War of Three Kings - Chapter Three

[drakensis]

Previous Chapter

Chapter Three

And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.
Romans 12:2

Rhemuth seemed less splendid to Piran on his return to the city. He and Donal had accompanied Earl Godwyn, along with a large portion of the assembled knights and royal lancers, north to Candor Rhea where the broad plains provided ample room for Prince Cinhil to continue welding the mounted portion of the Royal Army into a cohesive whole.

It might have been the weather that cast a veil over the beauty of Rhemuth, for with the first hints of spring had also come heavy rains and fogs. The heartlands of Gwynedd, stretching from the Cloome mountains in the west of the Kingdom to the Lendour highlands of its spine were notorious for their fierce weather at this time of year and living under canvas under these conditions had stripped away much of the glamour of being mustered for war.

What placed more of a damper upon spirits though was the cause of the return. Even if the rain hadn't battered at faces, few cheeks would have been dry as a long procession of Gwynedd's great and good made their way from the castle to St George's Cathedral.

Urien rode at the head of the funeral procession but chief among the mourners was Cinhil, robed in mourner's black, as was his eldest and now only daughter Rhetice, who rode perched in front of her father, directly behind the horse litter that bore a small coffin.

Albina Haldane's sudden illness seemed to have drawn away the energy that had so energized the prince. Earl Godwyn's status as King's nephew placed him near the head of the column and thus Piran found himself riding next to the same knight who he'd met more than a month before outside the Queen's garden. "Sir Vasco," he enquired quietly. "I hope you won't feel I'm being too forward, but my lord of Carthane is concerned at his cousin's wellbeing. It's less than a year since he buried his wife."

That earned him a sharp look from Vasco and belated recognition. "You were with him when he arrived at court but I didn't catch your name."

The younger knight doffed his black cap – sodden in any case. "Piran ap Coran, Sir Vasco. I'm merely one of the Earl's junior officers. I apologise most heartily for any impertinence on my part."

Vasco looked him over again and frowned. "I don't think you're being impertinent, Sir Piran, but this isn't the best time or place for this conversation. If you'll restrain your curiosity until the interment, we can talk outside the catacombs."

The funeral rites for a royal princess were by no means short and Archbishop Marcus, an especial patron to the children of his diocese, made every effort to offer assurances to Albina's father that his young daughter had died in a state of grace and was among the angels now, not least re-united with her mother Micole. Well-meaning as those words might be, they drew out the formal liturgy to what seemed an interminable length as the incense, mixed the damp air of the season reduced Piran to a state half-entranced and half-dozing.

Clasping his hands in prayer, the young knight fought to at least present the image of piety rather than distraction. Albina had been too young to make much impression on the court but he'd gathered she was a favourite of the queen, herself well past child-bearing after giving Urien no less than seven sons and four daughters. Had she lived, the young princess would have had glittering prospects but now all she inherited in the world was a niche in the royal catacombs, interred beside her mother and stillborn brother.

Death reduces us all so. And when Marek of Tolan rides into Gwynedd, there will be so very much death. Lord God Almighty, I've pledged in your name to show courage and honour as a knight and it isn't very likely I'll die as gently as the princess we lay to rest today. Please teach me to face that with the bravery your son, Lord Jesu showed upon the cross.

He started to feel a touch upon his shoulder, looking up to see that the royal party had departed into the catacombs, Earl Godwyn among them. Standing over him was Sir Vasco. "My apologies, Sir Piran. You seemed deep in thought."

"A little of that, a little of prayer."

"Well this is no poor place for that." Vasco gestured towards the north side of the nave. "We can talk over there without being heard. I'd rather not gain a name for gossiping about his highness' business, even if it isn't anything he'd expect me to hold in confidence."

Stepping aside, just two more mourners and not of noteworthy rank with the great chamber awash with Earls, Bishops and Barons, they could indeed talk without concern at being overhead.

"The prince is grieving, of course. Losing Princess Micole last summer was a savage blow. But I think part of what sparked the decision to travel abroad following that was the need for something to focus his energies upon. The Prince has always thrived with a purpose in his life but King Urien is so able that it's mostly minor administration that descends to his sons. Now, with the responsibility for all the preparations for war in his hands, I'm sure his Highness will throw himself into that." Vasco smiled. "The easy days at Candor Rhea are over, I'm afraid. If you think training was hard before..."

"God avert that we suffer any further tragedies then." Piran flushed as he realised what he'd thoughtlessly said.

