Ghosts of the Past

[Jerusha]

Sir Iain Cameron, Baron o' Isles, paused before the doors to King Kelson's withdrawing room.  He had sent a page to notify the king that he had returned from Meara as soon as he had arrived in Rhemuth Castle's courtyard.  He had barely had time to turn his horse over to a stable boy when Robert appeared at his side, advising that the king would see him immediately.  Iain would have liked to clean up a bit first, but it was not as though Kelson had never spent time on campaign in the field, so perhaps he would not find the odor of horse and sweat overly offensive.

Robert knocked quietly on the door and opened it when the king called for them to enter.  "Sir Iain Cameron, your Majesty," he announced.

Iain stopped half the distance to the wide oak table behind which the king sat, thinking it best not to approach too closely.  He  bowed and as he straightened, saw that the king was studying him closely.

Instead of the normally dapper Baron, the king saw a short, dusty man-at-arms in a worn leather tunic and stained hose.  The pale hair was drawn back into the customary border braid, but a week's growth of pale beard covered the lower half of his face.  Kelson also noticed that his boots, although equally dusty, were very well made.  There were some things Sir Iain would not compromise on.

"I almost wouldn't recognize you," Kelson said, and Iain noticed a slight quirk at the corners of the king's mouth.  It did not last long.  "Tell me what you have learned about Brioc de Paor's whereabouts."

"Unfortunately, very little," Iain responded.  "Earl Brendan and I returned to the fortress.  It was still secured by the earl's men, and no one had attempted to use the Portal or enter the gates.  Earl Brendan and I did manage to remove Valerian's trap on the Portal and install one that will prevent unauthorized use. I will provide you the details."

"We can get to that later," Kelson replied.  "You have no idea where de Paor might be?"

"I won't say I have no idea, but it will take a long time to find him.  I have been scouting the area around the fortress in the guise you see, posing as a man-at-arms who might not be too scrupulous about who he works for.  I had a few interesting offers, but nothing that even hinted at Lord Brioc."

"If you think any of those 'offers' worthy of investigation, let Lord Seisyll know," Kelson interrupted.

Iain nodded. "What I did learn was that the mountains where the fortress is located are riddled with caves; some are quite large.  If prepared with supplies, Lord Brioc and a few trusted men could hide in one for quite some time.  Even if he were to run low on supplies, with all of the mountain streams, fresh water would not be a problem, and game is plentiful.  He could remain hidden almost indefinitely.

"And if he waits long enough, he could quietly reappear after we have grown tired of searching," Kelson said thoughtfully. 

"One or two men could be left in the area, to continue to watch and report. There is no guarantee of success, however," Iain added cautiously.

"Meanwhile, Brioc remains a significant threat,  especially if he gets his hands on his daughter," Kelson said after a moment.  He looked up at Robert.  "Robert, find us some refreshment.  I suspect Sir Iain might be thirsty after his travels."

Robert nodded, bowed and left the room.  Iain waited patiently for the king to continue. Something was on his mind he did not want Robert to hear.

"That leaves us with the question of what to do with his daughter, Lady Sidana," Kelson said quietly.

Iain wondered if the king meant the royal "Us."  He certainly hoped so.

"As I see it, we have three options."  Kelson paused and sat back in his chair, his eyes on the man who stood before him.   "The first option is to execute her as a threat to the realm.  Not my preferred option, but I have done it before."  His thoughts turned briefly to Judhael.  It would be no easier now than it had been then.  Iain's face remained impassive.

"The second option is to retire Lady Sidana to a remote convent.  Unfortunately, there is no guarantee her father or other supporters would not be able to find her and set her free. Loris proved it is not impossible."  Kelson's gaze did not move from Iain's face.

"It's not likely Lady Sidana would ever take vows," Iain said, remembering his time spent with his recalcitrant guest.  "She would spend her days there as a prisoner."  He held the king's gaze. "And the third option?"

"She accepts you in marriage."

Iain felt his stomach tighten in a knot.  "I might not be the best choice.  If I remember my last conversation with her, she despises me."

"I don't see another viable candidate."  The king raised one hand and ticked off each point on one of his fingers.  "First, you cannot produce an heir.  A male heir would be disastrous,  and  a daughter would be equally dangerous, as we know from Lady Sidana.  Two, there is no location more remote and isolated in Gwynedd than Isles;  it is accessible only by sea with only one safe harbour.   Sidana will be secure and out of sight from the rest of Gwynedd.  Third, you are a highly trained Deryni, and you can control your wife if you have to...."

"The third point is not acceptable, your Majesty," Iain interrupted  firmly. 

Kelson  stopped with his finger poised to tick off a fourth point.  "This is a problem?"

"Yes, Sire."  Iain took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "I placed controls on Sidana when Sir Washburn and I captured her.  She made life very difficult, and we were all miserable. As a temporary solution, controls have their merit, but they should not be permanent.   I can live with a woman who does not care for me, or  treats me with disdain.  I can't live with a woman I have enslaved."

Kelson gave Iain a considering look.  "You are aware her powers are still blocked.  Is that also a problem?"

Iain thought for a moment.  "Perhaps not, though I don't like it as a permanent solution.   It would reduce risk, and give me a chance to make some sort of peace with her.  Assuming that is a possibility," he added dryly.  "It seemed you had one more point to make, Sire?"

"I have sent you on enough missions to believe that you are incorruptible.  I need not worry that someone will tempt you to give her up." 

"I won't say I might not be tempted, Sire, but I would not give her up.  The consequences would be too grave."  Iain made a slight bow, and the king nodded his acknowledgement.

"It will be Lady Sidana's choice to make," Kelson said with finality.  "Let's  hope she makes a wise choice."  There was a knock on the door.  "Ah, here is Robert with our wine."

Robert entered  and set a tray with a carafe and two goblets on the table.  He poured wine first for the king and then handed a full goblet to Iain. 

"To wise choices," Kelson said as he raised his goblet.

"To wise choices, Sire," Iain replied and lifted his goblet in salute. He took a very deep drink of the wine.

[Laurna]

The Episcopal entourage left the courtyard of Arx Fidei at mid morning, after mass and much adieu. Wash thought they would never leave; so excited was he to finally be heading home. Twenty riders, the archbishop's carriage, three wagons and a dozen servants made up the large assembly of travelers. The carriage remained empty as they left the gates. At first Duncan chose to ride a quiet grey palfrey that matched the color of the archbishop's hair. The speed was sedate. Far more sedate than Shadow cared for. The stallion on occasion slipped into a jig which Washburn controlled only after a few paces. Eventually even the stallion gave in to the slow walk, put his head down, and walked with quiet grace. As the travelers came upon the town of Ramos, the archbishop transferred to the carriage with the windows open. Wash was a little surprised that the riders formed up like a procession and they traversed the town from end to end with the villagers forming along the roadside. The archbishop of Rhemuth, the second highest church leader of Gwynedd waved to the folk and called out blessings for the people. The war was over and the people rejoiced.

When they were clear of the town, Duncan stayed in the carriage and used the time to take a nap. At mid afternoon, food was sent forward from the wagons by deacons. They rode up and handed Washburn and his friends meat wraps followed by small berry tarts. There was no reason to stop, so everyone happily ate as they walked on. If a rider disappeared into the treeline for a moment, his fellows simply marked where he had gone and made sure he returned. They were not moving fast enough to leave anyone behind.

The magistra had joined the archbishop in his carriage as the food was passed out. An hour or so later she returned to horseback. Wash took this opportunity. He dismounted from his steed, handed the reins to Father Columcil and approached the episcopal carriage. His long stride easily matched the carriage's speed. "Your Grace, may I ask permission to approach."

"You have it, my son," Duncan said with an easy smile. "Better still, come sit beside me, so that I do not have to yell out the window." He opened the carriage door and Wash easily stepped up and sat opposite, facing backwards. The two men looked upon each other for a time, but when Wash did not speak what was on his mind, the archbishop spoke for him. "You are wondering what penance I would place upon you for your many colorful deeds that I became aware of yesterday?"  Wash didn't say anything, his eyes lowered to his hands held together on his right thigh. "Your deeds of youth were spent as any young man would spend them. You have sought absolution for the worst of these in the past. The lesser deeds of youth don't weigh on your soul. Believe me, I saw nothing yesterday that was worse than what I or your father did in our youth. In fact, I would surmise that your father was a bit more recalcitrant in his early darkling phase than you. He defied the rules of nobility, somewhat casting himself away from them. You, on the other hand, may have bent the rules from time to time, but you were always steadfast with authority and to your loyalties. I suspect you spent too much time trying to impress your brothers than to be contrary." Duncan saw the slight nod as Wash agreed. "That is why it hurts so much, isn't  it? You have been forced to think ill of those of whom you would never have contemplated ill before?"

Duncan looked out the window, for passing villagers had yelled out "God be praised!" and Duncan called back to them, "God bless you, my children!"  Then he returned his gaze back to the diffident knight. "There are a few choices made during your imprisonment and escape which I would like to hear you talk about in your own words, in your own time. Then we will deal with each circumstance individually. I will take consideration as to why you did as you did. Namely the two uses of your new power and also an agreement you made with your captor. In the confessional we will deal with these. Perhaps this evening before we retire, come to me." Duncan again looked out the window and gave a wave to a family who stood on the side of the road to watch the archbishop pass by.   "It will take time to heal. Not all healing can be completed by a touch to an open wound. This is not that kind of wound. It will take time and compassion, not just from others but from yourself."

