«Lord Kenneth», the king said, indicating a place on Richard’s other side and sitting again, looking vaguely uneasy. «All of us were stunned to hear of your wife’s untimely passing. Thank you for coming to us at such a difficult time».
The hidden message was clear: that Brion was distancing himself from any speculation regarding too close a recent intimacy with the Morgan family. Most certainly, he would not disclose anything of his midnight visit to Morganhall.
«Thank you, Sire. I am Gwynedd’s to command», Kenneth replied, with a respectful neck bow. «I served your father, and I hope to serve you as well».
«If you serve me half as well as you served him, my lord, then I shall be well served, indeed», Brion said, the grey eyes speaking of his complete awareness that some of that service could never be revealed. «Please, join us».
Again he indicated the chair beside Richard, which Kenneth this time took, bowing to the queen before sitting.
«Welcome, dear Lord Kenneth», the queen said quietly. «May we take it that you have heard about the archbishop’s untimely passing?»
Kenneth inclined his head. «I have, my lady. A most astonishing accident. My lord Desmond, you have my condolences».
Archbishop Desmond gave a curt nod, but only what civility required.
«We were discussing alternative plans for the coronation», Duke Richard said, as all of them settled. «His Grace of Rhemuth informs us that he is not prepared to proceed until a new primate can be elected. I hasten to point out that riders are being dispatched as quickly as the letters of summons can be written, to convene the curia at Valoret for an election».
«Yes, we saw some of them leaving as we rode through the cathedral square», Kenneth said.
«Fortunately, many of the bishops have already arrived here or are on their way», Seisyll pointed out for Kenneth’s benefit. «They’ll be redirected to Valoret for the election — which should expedite the process. In the meantime, we have agreed that Twelfth Night Court should proceed as planned — except, of course, that our new king will not yet have been crowned».
«That will not affect most of the customary business of the court», Duke Richard said. «Other than creating knights, which he may not do until he himself is knighted, even an uncrowned king reigns, if he be of age — which, happily, our Brion is». He smiled briefly at his royal nephew. «I have no doubt that he will perform admirably».
«Aye, he has been well prepared», Queen Richeldis said softly, eyes downcast.
The grief in her tone, and in the very set of her shoulders, put an awkward silence on the room, and elicited a sympathetic glance from Richard, still dealing with his own grief over the loss of a beloved brother.
«Richeldis», he ventured, «every king knows that this sort of thing might happen, and makes the necessary preparations. Donal was not remiss in that regard. There will be a period of transition, certainly; and both Brion and Nigel will continue their training, as their father would have wished; and we shall advise him as best we can». He cast his gaze around the table and managed a pained smile.
«As for the rest of us, I think it will become increasingly clear, as our new king grows into his maturity, that a new generation will be taking its place upon the stage — and it is only right that a young king should have young knights to attend him, and young advisors». He glanced at Kenneth. «I fear that even you and I are getting a bit long in the tooth to qualify as ‘young’».
Kenneth smiled in agreement, thinking of the young knights in his own service and the fierce loyalty they owed to him and to Gwynedd.
«I’ll not argue that, Your Highness. Serving Donal was a privilege and an honor, but even he was a demanding taskmaster. I shall have a much harder time keeping up with a younger king». He smiled at Brion, then glanced at Seisyll. «Your nephew will be part of that generation, my lord. I spoke with him briefly when we arrived. He seems a fine young man».
Seisyll inclined his head. «His teachers at Tre-Arilan seem to think so, as did Her Majesty’s brother. But I am glad that he serves Gwynedd now — as your Alaric shall serve, in a few years. Time, indeed, to make way for the next generation».
Before Kenneth could think how to respond, Archbishop Desmond cleared his throat.
«Sire, I should be about my duties», he said gruffly. «I must accompany my brother’s body back to Valoret for burial, and then I must convene the synod to elect his successor».
«Yes, of course», Brion murmured. «Go, by all means».
«With one proviso, please, before you do», Duke Richard noted quietly. «We shall need a bishop present at Twelfth Night Court, to witness the oaths — not just of the new squires and pages, but such others of His Majesty’s new vassals who have traveled from far away, and who may not have the luxury of remaining at court until a new primate can be elected and installed. With an uncrowned king on the throne, believe me, it is best to let them affirm their fealty now, while we have them here in Rhemuth».
«Certainly», Archbishop Desmond agreed. «I shall delegate someone to that duty». He rose, bowing slightly to Brion and to the queen. «If I may retire, then, Sire?»
That night, the late Archbishop of Valoret lay in state in Rhemuth Cathedral while those bishops currently in the city for the now-delayed coronation kept watch by turns. At noon the following day, Archbishop Desmond celebrated a Requiem Mass for his departed brother, assisted by his brother bishops, after which many of the citizens of Rhemuth filed past his bier to pay their respects. The new king was prominently in attendance, accompanied by most of the key members of his court.
Afterward, as the king and his party were preparing to depart, one of the bishops detached himself from the cluster of the others and approached the king. He was a burly bear of a man, younger than most of his brethren, with bushy brows and more the demeanor of a fighting man than a man of the cloth. On him, the episcopal purple looked vaguely out of place, as did the well-manicured hand he pressed to his pectoral cross as he bowed to the king.
«Your pardon if I intrude, Sire», he said smoothly. «My name is Patrick Corrigan. Archbishop Desmond has asked that I attend you at Twelfth Night Court tomorrow».
King Brion stiffened slightly, but he inclined his head in a gracious enough acknowledgment.
«Thank you, my lord. Your presence will be most welcome».
«Thank you, Sire. May I expect that you and the court will first be attending Mass here in the cathedral, as is customary?»
Brion inclined his head.
«Then I shall return to the castle with you afterward», Corrigan said. «Until then, Sire, by your leave…»
With that, he bowed again and withdrew to return to his fellow bishops, who were taking up stations to keep watch while the townspeople continued filing past the dead archbishop to pay their respects.
«I could have wished for some other bishop», Duke Richard murmured, though he kept his voice low so that only Brion and Kenneth could hear.
Kenneth looked at him sharply. «You have something against him?»
Richard shrugged. «He is young yet in his office, and has yet to show what he will become as he settles into his authority». He glanced at Kenneth, then back at the retreating bishop. «You would do well to keep a wary eye on him, my friend. He is a friend of Bishop de Nore».
«And an enemy of Deryni?» Kenneth guessed.
«Aye».
«Then, I shall, indeed, be wary, my lord. Thank you for the warning».
Kenneth kept that warning in mind throughout that evening and into the next day. Alaric and Sir Llion had remained at the castle while the royal party went down to the cathedral for the archbishop’s Requiem Mass, and Kenneth took the young knight aside when he returned.