Chapter 25

«For a bishop must be blameless, as the steward of God».[26]

They departed for Rhemuth a little later under clearing skies, though the cold was still bitter, chilling to the bone. Kenneth’s sisters and Vera had come to see them off, all three of the women teary-eyed, for it was unlikely that Kenneth would visit Morganhall again soon. Vera, however, was to leave for Rhemuth the following day with her own escort, for she and her sons were expected to rejoin Jared for the coronation.

Alaric rode with his father, surrounded by his strong arms and warm cloak, with Xander and Llion flanking them, ahead of a further escort of four liveried Lendouri lancers. A pair of squires followed with two pack animals on leads — modest enough train for an earl in mourning and an underage duke, but they turned heads as they passed lesser folk.

The two lead lancers carried the cased banners of Lendour and Corwyn, black crepe spilling from the heads of the staves. All of the escort party wore wide mourning sashes from right shoulder to left hip, slashing the bright red and white of Lendour with black. Kenneth himself rode all in black, with Alaric’s dark green all but invisible inside his father’s cloak.

They passed a night at Arc-en-Ciel, where his letter had arrived the day before and the sisters gave them refuge and serenity. Mother Judiana gave them her blessing after the sisters’ Requiem Mass for Alyce the next morning, before they continued on their way. The river road grew more crowded as they headed south, and by noon of the second day the bright sun had begun to turn the snow to muddy slush, further churned by the passage of many hooves and feet and wagons.

Lord Kenneth Morgan’s somber party came within sight of the city walls midway through the afternoon. They stopped at the barge station at King’s Landing to water the horses and uncase the banners. It was then, as they mounted up for the final stage of the journey into Rhemuth, that they caught the first faint sound of a great bell tolling in the city.

Kenneth exchanged glances with Llion and Xander, but neither ventured comment. Given the major deaths of the past two months, first Prince Jathan and Donal and then Alyce, no one was prepared for another — and the tolling bell might merely mark the passing of some prosperous citizen of Rhemuth being buried from the cathedral. But as they drew nearer the river gate, other bells joined in, all tolling the passing of a soul.

They gained no further clue as they rode through the gate and clip-clopped up the stone-lined thoroughfare toward the cathedral. But as they entered the cathedral square, Kenneth spied a flurry of activity before the cathedral steps, where several black-robed clerics were handing out dispatches to half a dozen mounted couriers in the archbishop’s livery, ready to depart.

With a glance and a nod, Kenneth sent Xander across to investigate while the rest of them continued to pick their way along the crowded perimeter of the cathedral square. A few minutes later, Xander rejoined them, shaking his head in disbelief.

«It’s very nearly as bad as it looks, my lord», he said to Kenneth, as he drew his mount head-to-tail with Kenneth’s, and stirrup-to-stirrup. «They say the Archbishop of Valoret took a very bad fall coming into the city this morning, up at Bishop’s Gate — horse slipped on ice and went down. Apparently the good archbishop bashed out his brains on an abutment that had the audacity to be where he landed; died almost instantly. They’re saying that the coronation will have to be postponed until a successor can be elected. That could take weeks or it could take months».

Kenneth shook his head, greatly troubled. «We did not need this, with a new king only barely come of age», he murmured. «He is still king, of course, but ’tis always better if a young one is crowned quickly». He quirked a sour smile at Xander and Llion. «Still, I cannot say that I shall greatly miss my lord of Valoret».

«They could replace him with someone worse», Llion pointed out.

«Aye, and I can think of several», Kenneth agreed, «though this is neither the time nor the place to speculate on that». He sighed and signed for Llion to move closer.

«Take charge of the boy», he said, as he lifted Alaric across to the young knight’s saddlebow. «Xander, you’re with me. Postponing the coronation is going to set many cats among many pigeons. Prince Brion will need our support. Llion, we’ll meet up with you later at the castle. Meanwhile, you’re in charge».

With just the two of them, it was much easier for Kenneth and his aide to make their way up the rest of the hill to the castle yard, where Duke Richard’s squires and pages had their hands full dealing with the influx of new arrivals and their mounts. As Kenneth and Xander dismounted, a senior squire came running up to take their horses: young Jamyl Arilan.

«The king has been asking for you, my lord», Jamyl said, catching the eye of another squire and beckoning him closer. «And I was so sorry to hear of your loss. The Lady Alyce was a beautiful and gracious lady».

«Thank you, Jamyl. She was, indeed». Kenneth scanned the yard as he rescued his saddlebags from the cantle and handed them across to Xander. «We heard the news about Archbishop William — and believe me, the ecclesiastical vultures have already begun gathering. Have you any feel for the implications?»

As the nephew of one of the king’s senior crown counselors, and only a year from knighthood, it was just possible that Jamyl might have overheard something useful, but he shook his head.

«This is the sort of thing that cannot be anticipated, my lord. But if you’re asking my opinion, I would say that they’ll not want to go forward with the coronation until a new primus can be elected. Crowning the king is one of the most jealously guarded prerogatives of Valoret’s archbishop».

«I suppose it’s too early to speculate on who that new primus might be», Kenneth said, looking around the yard at the other new arrivals. «Where is His Majesty now?»

«He’s conferring with some of his advisors, my lord», Jamyl replied. «I believe my uncle may be among them. Shall I take you to him? They’re in the winter withdrawing room».

«I know the way, Jamyl. Thank you. But if you could keep an eye out for Sir Llion Farquahar, I’d appreciate it. Do you know him by sight?»

«Aye, my lord».

«Good. He has charge of my son, along with a small escort of my Lendour lancers. I hope that accommodation can be arranged».

Jamyl nodded. «Sir Trevor has already arranged lodgings for your immediate party, my lord. I’ll see what I can do about the lancers».

«Thank you».

With a final nod, Kenneth headed up the great hall steps, Xander at his heels. Trevor met them just inside, where Kenneth received his aide’s condolences and left Xander, continuing on toward the dais at the far end. Dodging the servants who were setting up the trestle tables for supper in the hall, he headed directly to the king’s private withdrawing room behind the dais, where he found Brion, Queen Richeldis, and a handful of senior advisors seated around the writing table near the fire: Duke Richard at the king’s right hand, Earl Jared, Jamyl’s uncle Seisyll Arilan, and Archbishop Desmond of Rhemuth, brother of the deceased William.

The king immediately came to his feet as Kenneth entered — an instinctive gesture of respect belatedly mirrored by the other men, with varying degrees of sincerity. The queen did not rise, but her nod of sympathy was clear, for she and Kenneth’s wife had been close; and Earl Jared, though he did not know the full extent of the kinship between his own wife and Kenneth’s deceased one, at least was aware that the two women had been close friends. Duke Richard had always been a friend of Kenneth and an admirer of his wife, Seisyll Arilan more coolly so. Archbishop Desmond, by contrast, seemed reluctant and even resentful at the peer pressure that obliged him to rise, for he did not like Kenneth Morgan, who had married a Deryni and given her a son.