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Author Topic: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4  (Read 2547 times)

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Offline Laurna

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Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« on: March 19, 2013, 04:02:21 am »

Previous chapter: http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=1049.0

Chapter 4 - JK 973 1st Coin  


Jessa’s heart pounded rapidly in her chest as strong hands held her firmly to the floor.  She could not see her abductors, but she knew they were no more.  Through the stout man’s grip on her shoulders, she felt his disgust.  But stronger than that was his flaring anger that frightened her to her core.  The angry man’s head jerked upward at the sound of footsteps and voices in the hall beyond the door.

“What is going on in there?” called an authoritative voice in the hall.  Fists struck the thick wood, sending vibrations through the wall.  

“Help!”  Jessa screamed.  Instantly she regretted her outcry.  The man holding her hissed a nasty sound, committing himself to the necessary act he was about to complete.  His huge hands moved to her neck.

Self-preservation flared.  Jessa’s free hand reached up to his face to push him away, at the same instant her mind screamed, “Stop!”  The shock froze her captor; his hands loosened around her throat.  In that moment, Jessa squirmed out of his grasp and jumped as far away from the huge man as she could.  He blinked several times and then shook his head to be free of the sound that had blasted through his skull.  Jessa coward to the corner as he staggered to stand, and then he stumbled over the two dead bodies in his attempt to catch her again.

With a clanging jolt, the lock on the door bent and twisted.  Freeing itself from the rusted catch, the door slammed back on its hinges.  Men swarmed inward with swords drawn, taking inventory of the chaos.  Two of the men charged forward.  They quickly contained the stout man trying to escape; one forced him to his knees at the tip of his sword, while the other confined his arms behind him.  Jessamyn skittered over the bed to escape the armed men crowding into the small space of the room.  She huddled there clutching the medallion to her chest, afraid of what these new men would do.  One rider, a heavy warrior, looked out the window searching for the one that had escaped.  In his disappointment, he turned back to watch the center of the room where the first two held their prisoner.

The last man to enter was tall, brown haired, and broad of shoulder.  His noble appearance, with his white knight’s tunic with the red stag emblem at his shoulder, marked him as the leader of these men.  His eyes scanned the room from the man in custody to the dead on the floor.  His face softened as his look fell on Jessa in the corner.  At a nod, the warrior from the window advanced toward the child.  Fearfully, Jessa slid into the space behind the bed.  The warrior glanced at his sword and sheathed it back on his belt.  He tried again to reach for her, but she just backed into the corner further.  He shook his head and walked away, letting her be for the moment.

The knight in white nodded to the others, assured that all was secure.  He came over to the edge of the bed and leaned out a hand toward Jessa.  She watched, afraid, as he spoke directly to her.

“I’m Sir Thomas, Knight of Lendour.  I’m not here to harm you.  I just want the truth.”

Jessa squatted low behind the bed.  She stared over the covers with eyes that were wide with fear.  

“Come child, come out from behind there.  It does not matter what your parents have done, you cannot be accountable for their misdeeds.  I promise on my oath that you are safe.”  He reached his hand further across the bed and waited calmly for her to react.  At first, she did nothing, but he did not lose his patience; he seemed determined to wait for her, like a teacher who had much experience in dealing with children.  Slowly, very gingerly, she reached her right arm out.  Soothingly, he touched the back of her hand.  With a nod, he urged her to come closer on her own.  Slowly, she climbed back on the bed, not knowing quite why she trusted him.

“What is your name?” he asked softly.

“Jessa,” she hesitantly replied.

“Jessa?  A pretty name for a pretty girl.  Tell me the names of your father and mother that are here before us?”  His hand pointed to the bodies of her abductors on the floor.

She shook her head violently, but before she could gather her courage, the captured man on his knees blurted out, “Marat, father a pretty girl?  Hah, his bastard children are uglier than sin.  No woman would marry him.”  

“Marat, you say?” the warrior stated, turning the dead man over to search for his identity.  “Tell me what you know about this Marat,” the swordsman demanded of the criminal on his knees.  The stout man gave a short smirk and turned his face away, refusing to say more.

“This man is not your father?” the white knight concluded, pointing to the body of Marat lain out with eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.  

