The king was dictating to Father Farian when she entered the room, now dressed to accommodate the freezing rain outside. Nearby, Sir Tiarnán MacRae was busy with his own pen and parchments. One look at their faces warned her that the news must be bad, indeed.
«You sent for me, Sire?»
He sighed and looked around at her, waving dismissal to the page who had brought her and also casting an absent glance at Tiarnán and the young priest, who now were conferring in low tones.
«I've had ill news from Ratharkin», he said without preamble.
«Yes, Sire», she murmured. «Not of Duke Richard, I trust?»
«No, he is well, thank God, but Keryell Earl of Lendour has been slain, along with several others, and his son is sorely wounded. His daughters must be informed. I'll not burden you with details that are better saved for them, but you should know that young Ahern may yet succumb to his injuries — though he was yet alive when the news left Ratharkin».
«That is, at least, one blessing», she murmured. «Have you word of Sir Kenneth Morgan? His daughter is also at Arc-en-Ciel».
'Tell her that he is well», the king replied. «He brought the news, and I have sent him to bed». He shook his head wearily. «I do not envy you this mission, my lady. Would you rather I sent another?»
«No, Sire», Jessamy said softly. «Better it comes from me than from a stranger».
Donal nodded. «Thank you. I had hoped that would be your answer. I've asked Sir Jiri Redfearn to assemble an escort. He should have horses ready by the time you reach the stable yard».
«Thank you, Sire», Jessamy murmured. «Do you wish us to stay the night at Arc-en-Ciel or to return immediately? The weather…»
«…is beastly, I know», the king said, finishing her sentence. «Let the girls decide — though I see no need for overmuch haste. Kenneth said that the bodies of the slain will not reach Rhemuth for a week or more». He paused a beat, sorrow in his face. «You'd best be on your way».
«Very good, Sire», she whispered, sinking in an obedient curtsy.
An early dusk was descending as the sister-portress admitted the half-dozen riders drawn up in the driving rain outside the convent gate. Lady Jessamy MacAthan was well known at Arc-en-Ciel, and her instructions were accepted without question as she bade one of the sisters to take Sir Jiri and his men into the outer parlor to warm before the fire.
«Pray, bring them dry blankets and food and drink as well», Jessamy said, letting another sister take her own sodden cloak and exchange it for a dry robe lined with fur. «I come on the king's urgent business, and must speak with Alyce and Marie».
«They are with a visitor, my lady», Sister Iris Agatha informed her. «Their family chaplain. Do you wish me to interrupt them?»
Jessamy looked at the blue-robed sister sharply. «Father Paschal is here?»
The sister nodded. «He is, my lady. They do have permission for him to call on them. Their father gave his leave shortly after they joined us».
«Oh, I'm well aware of that», Jessamy assured her. «I'm simply glad to learn that he's here. Unfortunately, I bring ill news concerning Earl Keryell. He's been killed in Ratharkin, and the girls' brother is seriously wounded. I've been sent to fetch them back to Rhemuth. I'm sure Father Paschal will wish to accompany them».
«Indeed, I'm sure he will», Sister Iris Agatha replied, eyes wide with surprise and compassion. «Are we — at war with Meara?»
Jessamy gave a weary shrug. «I would assume not, since the king said nothing of that. I have no details, save that Zoë Morgan's father brought the news — so she, at least, may rest easy. May we go now?»
When, after a discreet knock, Zoë herself opened the door of the writing room adjoining the convent's main library, Jessamy brushed past her with only a perfunctory greeting, leaving Sister Iris Agatha standing outside as she pulled the door shut behind her. Across the room, the Corwyn sisters were rising from seats before the fire, near to a slight, black-robed figure bent over a brown leather satchel.
«Tante Jessamy!» Alyce cried, delighted, though her face fell as she saw the older woman's somber expression, and her sister grabbed her hand, apprehension growing. Now sixteen, Alyce de Corwyn was coming into stunning young womanhood, with creamy skin and dark-lashed eyes the same blue as her fur-lined over-robe. Marie, a year younger, was of rosier complexion, with a bronze braid instead of Alyce's gold, but equally attractive.
«Tante Jessamy, what's wrong?» Alyce asked, when the older woman did not immediately speak. «What can have brought you out in such dreadful weather?»
Saying nothing yet, Jessamy came to slip an arm around the waists of both girls and hug them close in greeting, gazing past them at the man in R'Kassan clergy robes, who straightened to give her a guarded inclination of his head. Clergy trained at the great R'Kassan seminaries were widely respected for their erudition and soundness of doctrine, but it was not widely known that priests like Paschal sometimes ventured quietly into Gwynedd by special mission, usually as private chaplains and tutors of noble children.
