King Javan’s Year (73 page)

With Oriel well out of sight, rarely venturing outside his room, that aspect of the furore also faded. Javan could no longer make open use of the Deryni's services for Truth-Reading, but at least he had him as a Healer. And when Ursin turned up dead in his bed late in April, the morning after one of his routine testings with
merasha
, Javan took the Healer with him to examine the body.

“There's no mark upon him, Sire,” the court physician said, who had been summoned initially when Ursin did not rouse for breakfast. “I give you my word, he was fine last night when I left him. Of course he was groggy from the
merasha
, but he had not even been given his customary second dose. Since your Highness had determined to release him to the care of the
Custodes
, such precautions no longer seemed necessary, just to move him from room to room. Perhaps his heart failed as he slept. This cannot have been an easy life for him.”

The man spoke no more than the truth, as both Javan and Oriel knew full well, but when the man had gone, Javan had the Healer examine the body more closely. Charlan was with him; Guiscard was outside with Sir Sorle, questioning the guards who had been on duty. Other than the expected puncture marks in Ursin's forearm where the known dose of
merasha
had been administered, there were no marks upon the body. But when Oriel delved deeper to attempt a Death-Reading, he recoiled after only a few seconds.

“Dear God,” he whispered, clutching at his head in stunned disbelief.

“What is it?” Javan demanded.

With a shake of his head to delay answering until he had finished the Reading, Oriel bowed his head over the dead man again, trembling hands set on the cold forehead, then withdrew again, shaking his head as he held out a hand to Javan.

Stealthy footsteps in the night, Ursin rousing from drug-fogged sleep just as three shadow-shapes converged on him, two holding him down while the third jammed a pillow to his face.

Struggling to fight off his assailants, knowing they sought his death, fighting to breathe, body beginning to go into spasms, strength draining from his limbs—and then, just as consciousness dwindled almost to oblivion, respite from the smothering pillow only to have his jaws forced apart and a vial of burning liquid poured down his throat, numbing his tongue and sending paralysis coursing along his limbs and into his brain …

As Javan withdrew from the contact, shaking, Oriel was already opening the dead man's mouth, peering down the throat, recoiling again at the concentration of
merasha
still present—far more than enough to kill.

“But who would do this?” Javan whispered to Guiscard, when the body had been removed and Oriel had been sent back to the safety of his quarters with his guards. “And why? He wasn't a threat to anyone. And if the
Custodes
wanted him dead, all they had to do was wait a few weeks, until they got him to Ramos.”

He had not disclosed Oriel's findings to anyone outside his immediate circle of confidants, for anything Oriel said would only throw unwanted scrutiny back on him again and underline Deryni abilities that were best downplayed. Furthermore, Guiscard's questioning of the guards suggested that it had taken a Deryni to penetrate the security around Ursin's room. He had not been able to do more than Truth-Read, but the men were absolutely adamant—and telling the truth as they remembered it—that no one had passed them during the night.

“My guess would be that Dimitri's back,” Guiscard said, “but we can't even ask Paulin about him without arousing new suspicion. With Oriel discredited, we have no legitimate way of knowing about Dimitri.”

The Deryni knight made a special point of scrutinizing as many
Custodes
men as he could in the next few days, sometimes taking chances that might have betrayed him if he had uncovered a Deryni agent, but when he discovered that a
Custodes
party had left Rhemuth the very morning that Ursin's death was discovered, he dropped his investigation. The discovery tended to support their suspicions, but they could prove nothing and ask nothing.

Meanwhile, Ursin was allowed burial at Saint Hilary's, near the grave of the departed Sitric, and Archbishop Hubert's expressed regret over Ursin's death even extended to allowing his widow to attend the funeral—though not her Deryni son. No other mourners attended, other than the
Custodes
guards who had been on duty the night of Ursin's death, plus the court physician who had attended him the day before. Paulin himself elected to officiate at the solemn requiem the king had ordered for the repose of Ursin's soul, and spoke almost regretfully of the monastic profession Ursin had intended to make for the redemption of his Deryni soul, now thwarted by his untimely death.

