The King's Deryni (12 page)

A proper welcoming party was waiting for them the next morning as they approached the castle itself: the castle's seneschal, Sir Deinol Hartmann, and Kenneth's son-in-law, Sir Jovett Chandos, with his father, Sir Pedur. Perched on the saddlebow before Sir Pedur was the grandson adored by both men: Kailan Peter Chandos, Zoë's eldest child, who was nearly four.

“Welcome, Kenneth, Master Alaric,” Sir Pedur called with a grin, as Kenneth and his party approached. “Shall I give you a grandson to ride with you?”

For answer, Kenneth spurred on ahead to take Kailan from his other grandfather's arms and hug him close, to the boy's delight. Alaric, too, was grinning as he joined his father and fell in beside him as they continued on into the town and through the castle gates. He liked Kailan, who was only a few months younger than his sister Bronwyn.

But it was Zoë herself whom Kenneth most longed to see: darling Zoë, eldest daughter of his first marriage and heart-sister to Alyce, the love of his second marriage, who was waiting for him on the steps to the castle hall with her own daughter in her arms: Alyce Maria, born but a few months before. Beside her, Jovett's beaming mother held both hands of a sturdy toddler with a shock of coppery curls like Kailan's: Charlan Pedur, Kenneth's second grandchild. Kenneth was grinning as he handed Kailan off to a waiting squire and sprang off his horse to mount the steps and enfold grandson, daughter, and granddaughter in his embrace.

“Darling Zoë, she's beautiful!” he exclaimed, after he had saluted each of them with a kiss and stroked the downy hair on the baby's head. “And she is, indeed, worthy of her name.” He turned to pump Jovett's hand as the infant's father came up the steps behind him with Alaric and Llion. “Jovett, you make beautiful daughters as well as handsome sons!”

“'Tis most pleasant work, I assure you, my lord,” Jovett replied happily. “Come inside and refresh yourselves—all of you,” he added, with a sweep of his arm toward Xander and Trevor and the rest of Kenneth's party, who were dismounting in the yard behind them. “The cooks have been busy for several days, preparing for your welcome. For a while, we feared we should not see you this season.”

“Aye, we feared it, too,” Kenneth replied, as he moved into the hall amid happy members of his family. “But Duke Andrew's passing is now resolved, and Claara's condition appears to have stabilized. As I said in my letter, however, Delphine will need assistance at Morganhall. Have you sent anyone yet?”

“Not yet,” Jovett replied, “but several men are considering whether they would like to make the move, along with their wives. Once we knew you were coming, it seemed best to hold off on making any permanent decisions.”

“That's fine, then. We're well in hand,” Kenneth replied.

They stayed at Cynfyn for a fortnight, while he shared the events of the past several months with his daughter and her family and set about deciding who could be spared to go to Morganhall. In the end, he recruited several semi-retired Lendour knights to join the Morganhall household, one of whom had administrative skills as well as arms acumen; and their wives would be welcome companionship for his sisters, as well as additional help with the domestic arrangements of the household. Once that was resolved, he settled into the more tedious process of inspecting the accounts at Cynfyn and attending to other necessary business of the earldom.

Alaric, meanwhile, enjoyed renewing his relationship with Zoë and becoming better acquainted with her two boys, who were technically his nephews, since Zoë was his half-sister. As for the new baby, he had no idea how to deal with her, for his interaction with Bronwyn during her infancy had been quite limited.

“Auntie Zoë, would it be all right if I called them my cousins?” he asked her one evening, after the two of them had seen the younger boys off to bed. “I don't think I'm old enough to be an uncle.”

“Of course you can, darling,” she said with a laugh and a hug. “Your mother and I always regarded ourselves as sisters, but the true relationship is a little complicated. And I'm sure that Kailan and Charlan will be much happier having you for a cousin—and little Alyce, when she's old enough to know what that means.”

Alaric glanced at his feet, suddenly gone shy. “You named her for my mother, didn't you?” The question was more like a statement, and Zoë nodded.

“I did, love. I loved her very much. Do you mind sharing her name with my daughter?”

The boy looked up in surprise. “Of course not.”

“I'm so glad,” Zoë whispered, and hugged him close again.