“No,” the six year old gasped at the sight of the dead man.  “Not him!”

“What is your family name?  Can you tell me who is your father?”  Sir Thomas asked, keeping his voice calm.

“I’m Jessa Kyriell, my lord.  My father…”  Jessa’s voice caught in her throat, “He was one of the King’s men, but he… he died,” the child managed to say before tears welled up in her eyes.  It was the first time she had said it aloud.  She had so not wanted to believe what she knew in her heart to be true.

“Keryell?” questioned the warrior.  He looked curiously over at the young girl.  “I know of several Keryell’s; the head of the family is living in Drellingham.”  He offered up, in hope of finding distant family for the child.  

Sir Thomas considered his companion’s reference.  He turned his attention back to Jessa.  “Look at me young Jessa; tell me if Jon is right?  Does your father have family in Drellingham?”

She stared at him blankly.  His words had little meaning.  Where was he talking about?  “I don’t know,” were the only words she managed to stammer out.

A look of frustration crossed the knight’s face, Jessa coward afraid he might lose his temper with her.  As she back away, his features softened, and the white knight calmed his voice as he asked for clarification.  “Your father was a King’s man?  Did he wear a white belt like mine?  Was he a knight?”

“Yes,” she whispered, trying desperately to control her fear.  “Mama fell in love with him on the day he was knighted.”  She remembered her favorite story and wanted her mama to tell it to her again.  Couldn’t these men take her home?

The warrior, Jon, made a deep-throated laugh, which caused a stern look from Sir Thomas.  Jon cleared his throat and offered his best knowledge.  “Keryell is a master in his guild under the King’s name,” he said, fitting facts together.  “Sir Thomas, I believe he has at least two kin who have been knighted.  I have fought alongside with at least one of the weapon-smith’s sons.”

“Indeed… speaking of weapons...”  Sir Thomas considered.  His eyes quested about the room not finding what he was looking for.  “Did either of you find the weapon that did this?” the knight asked of his two men holding their man captive.

One man produced a short dagger that was clean.  “No, Sir Thomas, only this was in his boot,” he said.

The knight’s gaze focused on the man held in firm custody.  “What have you to say?  Tell me, what is your part in all this?  Did you kill these two?”  The knight’s voice deepened, threateningly.  “Who was the other man we saw through the window?  I want names!”

This time the thug held his tongue, watching the ceiling uncooperatively.

“Very well, if you will not speak, then I will give you to the mercy of the magistrate.  He will try you for murder.  Do you still have nothing to say for yourself?”  When no response came, the knight shook his head at the whole unworthy business.  “Take him away.”  With a short scuffle, the two men dragged their captive out of the room.

The knight in white glanced through the remains of stolen goods on the floor.  Nothing was there that would lead to its original owners.  “We’ll wait for someone to complain,” he said absently to himself.  “As for the child…  I’ll send letters to weapon-smith Keryell.  Perhaps she is one of his kin.  He might be willing to take in a child of his blood even if she is illegitimate.”

He sighed, inwardly hoping that would resolve the matter.  “Just in case she is the daughter of a knight, I think it best we give her to Abbess Phyla Mary of Saint Clair’s Convent.  That’s a far better place than the workhouse orphanage in town, especially for one so young.”

When Jessa realized they did not intend to send her home, she called out to the knight, pleading, “I want to go home, I want my mama!”  

Sir Thomas looked down at the woman on the floor and shook his head.  He picked the child up in his arms, turning her away from the center of the room.  “Young one, your mama is dead…”

“No…”  Jessa cried, “Please…  I want my mama.”  She looked into the tall knight’s brown eyes, begging for him to help her.

“Jessa, I am sorry, but your mother has died.  If you say your father has died too, then I am sorry to tell you this, but you must know that you are now an orphan.”  Sensing truth in the knight’s voice, the little girl was stunned into believing what he said.  Why else had her mother not rescued her in the long last week.  The sudden hopelessness was too traumatic even for tears.  The child clutched the medallion to her heart and bent her head down to her hands.  Sir Thomas shook his head sadly.  “Jon, please see her safely to Saint Clair.  I’ll get a letter sent to Keryell right away.”

