The King's Deryni (35 page)

Alaric shrugged and briefly averted his gaze. “So am I. But thank you for being here. He would appreciate that, I know. In fact, you have always been there when he needed you—and I thank you for that as well.”

Suddenly making a connection that had not occurred to him before, he glanced at Jovett, then at Sé again. His consternation must have shown on his face, because Jovett smiled faintly and folded his arms across his chest.

“Yes, I am,” he said quietly. “And we'll speak of this at a more appropriate time. In the meantime, I trust that you'll keep your sudden enlightenment to yourself.”

“Of course,” the boy murmured, wide-eyed.

“And more immediately,” Sé interjected, “I gather that you've come here for the same reason we did: to pay honor to your father.” He glanced approvingly at Alaric's sword and mourning attire. “Shall we rotate in, then, and allow our colleagues from Lendour to take a well-deserved break?” he asked, jutting his chin in the direction of the oblivious Lendouri knights.

Alaric only nodded solemnly, suddenly aware that Sé must have controlled the knights as he had done to others in the past. He wondered whether Llion was also controlled, but his mentor seemed well aware of what was going on, with none of the dazed look about him that characterized the guardian knights. Which meant that Llion knew about Sé—and now, Jovett as well—and that Sé trusted the young knight to keep their confidence.

“Gentlemen, Lord Alaric and these other knights will take over for a while,” Sé said to the men, opening his arms to include all of them in a vague shooing motion toward the door. “Sir Xander, please remain outside the door to give us some privacy.”

Without demur, the four lifted their heads and filed out of the room, Xander pulling the door closed behind them. Jovett started to move into one of the guard posts around the coffin, but Alaric caught his sleeve and glanced at Sé. Before they began their vigil, there was one other thing he needed to do, here in the presence of his father.

“Sir Sé, Jovett, before we proceed, could I ask your indulgence?”

Both Deryni paused, exchanging glances, and Llion also looked at him in question.

“Earlier this evening,” Alaric said carefully, “Sir Llion agreed to be my knight. We clasped hands on the bargain, but with his permission, I should like to make the arrangement more formal, in front of witnesses. If he's still willing, that is.”

At once Llion sank to one knee before him, lifting his joined hands to the boy in the traditional gesture of vassal to lord.

“You know that I
am
your knight, my lord,” he murmured. “Will you receive my vow?”

Alaric nodded and clasped Llion's hands between his, and the two Deryni moved closer to witness.

“I, Llion Farquahar, do become your liege man of life and limb and earthly worship,” Llion said steadily, his eyes never leaving Alaric's. “Faith and truth will I bear unto you, to live and to die, so help me God.”

“And I, Alaric Anthony Morgan, pledge to be unto you a true and faithful lord,” Alaric replied. “So help me God.”

Before Llion could rise, Jovett also knelt and offered up his joined hands.

“Alaric, I, too, am your man, as I was your father's man,” Jovett said, nodding as the boy shifted to enclose his joined hands. “And I vow to serve and protect your interests in Lendour, for so long as you shall need me. So help me God.”

“Thank you, Jovett,” Alaric whispered. “With an elder brother guarding Lendour for me, I could not be better served.” He glanced aside in surprise, for Sé had also knelt, but not to offer his hands. Instead, he slipped his sword from its hangers, and now offered the hilt to him.

“My fealty is already given to a higher Lord,” Sé said softly, “but I promise you my service in time of need, as I promised your mother and your father before you. Will you accept what I may give?”

Nodding, Alaric laid a hand on the cross-hilt of Sé's sword. “I shall always treasure whatever service you may give,” he said. “And thank you,
all
of you.”

“Right, then,” Jovett said, standing. “I know that Kenneth would approve what has just been done. Now we should pay our respects, as is fitting and proper.”

“Amen to that,” Sé replied, as he and Llion also rose.

So saying, he moved into position at the foot of the coffin, touching a reverent hand to the Lendour banner before clasping his hands at his waist and bowing his head. The others followed suit, Jovett opposite Sé, and Llion and Alaric taking places left and right. Thus they stood for the next hour, each meditating on the life of the man they had come to honor.

