Dragons and Destiny (11 page)

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 lifetime 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.

* * * * *

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.

In the past,
younger princes had been as thorns in the sides of the senior line
of the Most Royal House of Murdoch and Xavier’s education had been
designed to train him to be a support and not a suppurating ulcer.
There was safety in numbers, princes could die without leaving
issue and it was prudent to have a back-up but as soon as the
Prince-Heir had a legitimate child, the younger sons became by
default superfluous to requirements.

Although Xavier
had harboured a smouldering resentment at what he considered the
unfairness of it all during his formative years, he had not begun
to
hate
his brother until later.

His brother
Paul had married in AL588 when Xavier was eight. His brother and
his wife had had four children and with each birth Xavier had seen
his chance of becoming king disappear chunk by jealous chunk. When
his youngest niece was a year old, Xavier had been married to the
Daughter-Heir to the Duchy of South Baker. Junior princes were
married to Daughter-Heirs if possible and then formally gave up
their throne-right.

He might have
become reconciled to this in time, after all, as Prince-Duke of
South Baker he had a seat on Conclave and was a powerful and rich
landowner in his own right but Xavier hated his wife and after the
birth of their second child in AL602 avoided her. Rumour had it
that he had tried to have her poisoned. Now Duchess Harriet spent
her days at her favourite manor and she and her husband only came
into contact on formal state occasions. Xavier spent most of his
time at Court where he maintained a suite of rooms more opulent
than the rest of the court put together. South Baker was a rich
duchy. Xavier also rented one of the large town houses beside the
river where he hosted wild and expensive parties attended by some
of the more dissolute members of the nobility. He kept slave
concubines there too; for his own pleasure and for the pleasure of
his guests.