The boy’s brow furrowed as he considered the question. «I can see things moving», he said tentatively. «I can see the trees…»
«Of course you can», she replied. «And would you agree that it’s the wind that makes the trees move?»
Slowly he nodded, though he looked dubious. Then: «Mummy, that’s silly», he said indignantly. «God isn’t made of wind».
So saying, he pulled away from her and ran on ahead to disappear into the open stairwell that led down to the crypt. Following, Alyce and Zoë saw him standing halfway down its length, silver-gilt head thrown back and small fists set stubbornly on his hips as he inspected the stone vaulting above their heads and the sea of tombs beyond. Soon he was wandering among the tombs and craning his neck for a better look at the effigies that crowned some of them. Alyce only exchanged glances with Zoë, rolling her eyes heavenward.
«Well», said Zoë, «you wouldn’t have wanted a dull-witted child, would you? And not yet three, either. Good heavens, you don’t suppose he’ll want to be a priest?»
Alyce chuckled mirthlessly. «My kind can’t be priests, remember? Besides, he’s going to be a duke».
«Some duke», Zoë replied, smiling, then glanced around, sobering, for they were nearing Marie’s tomb, flanked by those of her mother and her grandmother.
«They never put an effigy on it», Alyce murmured, running a hand across the surface of the tomb’s alabaster lid, then bending for a closer look at the lettering incised around the base.
«Are you sure this is hers?» Zoë replied, crouching down beside her.
Glancing over her shoulder first, Alyce briefly conjured handfire to light the lettering, confirming that it was, indeed, her sister’s tomb, then extinguished the light and rose. At the head of the tomb, a dried floral wreath paid mute tribute to the maid who lay within.
«I wonder who left the flowers», Zoë breathed.
Faintly smiling, Alyce reached out to touch one of the sear blooms.
«It would have been Sé», she said softly.
«How do you know?»
«Father Paschal told me, the last time I saw him. He said that Sé comes every year, around the anniversary of her death, to lay a wreath and spend a night in vigil. He loved her very much. These would be nearly a year old. I wonder if he’ll come while we’re still here».
«Do you ever hear from him?» Zoë asked.
«Only when there’s need», Alyce replied. She rested both hands lightly on the edge of the tomb’s alabaster lid. «He seems to show up at important milestones in my life, like my wedding, Alaric’s christening». She shook her head gently. «Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if we had wed — not that I regret any part of my marriage with Kenneth. The king did offer to give him my hand in place of Marie’s, after Marie died. But I love him like a brother, Zoë. I never could have married him. Still, we would have been quite a match in power. And now, with his Anviler training…The knights at Incus Domini are very fortunate to have him».
«Aye, they are», Zoë agreed. Sighing, she reached out to adjust the dried wreath, then bent closer and moved it slightly aside, her breath catching as she ran her fingertips over the simple inscription: Marie Stephania de Corwyn, 1071–1089.
«Dear God, it doesn’t seem fair, does it?» she asked.
Alyce slipped an arm around Zoë’s waist and hugged her briefly. «Life is rarely fair, I’m afraid — though maybe a bit of what we’re doing can change that for the future. Besides, sometimes things do happen as they’re meant to do. You’re happy about marrying Jovett, aren’t you?»
«Of course».
«Then, let’s see about those silks in the market square, shall we?»
The two women did not find what they sought on that day, but on the next market day, a week hence, they returned to the scene of their earlier searches, this time leaving Alaric in the care of his nurse and a senior squire of whom he was fond. Sir Trevor and a freckled, carrot-topped younger squire named Sylvan accompanied them on this occasion, the latter charged with safeguarding a large empty basket, which they hoped to fill with treasures.
«Zoë, look at this», Alyce said, lifting folds of a fine summer gauze and then measuring off lengths from nose to extended arm. «What do you think? The quality is excellent, and there appears to be enough for a very generous undershift».
Zoë fingered some of the fabric and checked the weave, nodding thoughtfully. «Aye, it could be smocked around the neck with a pale shade to match the over-gown — whatever that turns out to be. Or», she added with a grin, «it would make a very fine shirt for Jovett».
«It would, indeed», Alyce agreed. «But will there be time?»
«Beg pardon, my lady», the squire Sylvan said quietly, right at her elbow, «but aren’t those royal signals flying from that ship just entering the harbor?»