Washburn looked up at the man he called his uncle though in truth was a cousin once removed. The relationship did not matter, he was family. Wash trusted him implicitly but as yet could not find the words to speak. "You might ask why we didn't take a portal to Rhemuth to stand there before the king this morning? I would answer, that a war has ended, that the people need to see that we the church love them and wish to be seen by them. We will parade before them and give them our blessing and they will be happy and return to their good lives. But also it is a time of healing. We are in good company, we with those we love, and with those who love us. Take these days of travel to put your heart at ease. What was done to you, is gone. It happened and it must be lived with. But it does not rule over you. If you have earned penance it will not be great. You are free. You may not be able to return to the man you were before, but you can remake yourself into a new man. I see a yearning for learning that wasn't there before. Fiona won't be the only one to ask the Magistra for admittance into the schola of Rhemuth, I am thinking."

Washburn perked up at that. "Fiona asked the Magistra? Was she admitted?"

Duncan laughed lightly at this sudden light-hearten expression of the knight's face. "Why don't you ask her for yourself."

"There has been so much to do, we have not had time to talk." Wash said ashamed that he had missed the hints she had made.

"We have a week, there is plenty of time. Use it wisely."

Washburn knew that Duncan was not just talking about talking to the attractive blond who made his heart leap."Healing comes from many sources. I think if you open up to several of those who travel with us, you will find them helpful to you and you to them."

"I don't understand what you mean, how can I help them?"

"You may have noticed that one of my bishops has fallen off course from his normal compassion. I think if you were to share his grief over the loss of Bishop Denis, perhaps he will come to understand that Denis's last days were spent out of loyalty to his kingdom and love for his friends. His stress was not your fault. John needs to come to this conclusion on his own."

"I have been avoiding him, and he me."

"Don't! Talk to him, you have more in common than you might imagine. We have a week. Both he and you can use it to heal."

Wash nodded, he bent his head and kissed the extended hand with the archbishop's ring. In the next moment he found himself with the arms of his uncle tightly wrapped around him. "I am so happy to finally have you back." 

A few minutes later, Wash left the carriage brushing back tears.

[DerynifanK]

GotP on the road.  Fiona and Washburn

Prologue: 

Fiona was so excited that she could hardly contain herself. She had returned to Magistra Helena's study that afternoon for the mind reading the Magistra had requested as a prelude to admission to the Schola. Helena explained what she was doing." I do not intend to invade your privacy, I wish only to gain an understanding of what Deryni traits and abilities you possess and what, if any, training you have already had. If you are admitted, this information will be important in planning your course of study."

Fiona nodded her understanding. She trusted the magistra and was not afraid. Helena made sure she was seated comfortably and instructed her to close her eyes, breathe deeply and relax. Fiona  followed the directions given her. Helena placed a hand gently on her forehead, and Fiona lowered her shields. The reading was quickly accomplished, and Fiona came out of her trance and faced the magistra who smiled at her.

"Lady Aliset was correct. You do have great potential although what little training you have had appears to be very sketchy as one would expect with the frequent changes and interruptions. I also saw your deep desire for this training and your intention to use your powers for good. I will recommend to Bishop Nivard that you be admitted after we have consulted with your guardian and gained his approval. He may still wish to speak with you himself, but you should not be afraid. He is a fair and kind man, and I see no impediment to your admission.

Fiona was almost bouncing in her seat as she addressed the Magistra. "Oh thank you!. Iain had already approved my request to study at the Schola. I am sure he will consent to my entering the Schola,. I can't wait to tell the others!. She curtsied to the magistra and quickly left the study.

The evening of the first day on the road:

Fiona was frustrated. She had met Aliset in their room and told her of the reading and its outcome. She was practically admitted!  But she had been unable to talk with Washburn. The archbishop had called them together before the evening meal that day to tell them that he had reported the results of his deep reading to Kelson, and the king had given his permission for Washburn to return to Rhemuth. Their party would accompany the archbishop and his entourage. Bishop Duncan intended to leave the next morning after mass so they must be ready. "I have been too long absent from my see, and I must return to my duties there."

After that, everyone was fully occupied with their packing, checking on the horses, and preparations for leaving the next morning. There had been no opportunity to seek out Wash or tell him her news."

She had hoped to have a chance to tell him the next day but again, he was occupied with other things. There had been no stops for food; they had eaten as they rode. Also, Wash had spent  part of the afternoon in Bishop Duncan's carriage with him. As they passed through villages and towns, the people had lined their route, calling out to the Archbishop and cheering and receiving his blessings. There was no opportunity to talk with Washburn alone.

Finally, late in the afternoon, they reached St. Swithin's Abbey where they had bespoken shelter for the night. The abbot and several of the brothers came out to meet them. Duncan was escorted to the room allotted to him. Bishop Nivard, as well as the ladies in the party, were also given rooms inside the abbey. Duncan's escort, along with Washburn and Darcy, would camp in the abbey barn while the deacons and Columcil were given beds in the dortoir.  A meal would be served within the hour, followed by vespers.

Again Fiona had no chance for private converse with Washburn. Finally, as they exited the church after Vespers, she found him standing near her as Duncan gave a final blessing to all.   
She placed her hand lightly on his arm. He looked down at her, smiling. She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "I must talk with you. I have news." He nodded and led her away from the church into a corner of the Abbey garden where there was an arbor and a stone bench where they could sit.

After he had seen her comfortably seated, he sat down beside her, Wash turned to her. "After I have heard your news, I have a question for you."

Fiona was bubbling over with her news. "I have met with Magistra Helena and she has agreed to recommend me to Bishop Nivard for admittance to the Schola!"

"When did this happen?" Wash looked at her quizzically.

"Yesterday afternoon before we left Arx Fidei. After the reading by Archbishop Duncan was over and you went  to rest, I spoke with Aliset. I told her that I needed to have a say in my own future, and since both Bishop Nivard and Magistra Helena were here within reach, why should I not approach one of them about my wish to be admitted to the Schola?  She agreed to go with me to lend her support. I was very hesitant about approaching the Bishop, he seemed cold and hard, but I thought the Magistra might listen to me. We found her in the library, and she agreed to listen to my request. She led us to her study. There I told her of my background and my long held dream to attend the schola and learn about my powers. Aliset supported me, telling the magistra what she knew of my abilities. The magistra said I sounded like the kind of student the Schola was intended to serve. But she asked me to return after the noon meal and allow her to do a reading to assess what traits and abilities I had. I did so, and after the reading she said she would recommend to the bishop that I be accepted. They will need to meet with Iain as my guardian to get his final approval, but he had already agreed to my request. With everything going on, there had been no opportunity to do anything about it.The Magistra says Iain is in Rhemuth and they will meet with him as soon as we return. I know he will agree."  Fiona gave her characteristic bounce of excitement. "I am practically admitted already!"

Washburn grinned at Fiona delightedly. "That is wonderful. I am truly happy that your dream is coming true. You will be the best student in the Schola. And you will have achieved it on your own," he proudly declared.

He continued. "I also hope to be a student there. Uncle Duncan says that when he did my reading, he sensed a desire for learning that he had never felt in me before. It is known that I have the healing trait, and I hope to be admitted for healer's training. I think he will support my admission.  Perhaps we will be fellow students. And I am hoping that Father Columcil will also join us to further his healer training. "

The two young people sat quietly for several minutes, contemplating the opportunity to achieve their dreams.  Washburn's hand drifted over and rested lightly on the back of Fiona's hand.She did nothing to pull her hand away. Fiona looked at him. "You said you had a question for me. What is it?"

"You have already answered it. I know where to find you once we reach Rhemuth" A pair of deacons crossed the garden and instantly their fingers parted. " It is getting dark and Aliset might become concerned. Allow me to escort you to your quarters."They both stood and Fiona placed her hand on his arm. They walked sedately back to the Abbey, and Wash left her at the door of the room she and Aliset shared. Both Wash and Fiona would have happy dreams this night.

[Laurna]

The barn at St. Swithin's Abbey was not wholly uncomfortable.  The Archbishop's non- clerical retinue, about fifteen in all, were given cots in the central work space of the barn, so it was not like they were bedded down with the sheep. Wash and Darcy had slept in worse locales. Wash took it in stride, and Darcy might have too, if not for the fact that he didn't have his wife at his side. He said nothing, but he tossed and turned through the night and then was up before the break of day, before even the servants and guards were up. Wash decided it was useless to try and sleep even though it was not yet light, so he too dressed and joined Darcy on his way to the abbey church. At this juncture, Darcy went his own way, likely to await outside the guest quarters for the women.

Wasburn, instead, looked for the solitude of the Lady Chapel.  He lit a candle and then knelt before the altar rail in prayer; he had a lot to think about. During the last evening, he had talked at length with Uncle Duncan. Part of their talk was in confessional; Wash expressed his guilt for the death of Lord Oswald. He had made a contract with the scholar during his time as a prisoner that placed that death square in his lap. He was not sorry in the least that the man was dead. After what Oswald had done to the de Mariot family and might have done to Aliset, Washburn believed Oswald's fate was justified. But it was not the king's justice, far from it! This conversation opened a flood of grief Wash had not expected. He had not yet had time to grieve over the death of his friend Alister. When Aliset was in the guise of her brother, Wash had dared not allow himself to grieve for fear it would affect his dealings with his friend's twin sister, and later... well until now... and now he was ashamed that he had not accepted Alister's death sooner.

