«Can’t tell anybody?» Duncan asked, cocking his head to one side in puzzlement. «Not even Papa an’ Kevin an’ Alaric?»
«Well, perhaps Alaric, someday, but not even Papa and Kevin. This is a very special, secret name, all your own, because one day, when you are a big, grown man like Papa, you will be very strong, and you will have great power to help people or to hurt them. You must promise that you will only help them. Will you promise me that, my love?»
Duncan’s eye had lit with wonder at the story his mother told him of someday, when he was grown up, and he nodded earnestly. Alyce was certain he was seeing his father and other great knights in his young mind, and wished there were some way that she and Vera could impart to both the boys just what their heritage actually meant.
But not yet. Such knowledge was too dangerous to entrust to such young children — especially Duncan, whose Deryni heritage was yet unknown beyond those present in the room. God willing, she and Vera would have many years to train both Alaric and Duncan in the ways that they should go; but if not, then what happened here tonight must be so binding that, even later, their sons would be able to piece together the path they should walk.
Smiling reassurance, Alyce took Duncan’s candle and set it on the table, then laid one hand on the boy’s shoulder as Vera reached under the tablecloth to withdraw a quill and ink, a slip of parchment, a small earthen bowl, never before used. She watched as her sister put the quill in Duncan’s baby hand and dipped the ink and guided it to trace out the letters of the name they had chosen for him.
«Your special name shall be Phelim», Vera said softly, finishing the round stroke of the P and then moving on to the H. «Phelim is a name that means a good person, someone who tries always to do the right thing».
Together, their hands traced the E, the L, moved on to the I.
«Sometimes it may be hard to live up to that name», Vera went on, as they finished the final stroke of the M, «but I know you’ll try ever so hard, won’t you?»
Duncan frowned at an ink blot on one of his fingers and nodded distractedly as his mother laid down the pen and put the slip of paper into the earthen bowl.
«There’s my brave, clever boy. And you must always try to be brave for good things».
«I be brave for you, Mummy», Duncan said gravely. «I always protect you».
«I’m sure you will, my darling».
Vera took the dagger that Alyce passed her from under the table and wiped the blade on an edge of her cloak.
«And Mummy must be brave, too. Mummy must prick her finger, and then Phelim must prick his. Will that be all right?»
As Duncan watched wide-eyed, soft lips agape, Vera touched the point of the dagger to her right index finger and pressed until it drew blood. One drop she allowed to fall on the parchment beside her son’s new name, before briefly sucking the wound clean. Then, as she held the dagger for Duncan, Alyce let her hand slip from Duncan’s shoulder to the back of his neck, extending control and blocking pain as the little boy fearlessly put his own finger against the dagger point and pressed.
He drew back a little as the skin was punctured, but more from surprise than any real discomfort or fear. He watched almost clinically as his mother squeezed a drop of his young blood onto the parchment beside her own.
Then, as the boy sucked on his wounded finger and watched her absorbedly, Vera opened a locket around her neck and withdrew a coiled hair — Jared’s — which she laid on the parchment and anchored with a drop of wax from Duncan’s candle.
«Now, as this parchment burns», she said, putting the candle in Duncan’s hand and guiding him to set the parchment alight, «remember that this is a secret name, which you must tell no one. Because if a bad person knows your secret name, it can make him strong, and he might be able to hurt you».
She watched Duncan watch the smoldering flame until it had died away and there was only a residue of ash in the bottom of the earthen dish. Then she pressed her thumb to the ashes and traced a smudged cross on her son’s brow, the while murmuring the words of a blessing. Eyes closing at her touch, Duncan breathed out with a little sigh as his mother’s mind caressed his. Then Vera laid both her hands on his brown hair, her own eyes closing in trance.
Alyce watched for several seconds, briefly adding her own strength to the patterning being done, then withdrew unobtrusively and got to her feet. Moving to where the sword lay at the foot of the eastern Ward, she lifted it and saluted the east, then touched the point to the floor at the left of the eastern Ward and swept it up and back down in a tall, narrow arc, opening a doorway to the altar steps.
She knelt, her hands on the quillons of the sword, as Vera led the dreamy-eyed Duncan to the threshold with his candle and waited. Fearlessly he passed through the doorway, leaving the circle, and mounted the three shallow steps alone, there to stand on tiptoes while he set his candle on the altar. When he was satisfied with its placement, his head bobbed in a bow and then he rushed back through the doorway and into his mother’s embrace. Vera hugged him close, murmuring words of endearment and stroking his hair to lull him into slumber as she gathered him into her arms, giving Alyce a relieved smile, for Duncan’s part in the ceremony now was complete.
But as Alyce rose and moved to seal the gateway again, she started and then froze as a shadow moved in the chapel doorway, obscured by the haze of the protective circle. She had warned Kenneth not to interfere, to admit no one, but now a slit of dappled moonlight was widening behind him, outlining the silhouette of a second hooded figure in the doorway.
«Kenneth?» she called softly, instinctively raising the sword across the gateway in a guard position and preparing to close it instantly, if needed.
Kenneth did not reply, only stepping aside with bowed head while the second shadow, cloaked and hooded in black, slipped past him and moved westward along the periphery of the circle, still unrecognizable in the shimmer of the golden light. Black-gloved hands pushed back the fur-lined hood as the intruder passed the northern Ward.
«No, it isn’t Kenneth», said a frighteningly familiar voice, low but unmistakable. «There is no need to fear. Do not close your circle».