With a resolution in hand, the knight handed the girl over to the warrior and then left the room.  Jon bundled the girl in the same filthy cloak she had been trussed up in for a week.  He wrinkled his nose at it and pulled it away from the child.  A fresher blanket was pulled off the bed and wrapped about the six year old to keep her warm during the evening ride to the convent.  Jon tossed a coin to the worried barkeeper lurking in the doorway.  

“I’ll have guards take the bodies.  If you ran a more decent establishment you wouldn’t have to be liable for a mess such as this,” Jon said in disgust.  The barkeeper frowned at Jon and the mess the warrior left behind him.  Nonetheless, he pocketed the coin and let the blanket-covered child be carried away.  Had Jon or anyone else looked over at the befouled green wool they would have seen the emblem of the healing house of Kyriell in the upper corner.  No one thought to look.  

******

The mother of three cherished children leaned back in the high plush chair at the table and wiped the tears off her cheek.  No child should have to endure such an event.  Her daughter, Briony, was nearly three years old, her oldest son, Brendan, was eight, and the newest young earl, Kelric, only five months of age.  The Duchess of Corwyn could not ever imagine any of them being without the love of a parent to protect them.  It wounded her motherly spirit to feel Jessa’s loss.

Richenda took a long moment before she turned her chair to study her youngest son.  He lay in his crib sleeping soundly.  A smile brightened her face as Kelric made little sucking motions with his lips.  His cheeks were round and rosy, a topknot of blond hairs escaping the blanket wrapped over his head.  She reached down and picked him up gently, cradling him in her arms and kissing his forehead.

Baby Kelric smiled a sleepy yawn and then fell back to sleep.  He was so good, this newest little man.  He was a happy baby, not fussy like her first son had been.  With three years of marriage to the devoted Duke Alaric, Richenda knew the disposition of the father had a lot to do with his two children’s attitudes.  Her first husband did not have Alaric’s calm patience and understanding ways.  Brandon was not a bad boy, far from it.  Alaric’s influence had seen her oldest son grow with a strong, loyal guiding hand, away from the disloyal attributes of the first man she had married and been widowed from.

Richenda carried Kelric over to the window beside the warm hearth and let the midday sun of this warm autumn day shine on the baby’s face.  Her baby yawned again and opened his eyes.  In the light, she saw how the blue color was turning to that soft grey tone of his father’s eyes.

“I bet you’re hungry,” the loving mother said.  “I love that little scrunch of your lips and murmur you make when you want food.  You’re not one to cry for the simple things, are you?  Like your father, you, my little Deryni, know how to win a lady’s heart.”  She cooed at Kelric’s puckering lips while she loosened the ties at her neckline and let the neck of her green gown fall away.  With a shift of her arms, Kelric found the answer to his hunger.  Richenda’s smile deepened, he was growing quickly.  He was getting heavy to hold for long periods of time.  She walked to the settee at right angle between the hearth and the window and settled her loved one more comfortably.

The earl’s office, where Richenda chose to spend her day, was on the third floor of the Castle of Cynfyn.  The office was warm and tasteful, with deep textured, intricately carved, wood finishings along all the walls.  The tall hearth before her took up the center of the inner courtyard wall with a window at each side of the hearth.  The afternoon sun shone brightly through both mullioned, lattice-lit windows, lightening the room to ease the eyes while working.  Both windows looked over the inner gardens and across to the duke and duchess personal rooms on the opposite west wing.  Those rooms were also highly embellished with beautiful wood finished walls with multiple mullioned windows that let in the morning sun for when the family was waking and preparing for a new day.

Unlike the succession of personal rooms in the west wing, the library adjacent to the office, though equal in size, was windowless and dark.  Burnished wood shelves stood tall along its east wall, each one extending halfway into the room, forming multiple small alcoves.  Every shelf was filled from floor to ceiling with centuries old books, scrolls, charts, and parchments.  A huge wooden table with two chairs per side filled the west side of the room.  At first, the duchess had used the library table, but she preferred the light of the office windows, so she had moved back out to the main office with its desk shining in the sunlight.  At the moment, that desk was stacked with items she had thought Alaric might wish to see.  The jeweled box with its coins, she placed separately on the table near the hearth with its soft cushioned, carved wood chairs.  The matching pillowed settee was comfortable and warm, allowing Richenda to relax easily into her motherly duties.

