With universal agreement, the seven began moving to the doors from the room, and the Portal beyond, that would send them back to their respective homes.

Chapter 14

«As an earring of gold, and an ornament of fine gold».[15]

As expected, remnants of the first great storm of the New Year continued to affect the customary fixtures surrounding Twelfth Night Court. The king’s traditional public petitioners’ court, already rescheduled from St. Stephen’s Day, was moved into the cathedral itself, directly after the Mass of the Epiphany, both of which events were sparsely attended because of the weather.

The business of Twelfth Night Court began several hours late as a result, also notably less attended than usual. The seven-year-old Prince Nigel was among the new pages received that afternoon, afterward standing proudly beside his elder brother in their father’s crimson livery, obviously struggling to contain an elated grin. Two older pages were promoted to squire, changing their simple pages’ tabards for crimson livery tunics bearing the king’s cipher and buckling on the blued-steel spurs that marked this rite of passage.

After that, three senior squires came forward with their sponsors, in turn, to receive the accolade of knighthood. The second of the three was a distant cousin of Michon de Courcy, sent by his father for the greater prestige that would accrue from being knighted at Twelfth Night Court rather than in a distant baronial court. It was Michon who presented young Estèphe de Courcy, a younger brother carrying the sword and spurs; and it was Michon to whom the king gave the privilege of actually conferring the accolade. As the new Sir Estèphe proudly rose to be girded with the white belt of his knighthood, then knelt again to place his hands between those of the king and offer his fealty, Seisyll Arilan took satisfaction in the knowledge that Estèphe, like Michon and himself, was another secret Deryni, and would be a valuable agent on the western borders of the kingdom.

But no ambassador from Torenth appeared with any further word regarding the hasty shift in the Torenthi succession. Indeed, it would be several weeks before any official notification of Prince Nimur’s death reached King Donal’s court — and even then, details would be sparse. Various gossip and rumors would drift in sporadically throughout the remainder of the hard winter and early spring, but nothing of substance regarding what had really happened to the eldest Torenthi heir.

The remainder of Twelfth Night Court and the feast that followed passed much as they had the previous year, if on a smaller scale because of the weather, and without the frisson created the previous year by Kenneth Morgan’s creation as earl. Afterward, only Michon de Courcy reported briefly to the Camberian Council — but only that there was really nothing to report, save for the expected knighting of his cousin Estèphe.

Soon after Twelfth Night, Kenneth and Alyce returned to Cynfyn with their son and household for the remainder of the winter. There, while Kenneth presided over local courts and consulted with the council that saw to the affairs of Lendour when he was absent, Alyce and Zoë had time and leisure to renew their close friendship and exult together over Zoë’s pregnancy. Zoë’s husband adored her, and his parents had quite taken her to their hearts, as had the entire court at Cynfyn. The contentment and sense of well-being was palpable, even in the midst of winter, and only increased as Zoë blossomed with the spring.

Later in the spring, Kenneth took Alyce and Alaric with him to Coroth for a few weeks’ stay. There, as in Cynfyn, Kenneth attended to his duties as regent, periodically rode out into the surrounding countryside, and continued familiarizing himself with those who looked after the day-today running of the duchy. He and Alyce celebrated Easter in Coroth with their young son, who was missing his friends back in Rhemuth, then returned to Cynfyn in time to attend the birth of Zoë’s first child, Kenneth’s first grandson, christened Kailan Peter Chandos. It was a happy time for all of them; and by late in May, when he and Alyce prepared to return to Rhemuth for the celebrations marking Prince Brion’s coming of age at Midsummer, Alyce knew she was finally with child again: a girl, this time, to be born before the turning of the year.

«How ever do you know these things?» Kenneth asked with awe, when she had told him her news.

«You aren’t disappointed that it isn’t another son?» she answered, mischief in her blue eyes.

«Good heavens, no! I adore daughters!»

«Well, you do have a certain amount of experience with daughters», she said coyly. «But you’re sure you don’t mind?» she pressed. «It will mean a winter confinement — and I certainly shan’t be able to accompany you to next year’s Twelfth Night Court».

«No, of course you won’t», he agreed, thinking aloud. «But you could go to Morganhall for your lying-in. It would be nice if at least one of our children could be born on the Morgan ancestral lands. I’m sure my sisters would be delighted, especially if it meant they might attend the birth of their first niece. I know they would also love the chance to dote on Alaric for the holidays».

«You needn’t convince me further», Alyce broke in, laying a forefinger across his lips and smiling. «I cannot think of better midwives to attend me. And I shall do my best to deliver before you must leave for Christmas court».

He grinned and kissed her in answer, then lay back with her nestled in the crook of his arm, curving a hand fondly over her still-flat abdomen.

Despite Alyce’s protestations that she was only pregnant, not ill, Kenneth insisted that she travel by coach when they left for Rhemuth a few days later. In truth, the conveyance provided far less comfort than if she had made the journey a-horse, but she had Melissa in the coach with her, to keep her company, and Alaric at least started the journey with them.

But he very quickly became bored with this mode of transport, and soon put up such a fuss about being treated like a baby that his father permitted him to ride with Sir Llion for part of each day.

They arrived in the capital early in June of 1095, with but a week remaining before Prince Brion should achieve his fourteenth year and come officially of age. The milestone was mainly one of law, for everyone was well aware that few fourteen-year-olds were ready to assume the full duties of monarchy, but it meant that now, should Donal die untimely, his son and heir would not be required to rule through a regency council.

Such a council was already in place, to be sure, for handling the affairs of the kingdom when the king was occupied elsewhere in his realm. Donal had selected his crown council with care, and had named his brother Richard to preside whenever he was absent — a precedent that young Brion almost certainly would follow, when his father’s council eventually became his council. It was a reassurance for all concerned, and the prince was as familiar with the council’s workings as could be expected of even a precocious fourteen-year-old born and bred to be king.

But along with the public recognitions scheduled to take place with council and court, Donal Haldane intended another, more private recognition to mark his heir’s coming of age, to be witnessed by only a select few. The night before the actual birthday festivities, after a private supper with his son, Donal summoned Kenneth and Alyce to join them in his private withdrawing chamber within the royal apartments. Donal himself admitted them.

«Thank you for coming», the king said quietly, standing aside to let them pass and then closing the door behind them. Prince Brion had been sitting at a small supper table lately cleared of the clutter of their meal, and rose as the two came into the room. He looked both eager and faintly apprehensive, perhaps in anticipation of what further the night might bring.