Despite their short stay at Cynfyn, Alaric was kept busy. Aside from interacting with his “cousins,” and sharing some of their lessons, he continued his weapons training with Llion, sometimes under the eagle eye of Jovett and Sir Deinol. More important, he was at his father's side when, the day before they were to depart for Coroth, Kenneth convened a formal earl's court to continue his son's exposure to the people who, one day, would become his vassals.

“He's turning into a fine young man,” Sir Deinol remarked later that night, when the children had gone to bed and Kenneth had opened several bottles of R'Kassan red to share with the men charged with the daily running of the Lendour estates. Llion, to give them privacy, had gone to see to final arrangements for their departure in the morning.

“I see shades of his uncle, Lord Ahern, in some of his determination and focus,” Deinol went on. “He's quite the horseman for a boy his age.”

Jovett snorted. “He is quite the horseman for a lad
twice
his age. Ahern would have been proud.” He sighed. “I still miss him.”

“So do we all,” Kenneth said quietly, trying to put from mind the young earl's untimely death, after overcoming injuries that would have defeated a lesser man. “But what he accomplished was possible, at least in part, due to the encouragement and devotion that all of you gave him. If my son is truly cast in Ahern's mold, it's that same encouragement and devotion that will help enable him to reach his own potential.”

Jovett gave a shrug, as if to dismiss the compliment, and Deinol looked slightly self-conscious, but Kenneth continued.

“Do not minimize your parts in this, gentlemen. I am well aware what a trial it has been, for Lendour and for Corwyn to have a succession of minor heirs. If we can keep him alive long enough to enter into his manhood, I have no doubt that Alaric will become an earl and a duke worthy of your devotion.”

“My lord, we are content for now that
you
are our earl,” Deinol returned.

Kenneth smiled faintly. “Thank you, Deinol. But we all know that I am but a caretaker, until my son comes of age.”

“If you are a caretaker, my lord, it is for a son who will be a worthy successor to his very worthy father one day,” Pedur retorted. As Deinol and Jovett nodded their agreement, Pedur lifted his cup. “To the young Lord Alaric, and to his estimable sire!”

“Hear, hear!” Deinol said, likewise lifting his cup in salute, as the others did the same.

•   •   •

T
HEY
were in Coroth, the Corwyn capital, in time for Alaric's birthday at the end of September. Jovett had traveled with them, and also two more of Cynfyn's young knights: Jardine Howard, one of Duchess Vera's uncles, and Phares Donovan, whom Kenneth had knighted several years before. Again, Kenneth had sent word ahead that they were coming, so an escort met them as they approached the city along the river route, led by the ducal chancellor, Sir James of Tendal, and one of the ducal counselors, Sir Crescence de Naverie.

“Well met, my lord!” Sir James called, as his party drew rein and turned to merge with theirs. “And Master Alaric, welcome back to your duchy.”

Alaric beamed at the greeting, and fell in beside Sir Crescence as they continued on toward the northern city gate, Llion riding to his other side.

“I must say that your timing could not be better, my lord,” Sir James remarked to Kenneth, as they passed into the city. “Usually, you and Master Alaric come earlier in the summer. We have never had the honor of his presence on his feast day. 'Tis a very special celebration in Coroth.”

“Indeed,” Kenneth replied, as Alaric also looked at him in question. “And aside from it being his natal day, what makes it so special?”

“Ah, well, then, 'tis Michaelmas,” James replied, “when the knights in charge of training the squires and pages lead all the boys in a special procession to Saint Michael's shrine at the cathedral. Sir Llion will remember,” he added, with a glance over his shoulder in Llion's direction. “There they dedicate their weapons to knightly service and receive a special blessing from the bishop. It's perhaps a quaint custom,” he admitted, “but the boys do seem to enjoy it, to have their future warrior status so ratified. Perhaps young Alaric would like to take part, since he is our future duke.”

As he glanced hopefully at Alaric, the boy cast a fleeting look in Llion's direction, then inclined his head in a dutiful nod of agreement.

“It would be my honor, Sir James. Perhaps Sir Llion will consent to instruct me regarding the ceremony.”

