A Gryphon by the Tail Chapter 11

[Alkari]

Previous chapter:  http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=518.0

Chapter 11.


"Yes, you can wear it."  Richenda helped Brendan attach the leather scabbard with its little wooden sword.  "But don't go waving it around too much inside.  Wait until we're out near the stables."

She adjusted her own heavy cloak, pocketed her gloves and Brendan's, and gathered the three letters.  "Come along, we have to give these to the Duke first so they can go with the Marley courier tomorrow."

Brendan trotted beside her as she made her way through the castle to Alaric's apartments, stopping once on the way to get further directions.  Having a small boy in tow was as good as any chaperone, she realised, exchanging smiles with the various guards as Brendan saluted and brandished his sword each time.

"A fierce little defender, my lady," said the middle-aged man on guard outside the Duke's door, while his younger companion went to announce their arrival.  

"Yes I am," said Brendan firmly, waving the sword generally at the man's groin.  "I'm protecting my Mama."

The guard leapt back in mock surrender and hid a grin. "Then you are very brave, and I'm sure His Grace will be most impressed," he said solemnly.  

The door opened and Brendan turned, sword still upraised.  

"Good afternoon, Duke Alaric," said Richenda, grabbing her son's arm and dropping a slight curtsy.  "As you can see, I have an armed escort."

"Very proper, my lady.  Please come in."   Alaric's surprise had quickly changed to pleasure.  "Brendan, thank you for guarding your mother, but I think you can put that away for the moment.  I promise I won't harm either of you.  Come on, this way."   He led them through a small anteroom and into the main apartment.  

"Your message said there was a courier leaving tomorrow morning, so I brought these to go to Marbury, please," said Richenda, handing him the letters while Brendan looked around with interest.  Alaric took her cloak and ushered her to a chair near the fire before turning back to the large oak table that served as a desk.  It was covered with orderly piles of papers and scrolls, and a squire and clerk were seated at one end.

"Right William, that's the lot for Marley and Kheldour then," he said, adding her letters to a leather satchel.  "Make sure this goes to the courier tonight please – oh, and on the way, check with His Majesty to see if there's anything last minute.  And this bundle," he finished tying some more papers with a length of faded green ribbon, "can go to the Lord Chancellor for Tuesday's Council meeting.  See if he's got any more papers for me – I can look at them tonight."  The squire nodded, and left the room carrying satchel and papers.  Alaric turned to the clerk, who'd resumed writing.  

"McKenzie, how long for you to finish copying that?" he asked.

"About ten minutes, m'lord," replied the man.   "Then I've got these other three to do – perhaps a little over an hour more."

Alaric sighed, ran a hand through his hair and turned back to Richenda.  "Sorry, my lady – I've been trying to get everything finished today. The synod starts tomorrow as you know, and the first item of business is Archbishop Loris.   And His Majesty and I intend to be present for that!"  

Richenda smiled.  "We didn't mean to delay your work, Duke Alaric – we just stopped by to bring the letters.  Brendan wants to play outside for a bit, so I said we'd walk down to the stables or the practice yard."

"Care for some company?  I've been cooped up in here since returning from Mass early this morning.  I'm sure poor McKenzie would appreciate some peace and quiet."   The clerk smiled: the Duke's dislike for lengthy spells of paperwork was clearly a familiar joke between them.

"I'd enjoy that.  And I'll be quite safe with two protectors."

Alaric laughed.  "Let me get some outdoor boots," he said, disappearing into an inner chamber.  He returned quickly and helped her into her cloak before grabbing his own.  "Come on then.  McKenzie, we'll leave you in peace.  Brendan, you lead the way."  

The afternoon was clear but very cold, and Brendan raced ahead of them happily, turning and feinting at imaginary enemies, and taking several wild swipes at the bare rose-bushes that lay against the courtyard's northern wall.   Alaric called him back as they approached the stables and practice area.

"Brendan, walk now please.  You don't want to frighten any horses."

Brendan nodded sagely.  "They might kick or something."