Richenda leaned back into the pillows and gazed out the window at the turreted red roofline of this extravagant old Deryni castle.  Castle Cynfyn was an architecturally beautiful structure, standing majestic against the high mountain backdrop, below the ancient wild woods of alder, oak, and spruce.  The castle walls edged the side of the stream that marked the head of the Molling River where the waters would travel west as far as the Kingdom of Gwynedd’s capital city of Rhemuth.  The curtain walls were thick and heavily fortified; for three hundred years they had stood strong.  Within the walls were long colonnades fronting on multiple barracks, artisan’s dwellings, and the princely stables.  The main keep was open-square shape built from large stone blocks.  It was a four-floored structure with periodic large windows and multiple balconies.  The majesty of the castle came from the steep red-tiled rooflines that were intercepted multiple times by slender turrets and two round towers.  Each tower and turret was again crowned in red slate tiles, glistening in the afternoon sun.  The City of Cynfyn lay in the valley at the castle’s feet.  Its architecture emulated the castle’s with multi-peaked, red-tiled roofs, making the valley of Cynfyn a visual treat after the long climb from the Molling River Valley at the base of the mountains.  

Richenda closed her eyes thinking of the men that had lived in this grand castle.  The Cynfyn family was as reputed as their home residence.  Alaric’s grandfather was Keryell Cynfyn, the 12th Earl of Lendour.  As the legendary tales are told, he was a man renowned for aggrandizing his position.  In a coup that scandalized the royal court, Keryell whisked the Heiress of Corwyn away from her guardians and married her before anyone could put a stop to it, thus adding the Duchy of Corwyn to his future children’s estates.  When Keryell’s only son died without an heir, Keryell’s oldest daughter, Alyce, was made heiress to both the Duchy of Corwyn and the Earldom of Lendour.

As the direct male line of the Cynfyn name came to a close, Alyce with her huge inheritance was given by the king to a simple human knight as a reward for his resounding loyalty to the crown.  Kenneth Morgan was a man of deep honor and respectability.  He married Alyce with love in his heart.  Together they produced a son worthy of the two high titles and the legacy that came with them.

That son was Alaric Morgan.  He was more than the Duke of Corwyn and the Earl of Lendour.  He was the King’s Champion, the protector of the Crown, and a man of unrelenting loyalty and honor.  He was half Deryni and half human, working hard at overcoming the two hundred year intolerance toward the Deryni Race in this nearly all human realm.  Additionally, Alaric had recently discovered he was a Healer.  Deryni healing was so rare, it had not been seen for a hundred years, and it had been thought that the gift had been lost from the Deryni race forever.

The mystery of this greatest gift of healing in her husband was one of the large questions that drove Richenda to review the old archives of the Cynfyn line.  The Deryni Corwyn line, which she had reviewed when they were first married, had no reference to a healer in its lineage, so she was certain there must be a link to the healing gift in his grandfather’s Cynfyn line.  That memory coin lying on the table was the first clue she had found about any healer.  That alone was enough to pique Richenda’s interest.
 
Baby Kelric cooed as he fell asleep, satisfied with a full tummy.  He would wake with plenty of energy tonight when she wanted to rest.  But with the warm air and a bundling of fresh blankets, he fell asleep easily.  She placed the little earl back in the crib and rocked it with one hand while she sat once more at the table and stared at the three coins teasing her.  Assuring herself that her son had fallen fast asleep, Richenda picked the second memory coin up off the table and held it to her eyes.  The date on it was 985.  

In preparation of the spell that clarified the visions on the old Deryni coin, Richenda took in a deep, steadying breath and centered her focus.  She cupped the coin between her palms, and whispered the words of perception.  The spell wrapped around the memory imprinted there.  It highlighted her inner eye, revealing the recollection of a gallant, tall knight riding a magnificent black stallion, while he proudly led his victorious cavalry of knights home.


Next chapter: http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=1054.0
« Last Edit: March 26, 2013, 03:47:05 am by Laurna »

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« Reply #1 on: March 19, 2013, 11:52:19 am »
Two posts today - wheee!