Javan stood far back in the basilica during the Mass with his brother and Charlan and Guiscard and Read the truth of Paulin's words, almost convinced that the Vicar General had had no part in Ursin's death, but he could not bring himself to go forward for Communion at Paulin's hands. Nor did the others. He could tell that it did not sit well with Paulin, but he did not care. Afterward he returned to a testy session with his Council at which everything Hubert said seemed to irritate him. Paulin was not present, but Albertus was.

But overt hostility to the king's ideas seemed to abate somewhat after Ursin's death. Apparently the idea of sending a former Deryni into even a lay religious situation had rankled his great lords more than Javan realized. Concurrently, a clean disposition of the now-superfluous families of Ursin and the slain Sitric began to gain growing approval. Even Hubert's objections to the Revan solution seemed to have died away, and Javan began to hope that perhaps he had gotten past the worst of the opposition.

With winter fading into spring, he sent Sir Bertrand de Ville north to inquire regarding Master Revan as soon as the roads were passable again, while his Council sat in Rhemuth and began collating the writs of disclosure that began coming in as the roads cleared. Meanwhile, he worked mostly through Etienne de Courcy to keep Joram informed of his progress, and had him working at the other end to prepare an appropriate reception for the three women and the boy who shortly would be sent north.

It was late in April when Sir Bertrand returned with word that Master Revan was back at the bend in the Eirial River, offering his new baptism to wash Deryni clean. He had met with the master to tell him of the king's plans, and with one of his captains underwent an icy immersion to receive cleansing of any taint they might have incurred by contact with Deryni themselves, whether or not they had been aware of it. They came away with a blessing—“not my blessing, but the blessing of the Lord of Hosts,” Revan had assured them—and Bertrand with the beginnings of a head cold. But royal knight and men returned convinced that the Master Revan's work was both benign and beneficial, and so reported back to the Council on their arrival back in Rhemuth.

“I wouldn't go so far as to say that Master Revan is a saint,” Bertrand confided, between swipes at his nose with a soggy handkerchief, “but surely purifying those who have been contaminated by Deryni contact, and cleansing Deryni themselves of their evil, is far preferable to merely seeking out and destroying them. Isn't it better to offer these unfortunate people some hope of redemption? If compassion and mercy can accomplish the same purpose as ruthlessness, is this not preferable, if we say we walk in the example of our Lord?”

It was the basic argument that Javan himself had set in Bertrand's mind before sending him north, though augmented by the young knight's own passion at having experienced Revan's cleansing firsthand. Somewhat to his surprise, the Council seemed to respond to it rather well.

Too well, perhaps. Nothing in the response of any man in the room rang false, but Javan sensed an underlying current of tension that he could not explain. He knew that Paulin intended to test Revan further on Hubert's behalf, but not even the
Custodes
Vicar General raised the objections to Bertrand's enthusiasm that Javan might have expected. He tried for several days to get Hubert alone, in hopes of gaining further insight by a quick probe, but the archbishop always seemed to have others around him. At length, Javan decided that perhaps the royal presence was indicated for the expedition, to ensure that things went smoothly.

He broached the subject to the Council and encountered a vague uneasiness—which simply confirmed that it probably was a good idea to go. The weather was improving daily, and he had a loyal Haldane garrison in place in Rhemuth that should be more than adequate to keep order for Rhys Michael. Also, the thought of an outing was appealing after a winter cooped up in the castle. Nor would it hurt to show the royal presence in the north. It was only about a week's easy journey to where Revan was working, even travelling by easy stages on account of the women and the boy.

The Council's full approval was still uncertain when he adjourned for the day to give them time to consider further, but resistance had been wavering all afternoon. That evening he had dinner with Rhys Michael and Michaela and outlined his intentions with them.