•   •   •

S
IR
Kenneth Kai Morgan Earl of Lendour would be buried at noon the next day, in the selfsame crypt where his beloved second wife had lain while her tomb was being prepared at Culdi. It also was not far from the grave of his celebrated kinsman, the loyal Sir Charlan Morgan, who had died at the side of King Javan Haldane, so many years before.

Sir Sé Trelawney was among the eight knights who bore the coffin from the chapel at Morganhall to the nearby church. Aside from Alaric, Llion, and Jovett, no one marked his particular presence, in part because he did not wish them to, but in part because, in his stark black robes, he looked much like any of the other knights who performed this final service for their liege lord.

Alaric walked behind the coffin with his Aunt Delphine, the king, Duke Jared, and the delegation of sisters from Arc-en-Ciel, along with two of his half-sisters: one who had studied at the convent and with Alaric's mother, the other now resident at the convent, though she had not taken vows. His Aunt Claara, still confined to her bed, was carried down to the church on a litter, to weep beside the coffin as Father Swithun celebrated the Requiem Mass to send Kenneth on his final journey. As a special tribute of their own, the sisters of Arc-en-Ciel sang the Mass responses, Alazais and Zoë joining their number, and at the end offered the hauntingly beautiful funeral antiphons that had been sung at the funeral of Marie de Corwyn, so many years before:

“Alleluia. . . . Chori angelorum te suscipiat. . . . In paradisum deducant te angeli. . . .”

Alleluia. May choirs of angels receive thee. May the angels accompany thee to paradise. Give rest, O Lord, to Your servant, who has fallen asleep. Remember me, O Lord, when You come into Your kingdom. . . .

When the Mass was ended, the king, a duke, and four more knights who had been close friends of the dead man carried his coffin down into the crypt of the church. Sé held back from this last service, lest his anonymity be compromised by such confined proximity to those who might know him, for space was tight down in the crypt; but he had already paid his respects the night before, and had disappeared by the time the immediate family emerged from the little church.

•   •   •

L
ATER
that evening, in the aftermath of a long and emotional day, the king summoned the members of Alaric's extended family for a private meeting in the castle's great hall. While the arrangement for the boy's future had been quite clear between the king and Kenneth, the rest of the family—and Alaric himself—needed to be informed of the king's plans.

“I know that it was your father's wish that you serve for at least a few years in Duke Jared's household,” he told the boy and said duke, as they gathered before the fireplace. The evening had grown cool, and the season definitely was turning. Zoë and Jovett, Alazais, and Delphine Morgan were also present, along with Llion. Claara had made her apologies and retired to her room, for the day had taken much out of her.

“Sire,” said Jared, “you're aware of the reasons he wished this to happen. The court at Rhemuth is not without its dangers for a boy of Alaric's lineage.”

“I am well aware of the increased dangers at court,” the king replied, “but with his father gone, I believe that his training for the future would be best served if he were at my side.”

“But you cannot guarantee his safety,” Zoë said baldly. “Remember what happened to Krispin MacAthan. I was there. And it was not widely known that he was Deryni.”

“With all respect, my lady,
none
of us can guarantee his safety,” the king replied. “But because of that, and because I greatly value your goodwill, and that of your family, I am willing to offer something of a compromise. I am willing that Alaric should remain in Duke Jared's household until the new year. He could join the royal household at Twelfth Night court. That will give all of you time to get used to the idea and make the necessary adjustments, and for me to confer with my uncle and the rest of my household officers about the best way to go about integrating a new page into my court. Granted, there will be resentment, but there is precedent for a king attaching particular pages and squires to his personal retinue.”

“Until Twelfth Night, you say?” Jared said quietly.

“Aye, and he will be well into his tenth year by then,” the king replied. “If he continues to grow as he has over this past summer, he should be able to hold his own with any bullies he encounters.”

