«Ahern’s untimely death was a tragedy for all of us, but life goes on. I am now your earl; and very happily, my daughter has come to care for your Jovett Chandos, whom she had known for some years as Alyce’s childhood friend as well as a young knight of rising prominence here in Lendour — and Jovett, likewise, has given his heart to her. So I count myself fortunate that I shall be acquiring a son known and respected by you all, and who can help to look after Lendour’s interests when I must be in Rhemuth with the king.
«Meanwhile, I congratulate Sir Deinol and Sir Pedur and the rest of Lendour’s regents here in Cynfyn for training up such a fine cadre of young knights to carry Lendour’s interests forward. I am confident that Jovett will continue to be an asset to their numbers — and would, even if he were not to become my son-in-law, for he is a good and honorable man. And when my son is of an age to come into his inheritance — by which time I hope to retire to a quiet life in the country! — I know that he, too, will follow in the footsteps of his illustrious ancestors, and in the traditions that all of you have helped to uphold while you waited for him».
The response of Lendour’s nobility, both then and in the days to come, only underlined their approval, both of their new lord and his heir and also of this new alliance with one of Lendour’s premier families. Though tradition would have had Zoë marry from her father’s manor at Morganhall, among her Morgan kin, it was agreed that the wedding should take place in Cynfyn, among Jovett’s people, where Kenneth also was lord, since the pair would make their home there. The date was set for Michaelmas, to be Alaric’s third birthday, following the family’s visit to Coroth, for Kenneth and Alyce must first present their son to his future Corwyn subjects.
Given this schedule, they lingered hardly a week in Cynfyn, while Kenneth held the first of his manorial courts and general audiences, met with the regency council to agree upon general strategies for the coming months, and generally acquainted himself with the running of the county, Jovett and Trevor at his side. While they worked, Alyce and Zoë began planning a wedding.
«The castle chapel is the logical place to hold it», Alyce said as she closed the chapel door behind them and leaned against it. Beside her, Zoë was carrying a basket of flowers and sweet herbs for the two grave slabs before the altar steps. Alaric had already wandered ahead and was exploring the south wall, where a painted wooden statue of St. Michael gazed down serenely from a wall niche, wings furled around him like a mantle, gauntleted hands at rest on the hilt of a sword worked in gold and silver. The last time the two women had visited Cynfyn, it had been to bury Ahern, and Alaric had not yet been born.
«I had forgotten the stillness and the beauty of this place», Zoë murmured.
«Aye», Alyce replied, «but ’tis a terrible beauty, considering who lies buried here. I would certainly understand if you’d prefer a different venue. Perhaps it isn’t the best idea, to begin a new marriage while standing on the grave of one’s first husband».
Zoë glanced away briefly, looking wistful, then slipped an arm around Alyce’s waist.
«That’s long past now», she whispered. «I try not to think about it. I did love him, but he was never really my husband except in name. There wasn’t time for more». She brightened and lifted her chin bravely. «I do know that he would have wanted me to be happy».
She picked up a stem of lavender and breathed in its sweet perfume, then shifted her gaze to the grave slabs before the altar. «I try to put it from my mind that he lies in that grave yonder. For me, I shall always remember him as he was on that day he rode off to Meara, eager and excited to finally be doing what he was born to do, when life was simpler for all of us».
«Aye, it was», Alyce murmured. «And if Ahern had lived, he would now be Duke of Corwyn, with your son to succeed him rather than mine — which would be simpler for me, I’ll grant you — and for Alaric. But then your son would be facing what Alaric will face, in times to come».
Zoë glanced at Alaric, who had wandered closer to the end of the chapel, then back at Alyce, a sly smile curving her lips.
«Alyce, if I’m marrying Jovett, my children will all be facing what Alaric is facing, won’t they? After all, they’ll also be half-Deryni».
Chuckling, Alyce only shook her head.
«Be glad that very few people know about Jovett», she replied. «And we must do our utmost to ensure that no one finds out, mustn’t we?» She glanced at her son, who now was attempting to climb the altar rail next to the statue of St. Michael. «Alaric, darling, please don’t do that!» she called, as she and Zoë started in that direction. «Come and help me and Auntie Zoë with these flowers, would you?»
Stopping in midclimb, the boy obediently swung his leg back down and came to join his mother and sister.
«Mama, can I have a flower for Saint Michael?» he asked.
«Yes, of course you can», she replied, holding the basket down to his level. «What kind do you think he’d like?»
«Maybe a rose», he said, starting to finger through the blooms. «This big red one is — ow! It has big, sharp thorns!»
Zoë cocked her head at him and reached for his hand. «Gracious, did you stab yourself?»
Somewhat indignantly, the boy pulled back his hand and sucked briefly at a finger, then reached for the same flower again.
«Alaric, you just saw that that one has thorns», his mother said reasonably. «How about this peony? See what a fluffy head it has?»
«No, want the rose!» the boy said firmly, though his touch was more careful as he picked it up. «Saint Michael likes roses! The thorns are sharp like his sword!»
«I can’t argue that», Alyce murmured, as he took off at a run toward the statue of the saint. «Zoë, did we just hear what I think we heard?»
«That he made the connection between the sharpness of swords and of rose thorns?» Zoë answered. «I believe he did. And not yet three».
Alyce only rolled her eyes heavenward as she knelt down beside the graves of her father and brother, taking flowers from the basket. «Dear God, what we both have to look forward to», she murmured, and laid a handful of lavender and rosemary on the grave of Keryell of Lendour. «Here’s rosemary for remembrance, Papa», she said. «And roses from your grandson, who already knows about sharp thorns and sharp swords». She sighed as she laid three white roses amid the fragrant herbs. «I wish you could have known him».