After expressing his grief, he returned to the subject of his confession. "I will not repent that the murderer of Aliset's family is dead, only that I made a contract with an assassin to have the deed done. I am very aware that I made such a contract, and that it is not the way of the king's laws. My only defense is that I did not know the details, but the devil is in the details. Evil twists our desires to its own path. So I have learned the hard way."

In the artful manner of a good priest, Duncan let Wash talk. A softly placed word here and a comment there stirred the conversation so that emotions were released and the truth was brought forth. Wash forgot for a moment that Duncan had been inside his head already, and he knew how this contract with his abductor had come to pass. Washburn's guilt and grief had overshadowed the truth. It took Duncan's gentle prodding to get Wash to speak the exact words of his dealing with the scholar.

"Very well, I will repeat the exact words I said to Feyd-- I ask to make a contract with you. If you save the Lady Aliset de Mariot from wherever it is that she is being kept and return her safely, and alive--not mad like I will be-- into the hands of Lord Darcy and Father Columcil, then I will pay any price that is within my means to pay."

"You do see it, do you not?" Duncan asked after a long silence. "Your contract was to save Lady Aliset, for her safety and her return." Duncan reached out and placed his hand on Washburn's shoulder. "You would do anything to see Aliset safe. You could not know that she was already safe. I suspect Master Feyd did not know in that moment where she was, either. He wanted your cooperation, so he took your contract. In time his informants would have told him Aliset was not in the clutches of Lord Oswald. It could have ended there. It was he who took it further, it is not directly on your hands." Duncan sighed, "Nevertheless, it appears he chose to relieve your distress over Aliset and make a permanent solution. I wonder if he thought it would buy your trust? You must learn from this. Some men have their own codes of honor which do not meld well with the Knight's Code."

"Yes, your Grace, this I have learned."

Wash continued to kneel and give The Lady a second prayer. He looked up and saw the light of the morning sun brighten the eastern rose window. Standing to leave, Wash became aware that another had arrived at the chapel. He felt chagrin as the footsteps turned away ostensibly to not disturb him. "Nay, do not leave. I have taken up enough of the Lady's time." Wash turned as he spoke and saw the retreating back of Bishop Nivard.

"Wait, your Grace, I am glad it is you. Could I impose on your time? For just a moment?"

It was clear that the bishop was uncomfortable and guessed the knight's request. "His Grace informed me you would be asking for admission to the Schola. Come to me when we are in Rhemuth where we can discuss this at length." Again Bishop Nivard began to walk away.

Wash never knew John to be curt, and it came to Wash that he had not properly grieved over Bishop Arilan's death, much as he himself had not grieved over Alister's. Duncan had said to take this week to heal, and this was a relationship that required healing.

"Father John, don't go, please!" He opened his palms upward apologizing for the familiarity.  "Like a lot of young men, I'm afraid I've been a bit oblivious to others and how hard things must have been for them. I hope I've learnt a bit better now. The trials of the last weeks have not all been my own. The price has been high, too high, for many. I want to give you my sincerest condolences for the man who was first among us to turn the footsteps of the Deryni onto the path of light." John had turned and now he stepped forward, but he was conflicted by his own emotions and did not respond. "Denis Arilan was your mentor as well as Duncan's, I did not appreciate the Bishop of Dhassa as I should have. I understand that his ordination was a miracle. That miracle allowed men with true vocation to find mentors in the church. Archbishop Duncan and yourself were among the first Deryni priests to be ordained in two centuries. Forgive me, I never asked before. How was that possible? It must have taken enormous courage."

The bishop's eyes had been on the chapel altar, but at this he looked up at the knight, hesitant at first, then feeling Washburn's openness and genuine interest, he decided to answer. "Come kneel beside me as I say morning prayer. And then I will tell you something you may not know about Bishop Arilan."

Wash accepted the invitation without pause. He allowed John to kneel at the altar rail and then knelt down beside him. John's prayer was mesmerizing, the bishop's depth of feeling for his vocation and for Denis Arilan could be keenly felt as he began to talk about his early years in minor orders before he discovered he was Deryni. The learning of his race dashed all hopes and raised his fears of discovery. Before he met Denis, he was prepared to risk death for his love of God. Then at his ordination, Bishop Denis was present and he, John Nivard, was alive and a priest. Fulfillment of his deepest heart's desire was accomplished because of a miracle in the name of Denis Arilan. He understood then the true meaning of compassion.   

John talked until Swithin monks began filing in the church for service. "We must start our morning or we will never get on the road to Rhemuth," said John. He then stood and brushed his cassock smooth.

Wash stayed on his knees for a moment longer. "Thank you. I did not know. I must apologize for my youth, there are many things that I did not understand. And I know there are many things that I still need to come to understand better. Your words help me see." Wash stood then bowed and then turned to leave the chapel.

John's voice stopped him, "I too need to open my eyes and see better, understanding requires compassion.  His Grace the Archbishop was right, as always."

Wash cocked his head confused, then bowed. He left the church knowing Bishop Nivard watched him go.

[Jerusha]

"I think I could use a short walk," Aliset Cameron said as her husband helped her dismount from her horse. 

"I think we'll be here for a while," Darcy replied.  "The archbishop doesn't appear to be in a hurry to continue on, so we have a little time to wander."

They had stopped for a mid-afternoon break to relax and rest the horses before continuing on to where they were to spend the night.  Darcy nodded in the general direction where Archbishop Duncan, Magistra Helena, Father Columcil, Washburn and Fiona stood together a short distance away from their tethered horses and the archbishop's carriage. 

"I would wager they are discussing the Schola again,"  Darcy said as he tethered their horses in the shade of one of the trees set back from the road.

"Fiona takes every opportunity to learn more about it." Aliset said and then sighed. "I must admit, I wouldn't mind travelling a bit faster."

"I could race you to that other tree down yonder," Darcy replied. "I'll even give you a head start."

'You know that is not what I meant!"

"I can never be entirely sure," Darcy said and held out his arm.

Aliset laughed as she settled her hand on his arm.  They strolled toward the tree Darcy had indicated, taking their time and listening to the late summer birdsong. 

"I think your tree is a pear tree," Aliset declared as they approached it.  "I wonder if there are any ready for picking?  I think a pear would taste very good right about now."

Darcy, pleased that his wife's morning sickness seemed to be on the wane, left her side to study the tree more closely.

It was an old, sturdy pear tree, one which had likely provided fruit for travelers for several generations.  The main trunk had several gnarled branches reaching out from it and many more spreading upwards. 

"I think the lower branches are all picked clean,"  Darcy said.  "Maybe we should have travelled faster." 

'Oh well," Aliset replied.  The disappointment in her voice was clear.

"Not to worry," Darcy said quickly.  "I'll just climb up a ways and get you one."  He stepped back and studied the tree to find the best route upwards.

"No, no!" Aliset said quickly.  "I don't want to ask Columcil or Washburn to put you back together again this soon."

"Don't fret, love; I've never met a tree I couldn't climb and return in one piece!"  He climbed onto the lowest, thick branch and walked along it to start his way upwards.

This may not end well, Aliset thought to herself.  Yet she saw that, even as Darcy made quick progress, he tested each branch carefully to ensure it would hold his weight and studied each next move carefully.

"Here we go!" he shouted down at her.  "I think there are about a dozen within easy reach."

"I only need one," Aliset called back.   "And one for you as well."

"What do you think Columcil would say if we returned without one for the archbishop?  We'd best bring enough to share."  Darcy gazed down at her for a moment.  "How well can you catch?  Besides being a good catch, of course."

"I manage quite well, thank you," his wife retorted, ignoring his last remark.  "And mind you, I throw just as well."

"I'll remember to duck.  Here's the first one."  Darcy picked the first pear and carefully dropped it toward Aliset.  He watched it slow before it reached her and land neatly in her hand.  "Some might call that cheating," he said and shook his head in mock reproach.

"Better than bruising the pears," she replied and placed the first pear on the ground.

Shortly the pile grew to the dozen pears Darcy had promised.  "That's the best I can safely do," he announced and began his descent.  Once he reached the ground, Aliset let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"I told you I would be safe," Darcy said and kissed her cheek.  "But I'm not sure how best to carry them back.  I left my sea bag on Sigrun."

"We do this," Aliset said and grasped the skirt of her dress, lifting it just enough to create a nest for the pears.

"Maybe we should keep to the tall grass so no one else will see your delightful ankles," Darcy said as he placed the pears on her skirt.

"My ankles are encased in sturdy riding boots, so you need not worry!"

Darcy grinned at her, and they turned to return to the group.

"We wondered where you were off to," Fiona said as they returned. 

"Actually, I wondered what you were doing,"  Washburn added.  "I didn't see Darcy, but I saw Aliset dancing around the base of that tree." He looked at the fruit nestled in Aliset's skirt.  "Now I understand!" 

Darcy chuckled.  "She does dance well, doesn't she?"

Aliset gave him a stern glance and moved forward to offer Archbishop Duncan the first pear.  Darcy watched as she offered the remaining pears to everyone nearby.  When she was finished, there was one pear left and Darcy was empty-handed.

"You should have this pear, Darcy," Aliset said quickly.   "You did most of the work."

"Nay, love, you were the one that wanted a pear, and I'm sure the lassies will enjoy it too."

"Darcy," she began again, but Darcy shook his head.  "Then we'll share!"  Aliset drew out her eating knife and slit the pear lengthwise.  She gave it a firm twist, and it separated into two halves.  With a flick of her knife, the core came free.  She handed one half of the pear to her husband.