Vasco gave him a cool look and then nodded. "God avert indeed." He looked him over and then asked. "Perhaps you could answer a question for me yourself."

"I'd be happy to help in any way I can."

"It's on the topic of Deryni." Vasco saw Piran's eyes widen and sighed. "Yes, I get that reaction every time I raise the topic. My point is that the Festils are Deryni and they – along with many of their officers – are likely to employ sorcery during the campaign. Unfortunately the Church's pogroms against the Deryni didn't leave a great deal of information about what they can and can't do."

"I'm sorry, Sir Vasco, but I don't know very much about Deryni either. There are the usual folk tales and I saw one being burned at the stake once but that doesn't really make me an expert. Have you considered asking someone from Corwyn? I gather Duke Corwyn is a Deryni even if he renounced his powers."

"Yes. And unfortunately that puts him in a difficult spot. He could quite reasonably fear that discussing Deryni with anyone could lead to his being charged with witchcraft. There are ugly rumours going around about Deryni practises doing the rounds already, sparked by the fear of the Festils. If someone brings accusations against Jernian to the Curia they're almost certain to at least demand he appear before them. And if he refuses then where can he turn except eastwards for aid?"

"So you don't dare ask?" Piran shook his head. "Surely there are some records. Haldane Kings have beaten sorcerers before. Some of the stories even say they're especially blessed by God to be able to triumph over witchcraft."

"Yes. Unfortunately there seems to be a lack of information about how that's done. We know the Festils are mortal, but beyond that it's not clear. The King's gone so far as to look back to the ancient texts about Byzantyun armies being turned back by the Heldournoi in the third century, but all they say is that the soldiers who returned told wild tales of devils that wielded green fire. Which is colourful but not especially helpful."

"Green fire? What in the world are you talking about?"

Piran turned and saw Donal MacAthan had approached within easy listening distance of them.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation," the northern-born knight added. "But Earl Godwyn's returned from the interment and wants to make sure his lodgings are ready this evening. Something about getting a warm bath before we return to Candor Rhea."

"It sounds as if Earl Godwyn has a good sense of the practical," Vasco murmured.

"Ah, excuse me. Sir Vasco, this is Sir Donal MacAthan, also in Earl Godwyn's service. Sir Donal, Sir Vasco de Varian, in the service of Prince Cinhil. We were discussing, uh..." Piran couldn't think of any way to explain the conversation tactfully.

"We were discussing the prospect of facing Torenthi sorcery."

Donal smiled. "We'll be riding under the leadership of a Haldane King, Sir Vasco. Surely God's blessing will be on us. Wasn't it the good King Cinhil Haldane who joined forces with Sighere of Eastmarch and freed Kheldour from its Deryni princes?"

"That's true, but there's only one King of Gwynedd – whatever Marek of Festil claims – and probably rather more than one sorcerer in the Pretender's army. I don't suppose you recall how Sighere of Eastmarch – he'd be the same man who was first Duke of Claibourne, wouldn't he? – fought the Deryni of Kheldour. Did he have a magic sword his descendant can bring to battle."

"Oh that'd be a thing now, wouldn't it?" Donal stripped off his glove and offered Vasco his hand. "I'm sorry, Sir Vasco, but I can't tell you any secret way to defeat the Deryni. But I promise you, if I hear of one, I'll let you know."

"I'll be glad to hear from you if you do." Vasco took his hand and the pair shook before the prince's aide offered Piran his hand as well. "I'd best report to Prince Cinhil. Do have Earl Godwyn back at Candor Rhea tomorrow morning. I imagine the Prince won't be too impressed if he's back on duty and his cousin hasn't managed that."

.o0o.

"No knowledge of it at all?" Judicael asked in surprise. "But surely this must be amongst the most vital information for a Haldane King to pass to his heirs."

Donal shook his head. "King Urien has a notion that the potential exists, but knowledge of how to activate it doesn't seem to have passed to him. It may have been a security measure – King Uthyr might have thought that bringing forth the potential for sorcery in all three of his sons could lead to it being used in dynastic squabbles, if not between them then between their sons. It's happened in other lands even without magic, and the Furstáns have been more than ready to turn their Deryni powers on each other at times."

"I'm not convinced that the Furstán initiation of a King confers much of a benefit to one already Deryni," Bethwyn mused. "I've never seen it, of course. But the Haldane family's potential is evidently considerable, bringing them from mortal status to a fully prepared adept almost immediately. I can see why a father might want to be sure his sons were mature enough to wield that before activating the potential."