«What’s that?» Alyce said distractedly. As she and Zoë turned to look, Trevor was also gazing in that direction, trying to make out the pennons fluttering from the ship’s mast.
«Well spotted, Sylvan», Trevor said, shading his eyes against the summer glare. «It isn’t one of the king’s own ships, but she’s definitely on official business. I wonder what they want».
«Perhaps you’d better find out», Alyce said. «They may simply have dispatches to be delivered — which we can do. Or if they’ve come to see my husband, they’ll need horses to take them up to the castle mount». At Trevor’s look of indecision, Alyce sighed and touched his forearm in reassurance. «We’ll be fine with Master Sylvan to look after us for a few minutes».
«If you’re sure…» Trevor said doubtfully.
«Trevor, go!» Alyce ordered sternly. «Sylvan is very nearly a knight — and if our arms masters here at Coroth have been doing their job properly, I’m certain he’s perfectly capable of guarding two women while they shop for wedding finery».
As Trevor dipped his chin in reluctant agreement and headed off to do her bidding, Alyce gave Sylvan a sidelong look and a wink.
«You are capable, aren’t you, Sylvan?» she said teasingly.
The squire grinned and blushed and stood a little straighter, bracing his shoulders. «Oh, yes, my lady!»
Alyce gave him a little nod and a smile, slipping her arm through Zoë’s. «Excellent. We promise to stay close».
The pair did stay close to their young guardian, and managed to find and purchase several items of wedding finery by the time Trevor returned, perhaps half an hour later.
«It’s Lord Michon, carrying dispatches from the crown council», he told Alyce, when he had assured himself that she and Zoë had come to no harm. «There’s a horsemaster with him called Oisín Adair. Apparently they’ve been commissioned to look for a suitable horse for Prince Brion’s coming of age next summer. They’re on their way to visit stud farms in R’Kassi and the Forcinn».
«That’s splendid», Zoë said with a smile. «It sounds like Prince Brion finally will acquire the horse of his dreams. Wasn’t it Master Oisín who procured those Llanner ponies for the princes, a few years back?»
Trevor inclined his head. «I believe it was, my lady».
«I remember him», Alyce agreed. «He stayed at Rhemuth for several days after delivering the ponies. The queen and her ladies found his company quite amusing. As I recall, one of the junior maids-of-honor was quite taken with him. Will they be staying over?»
Trevor shook his head. «No, my lady. They aren’t even coming ashore. Lord Michon said he didn’t wish to undermine Lord Kenneth’s authority by any appearance that the king is checking on him. I’ve sent the dispatches up with the captain of the harbor guard. The ship sails with the tide, bound for one of the Tralian ports».
Alyce gave a resigned shrug. «Well, it was very kind of them to serve as couriers. I hope they find a splendid mount for the prince».
The erstwhile «couriers» did, indeed, sail with the tide, though not immediately to look at horses, for they were under orders from the Camberian Council as well as the King of Gwynedd. Their ship made landfall that evening at the Tralian port of Tortuña, across the straits from the Hort of Orsal’s summer residence at Horthánthy. There Oisín secured lodgings for their party at a local inn and, over quite a passable meal in the inn’s taproom, gave the four men of their escort detailed instructions regarding the procurement of livery mounts and provisions for the journey inland to R’Kassi.
«I expect that may take you a day or two», Michon added, as Oisín refilled cups all around from a leather jack of ale. «In the meantime, Master Oisín and I have other business in the area, so if you finish before we do, your time is your own until we return. We’ll meet here». During the voyage from Coroth, he and Oisín had already contrived to take the men aside individually, so that later, none would be able to summon up any real curiosity over their superiors’ «other business».
As for that other business, Michon had already seen to their further travel arrangements. The next day’s dawning saw the pair of them boarding a Tralian merchantman bound for the Torenthi port of Furstánan, at the mouth of the River Beldour. It was early afternoon when they caught their first sight of the Abbey of Saint-Sasile, its golden domes and cupolas shimmering in the summer sun.
«A pity we couldn’t have arranged to arrive just at dusk», Michon said to Oisín, as their ship glided into the anchorage and they tied up to a buoy. «Have you ever seen the lights of Saint-Sasile?»
Oisín shook his head. «Sadly, no. My foreign trading usually takes me much farther south. I’ve traveled into Torenth several times, but always by land, and farther upriver».
«Ah, well, then, you may be in for a treat when we leave», Michon said, with a sidelong glance and a grin at his companion. «This is Saturday, yes?»