“I am certain that Sir Llion is well capable of that,” Sir Crescence replied. “Quite clearly, he has taken the inspiration of Saint Michael very much to heart.” He gave Llion a nod. “It is always a pleasure to acknowledge the success of one of our Corwyn knights who has made good, Sir Llion. And we have heard of your charge's proficiency a-horse. Perhaps afterward, in honor of his feast day, he would consent to compete with some of our pages here at Coroth.”

“Perhaps some friendly ring-tilting,” Llion replied, with a tiny smile in Alaric's direction.

“Excellent!” Sir James replied. “I shall ask Lord Hamilton to arrange it.”

•   •   •

T
HEY
supped in the great hall that night, with Alaric seated beside his father in the place of honor. His regents made much of him, and he tried to do justice to the meal set before him, but he soon found himself stifling yawns of increasing tenacity. One of the slightly older pages, a hazel-eyed lad with curly auburn hair and a smattering of freckles, noticed him struggling to stay awake, and leaned closer as he presented a savory pie.

“You look like you'd rather have a bed,” the boy whispered.

Alaric shrugged a little self-consciously.

“I'd hoped it wasn't too obvious,” he whispered back. “We had an early start. How are you called?”

“Jernian,” the boy replied with a faint grin. “I think I'm named for one of your ancestors. My father is, too.”

Alaric cocked his head at the boy. “Oh? Who is your father?”

“Airlie Kushannan,” the boy replied, jutting his chin in the direction of a fit-looking man sitting farther along the table, with the same auburn hair. “He's Earl of Airnis, now that my grandfather is gone.”

“Your grandfather?” Alaric repeated, taken aback. “Not Lord Síoda . . . ?”

Jernian looked surprised. “You didn't know?”

“No one told me. When did it happen?”

Glancing around uneasily, for he was on duty, Jernian put his platter on the table beside Alaric's place and said quietly, “Come outside, where we can talk.”

Outside, the two of them settled awkwardly on one of the lower steps into the great hall. Alaric was no longer sleepy.

“What happened to Lord Síoda?” he said, when Jernian did not immediately speak.

Jernian sighed. “I'm sorry. I thought you would have been told. He took ill shortly before he was to leave for the king's knighting. That's why he didn't attend. He wasn't sick for very long,” he added, at Alaric's expression of dismay. “And he
was
nearly seventy.” He briefly glanced aside. “I do miss him, though.”

Alaric glanced down at the steps beneath his feet. “I shall miss him, too. Did you know that he served Duke Stíofan, my mother's great-grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“Whenever I came to Coroth, he would tell me stories about my heritage, and when my mother was a little girl. I always looked forward to it.”

Jernian nodded, smiling faintly. “He was a man of great honor, and he lived a good, long li—”

He broke off as he noticed that Llion had appeared in the doorway from the hall, and scrambled to his feet.

“Coming, Sir Llion,” he said quickly. “I know I'm shirking my duties. But he didn't know that my grandfather had died.”

“No need to make apologies, lad,” Llion replied, coming down the steps to join them. “I saw Alaric had left, and I wanted to make certain all was well.”

Alaric nodded. “I'm perfectly fine. I'm tired, is all. May I be excused?”

“Of course.” Llion offered his hand to assist the boy to his feet. “And thank you, Jernian. I'll be certain you aren't reprimanded for leaving your post.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I'll see you in the morning,” Alaric called after Jernian as the older boy headed back into the hall. “Perhaps you can guide me through this Saint Michael procession tomorrow.”

Jernian only cast a grin over his shoulder as he disappeared into the hall.

“Llion, did you know that Lord Síoda had died?” Alaric asked, as the two of them headed up the stairway that led to the residential apartments.

“Not until this evening,” Llion replied. “You were fond of him, weren't you?”

“Yes, I was.”

What he did not mention, as Llion helped him undress and ready for bed, was that Síoda Kushannan had told him, on their last visit, that his mother had been Deryni. “That means that both of us are half-Deryni, lad,” Earl Síoda had said, “though my mother was from a far less illustrious line than yours. Perhaps, if God gives us time, we can both explore what that might mean for Corwyn. We can talk more on your next visit.”