That some of them were Deryni was even less well known. But because their first duty was to their patrons rather than local bishops, and because they tended to keep a low profile, they usually were left alone. Jessamy had met Paschal briefly at Carthanelle, when Keryell of Lendour had given his daughters into the queen's keeping, and she was well aware of who and what he really was.
«Lady Jessamy», Paschal said neutrally, though his eyes showed a hint of wariness at her presence. «I trust you are in good health».
Inclining her head, Jessamy drew the girls with her closer to the fire, and Paschal.
«I am, Father, I thank you», she said, belatedly remembering that she had left Zoë standing anxiously beside the door. «Zoë, come here, child. There's been ill news from Ratharkin. Your father is unharmed, but…»
Marie's hands had flown to her mouth as Jessamy spoke, and she gave a little gasp.
«Is our father dead?» she breathed, her voice quavering with dread.
Wearily Jessamy gave a nod, drawing the younger girl into the circle of her arms and letting Zoë go to Alyce.
«I fear that he is, my dear. I am so very sorry. He fell in the king's service, protecting Duke Richard. I have no further details at this time».
«And what of our brother?» Alyce demanded, clinging to Zoë. «Say that he is not dead as well…»
«He was alive when the news was sent», Jessamy allowed, «though I am informed that he was wounded. But we must not give up hope, dear child».
Going suddenly white, Alyce sank down on the stool where she had been sitting, an anxious Zoë sinking beside her as Marie began sobbing in Jessamy’s arms.
«Our brother is dead, isn't he?» Alyce murmured numbly, starting to shake in Zoë's arms as Father Paschal came to sit on her other side. «He's dead, but you aren't telling us».
At Jessamy's pointed glance toward Zoë, Father Paschal reached across to set his hand on her shoulder, extending controls. As her eyes closed and she slumped against Alyce, Jessamy nodded her thanks and returned her attention to Alyce, all the while stroking Marie's hair.
«Darling, that isn't true», she said truthfully. «I cannot guarantee that he is still alive, but I swear to you that, when the news was sent, he still lived. Read the truth of what I am telling you, Alyce — or Father Paschal can confirm it for you, since I know he has been reading me as we speak. I wish I could give you more certain reassurance, but I cannot, dear heart. You must keep hope alive, and storm heaven with your prayers. They expect that it may take as long as a fortnight for Duke Richard and his party to return to Rhemuth. Meanwhile, the king asks that you return to court».
Jessamy's calm, reasoned statement broke the final barrier holding back Alyce's tears. For the next little while, she leaned against Father Paschal and sobbed her heart out, with Zoë oblivious beside them.
When, finally, the sobbing eased and Alyce raised her head, snuffling and wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, Paschal allowed Zoë to stir, blurring her awareness of the passage of time. As Zoë straightened, she pulled off her veil and handed it to Alyce, who did a more thorough job of wiping her eyes and then blew her nose. Marie, too, had begun to compose herself, and Jessamy pulled off her veil and bade Marie use it mop her face.
«My dears, I am so very sorry», Jessamy murmured. «Would that I could have brought you better news. Shall we ask Zoë to bring you something warm to drink?»
Alyce started to shake her head, still dabbing at her nose, but Jessamy was already urging Zoë to go, and Father Paschal was also indicating that this was a good idea. When Zoë had gone, Marie came to sit beside her sister, laying her head on Alyce's shoulder and snuffling softly. Alyce glanced around listlessly, hugging her arms across her chest, men whispered, «We shall never come back here, shall we, Tante Jessamy? Now that our father is gone, I fear that the king will see us soon married».
The words transported Jessamy back to the awful night her own father had died, though at least she did not think that Donal would force these girls into a totally detestable match. At least not while their brother yet lived.
«He has said nothing to me on that account», she said truthfully. «And provided your brother recovers — and God grant that he shall! — he will have some say in whom you wed. But this is not the time to worry overmuch about that».
Alyce said nothing, only slipping an arm around her sister's waist, spent by her weeping. I suppose we must go tonight to Rhemuth».
«No, we have the king's leave to delay until tomorrow», Jessamy replied. «And I think you would take comfort in bidding your friends farewell. Perhaps in the morning, before we leave, Father Paschal would offer Mass for your father's soul», she added, with a glance at the priest, who nodded.
«I shall ask Mother Judiana», he said. «I'm certain she will have no objection. And of course I shall accompany you to Rhemuth — and to Cynfyn, after that. My place now must be at Lord Ahern's side — and to comfort his sisters».
Jessamy nodded. «Then, we should see about getting a few things packed, girls. You need not bring much with you…»