As she bowed her head in a brief prayer, Zoë quietly took more flowers from the basket and laid them on Ahern’s grave.
«Dear Ahern», she whispered. «Wish me joy, dear heart».
They left for Coroth two days later, arriving just before Midsummer. Jovett accompanied them, to continue learning his new duties as Kenneth’s official liaison.
A ducal honor guard met them in the long, slanting light of late afternoon as they wound their way down from the foothills above the city, and escorted them into the city through the St. Matthew Gate. From there, growing crowds watched them ride past the cathedral and on up to the castle itself, increasingly enthusiastic as the identity of the party became known.
It had been seven years since Alyce’s last visit to Coroth: a time remembered with wistful sadness, since it had been there that she bore her sister’s body for burial, laying her to rest among the remains of most of Corwyn’s past dukes and ducal wives. Zoë had accompanied her on that journey; Kenneth had been present in the king’s party, but with no inkling that he would one day be the father of Corwyn’s heir. Now Lendour’s banner rode beside that of Corwyn, announcing the arrival both of Lendour’s new lord, who was also one of Corwyn’s regents, and of Corwyn’s young heir. Alaric perched happily on the saddle in front of his father, smiling and waving in response to the crowd.
By the time they rode into the castle yard, most of the regents of Corwyn had gathered on the great hall steps to greet them. Sir James of Tendal, the hereditary chancellor, welcomed them on behalf of his fellow regents and made perfunctory introductions. All of the names were familiar, from years of correspondence with the regents; now faces could be attached to some of those names. The most memorable was Sir Laurenz Udaut, whose resemblance to his son Trevor was unmistakable. It was he who, with his son, conducted the guests to their apartments and offered them refreshment. Since no formal arrangements had been set for the evening of their arrival, the weary newcomers then retired early, to ready themselves for business in the morning.
The next morning was time for Kenneth to make the more formal acquaintance of the regents of Corwyn. A middle-aged courtier identifying himself as Sir Crescence de Naverie conducted Kenneth and his immediate family down to the great hall to break their fast, chatting of inconsequentials to the adults while they ate and watching young Alaric sidelong as the boy tucked into buttered bread smeared with honey, a cold leg of chicken, which he brandished like a club until curbed by a look from his mother, and a cup of small beer. After that, they repaired to the airy tower chamber where the dukes of Corwyn had long carried out the business of the duchy.
Alyce remembered the chamber only vaguely. She had visited Coroth perhaps half a dozen times as a child, and once to bring Marie’s body home. Though she had met the Corwyn regents on that occasion, she remembered little of it, for Ahern then had been the heir, and both of them besides had been mourning the death of their sister.
A lighter atmosphere prevailed today as Crescence conducted her and Kenneth to a pair of high-backed chairs set before the round council table. Zoë and Jovett followed with Alaric in tow, shushing him as he tried to swing from their arms. A watchful Trevor Udaut brought up the rear of the little procession.
The council members were already assembled — eight of them — and had risen as Kenneth and Alyce entered. Most of the faces looked vaguely familiar to Alyce, from the brief introductions of the night before, but she could assign names to only a few. At least the bishop was easy to identify by his purple cassock. And Sir Laurenz Udaut nodded and smiled faintly at her look of recognition.
«My lord, my lady…» Crescence murmured, inviting the two of them to sit.
Kenneth waited until Alyce had settled into her chair before himself taking his seat to her right, nodding to the council to also be seated. While they did so, Kenneth took Alaric onto his lap, and Zoë, Jovett, and Trevor Udaut grouped themselves behind them.
«My lords», Crescence said again, this time addressing the council as he settled at Kenneth’s right, «I present to you Alyce Lady de Corwyn, mother of our future duke, and her husband, Sir Kenneth Morgan, whom the king has created Earl of Lendour for life. Sir Kenneth — or, more properly, Lord Kenneth — is now, by these letters patent, premier regent of Corwyn, in right of his son».
Crescence laid a document on the table before them, with the pendant seal of scarlet wax affixed to its bottom, and inclined his head. As it was passed along to the grey-haired man sitting at the opposite side of the table, Crescence said to Kenneth, «My lord, my lady, these are your regents for Corwyn. May I present them to you?»
Kenneth quirked a wry grin that swept the table.
«Thank you, Sir Crescence. And gentlemen, please allow me to point out that I may be the father of your future duke, and one of his regents, but I am only newly become an earl. Until a few weeks ago, I was a simple knight like many of you. Perhaps we would all be more comfortable if you each introduce yourselves, and tell me briefly of your responsibilities. I regret that I cannot yet attach names to all of your faces. We need to remedy that».
A brief murmur of agreement whispered among them, and then the dark-clad man seated to the left of Kenneth and Alyce slightly raised one hand.
«I’ll begin, then, my lord. Sir Miles Chopard, secretary to this council».
«Thank you, Sir Miles». Kenneth nodded in acknowledgment, then flicked his gaze expectantly to the man beyond.
«Michael O’Flynn, Earl Derry», the next man said. «Counsel to the duchy. And this is my son Seamus». He indicated a somewhat younger man than Kenneth, seated slightly behind and to his left, with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes.
«My lords», Kenneth replied, inclining his head.
«Síoda Kushannan, Earl of Airnis», said the next man, grey-haired and distinguished looking in the robes of a scholar of Grecotha. «I served Duke Stíofan, your lady wife’s grandfather. That was a very long time ago», he added, smiling.
«Then, I shall welcome your experience», Kenneth replied. «And you, my lord?»