Childe Morgan (24 page)

She had reached much the same conclusion regarding the coronation, and for some of the same reasons, but she reckoned that few would try to take advantage of Brion Haldane once he
was
crowned. And cupping a hand over her pregnant belly, she thought she should be safely delivered and able to travel by then.

“You're probably right,” she said, glancing at the letter again. “Much as I should like to offer my condolences to Prince Brion in person, that obviously isn't possible until this baby has arrived. It will be for my husband to represent the family for now. And by Twelfth Night, I'll be able to bring Alaric as well, to swear fealty with his father.” She sighed.

“Make certain you get a couple of good meals and a night's sleep, Sir Jaska,” she told the courier. “I'll wish to send a reply, but it can wait until morning. For now,” she glanced at the steward, “Leopold, please ask Father Swithun to attend me. We must ask him to say a Mass for the king—both our departed liege and the one who now is.”

T
HE
next days stretched into a week, the week into a fortnight, and more. Daily Alyce sought the signs that might herald her lying-in, but to little avail. Ten days after Kenneth's first letter, a second arrived, with a sketchy account of King Donal's state funeral and confirming Twelfth Night as the date for King Brion's coronation. A week into December, after several more rounds of letters, Kenneth himself arrived from Rhemuth, with greetings from the new king and permission—within reason—to remain at Morganhall until Alyce gave birth.

“You must be very near to term,” Kenneth observed, dismissing Xander to visit with Vera and Llion and the boys while he and Alyce settled by the fire with a jug of mulled ale. He had left Trevor in Rhemuth with the king.

“I certainly hope so!” Alyce retorted. “How is the king?”

“As nervous as a cat in a room full of hounds—though he has Duke Richard to look after him, and Jamyl Arilan has taken on squiring for him,” Kenneth said. “For
my
part, I had very nearly reached the end of my tether in Rhemuth, what with crotchety crown counselors and irritable bishops. Brion will be the third Haldane king I have served, but I don't remember this much contention when old King Malcolm died and Donal was crowned.” He sipped from his cup, then lifted it slightly in concession.

“Of course, Donal was a grown man then, in his forties, and I was a green young knight, and still learning my trade. I don't suppose this current batch of bureaucrats is any better or any worse. At least Brion should be safe enough in Rhemuth, until we can get him crowned. I'm just weary.”

“My poor darling,” Alyce murmured, coming to stand behind his chair and knead at his taut shoulders.

A little later, when they had supped with the household, and tucked up Alaric, and retired to the privacy of their bed, Kenneth at last dared to reveal something of what had gone on privately concerning the new king.

“I'm not certain how much he's aware of, regarding whatever it was that Donal did to prepare
him
,” Kenneth told her in private, as they lay curled together in sleepy contentment. “I did what I was ordered to do, but I have no idea why; and I certainly couldn't tell him what I didn't know.” He cocked his head at her in the light of the candle burning beside the bed. “It isn't at all usual, to confide any of this to a human, is it?”

She smiled dreamily, as baffled as he.

“Dearest heart, I have no idea what is usual, especially when it concerns Haldanes,” she replied. “None of this was supposed to happen the way it is now unfolding. Krispin should not have died, Donal should have lived many more years, and we should never have been involved in any of this.”

“But we are,” Kenneth said. Sighing, he splayed a hand across her belly, smiling as he felt the baby kick. “We're going to have another warrior,” he said, grinning. “Or a warrior-princess,” he amended. “Have you any idea when he or she will arrive?”

“
She
will arrive when she's good and ready,” Alyce retorted, smiling smugly, for she had already been able to touch the tiny mind with hers. “I had thought to name her Bronwyn Rhetice. Do you approve?”

“Aye, a noble name for a noble lass,” he agreed. “There was a Bronwyn among her Morgan ancestors, sister to Charlan Kai, who was the faithful companion of King Javan, and died at his side.”

“And there was a Rhetice who was wife to Corwyn's second duke,” said Alyce. “That's why I chose those names. Our little lady will have a high heritage to live up to.”

“I am certain she shall rise to the challenge,” Kenneth said languidly, laying his head on her breast as one hand slid along the bulge of her belly to stroke the softness of her thighs. “And I think we should do our best to encourage her arrival as soon as possible, don't you?” he whispered, as his caresses began to send delicious shivers through her belly.

 

H
ER
contractions began early the next morning, sending a tizzy through all of Morganhall as Kenneth's sisters sent for the midwife and began organizing the birthing chamber, and Vera hovered anxiously. The midwife came, but judged that her services would not be needed until much later in the day, possibly even well into the night.

In fact, she was unneeded even then, for Alyce's labor slowed dramatically, not resuming until well into the next day. When it did resume, her pains were long and hard. Vera and the two Morgan sisters stayed with her every minute, seeing to her every need, though they asked Kenneth to leave before the actual birth. By the time Alyce delivered, it was early on the morning of the twelfth of December, and she had lost a good deal of blood.

But the predicted girl-child was strong, with a lusty set of lungs, and soon was nursing vigorously. Kenneth inspected the new arrival soon after the women had cleaned up mother and child, and pronounced his daughter perfect in every way. Later in the afternoon, after Alyce had napped, Kenneth brought in their son to see his new sister. The boy approached in wonder, eyes wide with curiosity, tiptoeing to the side of the bed where his mother cradled the new babe in her arms.

“Is that my sister?” he whispered.

Smiling, Alyce tilted the babe so that he could see, and Kenneth lifted him higher, to sit on the edge of the great bed.

“Alaric, this is your sister, Bronwyn,” he said.

“She's so little,” the boy breathed. “If I touch her, will she wake up?”