“Bullies near his own age, perhaps,” Jared said sourly. “But what of the sort who killed Krispin MacAthan?”

The king's jaw tightened. “That is why I shall place him under my personal protection. And he will become older and more capable with each passing day. He has a powerful destiny to fulfill, Jared, and many obstacles to overcome. We must not cripple him by protecting him overmuch.”

“I am willing to go at Twelfth Night,” Alaric said quietly, speaking for the first time.

All eyes turned toward the nine-year-old.

“I have always known that it would be a challenge to get me safely grown. May I ask one favor?”

Brion inclined his head. “Of course.”

“I should like to retain Sir Llion as my knight—not to serve me as he has, as governor, but to be present and accessible to me at court, so that I have at least one person besides yourself, in whom I can trust utterly.”

“That is entirely reasonable,” the king agreed. “I assume that, with your knight resident at court, I may also utilize his services from time to time?”

His wink, directed at both the boy and Llion, defused any hint of affront on his part, but Delphine still drew back in an expression of indignation.

“Alaric! You are speaking to your king!”

“Let be, my lady,” Brion immediately replied, smiling as he reached across to pat her hand in reassurance. “He is my future duke, and I shall always expect him to speak his mind. He did so courteously, and he is entirely right in his concern. I am well aware of the pressures he will face at court, far beyond those of any other page or squire in my service. Llion, have you any particular concerns that you would care to offer?”

“I do, Sire,” Llion replied, with an inclination of his head. “Both Alaric and I are grateful for your understanding, but if I may, I should like to offer a practical arrangement that would benefit all three of us.” At the king's nod, he continued. “Sir Ninian de Piran offered me a position on Duke Richard's training staff, if I should ever leave Earl Kenneth's service. My service is now to his son, but circumstances still would allow such a position, if Duke Richard agrees. He gave me to understand that His Highness would also support such an appointment. If you agree, of course.”

The king glanced in question at Jared, who nodded.

“I should prefer that he stay with me for another few years, but this is acceptable.”

“And apparently Alaric is in agreement.” The king gave a curt nod. “Very well, then, I shall expect the three of you at Twelfth Night.”

•   •   •

T
HE
king departed for Rhemuth the next morning with his two guards. Jared remained at Morganhall with Alaric and Llion for several more days, confirming the present arrangements for Lendour, at least until the king should decide otherwise, and installing Xander at Morganhall to oversee that holding—again, until the king might determine otherwise, though Morganhall was Alaric's now, and must be held in trust for him until he came of age. When Jared and his party finally rode out of Morganhall, Jovett and Zoë headed east toward Lendour. The holy sisters and Alazais rode a little way with the ducal party before turning off toward Arc-en-Ciel. Shortly after they had disappeared from sight, Llion glanced sidelong at Alaric and eased his horse a little closer, keeping his voice down. They were riding at the tail end of the ducal procession.

“It was good to see the holy sisters again, even if in such sober circumstances,” he remarked.

Alaric absently agreed that it was.

“I loved their singing at the funeral. They sounded like angels.”

Alaric made a vague sound of agreement, though his mind was elsewhere.

“I was a little surprised that your sister Alazais was not wearing the habit of the order,” Llion went on. “When I asked Zoë about it, she laughed and told me that Alazais has never taken vows.”

“No, of course not,” Alaric replied, only now beginning to pay casual attention. “She's been studying manuscript illumination, you know, as Zoë and my mother did.”

“Has she?” Llion said thoughtfully.

“Aye, and Father Swithun says that she's gotten very good—perhaps as good as Zoë or my mother. She's even begun taking commissions.”

“Indeed.”

“I gave her a commission,” Alaric said after a beat, glancing down at his reins. “I was going to ask Aunt Delphine to do it, but I'd forgotten how good Alazais is. In fact, I left Father's locket with her, and asked her to make me a portrait of him to go inside.” He cast a sidelong glance at Llion. “There's room now. I put the ones that Aunt Delphine did of me and Bronwyn in Father's coffin, next to his heart.” He paused a beat. “Was it wrong to do that?”