Valour and Victory (3 page)

Mother
Breguswið was not over fond of paperwork. Despite her best efforts
the bundle of papers in her ‘in-tray’ appeared to get bigger every
day.

The ‘Grey
Nuns’, hence Mother Breguswið’s all grey habit was a teaching
community, founded at the beginning of the second century by a
daughter of one of the ducal houses, some years after the
Thibaltine Order of Nuns had been founded. The Thibaltines were
neither a teaching order nor were they a nursing order as were the
white-habited Little Sisters of the Poor. The Thibaltines ran what
were known as enclosed convents, devoted entirely to prayer and to
the worship of God. The Little Sisters worked in the world outside
their walls.

The Order of
Grey Nuns devoted an equal amount of time to prayer (this included
two candle-marks a day spent reading devotional books) and
teaching. They ran schools within their houses for young girls up
to the age of fourteen and also taught pupils of both sexes in the
towns and villages.

Breguswið’s
teaching days were now over; she had far too much to do running the
Order which had no less than twenty-six daughter-houses and any
number of secular schools. She did try to be a mother to all of her
daughters in religion and to the schoolgirls sent to her
convent.

Now in her late
fifties, Mother Breguswið was a much loved and respected woman. She
picked up the last piece of correspondence she had to deal with
this day.

It was a
letter, a request from one of the girls who had left the school
some three years before. Estelle, for that was her name, was
visiting her younger sister (also an ex-pupil) who was expected to
be getting married later in the summer at the family home, two days
carriage ride distant.

Estelle, now
Margravessa Brentwood had been well-liked and Mother Breguswið
wrote that she would be pleased to welcome both her and her sister
Isobel if they cared to pay the community a visit. She added that
Sisters Cynwise and Coenberg would be pleased to see them. Before
entering religion Cynwise and Coenberg had been good friends with
Estelle and Isobel.

Mother
Breguswið then added that she would also be happy if Estelle and
Isobel’s sister-in-law Katia, Contessa Katia Cocteau wished to
visit. Katia’s young sister Jill was a shining light amongst the
younger schoolgirls in the convent annex.

With a gurgle
of relief (despite her years Breguswið had not lost her sense of
humour) she sealed this, the last item and placed it in her
out-tray.

* * * * *

Elliot and
Robain

“Welcome to
Murdoch,” said Elliot to Robain as they stepped off the gangplank
and on to the busy quayside.

A cacophony of
sound hit Robain. “Where to now?” he mouthed.

“Castle,”
Elliot mouthed back and indicated that James should lead the
way.

They had
planned this. Duke William Duchesne did not employ excise officers
who boarded vessels to inspect them, as was the usual custom in
Argyll. He found it more expedient to leave the visitors to Port
Duchesne alone when inside the walled port area and to station
guards at the exit gates to gather in the import taxes at the
gates.

James had
reassumed the rank of Count he had discarded during his sojourn in
the northern continent and would explain their presence to the
guards. He was expensively dressed in a dark green doublet with
matching breeches and sported the badge of the Ducal House of
Cocteau on the long cloak he held over one arm. He had become, once
again, Count James Cocteau.

Elliot and
Robain were dressed in nondescript clothing as befitted servants of
the Cocteau House. They also displayed the Cocteau badge, this time
on their homespun tunics.

Elliot did not
plan to reveal his true identity until they were actually in the
presence of Duke William.

James led the
way, weaving through the noisy crowd towards the gate.

“Let James do
the talking,” hissed Elliot as they joined the queue of people,
animals and wagons waiting to be passed through. Robain had no
intention of uttering a solitary word. His northern accent would
draw unwanted attention.

At last it was
their turn.

“What is your
business in Murdoch?” demanded the gate-guard in a bored voice.

“I am Count
James Cocteau,” announced James in the clear confident voice of one
accustomed to being obeyed.

The Gate-guard
took note of both tone and dress but would not budge. “Yes, but
your business is?”

Robain watched
as James bristled with assumed indignation.