Nice chapter, and it looks like the next one will fast-forward us a few years.  Looking forward to it!
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Offline Elkhound

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« Reply #2 on: March 19, 2013, 01:42:50 pm »
A very good continuation; well written.  However, again you take a great deal of time telling the audience things we already know; most, if not all, the readers on this site are familiar enough with KK's oevure not to need all the background information on the core characters.  http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AsYouKnow

Offline Evie

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« Reply #3 on: March 19, 2013, 02:42:39 pm »
Then again, also keep in mind that while most people on this forum read KK's earlier Deryni novels (by that I mean the ones that came out in the late 1970s to early 1990s), not everyone has read the two Childe Morgan books in print this far, or has access to the Codex Derynianus, so those readers might actually not be "caught up" when it comes to some of the Morgan family background.  Every once in a while I run across a fan of the original Deryni books who has no idea that KK wrote anything else in the series since King Kelson's Bride, and a few who don't even know she came out with that one.  So maybe if something is more "general knowledge" from the earlier books, it can safely be skipped, but it might actually be helpful to remind readers of some of the more obscure details if they're relevant to the story but were introduced in those more recent books.
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

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Offline Laurna

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« Reply #4 on: March 20, 2013, 01:31:33 pm »
Good morning all,
I posted two chapters because they had really been one chapter that was too long. I did not want to delay the story longer than needful, so they both went out together. I have had an emotionally draining few days so posting this week was actually a needed distraction. I appreciate the opportunity that this site has offered.

You will have noticed that I spend much time in describing the Cynfyn residence.  I love castles. I feel the castle is as much an entity as the characters who live in it. In my research of the Deryni world I found very little information on Lendour and its main city. (If my description is contradictory than I do apologize.) I reviewed lots of medieval European castles before my heart skipped a beat at the image of Hohenzollern Castle. It is a modern fantasy castle but very much in the flavor of my imagination. I water colored an image with red roof-lines and saved it as a screen saver.

Hi again Jerusha, your support is inspiring. Please send us some more of your writings too.

Good Morning Elkhound,  I enjoy your insight, that you have read my stuff is wonderful. That your choose to discuss the content is very much appreciated, I can name many things that you might otherwise find fault with and that you do not mention them, gives me hope. ( You can always PM me about grammatical errors or sentence structuring that you find inaccurate. I will not take offense.)

When I first wrote this it was for myself alone, then I shared it with my sister, who read the first three series 20 years ago, she is never one to reread any book, unlike myself. I need the history to remind her of where the main characters had been. I then asked my dad to proof my errors. His full knowledge of fantasy magic begins and ends with Harry Potter. Needless to say he read it, was happy, but did not edit a thing. The I found Evie, what a marvel she is at editing. I could not have asked for anyone better. She makes me look good. IF you knew all the homonyms she corrected and all the comas she fixed you would be laughing. (Hmm... angel not angle. Or that adjective needs a "ly" dear.)  As for the history, yes most everyone on this board should know it by heart, but most of my friends do not. I tried very hard to only add what I thought was necessary to the story and helped to build plot-lines. Please tolerate my little bits and pieces. There are still a little more to come.

Thank you all, ever so much,
Laurna
« Last Edit: March 20, 2013, 03:32:20 pm by Laurna »

Offline derynifanatic64

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« Reply #5 on: March 20, 2013, 06:28:31 pm »
You're doing a great job Laurna!  Keep it up!
We will never forget the events of 9-11!!  USA!! USA!!

Offline Laurna

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« Reply #6 on: March 23, 2013, 02:51:05 am »
Thank you Derynifanatic64, I appreciate the support.
I hope you enjoy meeting Sir Washburn in the next chapter.

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« Reply #7 on: March 23, 2013, 04:00:55 pm »
Ah, the name on the ebony box.  Looking forward to the introduction!
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

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Offline revanne

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 4
« Reply #8 on: March 24, 2017, 03:52:01 am »
Pretender's Gambit has sent me back into the Archives myself although my surroundings are not as gracious as those of Richenda and I can give our lovely Duchess three decades and to spare! Wonderful story Laurna and I am revelling in the richness of your description. I'm  glad though, that I know there is a happy ending.
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They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts."
As You Like It.

 

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