“I shouldn't be gone more than a fortnight,” he said, “and most of the potential troublemakers will be going with me. I'll leave you Tomais, of course; and I think it's fairly certain by now that Udaut is our man. That should ensure the loyalty of the castle garrison. And you'll have Etienne and Jerowen and Lord Hildred.”

“I can handle that,” Rhys Michael agreed. “And I've got Oriel, in case Mika needs help.” He reached across to squeeze her hand. “It's months before anything's due to happen, though. You should be well back before that. Who's going with you?”

“Well, Charlan and Guiscard, of course. And Paulin will bring Lior, to make sure his three Deryni really do get ‘purified.' That probably means he'll also want Albertus and a bunch of
Custodes
to escort us, but I'll take along a good-size Haldane levy under Robear's command. That should keep the
Custodes
from getting any stupid ideas.”

“What about Rhun?”

“I'll take him, too, so you don't have to worry about him. He can ride with Albertus. He'd like to be the next Earl Marshal, you know.”

Rhys Michael snorted and grinned. “Not bloody likely. It sounds like good strategy, though. You think they'll really let you go?”

Javan gave him a sour look. “Do you really think I'd let them
stop
me?”

In Hubert's quarters down at the cathedral, the archbishop was asking the same question of Paulin.

“No, I think he's made up his mind,” Paulin replied. “Our young king has become very wise in nearly seventeen years of living. I don't think you're going to turn him around. Fortunately, there's a contingency plan already in place.”

Hubert glanced at Albertus, sitting silent and slyly smiling beside his brother, then back at Paulin.

“Just what are you up to, Paulin?” he whispered.

“Just never you mind,” Paulin replied.

“But the hostages are Deryni—”

“They will be dealt with, I assure you.”

“And the king?”

Paulin smiled. “Let him go to Master Revan.”

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY-ONE

And their king shall go into captivity, he and his princes together, saith the Lord
.

—Amos 1:15

The departure of the former hostages was set for the first week in May. On the third, Holy Rood Day, Javan heard Mass in the Chapel Royal with his household and family, ceremonially handed over command of the castle to his brother on the great hall steps, and joined the entourage mounting up in the castle yard.

Robear had his Haldane levies lined up by fours and stretching back into the practice yard—fifty Haldane lancers with their officers, Haldane livery bright gold and crimson in the morning sun. Albertus had assembled his escort of twenty
Custodes
knights just outside the castle gates, forming a double line through which the royal party would pass—for Paulin had indeed declared himself leery of travelling without powerful escort in these troubled times, especially with Deryni in their company.

More
Custodes
men-at-arms sat their horses in the castle yard, a pair for each of the three curtained horse litters standing at the head of the modest baggage train. A
Custodes
battle surgeon was leaning into one of the litters to check on its occupant—not the elusive Dimitri, Javan was relieved to see, as he swung up on his cream-colored stallion and the man emerged. It had been agreed that all four hostages should be sedated for the journey, but not with
merasha
, which could prove harmful over the five or six days the journey was expected to take.

It was probably a mercy of sorts, for travel in the lurching litters would not be particularly pleasant, even though they were deep and well padded with cushions. Javan could see little Carrollan curled in the curve of his mother's arm, already asleep, just before the battle surgeon drew the curtain back into place. The other two litters held Sitric's elderly mother and his sister, a handsome young woman in her twenties. The hostages also were chained by one wrist to the frames of their litters, lest any seek to escape despite the lethargy of drugs.

They rode out just before noon, lightly armored over their riding leathers, with Javan leading at the head of Robear's lancers and Charlan bearing the royal standard, he and Guiscard flanking the king. Paulin and Lior rode with Rhun and four knights in Rhun's livery, directly behind the royal party. Albertus'
Custodes
knights fell into place as vanguard behind the litters and baggage train.

As they picked their way down the cobbled descent from the castle mount and through the city, exiting the city gates to head northward along the familiar river road north, the people came out to cheer them as they passed, for the king had not ventured forth in formal procession for some time.