Ebor MacGregor leant forward. "How the knowledge was lost hardly matters now. The question is, can we reconstruct the rituals and activate King Urien's potential?"

"Surely the question before that is should we do so at all."

"I cannot believe, of all people, that you'd ask that, Anscom!" protested Donal. "You know what the stakes are here!"

The old man spread his hands. "Marek hasn't moved yet, Donal. We have time to think this through and consider this from all angles. Offering Urien Haldane our aid is one course of action but not the only one."

"Don't quarrel, please." Wearing a green gown and mantle more fitting her family's status in Howicce, Bethwyn gestured for Donal to restrain himself. "I'm not saying that I disagree with you Donal as to the best course of action, but Anscom is right. We don't need to rush into this and it wouldn't be wise to. If nothing else, Ebor has a sound question: do we even know how to carry out such a ritual. None of us have ever attempted such a thing, at least to the best of my knowledge."

"There are certain practises in the east," Camille interjected thoughtfully. "But that was long ago and I wasn't personally involved. Two very valid questions then. I believe Ebor's question does have precedence over yours Anscom. If we're unable to help Urien then it remains moot."

Anscom picked his words with care. "It's hard to be certain without making the attempt. I don't have immediate access to them, but my grandfather's papers had reference to his part in at least one such awakening of a King's potential. I don't recall offhand which King it was – Owain, most likely. What about you, Donal? The MacRories were involved in all the activations I know of, typically in a leading role."

"I've no doubt notes were taken, but with so many deaths in the family it's not always clear who retained them – and what was lost. Joram MacRorie had the most experience of them, but I'm not sure what happened to his papers. They might have been handed over the Michaellines and be somewhere in your archives, Father Judicael."

"I can check easily enough. And I believe he was based out of a refuge in the Lendour mountains for more than ten years. Though I've no idea what state that might be in after all this time." Judicael nodded his head solemnly. "So we do have avenues we can at least pursue on behalf of King Urien, but nothing concrete as such."

"I think I recall, from family tales, that four Deryni were be required for this purpose," warned Donal. "I've no objection to revealing myself of course – that would be unavoidable under the circumstances – but there would need to be careful thought about who else might participate. Would you, Anscom? It'll be tricky to bring in many outsiders but as a distant kinsman, you'd be easier to explain."

"That's getting ahead of matters."

"Perhaps so, Anscom," Walther agreed firmly. "But Donal raises a valid point and once again something that will require thought. I'm hesitant myself under the circumstances. Why don't we discuss your concerns now. What alternatives do you see?"

Anscom licked his lips nervously. "Please consider this, I left Gwynedd almost forty years ago, in the reign of Cluim. In all that time, can you honestly say the place of Deryni has improved? Urien Haldane may be a fine man in many respects but our obligation is to our people's wellbeing. I don't see how empowering Urien Haldane will serve that purpose."

"You can't possibly be suggesting we throw our support to Marek?"

"Dear God, no!" Anscom shuddered at the suggestion. "Torenth does very well under the house of Furstán but Gwynedd wouldn't accept Deryni rule after the abuses of the past, or not in any of our lifetimes."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

"The problem with empowering Urien – or any Haldane king – is one that Saint Camber encountered himself. Once the king has those powers, he has no need for Deryni. I don't honestly think Urien would wish to see another pogrom against those of our people but nor do I think he'll do anything for them."

"I'm still not hearing an alternative plan," Donal reminded him.

"Forgive me for wanting to explain the perspective from which I'm coming. What I'm proposing is that we offer instead to support him directly against Marek and the Deryni in his service. I'm sure between us we can come up with a dozen, or perhaps even a score, willing to serve in such a capacity. I'd gladly go myself. And ask him to guarantee us royal protection from the Church's writs against using our powers. Perhaps even relaxation of some of the civil aspects of the Statutes of Ramos. I don't expect the Gwynedd Church would allow Deryni priests but they've compromised before on other matters. This might be the best opportunity to convince them to take one more step in the right direction."

"I think you underestimate how much fear of Deryni has been stirred up by priests, virtually all honestly believe what they've been taught." Walther twisted one of his rings around his finger in thought. "I see what you mean about this providing some bargaining power, but once the crisis is over... Urien's ruled thirty years without us. The need for us would vanish. And so too could whoever we send."

