertips over the simple inscription: Marie Stephania de Corwyn, 1071–1089.

  «Dear God, it doesn’t seem fair, does it?» she asked.

  Alyce slipped an arm around Zoë’s waist and hugged her briefly. «Life is rarely fair, I’m afraid — though maybe a bit of what we’re doing can change that for the future. Besides, sometimes things do happen as they’re meant to do. You’re happy about marrying Jovett, aren’t you?»

  «Of course».

  «Then, let’s see about those silks in the market square, shall we?»

  Chapter 8

  «There are two ways of teaching and power, one of Light and one of Darkness».[9]

  T
he two women did not find what they sought on that day, but on the next market day, a week hence, they returned to the scene of their earlier searches, this time leaving Alaric in the care of his nurse and a senior squire of whom he was fond. Sir Trevor and a freckled, carrot-topped younger squire named Sylvan accompanied them on this occasion, the latter charged with safeguarding a large empty basket, which they hoped to fill with treasures.

  «Zoë, look at this», Alyce said, lifting folds of a fine summer gauze and then measuring off lengths from nose to extended arm. «What do you think? The quality is excellent, and there appears to be enough for a very generous undershift».

  Zoë fingered some of the fabric and checked the weave, nodding thoughtfully. «Aye, it could be smocked around the neck with a pale shade to match the over-gown — whatever that turns out to be. Or», she added with a grin, «it would make a very fine shirt for Jovett».

  «It would, indeed», Alyce agreed. «But will there be time?»

  «Beg pardon, my lady», the squire Sylvan said quietly, right at her elbow, «but aren’t those royal signals flying from that ship just entering the harbor?»

  «What’s that?» Alyce said distractedly. As she and Zoë turned to look, Trevor was also gazing in that direction, trying to make out the pennons fluttering from the ship’s mast.

  «Well spotted, Sylvan», Trevor said, shading his eyes against the summer glare. «It isn’t one of the king’s own ships, but she’s definitely on official business. I wonder what they want».

  «Perhaps you’d better find out», Alyce said. «They may simply have dispatches to be delivered — which we can do. Or if they’ve come to see my husband, they’ll need horses to take them up to the castle mount». At Trevor’s look of indecision, Alyce sighed and touched his forearm in reassurance. «We’ll be fine with Master Sylvan to look after us for a few minutes».