Darcy nodded his thanks and bit deeply into the fruit.  The flesh was sweet and totally satisfying. 

"May all of the things we share taste this sweet," he said to his wife.

Aliset blushed to the roots of her brown hair and tossed the pear core at Darcy.

[revanne]

As they came near to Rhemuth the mood in the group travelling with Archbishop Duncan changed. Fiona looked excited and eager for the new experiences the city with its royal court and longed-for Schola would bring, but Washburn could see that Aliset and Darcy looked somewhat anxious while Columcil seemed uncharacteristically glum. As for Washburn himself, he felt a sick apprehension, and for a moment he allowed himself the fantasy of touching his spurs to Shadow's flanks and taking off across the fields. Which would, he knew, achieve nothing. The meeting with the King was vital if his honour was to be cleansed in the sight of the Kingdom. If only he knew what the King intended, what his reception would be. Would he be left grovelling on his knees while the King poured reproaches upon him and only grudgingly restored him to grace?


Suddenly the company stopped and Washburn was forced to pull Shadow up short to avoid running into the back of the Archbishop's carriage. What was happening? He saw that one of the grooms was leading a horse up to the carriage and Archbishop Duncan was being assisted to mount. The carriage moved off and, seeing his opportunity, Washburn urged Shadow into a brisk walk and moved up to travel alongside the Archbishop.


Duncan smiled warmly at him, then said with an air of self-deprecation, "Pride is the deadliest of all sins, but if I arrive back in a carriage I'll be coddled and fussed over and made to feel like the sick old man I am, and would so much rather not be." 


Washburn felt  his mouth drop open and made haste to close it, but could think of nothing to say in reply which was neither obviously untrue nor impertinent. Seeing his discomfiture, Duncan spoke again, this time with an almost painful catch in his voice.


"Your pardon. I almost forgot I wasn't speaking to your father. You remind me very much of him, you know, and he would have been so very proud of you."  Then briskly he added, "And he would have had a very trenchant comment to make about the idiocy of self-pitying old-men, which you are far too courteous to utter."


Washburn blinked away the hot prickling behind his eyes but found himself unable to think of anything to say. Duncan did not seem to expect anything, however, and they rode on in a comfortable silence for a while as Washburn nerved himself to make his request. He had been emboldened by the unexpected words of approbation, but he wanted to avoid sounding like a child asking for someone to hold his hand. Then he laughed inwardly as he recalled Duncan's words about pride, and decided that one less sin to confess would be no bad thing.


"Your Grace," he began but was interrupted by Duncan saying, "Have you been taking lessons from my grandson? He only "Your Graces" me when he's either feeling guilty or wants something. Well, I've no doubt as to the thoroughness of your recent confession so it must be the latter. Out with it, and I'm still Uncle Duncan to you in private, my lad."


The gentle teasing was the boost Washburn needed and, returning Duncan's smile,he began again. "Uncle Duncan, would you come with me when I'm summoned before the King? He'll make no objection to your presence and ...and...." His speech trailed away then he finished in a small voice, "The truth is, I'm scared of what my reception will be and if you were there to vouch for me..." Again his voice trailed off.


Duncan reached out and grasped Washburn's wrist with a grip both firm and gentle. "Of course, I will. But there was no need to ask, His Majesty has already made the same request. Don't suppose that you are the only one unsure of this meeting. I will not break another man's confidence, but mind this, he has to make decisions as King, but he feels them as a man. Both for the sake of the Kingdom and for his own sake, he wishes all to be well with you."


Washburn struggled with the idea of this powerful monarch, already in his lifetime surrounded with the aura of legend, being nervous of anything let alone him, but it was enough to know that he need not face him alone. Though he did not wholeheartedly believe Duncan, he murmured his thanks,and bent to put his lips to the hand that still lay on his wrist. Then keen to break the mood, he asked and received leave to move off ahead and urged Shadow into a brisk canter.

[Laurna]

Hoof beats pounding upon the road, horse mane tickling his cheeks as he leaned lower to gain more speed, Washburn relished this momentary freedom. The farmers are out in the field working the late season summer crops. Harvest time would be starting soon. The road bent away from the flat land at the river's edge and curved around a short hill to the south ultimately ending at the Bishops Gate. Wagons and carts were on the road ahead of him. Wash knew the road all too well and he knew the hill beside him, and he knew he should stop and turn back to his traveling companions before they walked in the midst of the populous. Instead, the urge to see the capital city walls captivated his senses. He dodged an oncoming wagon and leaped Shadow over a cattle fencing. He raced Shadow across the pasture, through a herd of milking cows, and up the far hill.  He knew this hill and he knew what he would see when he breached the top. A spot cleared for a beacon-fire was on a rock ledge at its very top. Wash jumped from the saddle, tethered Shadow to a tree, and climbed the rock face steps to the very top where a bonfire was set to burn in emergency. This wasn't an emergency, though the knight's heart was racing like it was. The view was more breathtaking than he had ever remembered. Rhemuth lay before him in all its beauty and glory. A sight he had been sure he might never see again.

It was a while before he came down from that place. At a more sedately pace he rode his destrier back to the Via Romana road, where he fell quietly back into place behind the Archbishop and his friends.

[DerynifanK]

Fiona knew they were nearing Rhemuth, and she was most anxious to catch her first glimpse of Gwynedd's capital city.  She was sure it would be soon as they stopped briefly to allow Bishop Duncan to change from his carriage to horseback. That must mean they were indeed very close.

They had been riding along the south side of the Eirian river. As they rounded a deep bend in the river and followed the road which had turned due west, she noticed increasing traffic. The road was wider and smoother, paved with stones. They now shared it with a variety of travelers on foot, driving carts, and on horseback. The river  flowed wide and silent on their right.

As they continued, she noticed many groups of soldiers and horses on the other side of the river. She saw tents and colorful pennons flying. Horses were being led to lines set up to one side and she could see smoke from some campfires already going. It appeared that they were setting up camp across the river rather than crossing over and entering the city.

Fiona peered ahead. The traffic got thicker and she was sure the city must be just ahead. Then suddenly, there it was, rising out of the river mist almost like a dream. Fiona reined in her horse and sat staring into the distance at the great stone walls before her. Soaring above the walls were the spires of what must be the great cathedral and above all, on its plateau rose Rhemuth Castle with its parapets and turrets, the golden lion of Gwynedd flying from the highest point. It was awe-inspiring; she had never seen anything like it.

"You can see why  they call it Rhemuth, the Beautiful." said a voice in her ear. "However, we  need to move on. I am afraid we are becoming a traffic obstruction." She turned her head to find Sir Washburn at her side and blushed, realizing that she had pulled up in the middle of the road to gaze at the sight before her. She could hear the laughter in his voice. And she looked around to realize that other travelers were having some difficulty passing them. Their party was continuing toward the city gate ahead. She urged her horse forward to catch up with them. Wash rode beside her.

"Who are those soldiers setting up camp across the river?" She asked him.

"I expect those are units of Prince Javan's army returning. They will camp there until their leaders release them to return to their homes. There will probably be a ceremony where the king recognizes their success in defeating the rebellion and thanks them for their service. Most will then be dismissed to return to their own lands.

They approached the arched Bishop's gate on the east end of the city, the archbishop and his guards in the lead. The gate was wide enough for several riders to pass through abreast and was topped by a gatehouse. Round towers with slit windows and topped by short turrets stood on either side of the gate itself which was guarded by men in scarlet Haldane livery. The guards saluted the archbishop as he entered, and the rest of the party followed him into the city proper.

As they continued toward the castle, they entered the square where St George's Cathedral  dominated its surroundings. Fiona was gazing at it with wide eyes, and again pulled up at the side of the square. She noticed many men in cassocks and clericals striding around the square and passing in and out of the massive doors of the church. Both clerics and commoners stopped and bowed as the archbishop rode past, cheering as he blessed them and continued toward the castle.

"That is St George's Cathedral, the principal place of worship and ceremony in the city. That is where the coronation takes place as well as royal weddings and other ceremonials." Wash told her. "You will have other opportunities to see it, but we'd best keep up with our party. It is easy to become separated in all the hustle and bustle, and I don't want to lose you. He smiled at her and they again moved forward after the rest of their party.

As they entered the busy, main marketplace, people stood aside to allow the party to pass and bowed or curtsied as the archbishop passed. Fiona could hear him calling out blessings to them, acknowledging their cries of greeting, just as he had as they had passed through villages on their way. The war was over and life could return to normal.

As they passed through the marketplace and began to ascend the road that led to the gate in the castle's outer wall, Fiona asked Wash, "Where is the Schola? I have seen many great buildings but I have not seen it. Where is it located? I am anxious to see it."

He smiled at her impatience. "You will see it soon. It is located within the grounds of the castle itself, part of St. Hilary's Basilica. I will point it out to you as we pass." They followed  the curving road toward the castle sitting high on a plateau to their right. They approached the  first gate piercing the outer curtain wall where they entered without challenge. The road became steeper as it mounted to the second curtain wall. They traversed the open, rocky  zone between the two walls, a defense designed for the ease of archers placed high on the wall to defend the castle. They entered the second gate then moved on to pass through a third defense inner-wall gate. They transited through a long gatehouse passway which led to the courtyard proper.  In front of them, Fiona saw the stone steps which led to the imposing  bronze doors of the Great Hall.