“I don't think so,” Alyce replied. “She's had a very hard birthday. Just be very gentle.”

As she nodded encouragement, Alaric reached out a tentative finger to stroke the baby's downy head.

“She's got soft hair,” he said, grinning.

“She has hair just like you had, when
you
were a wee baby,” Alyce replied.

“Can I hold her?” came the next question.

“Well…” Alyce began.

“Oh, I think we can arrange that,” Kenneth said, glancing at Alyce's maid as he helped the boy down to the floor. “Melissa, could you bring some pillows over here?” he asked, pulling a heavy chair with arms closer to the bed.

Lifting Alaric up to sit on it, he then arranged several pillows on his lap. The boy craned his neck to watch as his father gathered up the swaddled infant and brought her over to the chair, carefully setting her in her big brother's arms, resting on the pillows, and knelt down beside them.

“Papa, she's so little,” the boy breathed, his eyes wide as he glanced up at his father. As he gently touched one of the little hands, the baby's fingers closed around one of his, producing an excited grin.

“I think she likes me!” he whispered.

“She's your sister,” Kenneth replied, smiling. “And because you're the big brother, you must always take care of her, and keep her safe.”

“I will, Papa, I will!” Alaric said. “When will she get bigger?”

“Every day,” Kenneth answered. “And you must help Mama and Melissa take care of her, so that she'll grow strong and healthy. You'll do that won't you?”

The boy's grinning nod left no doubt that he was more than willing to assume his fraternal responsibilities.

 

T
WO
more days Kenneth remained at Morganhall, before making a quick trip to Rhemuth to check on the king and report the birth. Though he returned in time to celebrate Bronwyn's first Christmas, he found his wife less recovered from her confinement than he had hoped.

“I'm fine,” she insisted, as she met him in the hall, though her color was poor, and she had engaged a wet nurse from the village.

“
Is
she fine?” Kenneth asked his sisters later in the afternoon, when Alyce had retired for a nap.

Delphine, solid and dependable and slightly older than he, drew him closer to the fire, where Claara was playing with one of her grandchildren. Vera had stayed to read in the chamber where Alyce slept, and Llion had taken Alaric and Duncan outside for a run-around in the garden with Alaric's hound-puppy.

“I don't know,” Delphine said in a low voice, drawing Kenneth to a seat a little apart from her sister. “Claara says it is nothing, but I am frankly worried. I fear it may be the milk fever, though she denies she has any of the symptoms. She did lose a lot of blood. She does not rest enough. She pushes herself too fast, but she is determined that she must be strong enough to travel to the coronation. Can you not make her see some sense?”

Kenneth sighed, leaning his forearms on his thighs to interlace his fingers.

“She can be a very stubborn woman, Delphine,” he said. “And seeing the new king crowned is very important to her.”
And to him,
he added in his own mind. “But there is time yet.”

But time was running out for Alyce de Corwyn Morgan. She had been feverish for the first Mass of Christmas, which she insisted on attending, and was worse the following day. She spent most of St. Stephen's Day in bed even as she directed the packing of her gowns for the trip to Rhemuth and the coronation. By Childermas, two days later, even she was forced to admit that her illness was serious. And Kenneth, himself poised to head back to the capital, was torn between loyalty to his new young king and devotion to his wife.

“You will
not
be able to go with me to the coronation,” he told her sternly, when Claara had gone out of the sickroom to fetch clean compresses. “You must rest, regain your strength.”

“But Prince Brion needs me,” she whispered desperately, clinging to his hand.

“No, your
children
need you!” came Kenneth's retort. “
I
need you!”

“He needs his powers awakened,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face. “Without them, he is likely to perish the first time some Torenthi interloper faces him down in a magical challenge. What if that Torenthi prince and princess show up at his crowning?”

“Darling, they won't,” he began.

“No, listen to me! Alaric was to have been the instrument of that awakening, but he is too young by many years. Donal knew that. It means that
I
must do it, though it cost me my life.”

“No! That is too high a price to pay!” Kenneth blurted, seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips.

“It is the price I agreed to pay,” Alyce countered. “Kenneth, I gave my word!”

“But you are ill,” he protested. “It can wait until you are well. Surely he will be safe at his own coronation. He will be surrounded by guards.”

“Would he be safe from someone like
me
?” she demanded, flaring her shields around her head in an emerald aura; and then, at his tight-lipped resistance, raising her free hand in a fist that opened to release a column of green flame that gushed briefly upward, so powerful that it left a scorch-mark on the ceiling.

He flinched from it, turning his face away until it had subsided, then dared to look at her again.

“I do not know,” he admitted. “But there has been no challenge by Deryni in many years. Surely he can be protected for another week or two, until you are well.”

“Then, perhaps you could bring him to me,” she said quietly, exhausted by her exertion. “It would ease my mind. If I need not expend the energy to go to him, perhaps I can marshal it to do what must be done
here
.”

“No,” Kenneth said flatly. “I will not leave you. And he would not come merely on my written word. Not so close to his coronation. He is of age, Alyce, but he is still a boy; and I left him in the care of Duke Richard and the crown council.
They
would not let him come.”

“Then I must go to him as planned,” she said, “and pray that God will give me the strength to carry out what I have promised.”

Kenneth summoned up a deep sigh, shaking his head, but it was more in resignation than any further attempt at fruitless resistance. If anyone knew the cost of duty, it was he.

“Very well. I shall go. I cannot fight you indefinitely.”

“Thank you,” she mouthed, drawing his hand nearer to kiss it. “I promise that I shall rest while you are gone.”

“See that you do!” he said sternly, though he managed a faint smile as he bent to kiss her burning forehead.