Alyce gasped as the king came into full view between the northern and eastern Wards, still moving toward her and the open gate.
«Sire!»
In her hands, the sword seemed suddenly to turn to lead, its tip weaving and slowly sinking until it touched the floor. Beside her, Vera drew the sleeping Duncan close against her breast and stared at the king in speechless fear. It had been daunting enough that Kenneth now knew her true identity — and that of her son. For the king to know as well…Granted, tonight’s working was being done at the king’s behest, but neither of the sisters had anticipated that Donal might come in person, or that Vera’s participation with Duncan now placed both of them in danger of exposure.
«My apologies if I have given you cause for alarm», Donal said, bowing slightly to Alyce as he unbuckled his sword and wrapped its belt around the scabbard. «I thought you might expect me. Lady Vera, please be assured that your secret is safe with me».
Before either of them could speak, he had turned to make a spare but dignified obeisance toward the altar, also laying his sword along the angle of the altar’s lowest step. Then he was filling the light-limned gateway with his presence, his grey eyes locked with Alyce’s as he laid his hand over hers on the sword hilt.
Numbly she relinquished the weapon, driven back a step by the intensity of his gaze. As Donal took her place at the threshold, he turned his attention to Vera, giving a formal bow over the quillons of the sword that, in his hands, seemed almost toylike.
«My lady, I must ask you to retire. I shall assist my lady Alyce in what further must be done. Take your son and go to bed, and speak of this to no one».
Vera did not tarry. With an anxious glance at her sister and a quick curtsy to the king, she swept Duncan onto her hip and slipped through the gateway and away, not daring to look back. When she had gone, when Kenneth had closed the door behind her and again set his back against it, looking like a stranger, Donal drew the tip of the sword slowly across the open threshold of the circle, left to right.
Golden light flared in the sword’s track, sealing the breach in the glowing canopy, briefly gilding his face as he bent to lay the sword across the threshold. Heart still pounding, though she had not moved, Alyce retreated another step as he turned the intensity of his gaze upon her again, driven back by his sheer magnetism.
Though no longer young, Donal Haldane was still a man to be reckoned with — potent, dangerous — even if he had not been a Haldane, and king. This night he wore a plain black cloak and austere riding leathers of no particular distinction, and the sword he had laid at the altar step was plain; but his bearing would have proclaimed him a man of means and authority even if his attire did not. Only the fine ruby affixed in his right earlobe gave further hint of his true station. Protector he had always been, and occasionally mentor. She could not help wondering why he had come.
He smiled then and released her eyes, turning his attention to the removal of his worn leather gloves. Suddenly she found that she could speak again.
«I truly did not expect you here tonight, Sire», she said softly. «It did not occur to me that you would wish to assist me in this matter».
«Did it not?» He raised one eyebrow in slight amusement as he slipped his gloves under his belt. «Nonetheless, I am here, and alone save for the three of us, and dare not tarry too long before my guard escort discovers I am not at Castle Rundel, an hour’s ride from here, and fears for my safety. Will you prepare me, please? I would not profane your circle further by my untimely entrance».
Surprised, she managed a nod and drew the hood of her cloak back onto her pale hair, took his hand, and led him into the center of the circle, where he crouched by the table on one knee. After renewing the incense, Alyce censed him with the sweet smoke, offered him the holy water so that he might dip his fingers into it and bless himself.
He closed his eyes and remained motionless for several minutes after that, head bowed, his breathing light and barely audible, and she wondered again how he knew what must be done, how he had learned of this most ancient of Deryni traditions, when he was not himself Deryni. She watched him sidelong as she quietly exchanged Duncan’s ash-smudged bowl for a new one and brought out a fresh slip of parchment. She glanced briefly at Kenneth, once again a silent shadow in the doorway.
As for Alaric, he had not stirred, through all the interruption of the king’s arrival. He still sat huddled in his tiny cape, eyes closed in deep Deryni trancing. His candle flame gilded his face and washed the white-gold hair with yet more gold, playing light and shadow on the soft contours of his features. She started to go to him, but her movement triggered Donal’s awareness and he came to his feet, laying a restraining hand on her wrist.
«Nay, I shall bring him», the king said softly. «There is a bond between us. He will come to me».
Numb, her senses whirling, Alyce watched him go to her sleeping son, remembering how very nearly he had also been Donal’s child instead of Kenneth’s. Roused by the king’s soft word and touch, the boy put his small hand into the king’s larger one, smiling, and scrambled to his feet, picking up his candle and walking with Donal to the table where his mother waited anxiously.
Pushing back her apprehensions, Alyce knelt down beside her son so that they were at the same level, smiling to reassure him as her eyes searched his wide grey ones with love.
«Hello, my darling», she murmured, watching his face light at the sound of her voice. «Did you have a little nap?»
«Oh, no, Mummy, I wasn’t asleep», the boy replied, shaking his head with the gravity of an adult. «I watched the candle, just like you said. I watched and watched».
With a smile, she took the candle from him and set it on the table, then hugged him close for just a moment before withdrawing to look at him again, her hands enfolding his lightly between them.
«Darling, Mummy wants to ask you a few questions. It will be like school, when Father Anselm teaches you about the saints. Would that be all right?»
The boy nodded solemnly, and Alyce echoed his nod. Suddenly it was very important that he answer well, as much for the man who stood behind him as for her own reassurance. Alaric was only just four, so she knew she was asking a great deal, but Duncan, who was even younger, had answered well enough….