The party began to dismount. The archbishop was assisted from his horse, and a groom led his horse toward the stables.The archbishop's party dispersed to the stables and their various quarters. Grooms came to take the horses of Sir Washburn and his party. He assisted Fiona to dismount and she handed her horse to a waiting groom. She was scanning the various buildings surrounding the courtyard, obviously seeking something in particular.

Wash came up beside her. She turned to him. "Where is the schola? I don't see it. You said I would see it."

Wash turned her to the right and pointed to a path that led from the castle slightly downward past a gate that led to the gardens and on to a stone church with a porch sheltering the doors. To the left of this church she saw a range of buildings attached to it, the precincts of the former abbey which now served as home to the schola and its faculty and students.  This area was  a center of activity as she saw young people entering and leaving. "That is the schola. It is here in the castle grounds for both ease of access and safety. It is under the protection of the crown as well as the church. Duncan was the first deryni cleric to serve as rector of the schola and has done much work to help it grow. They have attracted many excellent teachers and we will be able to learn much from them."

Fiona looked up at the tall knight beside her. "We?"

He replied. "Yes, we. I hope to be admitted to the schola to learn about my healing powers and how to use them." He grinned. " I hope we will be fellow students here. But now we must attend the king and find out what he has in mind for each of us."  He held out his arm to her. She placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the stone steps and the great bronze doors behind which their futures awaited them.

[revanne]

As Columcil watched Fiona and Washburn he murmured a prayer that the future that they foresaw in Rhemuth would truly be everything they hoped. Washburn had confided in him that, once his honour had been restored by the King, he too hoped to be admitted to the Schola to train his healing talent. Columcil knew, too, that he also hoped that the proximity to Fiona would allow other feelings, not confined to Deryni, to blossom and eventually find fulfillment. And bless them in that, he thought, as in all their endeavours. With all the cruelty and heartache in the world it was good to see such open-hearted and noble-spirited young people.

And he was committed to spending at least some time in the Schola with them. His grandfather had talked him into that. But, sweet Saint Melangell, riding into Rhemuth felt like riding into a beautiful cage. This was not the place for him, he knew it in his guts. Seminary had not been a happy experience for him, with his superiors eager to knock the rough corners of the wild border lad. Well, to be fair he could admit, looking back, those corners had needed rubbing off, but that didn't make it any less painful. He needed the training the Schola could offer, he was not so arrogant as to deny that, but God forbid he should not one day, and may that be soon, be riding out again to bring healing to the poor folk of this land. His blessed little grey church up in the borders was lost to him for ever, he knew that, but there were other needs. Deep in his heart he hoped that his father might find a place for him up in Ballymar, though he had not yet dared to broach that wish to his grandfather.

He chastised himself mentally; he had allowed these dark thoughts to cloud his manner as they drew near to the city. He knew these others, who were now so dear to him, looked up to him as a priest, though they were inclined to overstress his virtues, he must stop wallowing in self-pity and be a least an imitation of the priest they believed him to be.

[DerynifanK]

The friends, led by Archbishop Duncan, ascended the steps, and the great bronze doors swung open. Royal Haldane lancers stood by either door.  They passed through the doors and the entrance to the great hall was before them. A squire in Haldane livery stepped forward to lead them to one side along a passage to the king's withdrawing room.  He knocked at the door and on hearing a voice invite them to enter, the squire opened the door wide and ushered them inside. Bowing deeply to the king, he announced. "Archbishop McLain and his party, your Majesty." After all had entered, the squire closed the door and stood beside it.

The king rose from the chair where he had been seated behind a large table. The archbishop bowed to the king then continued around the table to stand at Kelson's side. Duncan spoke quietly in the king's ear as he studied those before him. The men bowed deeply and Fiona and Aliset curtsied to the king.

Fiona's eyes were wide. She had never seen Gwynedd's king, or any king. She saw a tall man with black hair now threaded with gray.  His tunic was red with the golden lion of Gwynedd embroidered on the chest. His hair was clubbed back in a warrior's knot and a narrow gold crown studded with gems encircled his brow. He did not look stern or angry as she had feared he might. His expression was grave as he cast his gaze over those before him. Then Fiona noticed a slight twitching at the corners of his mouth and a twinkle in his gray eyes. She sighed.

The king addressed them, allowing himself to smile.  "We are pleased to see all of you returned safely to Rhemuth. We are aware that you encountered and overcame many obstacles, and we are anxious to hear about your experiences. However, you are tired and need a chance to rest, eat and remove the stains of travel. Quarters have been chosen for you and these pages and squires stand ready to escort you to your accommodations to allow you to complete these tasks. Your saddlebags will be delivered to your rooms. You will be summoned at a later time to meet with us individually to share what you have learned in your encounters during your escape and discuss your futures."

"Lord Darcy and Lady Aliset, you will be staying in Lord Iain's apartment. His squire will conduct you there. Robert!" Robert stepped forward, bowed, and motioned for the couple to follow him.

Darcy however hesitated and addressed the king. "Your Majesty. May I ask, is my brother not in Rhemuth? I am anxious to see him."

The king smiled and answered. "Your brother is in Rhemuth but currently housed in another part of the palace. He is also eager to see the two of you." Darcy and Robert bowed and Aliset curtsied and they followed Robert from the room.

"Lady Fiona, you will be housed in the Queen's tower. The Queen will welcome you and her ladies will see that you have anything you need.  Iona here is one of her ladies in waiting and will escort you to your rooms." A young woman with smiling brown eyes and dark curly hair covered by a green gauzy veil stepped forward and curtsied. Fiona looked a little hesitant, nervous about leaving her companions.

Duncan understood and told her, "Do not worry, Lady Fiona.  You will all be reunited for the evening meal and all will be well. Just follow Lady Iona and she will show you to your rooms so you can refresh yourself."  Fiona took a deep breath, curtsied and followed Lady Iona from the room.

That left Washburn and Columcil. Normally, when in Rhemuth, Washburn stayed with either his brother, the duke and his family, or with his younger sister and her family. However, with the imminent return of Prince Javan and Duke Kelric from the war, the king was reluctant to impose another person on either of the households. And there were issues between Kelric and Washburn that would need to be resolved. Therefore, he had decided, with Duncan's  agreement, to house both men with the archbishop for the time being.

"Archbishop Duncan is willing to house the two of you in his apartments. I am sure you will be comfortable there. These pages will show you the way to the rooms prepared for you. Bishop McLain will join you shortly." He summoned two pages with a gesture. "Conduct Sir Washburn and Father Columcil to Archbishop McLain's apartments. " The boys bowed to the king as did the two men then Washburn and Columcil exited the room following the two pages.

Kelson resumed his seat. Duncan took the chair beside him and after a great sigh of released strain, the archbishop announced, "I have brought them back to Rhemuth as you have requested, my prince. Be gentle with them for they have endured much."

The king nodded gravely, grasped his hand over Duncan's wrist and requested of his old friend, "Show me."

[revanne]

Kelson opened his eyes, eyes wet with the emotion which to all but a few he must conceal as King. The man beside him was one of those few, and perhaps the only man alive now to whom he could be truly himself.

"What must I do Duncan? Will he ever forgive me?"

"He is the true son of his father and his loyalty is as absolute as was Alaric's, but you must restore his honour and give to him the dignity that he deserves and I fear that he has never received." Duncan sighed as he said this. " I am as guilty as anyone. We were so busy directing the child that he was when Alaric died that we missed seeing the man he could become. He will forgive you for what you had to do as King, but if you wish to gain his love as well as his allegiance, do not seek to brush aside the hurt that has been done to him. Shall I go and bring him here? He will be eating his heart out and it will not be well done to keep him waiting."

Kelson did not reply for a long moment then said decisively,

"No. I understand the need, but another half hour will not hurt and give me time to prepare properly. In the meantime perhaps you could tell the page out yonder to find a sturdy squire or two and we can get to work."

[Laurna]

"Did a hurricane hit this room while Ah was in the bath?" asked the voice of Columcil from the door archway.

Washburn let out a deep sigh and dropped the latest garment he had pulled out of his clothes chest that the squire had brought into the room for him. He dropped his head as he turned around to face Columcil in shame. "You will think me as vain as a peacock, but I know not what to wear when I come before the king."

Columcil entered the room and closed the door behind him. "I dinnae understand ta trouble. Tisn't what ye wear that weel concern ta king. Tis what's in here," he pointed to his head, "an in here," he placed his hand on his heart, "that weel concern ta king. Wear wha ye always wear an ye will be fine."

"No, you don't understand." Wash looked at his garments in the color of black and tossed them back into the chest. "In the eyes of the king and the court, I am no longer the protector of Lendour, I can not wear the red stag..."

"Then wear ta green tunic," Columcil offered as he looked into the belongings of the chest.

"Corwyn green? I can not! I am disinherited from Corwyn. I would bring shame on myself and family if I tried to falsely claim a right I no longer have."

"Ah'm certain Duncan culd gi'e ye a white tunic, tae stand fur a new beginnin."

"No!"  Washburn shook his head and sadly laughed. "I am not a young naive knight. I have brought shame on my house and kingdom. Do not ask me to wear white, I have a taint on my name, so white will not do. And I can not wear black, because I desire that taint brushed away."

Father Columcil walked over to the bed and pushed aside several clothing items piled there. He smiled as his hand pushed aside Washburn's turned up travel bag and the dirty clothes that had traveled with them for the last weeks. His hand came away with the teal blue tunic he knew the Lady Richenda had placed in the bag some weeks ago. "Ye ar' a Morgan. Ye hanae lost yer name nor yer knighthood. Ye ar' as yer grandfather was, a steadfast knight, loyal tae a Haldane. Ye can wear this wi' pride."