"That's right.  See – there's some coming back now."  Alaric put his hand on the boy's shoulder and stayed him until four riders in Haldane livery clopped past and dismounted in the stable yard.   He glanced at Richenda.   "I think we'll go across to the practice area – looks like some of the pages are having a lesson even though it's Sunday.  Might be able to grab a pony for Brendan afterwards."  

They seated themselves at the most sheltered corner of the spectator area, Brendan standing on the seat between them to get a better view.   A lean, grey-haired man was giving orders to four pages mounted on shaggy ponies; the boys looked to be around six or seven.

"Merrett.  Look UP not down - you'll never hit a target if you're looking at the ground.   Fursey, you're leaning to the right again.  Sit up straight.   Right, all of you – over that line of poles."

Richenda smiled: some things never changed around castle life.   She remembered her own childhood riding lessons, and the cunning brown pony that knew every trick in the book.  That one had really taught her to ride ...  

Beside her, Alaric was giving a low-voiced commentary to Brendan, who was watching and listening avidly, asking an occasional question.  She listened to the conversation, struck once again how natural it seemed between the two of them. Something turned over and quivered inside her.  Six months after Llyndruth Meadows, Brendan's memories of Bran were vague and fading, but he still occasionally missed him, still missed doing the things a little boy should do with his father.  Like learning to ride ...

The lesson ended; the boys dismounted to walk their ponies and Alaric jumped down into the arena to have a word with the instructor.  Minutes later he'd commandeered a piebald pony from the smallest page: she smiled her permission and took the toy sword, and a gleeful Brendan was soon in the saddle.   He walked and trotted round under Alaric's instructions and eagle eye, and she didn't think she was just being a proud mother when Brendan seemed to bend through a line of barrels and trot over the poles as well as several of the older boys.  

Mindful of the cold weather, Alaric kept the lesson short, and soon Brendan was leading the pony back to the stables where the other page was waiting.  She and Alaric watched while the two boys untacked and brushed it down, before Alaric moved in to show them both how to check its legs and feet.  Duties completed, Brendan looked up at them eagerly.

"Can we see your horse please, Duke Alaric?  Do you have a big warhorse?"

Alaric laughed.  "Yes I do – but he's a stallion, and he'd probably try to bite you.  Why don't we go and see the horse your mother rode yesterday to the hunt?"

He led them to the next aisle in the stables, and paused outside a box.  "Hey, Ruffy."  A grey head appeared, inspecting the visitors, and Ruffy whickered softly as he recognised Alaric.   Richenda remembered the small apple, dry from winter storage, that she'd brought: Alaric cut it into slices and she and Brendan took turns in feeding them to the horse, who accepted them with surprising delicacy from their hands.  Alaric slipped into the stall to run his hands gently over the horse, and the groom she'd seen yesterday appeared carrying a halter.

"D'you want him out, Your Grace?   Y'r squire walked him properly this morning like y'said – but he's took no harm fr'm yesterday.  Legs like iron, this one.   Afternoon, y'r ladyship," he nodded to Richenda."  

Alaric took the halter.  "Thanks, O'Malley.  I'll just let young Brendan here sit on him for a bit – no need for saddle or bridle."   He led Ruffian out of the stall, hoisted a delighted Brendan onto his back, and they walked out into the stable yard.

I think you've made his day! she sent to Alaric as he walked the horse around.  Brendan was sitting up proudly, holding the lead rein while Alaric kept one hand on the halter.  He loves riding.

My pleasure.  He's a good little rider for his age.  Good balance, and quite confident.

They completed two circuits of the yard before returning to the stables.

"Did Papa have a big horse?"  The question came like a bolt from the blue as Alaric led Ruffian towards his stall.  He stopped, and looked up at Brendan.

"Yes, he did."

Oh Alaric, I'm so sorry! How could Bran somehow intrude like this on a perfect afternoon?

"He's not coming back, is he?  He's really dead."

"No Brendan, he's not coming back."  Alaric's voice was gentle.