"We might, that's true." Running one finger along the grain of the table's wood, Ebor seemed lost in thought. "But with the right people as these... King's Deryni, they might be called. With the right people we could have a public voice again in Gwynedd. Deryni showing that we're not secretive sorcerers using our powers for our own benefit, but instead just as much loyal servants of the Haldane Kings as anyone else."

"Servants who're making some fairly challenging demands for their services. You mentioned that the Church had compromised on Deryni before, Anscom. If you're thinking of the 'court Deryni' of King Alroy and King Javan's reigns, remember that they were kept in line by using their families as hostages – and I think practically all of them wound up dead anyway – burnt at the stake in many cases."

"I don't deny that it's a risk," Anscom admitted. "And as I said, I'm willing to take that risk myself. Festil knows we're here, so the secrecy that's shrouded us has passed in that regard. Perhaps it's time now for some of us to step forward and show the rest of Gwynedd what Deryni do stand for."

"Anscom has a point."

Donal shot a dismayed look at Bethwyn.

"I don't claim to understand affairs in Gwynedd as well as you or Walther, Donal. But if this is a chance to ease the situation of our people in Gwynedd then I don't believe we should dismiss it out of hand."

Judicael placed his ivory wand of office on the table. "I believe we've too little information to make a decision on either course of action at this point. It's very hard to judge whether Anscom's plan will aid our people or trigger a further backlash and it remains unclear if we can provide concrete assistance in activating King Urien's Haldane powers – assuming of course that the potential remains, which is a third question. Not all hereditary traits breed true after all. What do you think, Camille?"

"Quite correct, Judicael. I suggest that Donal approach Urien and volunteer himself as a loyal Deryni, if he's willing to take that risk. There's no need to broach either plan at this point but I'm sure having a Deryni to advise him would be useful to the King. If you can arrange a transfer of your services from the Earl of Carthane to the King then it'll place you right at the heart of the Haldane Court."

"I think that that's a manageable risk."

"You're a good boy, Donal. Don't hesitate to flee if things go amiss though." Camille removed her eyeglasses and closed her eyes in thought. "I believe I can find some excuse to visit Coroth. Crossing the Southern Sea is a trial but I knew Duke Jernian's wife well. Walther, I want you to sound out your cousin Euan. He and Jernian are most likely to be able to advise us on whether the church would bend to Anscom's suggestion."

"Are you sure you can manage a crossing - two crossings really?" asked Judicael warily.

Camille shook her head slightly. "I don't plan on doing anything energetic, Judicael. And it's not as if I'm prone to sea-sickness. Don't fuss for heaven's sake."

"Alright then. While you're doing that, I'll see what's in my Order's archives from Father Joram. Anscom, please tell Ebor who you think might have your grandfather's papers and I'll give him directions to the old refuge. It's a lot of running around, Ebor, but you can visit a few places near Valoret that used to have Transfer Portals. It's likely Prince Cinhil will move there to be closer to the Torenthi border before long and knowing if we can come and go from the area in a hurry would be better to know now."

.o0o.

Vasco was surprised to find the northern knight he'd met the day before waiting outside the stables when he came down to check the horses were ready to depart for Candor Rhea. "Sir Donal? Is there a problem."

"There's no problem as such." Donal gestured into the stables. "I was hoping we might discuss a certain matter you mentioned to me yesterday."

"Yesterday... ah, that matter. Perhaps we should step in and talk while I'm examining the horses."

"Indeed, let me assist you with that."

Vasco waited until they were in the stall with the Prince's prized R'Kassi stallion. "The matter we discussed yesterday? I presume it's not Earl Godwyn making timely plans to return to Candor Rhea?"

"I believe he's actually away already. I'm to follow with his gear shortly, unless certain matters suggest I'm needed elsewhere." Donal stepped deeper into the stall and knelt to examine the stallion's rear hoof. In the shadows it was hard to see... until a flickering sphere blue flame leapt to life in his cupped hand.

Vasco stepped back in surprise, his right hand reaching for his sword but halting when the northern knight took no aggressive action. Instead he made a rueful expression and concentrated. A moment later the light's hue shifted to a soothing green.

By the time Donal was done with the hooves – and banished the light as easily as he'd conjured it – Vasco had recovered most of his composure. "I can see why you didn't introduce yourself like that in the Cathedral."

"Very true. I don't believe Prince Cinhil would want his daughter's funeral to be capped by a Deryni burning. But today is another day, Sir Vasco. I've put my life into your hands, what will you do now?"