"Aye, you are right, but it is dirty from the road. I can not go before the king and the royal court in an unwashed garment." Wash looked despondent. "I swear, I have never had this concern or been then nervous before."

Columcil laughed. "Forgif me, but we ar' Deryni, ar' we nae? Surely ye main ken a guid cleaning spell ur two."

"I tampered with that in my youth, but I never mastered it. I fear I will only destroy the item I want to clean."

"We shuid call Aliset."

"Oh no! She has her own concerns now that we are back in court. I will not trouble her."

"Then let us gie it a try afore his Grace returns an finds us dabblin' in tae arts."

Given encouragement, Washburn held up his grandfather's blue tunic. "I could use your hand for encouragement to keep me from destroying this garment." Wash asked with a lopsided smile to his friend.

"Aye, agin I say, 'Ye are a Morgan', Show yer pride in th' Morgan name by treatin' a Morgan tunic wi' care."

So tempered in mind and spirit, Washburn cast his cleaning spell upon his grandfather's treasured tunic.

((09:28 <•Laurna> Washburn performs cleaning spell. using 6XP success on 3,4,5,6. don't want to mess this up LOL
09:29 <•Laurna> !roll 2d6
09:29 <GameServ> Laurna rolled 2d6: 4 6 <Total: 10>
09:29 <•Laurna> Yeh! We are learning to be Deryni!  LOL))

Fog condensed around Washburn's hands and then a rumble as the two fogs clouded together to become a storm. Rain dropped from the fog and tiny water droplets pelted the wool tunic.  "Nae too much, " Columcil chided. "Wool dinnae lak too much water."

Wash concentrated on a travel stain and a small wave of water cleared that way. Then the water ended and a small cyclon of wind whirled around the turnic and whipped the fabric dry.

"What are you doing in here?" Came a curious elder voice from the quickly opening door.

The wind subsided and Wash wrapped the tunic over his arm. "Just getting dressed, uncle."

"Well see that you do. The king may be calling for you soon."

"Thank you, Uncle Duncan, I shall be ready."  The door closed and Wash looked at his friend sheepishly. "Say what you will, but at court I fear we are all peacocks. Can you help me get this over my head. I hope I didn't shrink it."

*****

A light meal had been set out in the guest suite of the Archbishop's quarters and, once Washburn was dressed he went to the table where Columcil was already making a hearty meal. The pear Aliset and Darcy had foraged for each of the travellers, though sweet and juicy enough, scarcely provided adequate recompense for the exertion of the journey. But Washburn could barely manage to remain seated, let alone eat. His throat and gut seemed to have seized up and when he tried to lift a goblet, wondering if the wine, excellent by the look and smell of it, would calm his nerves his hand shook so badly that he was forced to return it to the table.

"Himself'll no' eat ye, and he didn'a seem ta be fashed wi' any o'us. An' ye tellit me that His Grace will be there. Ah dinna think that ye've any need ta be sae feared. Ye are a Morgan, can ye no' get that into yer heid"

It was as well that Washburn had come to know the depth of Columcil's friendship and concern for him or he might well have bitten the other's head off at these words. Easy enough for one to say whose calling was secure and whose honour had not been challenged.

((DeryniFanK was great help with Columcil's brogue, Jerusha has good inspiration, and Revanne has added a many words to the end of this scene.))

[Jerusha]

"Thank you, Robert," Darcy Cameron said as Robert unlocked the door of Iain's apartment and handed him the key.

"I will see that hot water is sent for you and Lady Aliset," Robert replied.  "It may take a little while, since so many have returned and wish to freshen up from the road."

"We understand," Aliset said.  She hesitated for a moment.  "Robert, I need to apologize for planting suggestions in your mind against your will.  It was wrong of me, even though I felt a pressing need to do what I did."

Robert smiled at her.  "Apology accepted, my Lady.  I have occasionally assisted Sir Iain with similar matters, and understand the need can sometimes be urgent.  And the king did read the apology you left in my mind, though it did not seem to mollify Queen Araxie and Duchess Grania.

Aliset sighed.  "It appears I will have more apologies to make."

"Now that the war is over and Prince Javan and Duke Kelric are returning safe, you might find them more forgiving, my Lady." 

"One can but hope," was all Aliset could think of to say.  Robert bowed and left them.

Darcy opened the apartment door, entering first and striding to the window to open the shutters.  "What do you think?"

"Well," Aliset began as she entered.  "It is certainly nicer than some of the places we've stayed."

"Look at the best part," Darcy said as he motioned toward the curtained bed along the left wall of the room.  "A real bed!"

Aliset chuckled and she shook her head at him.  She noted that there was nothing in the austere room to indicate that Sir Iain spent any time here.  The table set before the window was bare, except for a small piece of parchment.  There were no wall hangings or other decorations.  Two chests positioned on either side of the small hearth were closed, but their locks hung open.  She moved to the window and looked out into the courtyard.

Darcy picked up the parchment and read it aloud. 

Darcy Solveig:

I have left you a few things in one of the chests that you may make use of while you are here.  I regret that I could not provide a few things for Lady Aliset as well. We need to talk privately; I will contact you.

Iain Reyvik

"Sir Iain does not waste words," Aliset said as she turned from the window and sat down in the chair nearest her at the table.  Her expression clouded and she gazed at the bed without really seeing it.

"You are troubled, Aliset."  Darcy sat in the chair across from her and leaned his arms on the table. 

"You have no misgivings about our meeting with the king?"

"I wouldn't say that," Darcy admitted. "Before we knew the rebellion had ended, I was concerned that I would be sent back to Meara as a man-at-arms to serve whatever lord needed me most.  Not that I mind doing my duty," Darcy added hastily. " But I hated the thought of leaving you again in Rhemuth, despite any assurance the king would make that you would be safe this time.  Fortunately, that is no longer a concern."

"I had that concern as well,"  Aliset admitted.

"That's not what troubles you now, though.  Darcy looked earnestly into her deep brown eyes.  "Tell me what distresses you."

"I think I worry most about Caer Mariot," Aliset finally said.  "What if King Kelson decides to grant it to someone else?"

"You are the rightful heiress of Mariot; I can't see him doing that."

"Darcy, I did not exactly follow the protocols expected of a proper heiress," Aliset replied.

"We've set all of that straight, as the king commanded.  We are properly wed; you have nothing to be ashamed of," Darcy said firmly.

"I'm not ashamed, not at all," Aliset said thoughtfully.  "But my marriage could have been used to advantage in Meara.  It could have enabled an alliance that would have strengthened Duke Rory's position in Meara, and therefore benefitted the king."

"An alliance with a nobleman of suitable status and reputation and not an unknown seaman with a sketchy background," Darcy said dryly. "At least I am not three times your age and only interested in a broodmare."  Darcy saw the look on her face and hastily added, "and I have all of my teeth."  He smiled broadly to assure her it was true.

"Spare me the full disclosure,"  Aliset said sternly, but she could not resist a smile of her own.

"I am not without means, Aliset, besides being the Heir 'o Isles, and the king is aware."  Darcy paused at Aliset's look of surprise.  "I set aside a tidy sum of money while I was at sea.  Enough to buy my own ship once I had my Captain's papers, with enough left over to hire a crew and tide us over until we began to make a profit.  I pledged it as your dower, if the king would entertain my suit for your hand when I returned from our quest for the fortress.  If I did not return, I asked that he make sure it went to you nonetheless."

"Oh, Darcy!" Aliset said softly.

"Of course, I had no idea you were coming with me at the time," he said and smiled at her. "The reputation may still be a bit sketchy, but I've done nothing I need to be ashamed of and nothing that will put a rope around my neck."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that!"  Aliset paused, not sure she should ask the question she needed to ask.  "Do you regret that you'll never have that ship?"

"No, not a bit," he replied immediately.  "My life is here now, and I think somehow I knew that I would never be going back to the sea once I landed ashore that last time."   

Darcy reached across the table and took her hands in his.  "We've both made the best decisions we could with what we knew at the time. Or sometimes on what we didn't know at the time.  There can be no fault found or blame laid.  Sometimes life is a crapshoot, and you work with the roll you've been given."

"Columcil might have said that differently, I think."  Aliset smiled at him.

"I'm sure he would have," Darcy began, but stopped at the knock on the door.  He rose and opened it.

"Hot water for you and your lady," a youth said.  He was accompanied by a second lad, and they carried in three steaming buckets of water and dumped them into the bathing tub.  Two more buckets were carried in and set along the wall, ready for rinsing when required.

Darcy thanked them and shut the door, being careful to lock it.  "I'll let you go first, love, unless you'd like to share."

Aliset looked doubtfully at the tub.  "I don't think there is room for both of us."

"That's the advantage of being an Isles' man!"  Darcy declared.  "We're not as tall as some, which means we fit in quite nicely!"

Aliset cheeks turned a deep, crimson rose.

[revanne]

A quiet knock came at the door of the Archbishop's guest quarters which the one outside opened without waiting for permission, as befitted a page bearing a royal summons.


"Sir Washburn? My lord, the King requests that you are to present yourself without delay in his royal presence. You are to follow me, my lord"


The page bowed on completion of his message, well pleased with himself for his mastery of the proper courtesies and, despite his anxiety, Washburn had to suppress a smile at the youthful pride. He got up at once and went to the door, turning then to say to Columcil in a voice of entreaty,


"Pray for me, please Father."