"Did he really do those bad things and kill lots of people?"

Richenda's stomach twisted and she found she was clenching the front edge of her cloak.  She tried to keep her shields up.  Oh God, not this!  Please, not this, not now!

"Yes, he did some very bad things."  Alaric was stroking Ruffian's neck absently, but he met Brendan's eyes steadily.

"The priest said if we're bad we won't go to heaven.  Does that mean he won't go to heaven?"

Alaric paused before answering.  She didn't even dare to try mind-speak.

"Brendan, only God can decide who goes to heaven.   We don't know what He'll say when the time comes.   And nobody's perfect.  We all do some bad things at times, and we all do some good things."

"But Papa was really bad."  Brendan was searching Alaric's face intently.

Another pause.  "He broke his promise to the King, and he helped to kill a lot of people who should have been his friends.  And that was very, very bad.  But he also did some good things too – and I know he loved you very much, because he was your Papa."  He somehow smiled at Brendan, and patted his knee.  "Come on, let's put Ruffy away."

Richenda followed them mutely, not trusting herself to speak.   Alaric led Ruffian into his stall and went to lift Brendan down.   "Duke Alaric?

"Mmmm?"

"That means I should say a prayer for Papa, doesn't it.  When we go to Mass?"

Alaric lifted him down, and ruffled his hair.  "Yes, I think that would be a very nice thing to do for him.  We all say prayers for the people we love."

Apparently satisfied, Brendan came and stood next to her.  She covered her confusion by giving him back his sword and making sure it was in its scabbard.  Alaric hung the halter on a peg, took her hand and squeezed it briefly as they left the stables.  

I'm so sorry!  He hasn't mentioned Bran in ages – I thought we might have been over that.

Bran taught him to ride, didn't he.

Yes. He – he used to take Brendan to the stables sometimes.  I didn't think Brendan would remember.  It's been nearly a year.  She took Brendan's hand as they crossed the yard and made their way towards the Great Hall.

Understandable then.  I hope – I hope I didn't say anything too wrong.  But I thought it best to be as honest as I could.

Yes.  And – thank you for saying those things about Bran.  That was – it meant a lot to Brendan.

God knows Bran and I had our disagreements!  He looked at her with a wry smile. But he obviously loved Brendan.  

Yes.  

Though I think Duncan's better qualified to answer any further questions about heaven and God's intentions!  

They halted as a pair of riders trotted up to the steps, one of them dismounting and hurrying inside.  She recognised the Bishop of Dhassa's livery: probably an update from her uncle for the king.

"Mama?"

"Yes, dear?"  

"I can tell Sir Knight that I rode a proper horse, can't I."

"Who's Sir Knight?" asked Alaric.

"Grandfather bought him for me.  He wears black, like you do.  Only he's got a brown horse, not a grey one."

"He's a very brave knight," said Richenda, laughing, "and he has lots of wonderful adventures."  She sent Alaric a brief version of the purchase.  I managed to get him out before he asked for a gryphon though!  I think the shock would have been too much for poor Master Tomson's nerves.  

"Well, you'll have to get a king as well," said Alaric approvingly as they started up the steps.

"The red one didn't have a crown."  This omission clearly still rankled with Brendan.  

"Well, perhaps it was just meant to be a red knight and not a king."   I shall have to pay Master Tomson a visit, I can see!

Alaric!  

"You wore a crown though.  When you showed me the gryphon."

She could feel Alaric's laughter.  "That's called a coronet, Brendan.  Dukes can wear them."   They passed through the great hall in an earnest discussion of crowns, coronets and other important regalia, and Richenda was thankful that her son barely glanced at Corwyn's banner.

They halted at the foot of the stairs to the upper levels.  "My lady, Brendan, thank you for a very enjoyable afternoon, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you both.  I'll probably be dining with His Majesty this evening, as we have some things to do, so I may not see you at dinner."   So he'd noticed the messenger's livery too.

