Six tall funeral candlesticks also guarded the bier, three to each side, the only light in the chapel save for the Presence lamp above the tabernacle and the bank of blue votive candles before the statue of the Virgin. By that bluish light, the white-robed monks looked decidedly sinister, disapproving.

«Why did they have to be here?» the young king muttered under his breath, so that only Kenneth could hear.

«Surely you cannot have thought that they would not be here, my prince», Kenneth replied. «The archbishop will have sent them, as a mark of respect».

Scowling, the new king lingered a moment longer just inside the west door, steeling himself. Then he pushed back the hood of his cloak and walked briskly down the center aisle, Kenneth like a shadow at his heels.

The guards remained motionless as Brion approached the bier; the monks ducked their heads over their prayer beads. Kenneth hung back a little as the new king paused to bow to the altar and then moved closer to stand to the right of his father’s bier and bow again, this time to the dead king.

They had laid Donal out in a crimson mantle of state and an under-robe of white damask, reminiscent of what he had worn for his coronation, more than twenty years before, with the crown of Gwynedd on his brow and the Haldane sword laid atop his body, the hands clasped over the hilt. For the first time in many years, Kenneth thought, he looked at peace.

Much moved, he inclined his head in respect, then blessed himself and breathed a prayer for the king’s soul. After a moment, Brion bent to gently kiss his father’s cheek, then turned away, grief in his eyes as he rejoined Kenneth and they headed back up the aisle.

Word of the king’s death took three days to reach Alyce at Morganhall, for another early winter storm had swept in from the north the day before, burying the hills in heavy, sticky snow. The courier who brought Kenneth’s letter was exhausted and half frozen, soaked to the skin, and could barely speak at first, as he allowed himself to be led to the warmth of the great fireplace in the hall. There, while he waited to put the letter directly into Alyce’s hands, he let himself be wrapped in several dry blankets and plied with hot mulled ale while he gasped out the first grim news through chattering teeth.

The servant who came to fetch Alyce was Master Leopold, steward of the manor. He found her in the solar, where she had been reclining by its fire beside Vera and Kenneth’s two sisters, who were mending linens. Alaric and Duncan were playing with toy knights and blocks on the hearth, and Kevin was reading in the stronger light from a neaby window. All four women looked up as he entered, instantly sobered by his expression.

«Beg pardon, my ladies, but a courier has just arrived from Rhemuth».

«In this weather?» Claara started to protest, looking scandalized.

«I fear he’s brought ill news», Leopold went on, cutting across her as he locked his gaze on his master’s wife. «The king has died, my lady. Sir Jaska Collins is waiting in the hall with a letter from Lord Kenneth. He says he has orders to deliver it only into your hands».

Alyce had gone very still at the news, and she carefully eased herself to a sitting position as Vera set aside her stitching; her sisters-in-law gasped and then began whispering urgently to one another.

«You should have brought him straight up», Alyce said numbly. «I’ll go to him at once. Did he say when it happened, or how?»

The steward shook his head. «Unknown, my lady. He’s half-frozen and exhausted, so I’ve left him by the fire to thaw out».

Nodding, Alyce eased herself to her feet and pulled a shawl more closely around her shoulders. Now in the final weeks of her pregnancy, she moved ponderously toward the door, then let the steward precede her slowly down the stairs to the great hall. Sir Llion was conversing animatedly with the newcomer, who rose at once as Alyce entered, clasping his blankets around him with one hand and favoring her with a quick bow as he produced a sealed square of folded parchment.

«Thank you for coming, Sir Jaska», she murmured, taking the letter as Sir Llion pulled another chair closer to the fire and held it while she sat. «I trust that you are thawing somewhat».

«Aye, m’lady. I am sorry to be the bearer of such ill news».

«When and how did it happen?» she replied, not taking her eyes from him as she broke the letter’s seal.

«Three days past», Sir Jaska replied, sitting again at her gesture. «Apparently he took a chill about a fortnight ago, and never really managed to shake it off. They say it went to his lungs, but I think his heart was broken».

The remark about taking a chill made her wonder whether Donal’s secret journey to Morganhall had led to his death, but it was also a reminder of the sons the king had lost, and the eldest, now become king, whom he had hoped to keep safe at whatever cost.

«Aye, Prince Jathan’s death will not have been easy to endure», she said vaguely. As she began to skim the letter for more details, she found herself thinking of Donal’s other sons who had died untimely. She was heartened to learn that Kenneth had already ensured that Prince Brion took possession of the items she would need to seal his Haldane powers — for it was certain that, now, it would be she and not her young son who must catalyze what Donal had set in motion for his heir.

«Do you know what arrangements have been made?» she asked, when she had finished reading.

Sir Jaska shook his head. «Not when I left, my lady. What with the weather, I doubt they’ll try to delay the funeral until word can get out. I doubt many could get there much before Twelfth Night. But I’d guess that this means they’ll plan for a Twelfth Night coronation, since so many already plan to attend that court. That’s only six weeks away, but it’s always best to crown a young king as soon as possible — just so that no one gets ideas about taking advantage of his youth».

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».