"Ye'll be just fine, but, aye, I'll be to ma prayers." As evidence  of his intent he got up from the table, pushed away his unfinished meal and turned towards the prie-dieu in one corner of the room.


The thought of his good friend's prayers helped steady Washburn as he followed the page through the Castle's passages; there was another who was doubtless also praying for him but he could not allow himself to think of her. If this did not go well, what would he have to offer her, if even his self-respect had been stripped from him?


The page had been punctilious in his courtesy. Was that a good sign? The Haldane Lancers at the door of the King's withdrawing room snapped to attention and saluted, but they made no attempt to follow him in as he was ushered by the page into the room and heard the door shut behind him. He was not about to be put under guard then, surely  another good sign. Then, waiting as protocol demanded, just inside the door he looked up and flickering hope vanished.


The table behind which the King had been sitting had been pushed to one side but Washburn paid it scant notice, his whole attention focused on the King. At the end of the room two shallow steps made a narrow dais and on this had been placed a heavy carved wooden chair like a throne, draped in Haldane crimson, on which sat the King, majesty personified. Beside him stood Archbishop Duncan in archepiscopal robes holding the great Haldane sword, symbol of royal authority. Neither smiled.


Washburn supposed miserably that he was about to suffer the full weight of royal displeasure, all he could do was to endure it with as much dignity he could muster. He bowed, stepped forward three paces and bowed again, then he walked to the foot of the throne. He knelt on the lower step, his head bowed and waited for the King to speak.


The King spoke, but neither his words nor the tone in which they were expressed were anything like those he had been expecting. Quietly, kindly, he heard the King say,


"This cannot be easy for you, but I would ask you to look at me."


Washburn's head jerked up, but the eyes he sought were those of the Archbishop. Now Duncan was smiling, and he gestured Washburn gently to do as the King had asked. His alarm somewhat assuaged,  but feeling a sense of dizziness in his mystification, Washburn reluctantly met those piercing grey eyes to find that they were smiling down at him, but with a deep sadness behind the smile. The King held out his hands as though he were preparing to receive homage, but stopped the answering gesture of Washburn's hands with a slight shake of his head.


"When you rendered me homage, you promised loyalty and faith, and these you have fulfilled at what cost I can only begin to imagine. Duncan has shown me that you have never willingly broken faith, nor besmirched your honour, and even when your will was captive to the blackest treachery you fought with courage to free yourself. In all this you have shown yourself a worthy son of your father."


Washburn could scarcely take in what he was hearing, so very different was it from even the best of his imaginings. But the King had not finished and was continuing in a voice thick with emotion. "It is I who have failed you. When my hands closed on yours to receive your homage, I promised you loyalty as return for your loyalty and our royal protection. Instead, I allowed you to be taken from within this very castle, and you have paid dearly for my negligence. I cannot ask your pardon for the actions I then took, for I must think first and always of the Kingdom, but for my failure to you, my faithful knight, I ask your forgiveness and in token of that I dare ask you again to place your hands within mine as together we renew our faith.


His eyes blinded with tears, Washburn obeyed and felt his hands taken and held in the warm grip of his liege lord.  The words he spoke seemed to flow from the deepest part of his very soul and he knew that he meant them with a passion he had never felt before.


"I Washburn Alaric Cynfyn Morgan, knight of the Kingdom of Gwynedd do affirm myself as your liegeman of life and limb, and of earthly worship. Faith and truth will I bear unto you, to live and to die against all manner of folk, so help me God."


He would have bent to kiss the King's hand but found that he could not take his gaze from the grey eyes. Not that there was any compulsion of his will by another, simply the deep compulsion of his own heart. He did not want to miss a word of those spoken in return, knowing that they were imbued with a like significance.


"This do I hear, Sir Washburn Morgan, and I, for my part, pledge the protection of Gwynedd to you, giving loyalty  for loyalty and justice for honour. This is the word of Kelson Cinhil Rhys Anthony Haldane, King of Gwynedd so help me God."


Now Washburn bent to kiss his King's hand and then he was being lifted to his feet and embraced, first strongly by the King, and then in a frailer, but no less warm, grip by Duncan.


As Duncan withdrew from the embrace he retained hold of Washburn's hands, allowing a sense of peace and calm to flow into the young man, and enabling him to regain something of his composure. Vaguely Washburn became aware of movement behind him where two squires were lifting the table into the centre of the room. Wine cups and platters were being placed on the table and another squire came in bearing a tray piled with something which he could not see but which smelt good. Very, very good and, by all the saints, he realised how hungry he was. The King must be preparing for another audience and Washburn turned towards where the King now stood in the centre of the room and awaited his dismissal,  hoping that Columcil had been long enough at his prayers to leave him something to eat. Instead of dismissal, however, the King gestured Washburn towards the table where he saw that a stool and two chairs had been arranged around it.


"There are certain practicalities which we still need to deal with, and we can as well do that while we eat. I doubt any of us were much inclined for food prior to this meeting."


The King smiled, and Washburn found himself smiling back as he waited, as courtesy demanded, while King and Archbishop seated themselves in the chairs which befitted their age and rank, before seating himself on the stool. He was soon eating hungrily the hot venison patties, while a part of his mind still reeled at how unlikely it surely was that, instead of being chastened, he was sitting at table with the King eating one of his favourite foods.


After a while he realised that neither of his companions was still eating and, mortified at his breach of protocol, he stopped himself just in time from reaching for another of the delicious morsels. But the King pushed the platter in his direction saying,


"We are alone here and I am sure Duncan will forgive our breach of protocol. We have both been hungry young men in our own day, and besides just for the present I only need you to listen"


The King went on to speak of his pleasure that Washburn was to be enrolled in the Schola, and of how pleased and proud Alaric would have been at this emergence of healing talent in his younger son.


"Although, I confess to being alarmed at the potential of this blocking ability. I have no quarrel with the use to which you put it, but in the wrong hands it could be disastrous, which is doubtless why it has been allowed to fade from knowledge. However, that does not need to concern us at this moment. What does concern us is that you should be known to be fully reinstated in our grace and to your rightful place amidst the nobility of this Kingdom."


The King turned to look fully at Washburn, a challenging but not unfriendly look in his eyes, and Washburn knew that he was both being reassured that the past misunderstandings would not be held against him but also warned not to dwell on them himself. Then, unexpectedly, the King continued in a less formal tone.


"You may recall a certain Manor on the road to Arx Fidei which, owing to the prompt and heroic action of a ragamuffin band - Kelric's words, not mine - is now free of its traitorous Baron. It answers directly to the Crown, and we have a competent and loyal steward in place, but the Barony should be in the hands of a man I can trust. The grant will be confirmed and your allegiance sworn in open court as soon as is possible"


Washburn knew that he must look half-witted as he stared in dumb amazement but there was a limit to the number of shocks a man could sustain: The King asking his forgiveness, his favourite food just happening to appear, and now a Barony.


"I take it you accept," the King said drily as Washburn continued to stare. "It need not interfere with your studies at the Schola, but it gives you rank and an income and a home of your own." The King paused, then added blandly but with a glint in his eye, "All of which will be useful should you think  of wanting to start a family."


Then he was on his feet, barely allowing time for Washburn to rise to his, before he went to the door and opened it, turning at the last moment to say,


"Duncan, of your goodness, take this exhausted nephew of yours back to your quarters and put him to sleep before he collapses on his feet."


Then he was gone.

[DerynifanK]

Fiona walked beside Lady Iona along the corridors toward the Queen's Tower  escorted by one of the King''s squires. Fiona did not usually suffer from nervousness even in new situations, but this time she was going to be presented to the Queen. She was not at all sure what Queen Araxie might have heard about her from the Archbishop or the King. Her behavior in disguising herself in Michael's clothes and running away from her uncle's manor was hardly that expected of a properly brought up lady. What would the Queen be thinking of her?

As she continued along the corridor toward the Queen's Tower with Lady Iona, Fiona thought of her friends and wondered how they were faring with the king. Although she had been focused on her own goal of reaching Rhemuth and being admitted to the Schola, she had not been unaware of the concerns of her companions, especially Washburn. She was well aware of how anxious he was about his reception by the king and what the king had in mind for him. She so wanted things to go well for him. She was also concerned about what would happen to Darcy and Aliset and whether Aliset would be recognized as heir to her family's barony. Would they be able to return to her family's home?  These thoughts ran around in her head like a squirrel in a cage.

Lady Iona noticed that the young lady had seemed hesitant to accompany her to the tower, and had said nothing since they left the king's withdrawing room. Iona remembered her own shyness the first time she was presented to the Queen to become one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her mother had prepared her for her new position, and she did know one of the other girls who was joining her for training with the queen. She had still been nervous and Lady Fiona had no such preparation and must be wondering what to expect.

"Don't be afraid." she said softly. "The queen is very understanding, and she is anxious to meet you. You will find her to be very supportive and she will help you to learn what is expected at court . She expects us to behave properly, but she also has a wonderful sense of fun and laughs a lot." They rounded a corner and there before her was the entrance to the queen's tower, guarded by a Haldane lancer.

The squire bowed.  "Lady Iona with Lady Fiona McIntyre, who is to be a guest of the queen and is expected." The lancer recognized Lady Iona, saluted and opened the door to permit them to pass. The squire ushered them through the door which closed behind them.  Lady Iona gave Fiona's arm a reassuring squeeze as she led the way to a tall door on the right. She knocked softly and was bidden to enter. She pushed the door open..