"Duke Alaric, thank you.  We certainly hadn't expected a riding lesson.  Brendan, what do you say?"

"Thank you, Duke Alaric. I like your grey horse."  Brendan smiled; she was thankful there was no mention of Bran.

"He's a good horse, isn't he.  Now, if you have your sword, can you escort your mother back to your chambers and make sure she's safe?"

Brendan drew the sword and nodded solemnly.

"Good.  My lady, good afternoon.  Thank you again for your company."  I love you. He kissed her hand lightly, bowed to them both, and took his leave.

She watched him stride away down another corridor.  

"Come on, Mama."  Brendan tugged at her hand, waving the sword towards a passing guard.  "I'll protect you.  Duke Alaric says I can."

"Yes dear.  Let's go and tell Sir Knight."

_______________

Next chapter: http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=519.0.

[Evie]

Ouch!  Poor Alaric; what an uncomfortable situation to find himself in!  The worst I had to deal with as a mom was "If God is everywhere all at once, is He in the pavement, and are we driving on Him right now?"   

[kirienne (RIP)]

Ah,  this is so sweet.  His Grace, Duke Alaric gets on so well with young Brendan and the hero worship Brendan has for Alaric is  charming. I loved the tender way His Grace answered all those awkward questions.
I look forward to each chapter and squeel with delight when I see one has been posted. :-)

[Alkari]

Yes, those very awkward questions, that can come up at the most inopportune moments   Poor Alaric is getting a crash course in parenting, and he's just muddling through as best he can.   But at least Brendan trusts him enough to ask the questions, and Alaric understands that he has to be as honest as he can with him.   Kids have an amazing ability to suss out those who aren't honest, and they hate it when people give them the brush off and don't take their questions seriously.

[AnnieUK]

Loved the way this chapter turned out, and while I am champing at the bit for the proposal, I did enjoy seeing the little family starting to form.

And as I said to you in chat, my awkward "God" question was from my nephew at about Brendan's age.  "What holds the clouds up?" so I launched into an age-appropriate explanation of water vapour and weather systems, only to be told "Well I think it's God ... or magic."

[Alkari]

LOL @ "God or magic" - a nice simple approach.  It's when they get onto the serious "But who made God?" or "Where did God come from?" that you run for cover, or reach for Richard Dawkins' books ...

[AnnieUK]

Well the Church in Gwynedd would probably have frowned on his answer LOL.

[Alkari]

Oh yes.  Being an open Deryni is one thing: openly challenging the actual existence of God would not be something to win you popularity points with even the more enlightened of bishops in Gwynnedd.    I think Alaric's personal faith has been shaken up several times in the books (DC and QFSC), but I doubt that he would ever reach the stage of seriously questioning or denying God's existence.  And were he ever to reach that point, it would certainly be kept private, and he would still outwardly attend at least the minimum Church services.   

And if you believe in the God of the Gwynned Church, then what he says to Brendan is absolutely true: it is up to God to decide the ultimate fate of your soul, to forgive or not, etc.  He can't even say whether Bran was truly repentant or not: that again would be in God's hands.   But he's probably very glad he has a priest cousin and that Cardiel is Richenda's relative by marriage

[Elkhound]

LOL @ "God or magic" - a nice simple approach.  It's when they get onto the serious "But who made God?" or "Where did God come from?" that you run for cover, or reach for Richard Dawkins' books ...

I said to my little cousin, "Only God knows that.  Why don't you ask Him?  He might not answer, or not answer right away, or you might not understand his answer."

[Elkhound]

And if you believe in the God of the Gwynned Church, then what he says to Brendan is absolutely true: it is up to God to decide the ultimate fate of your soul, to forgive or not, etc.  He can't even say whether Bran was truly repentant or not: that again would be in God's hands.   But he's probably very glad he has a priest cousin and that Cardiel is Richenda's relative by marriage

God, being both supremely merciful and supremely just, and knowing all the information, may be trusted to make the right decision.  But what decision He makes for each individual soul is between Him and that soul.