“I am
accustomed to being addressed as ‘My Lord’,” he chided in an
ice-cold voice, “as for my business, it is with your Duke and is
not your concern.”

“Security has
been stepped up I see,” whispered Elliot to Robain, “that man is
one of Duke William’s personal retainers.”

“How can you
tell?”

“Uniform,”
answered Elliot. “Only they wear that particular shade of
blue.”

“So what do we
do? It doesn’t look like he’s going to let us through.”

“James will
deal with it.”

The retainer
looked James up and down appraisingly. His eyes flicked over to
where Elliot and Robain were standing.

“My apologies
My Lord Count,” he said at last, “I have my orders.”

“I understand,”
said James, “but I tell truth. I have urgent business with the
Duke.”

The retainer
came to a decision.

“You and your
servants may pass through My Lord, I will, however, provide an
escort for you to the Castle.”

“That is
acceptable,” said James.

“If you will
follow me?” the man said with a bow and indicated that James should
follow him out of the gate.

“Thank you,”
replied James, still in that ‘I am one who is born to be obeyed’
voice.

Elliot and
James picked up the bags and followed.

Within a
quarter candle-mark they were on their way to Castle Duchesne,
accompanied by three dour faced guards.

“Not taking any
chances are they?” whispered Robain to Elliot.

“I’m taking
this as a good sign.”

“In what way?”
asked a mystified Robain.

“Means Duke
William is jumpy. I’m hoping that word has come about what is
happening. Danal did say that Susa Julia would be sending warnings
south.”

They were
approaching the castle gatehouse. Robain was amazed when he saw how
imposing an edifice it was, it was old, ancient, the stone
weathered, it looked as if it had been there forever.

“How old
is
it?” he asked as they passed over the drawbridge,
glancing over the wooden fence and down into the murky depths of
the moat.

“It’s as old as
the Citadel at Fort,” Elliot informed him, “in fact, it might be
even older. The very first Duchesne built it to protect his people
against the Larg. We’re very close to the Island Chain. This castle
has never fallen. It stood an eight month siege during the Great
Civil War.”

“I can well
imagine,” observed Robain as they passed under the portcullis and
entered the tunnel leading the castle proper. “What are these
openings above us?” he asked pointing to a row of square, grilled
openings set at equal distances and through which muted light
meandered.

“This is the
killing zone,” Elliot explained. “In the event of an enemy getting
this far, molten oil and other nasties can be poured down, they are
known as murder holes.”

“Simple but
effective,” said Robain, who had read about them, “are all your
castles like this?”

“The older and
bigger ones, except in Cocteau. The original Castle Cocteau was
raised to the ground in the fourth century and was never rebuilt.
The Duke of Cocteau has a large building which he calls a castle
but in my opinion it wouldn’t hold put for long. The original keep
still stands. I suppose it was too difficult to pull down, I
believe it is kept in good repair although I’ve never visited it
personally.”

By now, the
three of them had been ushered into a small chamber where they were
told to wait. It was cold and inhospitable, bare of furniture
expect for a hard bench set against one wall. Elliot sat down but
Robain and James remained standing.

“Might be a
while,” Elliot explained as he stretched out his legs and tried to
get comfortable.

“So why are we
here and not being taken to see the Duke?” asked Robain.

“The Duke of
Cocteau, my uncle,” James answered, “and Duke William are not what
you might call friends. He’ll be wondering what I’m doing here,
he’ll also think it normal to leave me cooling my heels for a while
before he sends one of his men to fetch me into his presence. I
expected it, my uncle would do the same.”

“Strange,”
commented Robain, unaccustomed to the political machinations of the
Murdoch aristocracy, “and here was me thinking that you were all on
the same side. Silly me.” He grinned.

James laughed,
“yes and no. We all hate the Larg and the Dukes swear fealty to the
King but that’s where it ends. Most Dukes hate and despise each
other, especially the northerly and southerly ones.”

Elliot who had
been sitting staring into space, mentally rehearsing what he was
going to say to Duke William turned to Robain. “Do you want me to
explain a bit more?”