The room inside was flooded with light from three tall, arched windows along one wall.  On the opposite wall was a fireplace with an elaborately carved mantle. Drawn up near the windows were several comfortable seats. Two ladies shared a cushioned bench with a high back while they worked at embroidery frames. Opposite them, a slim  woman sat in a high back wooden chair with crimson cushions.  Lady Iona led Fiona over to where the woman sat and curtsied,  "Lady Fiona McIntyre, your Majesty."  Fiona curtsied deeply.

The woman's light blond hair was dressed in an elaborate arrangement on her neck and covered by a gauzy, green veil held in place by a gold coronet that circled her brow. Her skin was very fair, and when Fiona rose from her curtsy and looked into her eyes, she saw that they were a clear light gray. The queen was smiling warmly.

"Lady Fiona, I have been looking forward to meeting you. I have heard something of your adventures both from Lord Iain and from the king. I know that Rhemuth and the court must seem strange to you, as I understand you have never visited the capital before, but I hope we will be able to make you comfortable here. I know that you hope to enter the Schola. Until your acceptance can be accomplished, I hope you will feel secure here with us."

The queen paused, then continued. "I know  that you are anxious to be shown to your quarters so you may refresh yourself. Your belongings have been delivered and we have ordered hot water brought for you to bathe. Iona will show you to your rooms. If there is anything you need,  let us know." The queen smiled as Fiona curtsied deeply then followed the young lady-in-waiting from the room.

They traversed a short hall then ascended a flight of stone steps. At the top of the steps, they turned to the right along a corridor to a door which Lady Iona opened to usher Fiona inside. The room was pleasant with a curtained bed in a far corner. On the wall nearest the door was a fireplace where a cheerful fire burned. On the opposite wall were two carved chests with gay cushions on them. A cushioned bench was placed at angles to the fireplace and there she saw that her saddlebags had been placed. A young maid had been busy unpacking her belongings and folding or hanging them up. She turned as they entered and curtsied to them. Lady Iona  gestured toward the young maid. "This is Alice. She will assist you with whatever you need. I will return in an hour to show you the way back to the solar. If you find that you lack anything, just tell her and she will fetch it for you."

Fiona could hardly wait to submerge herself in that hot water and wash away the dirt of travel. Alice assisted her to remove her clothing and she stepped into the tub and sat down, allowing herself to lean back until submerged in the water. Alice handed her a soft cloth and bar of soap. She quickly lathered the cloth and began to wash. She ducked her head under the water and washed her hair. Alice helped her to rinse her hair, pouring water from a pitcher she had been keeping warm near the fire. It felt wonderful to be clean again.

She dried herself with a big thirsty towel the maid handed her then wrapped the towel around her body. She relaxed on the cushioned bench near the fire while Alice dried and combed her hair. She closed her eyes and let herself drift under the maid's ministrations. Finally she shook herself and stood to dress herself in the only gown she had  with her. She braided her hair and pinned it around her head in a coronet. She felt she was as ready as she was going to be to face the king. "I wish to be alone for a little time before I rejoin the Queen." she told the maid. Please leave me but return in half an hour." Alice curtsied then left the room.

Fiona had noticed a Prie-dieu in a corner of the room. She went to it and knelt to pray that her friends were faring well in their meetings with the king. She said a prayer for each of them to attain their heart's desires.She said a special prayer for Washburn who had been so brave and endured so much, that the king would realize his value and receive him back as the noble knight he was. She then arose and returned to sit by the fire until Lady Iona returned to show her the way back to the solar.

In what seemed to be a very short time, Lady Iona returned to guide her back to the Queen's solar. She followed Iona into the room and curtsied. "Lady Fiona, your Majesty." she said. As Fiona rose from her curtsy, she noticed that a younger woman had joined the Queen and sat near her in a high back chair. She had beautiful red-gold hair dressed in  an elaborate knot at the back of her neck and covered by a soft green veil. Her eyes were clear blue and her skin was fair. She wore a gown of darker green trimmed in soft white fur.  Behind her, in a chair pushed back to the right of the fireplace sat an older woman whose red gold hair was frosted with silver under a white veil banded with silver. She appeared rather thin and fragile and her gown of blue was trimmed in silver embroidery. Fiona wondered briefly if she might be the queen's mother or an older relative.

Queen Araxie smiled at Fiona and indicated the lady sitting beside her. "Allow me to present my daughter-in-law, Duchess Grania Haldane." She spoke to Fiona beckoning her to take a seat on the cushioned bench opposite her. "Come, sit and be comfortable. We are anxious to hear of some of your adventures as you joined with Sir Washburn and the other members of your party to reach Rhemuth. I know that you left your uncle's manor near the Mearan border alone to try to warn the king of treachery related to the uprising. That was a brave action to take."

Fiona took the seat indicated and glanced around. She began her story in a soft voice., "I didn't feel so much brave as desperate," she said. "My uncle and my cousin had been having increasingly violent arguments. My cousin had fallen in with a few other young men who were being flattered by separatists who wanted them to join their cause. My uncle was staunchly loyal to the king. I overheard a plan to seize the manor and to restrain my uncle. They planned to hand over the manor and all its assets to the rebels and to join their cause. I knew I had to do something but I didn't know where to turn. How could I get word out of what was happening here? I didn't want to involve the servants. Our former steward had retired, and my uncle had hired a new man whom I didn't trust. I thought him sneaky, and I was always finding him where he had no business to be. He made me uncomfortable. I couldn't be sure who remained loyal and who were turning their coats to the rebel cause."

"After much thought, I decided that my best course was to try to reach my guardian, Lord Iain. He would be able to inform the king of the plots being hatched against him. I could try to reach Iain's steward,  Sir Roland. He and his wife minded Iain's retreat in the mountains not far from my uncle's manor. If I could reach him, he could contact Iain who could then inform the king of what was happening."

The queen and her ladies had been listening with fascinated attention. Fiona paused for a moment and turned her gaze to the queen who spoke, "Please continue. We are all most interested."

Fiona continued. "I planned to sneak out of the manor after dark, take a horse and ride toward Sir Iain's holding. To avoid being recognized, I dressed in some of my cousin Michael's clothes, to appear to be a young man. If stopped I would pretend to be meeting friends for a hunt.  Just before dawn, I crept out, took one of the horses and trotted away from the manor. I made it to the main Cuilteine road and rode toward Droghera."

"Weren't you frightened, riding out alone in the dark?" asked one of the ladies

"I was fearful but I felt I had to reach someone who could warn the king. I could not choose to do nothing. I was more frightened of the rebels and what they might do."

"About mid day, I halted near a stream to water my horse and eat a little of the food I had brought with me. I returned to the main road, but I had only ridden a short way on the main road when I noticed movement in the thick bushes beside the road. Three rough men came out of the bushes and moved to block the road. Two were mounted and one was afoot.

One of them looked at me threateningly "What's a youngin like you doin ridin alone. Ye can see, we need another horse. We'll take yours. Don't resist an ye won't get hurt."  I could see that they were armed with knives, and I knew I had to escape them.  One of them grabbed for my bridle while reaching for his knife.

I had backed my horse away and was able to pull his head around and spur him onto a narrow track I had just passed. I rode as hard as I could but my horse was not bred for speed. He was a farm horse. The track led down into a valley and ahead I saw a lake with ruins rising from it. Beside it I saw what appeared to be soldiers. I rode toward them crying out for help.

The lord in charge of them heard me, shouted some orders, sending soldiers after the men chasing me. I was able to reach the camp near the ruins. I was safe for the moment but what was I going to say to the Lord in charge of these men? He asked what I was doing out alone, but then he said not rermoving my cap showed a lack of respect for my superiors. He reached out and pulled it off. My braid came down and he was shocked. He was not dealing with a squire but with a woman! "  Fiona again paused, cleared her throat and looked around.

The queen spoke. "You must need something to drink to relieve dryness of your throat." She spoke to a page who left the room and returned quickly with a tray of pastries and another page who carried a tray on which were a pitcher and cups. Thankfully, Fiona took a cup and drank. She also realized she was hungry and took two of the pastries. The pause also gave her a chance to gather her thoughts. After she had consumed her refreshments, she took a deep breath.

The queen asked, "Do you feel able to continue? We are all anxious to hear more of your story."

Just then there was a knock at the door, and a squire entered and bowed to the queen. "Your Majesty, Sir Iain Cameron asks to speak to you."

Queen Araxie inclined her head. "We are pleased to admit Sir Iain. Have him enter."

The door opened wider and Sir Iain Cameron entered and bowed to the queen. "Your Majesty, I am here to escort Lady Fiona to the king. I will return her to your protection after her meeting with his Majesty."

Fiona jumped out of her seat and ran to hug him, unable to contain her excitement. "At last, I am so happy to see you!" She added. "Sir Iain is my cousin as well as my guardian and, for all my efforts, this is the first time Ii have seen him since I left the manor!" Then she faced the Queen and blushed, realizing she had allowed her excitement at finally seeing Iain to overcome her manners, and before the queen.

Iain gave her a brief hug then once again bowed to the queen. He smiled. "She tends to get a little excited at times." She managed to stand still beside him for a moment. He then turned to her and held out his arm. She placed her hand on his arm. She curtsied to the queen and Duchess Grania. "By your leave, your Majesty."

The queen inclined her head in assent and they left the room. After the door closed behind them, there was a buzz of conversation as the ladies discussed what the young lady had told them.