"Well given the Deryni's reported capabilities, I'm afraid I can't really simply walk you up to the King and introduce you." Vasco moved along to the next stall. "I'm sure he'll want to meet you. Once we're done here I suggest you continue to Candor Rhea as planned. I'll inform the King and he can make arrangements to meet you under discreet circumstances if we can get you back here on some pretext."

"That sounds reasonable."

"I hope you understand that just because you've revealed you're Deryni doesn't mean you're going to be trusted unconditionally."

Donal nodded. "I can't say that I enjoy being treated as a suspicious character but I can't blame you either. I wouldn't put it beneath King Kyprian to have assassins poised to kill his Majesty, or even his heirs. Although letting you know I'm a Deryni would negate a lot of my effectiveness in that case."

"I take it you're offering to help," Vasco added. "I just want to be clear."

The Deryni crossed himself. "I swear that whatever else I may be, I am King Urien's loyal subject. My only reason for revealing myself to you is so that I may serve him to the full extent of my abilities."

"That's good enough for me." He paused. "Of course this will probably mean Prince Cinhil won't reach Candor Rhea as soon as I suggested yesterday. I hope Earl Godwyn won't be too unhappy about that."

"He's not an unreasonable man, he'll understand that sometimes plans change."

.o0o.

"You're a resourceful man, Sir Vasco." Urien beamed in relief. "Deryni assistance should help a great deal."

"I can't claim to be more than fortunate, Sire. Indeed, it's more that Sir Donal sought me out than that I had any success in finding him."

The king nodded sagely. "Not so very different from other young men who come to court, hoping to make a name for themselves. Or do you have any specific suspicions about him?"

Vasco spread his hands. "No lord. I met him only briefly on two occasions but he's done nothing to make me doubt he's honest. That's little enough to base a judgement of his character though."

"He'll be known well enough to the camp at Candor Rhea," proposed Cinhil from his seat by the fire. The prince wore light mail beneath his grey tunic embroidered with Haldane Lions and oak leaves. "Once we're there, you can seek testimonials as to his character."

"On what excuse should I ask these questions, Your Highness? If it's taken that he is suspected of disloyalty then we might well place him in danger."

"It's very simple," declared Urien. "I may have delegated command of the army to Prince Cinhil, but naturally I need a trustworthy knight to act as my aide and carry messages between us. Sir Donal's reputation is hardly besmirched if it's known he's being considered for such a position and – all being well – it will readily explain why I may be closeted privately with him at times, to receive confidential messages."

"Yes, that would cover it," agreed Cinhil. "Godwyn may not appreciate losing one of his officers to your service but I have a particular commission in mind for him which should soften the blow."

"He's young for a command, isn't he?"

"He's able enough for the role I have in mind, father. Although while we're on that topic, he'd be of an age to receive the accolade of knighthood next Christmas. I have in mind to ask that you knight perhaps a dozen men his age who've shown me their worth. That mark of royal favour will ease the pride of some I set them in charge of."

"That's rarely done, even for those of royal blood, Cinhil. If you think it is best, but be sure they're young men of strong character ready for the demands of knighthood."

"I've given this due thought, father and I'll only bring them forward if a knight of repute agrees to stand as their sponsor. Perhaps the Easter Court would be a suitable time for the ceremony."

"That sounds feasible. It's likely enough the high passes will be clear not long after Easter so we couldn't leave preparations much later." The King pulled a furred mantle from the back of his chair and laid it across his lap. "Put another faggot on the fire, Sir Vasco. Either winters get colder every year or my blood is thinning."

Vasco obediently moved more wood from the bin next to the hearth and built up the fire blazing there.

Urien nodded gratefully to him. "Will we be ready when Marek comes?" he asked his son.

"We're better off than we were few months ago. Duke Jernian reports no sign of troops mustering in Fathane so he needs no reinforcements. North of him, the Earl of Lendour's reinforcements from Carthmoor should have reached him so we've a thousand men waiting behind the high passes. Ivaar Howell confirms that the Rhendall levies have joined with his army in Eastmarch so there's a thousand men ready if Marek comes through the Coldoire pass. Duke Tresham's sent part of the Claibourne levy under his son Geoffrey to help secure Marley and his second son Keene has the rest ready to move by sea either to support Marley or to join the Purple March levies mustering at Grecotha, whichever we order. The Duke himself is on his way to Valoret. Once he's there, he'll take command in the east."

"That's only six thousand men even counting the ecclesiastical knights at Valoret. Are you sure they can hold Marek back if he presses hard?"