“Might as
well,” Robain answered. “What’s Duke William like?” he asked,
sitting down beside Elliot.

“Much like any
northerly Duke.”

“So what’s the
difference between a northerly and a southerly one?”

“That’s a hard
one.”

“Take your
time. I don’t think we’re going anywhere soon.”

“How much to
you know about my country?”

“Only what I’ve
been taught and that mostly about the military capabilities. Just
pretend that I’m a complete ignoramus and explain in simple
terms.”

“The northerly
duchies have always been that bit more independent,” began Elliot.
“Duchesne, Graham, Gardiner and Brentwood, I suppose North Baker
too, more ‘go-ahead’ than those to the south. The land is different
here, there are forests, water and the ground is rich. The farms
are smaller and there is more industry. They have access to trade
with the northern continent and the islands and although slavery
exists, it’s not endemic. The Emancipation Movement has a lot of
support in Duchesne and Graham. The further south you go, it
changes.”

“Slavery?”

“Yes,
especially in agriculture.”

“The other
duchies?”

“Cocteau and
van Buren?”

“Yes.”

“Most of their
land, like Smith and South Baker is owned by the ducal families,
unlike here. Large estates, plantations and vast irrigation
systems. Not much industry. There are thousands of slaves working
the fields. The Dukes of Cocteau and van Buren are
ultra-conservative. They cling to the old ways.”

“I see, at
least a little. Sahara?”

“Owned by the
crown, there’s never been a duke there. It is mostly desert. That’s
where the mines are.” He cocked an eye at Robain, “thinking of your
sister?”

Robain was
surprised at the question and his face showed it.

“Philip told
me,” explained Elliot. “As soon as we get to Fort I’ll set the
wheels in motion to find them. I promise.”

Robain sighed
as he listened to Elliot’s altruism. “We’re about to embark on the
biggest war that the planet has ever seen Elliot and even I have to
admit that the war comes first and the finding of my sister and
mother second. I don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

“I was brought
up with slavery,” said Elliot, “but it doesn’t mean that I think it
is right. When I visited your country Robain, there weren’t any
slaves and no one, not even the rich thought there was a need nor
felt the lack. I liked it there. My Father, he hates it too. When I
am King I am going to end it.”

“You’re going
to emancipate the slaves? That’ll not do much for your popularity
amongst certain numbers of your people.”

“I think I can
live with that, I certainly can’t live with the knowledge that I
knew slavery was wrong and did nothing to try to end it.”

* * * * *

Isobel

Duchess Anne
Cocteau handed out the letters. There were three. One was to
Baroness Tamsin Dubois, who was visiting the manor for the summer
with her husband and children from her nun sister, Sister Cynwise.
It was an invitation to visit the convent with her husband and
children.

The second
letter was also from Cynwise, to another of the Duchesses nieces,
Isobel.

The third was
to Countess Katia, married to Isobel’s brother James.

Letter from
Sister Cynwise, a novice with the Order of Grey Nuns, to her cousin
Isobel:

‘
My Dearest
Cousin Isobel,

Mother
Breguswið has given me leave to write to you as well as my sister
Tamsin to tell you all the news from our House because she knows
well how interested you are in our day to day lives. As you know,
now that I have professed my initial vows and donned the habit I
cannot write as often as I might like but it is a small price to
pay for the happiness now within me now that I am a one of the
novitiate.

First, I am
going to say that both Coenberg (remember, that is the name in
religion Annette has taken) and I enjoyed your last visit very much
and we hope that you will be able to visit us again soon and before
your wedding to Prince Elliot. Who would have thought when we
arrived here with your sister Estelle all these years ago to join
the schoolroom that you would become our future Queen? I am happy
for you and pray that the joy you expressed when you were here
regarding your impending nuptials will continue during the years
ahead. As you know, I never really wanted the type of marriage that
will soon be yours. I think, even at twelve I intended to be a
‘Bride of the Church’ and knew that for me, it was the route to my
greatest joy and happiness.