"The most we can really hope for in the early stages is to keep him out of central Gwynedd. I can't expect Duke Tambert and Earl Richard to move their forces east until we've dealt with Meara and we need those men before we can face Marek in battle. The men here and at Candor Rhea are our reserve. Unless someone makes a mistake we're going to be marching troops back and forth for weeks before we've assembled sufficiently to offer battle on favourable terms."

.o0o.

Sir Godwyn Pirek-Haldane, Earl of Carthane, self-consciously adjusted the white belt signifying his knighthood before stepping out of the tent he'd been living out of at Candor Rhea. Piran, following him, almost ran into him when the Earl paused once he was in the morning light.

Blinking at the sunlight, it took Piran a moment to recognise the cause. There by the fire was Donal MacAthan, wearing the Haldane's badge on his shoulder but otherwise much as he had been.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Sir Donal. Should you not be in Rhemuth with the King?" There was perhaps a little sharpness still to the Earl's tongue. He could hardly dispute that the King's service must take precedence over a mere Earl's but it still stung to have one of his trusted officers depart his side.

Donal bowed. "The King sent me here, sir, although I'm glad for the chance to wish you a safe journey into the Connait." He produced a folded letter from his tunic. "Also I had a thought to help you in securing meetings with the Connaiti lords. My father and the late Master of Trevalga were friends. Lord Ebor has few men of his own but I've written this to him, asking he use his good offices to smooth your way with lords who might be inclined to hire out their armsmen to Gwynedd's cause."

Godwyn blinked and then smiled, accepting the letter. "That's very thoughtful of you, Sir Donal."

"I realise that taking service of the King must have seemed ungrateful of me, sir. I wouldn’t want you to think I could ever forget the great kindness you and your father have shown me over the years."

"Think nothing of it, Donal." The last ice in the young Earl's tone melted away. "I've no doubt you'll serve the King as loyally and well as you have me."

"I hope so, sir. And on that note, his majesty realised that you might be a little shorthanded with my sudden departure so he was hoping you might accept the services of one of his squires on your current commission."

"It's a good thing you caught me before we left then. Is he ready to accompany us right away?"

Donal smiled. "Fully packed and minding a packhorse with some extra supplies the Queen thought you might find useful crossing the Cloomes this early in the year."

"Very good then." Godwyn offered Donal his hand. "I wish you well in the King's service Donal. Sir Piran will find our new squire a place in the party."

Piran bowed and followed Donal back to where the northerner had left his own horse. "I think his grace will miss you more once we're on the road. There's no one else with your knack for getting a campfire going under even the worst conditions."

"Oh, you'll be fine. There's plenty of inns on the roads up to the Connait and they're a very hospitable people when they know you're looking to hire mercenaries and therefore have money to spend." He looked up as they reached the horses. "Ho, Prince Jaron!"

Piran bit back an exclamation of surprise. Prince Jaron was the squire joining them? The King's youngest son? Surely not.

The youth on the horse was the right age though, fourteen or near enough, and he had the Haldane looks with raven dark hair cut in a severe bowl-cut and grey eyes. "Is all well, Sir Donal?"

"It is indeed, Your Highness. Sir Piran here will be taking you back to join the Earl's party. He's a good friend of mine so stay close to him and you won't go far wrong in the Earl's service."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Sir Piran." The boy leant over, an engaging smile lighting up his face, and offered his hand.

Piran accepted and shook it firmly. "Has Sir Donal checked your gear for the road?"

"Very thoroughly, sir," Jaron promised, slipping effortlessly into the role of squire without any air of royal pretension.

"Then I'm sure you're as ready as I can make you. The Earl might want to move you around the party once he gets a feel for you." And once he knows the mysterious squire being added to the party is his royal cousin. "But you'll be riding with me for now."

"Thank you, Sir Piran."

Donal mounted his own horse and accepted the reins from Jaron. "Good luck on the road, Piran."

"Good luck at the court. That can be even more dangerous I'm told. Especially when someone's risen unexpectedly to royal favour."

His friend laughed out loud. "You're a wise man. Harken to him, Prince Jaron. You'll learn a lot in the next few weeks." Donal cantered away before Piran could think of a suitable rejoinder.

Next Chapter

[Jerusha]

Another fine chapter.  I hope Sir Donal survives to the end of the story, but given this is a tale of war and forbidden magic (at least in Gwynedd), I won't get my hopes up.

[revanne]

Donal's a brave man - I hope he doesn't pay too high a price for his courage.

Thank you again for a fascinating story.

Such a treat on a dark November day