Pawns and Queens--A 15th Century Gwynedd Story--Chapter One

[Evie]

Author's Note: This story is set a little over 300 years after the Kelson era stories. During that time, there have been some changes to the Eleven Kingdoms from how we knew them in Kelson's time. Some autonomous counties and principalities have since become kingdoms; other realms have split into multiple nation-states or merged with their former neighbors to form new nations. All affected ruling titles have been modified according to those geopolitical shifts over time.

There are numerous discrepancies between various versions of the Eleven Kingdoms maps, place names, and locations of places in relation with each other between the various books and the Codex Derynianus. For example, depending on which canonical source you look at, the capital city of Andelon could be either Djellarda or Rhanamé, or Caerrorie could fall to either the east or the west of the Lendour mountain range depending on which map you consult. Therefore, I have primarily used the text entries and maps from the Codex as my source material when attempting to determine which version to rely on when faced with such discrepancies. –Evie

Map link: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3194.0.html
Dramatis Personae: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3196.msg29744.html#msg29744

Pawns and Queens

Chapter One

January 10, 1464
Near the village of Candor Rhea
Ten miles northeast of Rhemuth
Royal Hunting Lodge

Prince Nicholas Richard Brion Alexander Haldane, Duke of Carthmoor and second son of the recently deceased King Uthyr III of Gwynedd, stared moodily into the fire crackling on his bedchamber's hearth. Behind him, he felt Melisande shift in their shared bed, sitting up to embrace him from behind.

He idly stroked one of her soft hands, lost in thought. At last, Mellie's voice broke the silence. "I understand, my lord. When will you need to go to Andelon?"

Her voice was quiet, composed, yet Nicholas could sense the effort that she made to still her roiling emotions. And even if it weren't for his Deryni senses, he could hardly have failed to pick up on her sudden reversion to formality. Certainly Lady Melisande, the mere younger daughter of a knight, had always been careful to show proper deference to his princely rank in public, but he had been merely Nicholas to Mellie in the privacy of their shared chamber for years now, if not Colin or even Col. Rarely did she think of him as Prince Nicholas of Gwynedd in this most private of sanctuaries they both shared.

"Tomorrow, I think, though I'll do my best to return within the fortnight. Maman seems to believe the matter should be settled with the utmost urgency."

He felt her head nod against his back, her cheek pressed against his linen shirt very slightly damp with the tears she was attempting to suppress. "I agree," she said, surprising him. Even now, nearly ten years from the beginning of their relationship, she still managed to surprise him. "There should be no further delay, not with the late King your father newly dead and the new King's life so precarious. But oh, how I wish we could have had longer together!"

He turned then, enfolding her in a fierce embrace. "We shall have longer, my love. I won't give you up. They can force me to wed for heirs, but they can't force me to love her."

Melisande drew away slightly, gazing up at him seriously. "Of course they can't, my heart, yet it shall be important for you to show a united front with your future bride, at least in public. The Kingdom needs stability more now than ever before. You are next in line, should your brother succumb to his illness, which seems ever more likely now, and it's you they will be looking to for strength and guidance."

Nicholas closed his eyes. "I never wanted this, Mellie. I never wanted any of this."

"I know," Melisande whispered. "And yet, when the time comes, you shall be a magnificent king."

Her voice caught slightly on the last word, and he tightened his arms around her, holding her in his desperate grasp like a shipwrecked mariner clinging onto broken wreckage in hope it might be his salvation.

#

December 27, 1463
(Two weeks earlier)
Kingdom of Andelon
Rhanamé Palace

La Princesa Catalina Sofiana Richenda Maria Vastouni, Princess of Andelon and Sultana of the Bhuttayriah, read the letter a second time before glancing up at her father. "Well," she commented quietly, "This is a surprise."

"A not unwelcome one, I should hope?" King Mikhail asked his eldest daughter. "As suitors go, Prince Nicholas of Gwynedd is certainly eligible enough, and my ambassadors have spoken very well of him. He is said to be intelligent, if not overly scholarly, and shows promise as a statesman. And while there is a chance his brother, the young King Cinhil, may live long enough to beget heirs of his body, let's face it, Catya, Cinhil married the Jouvian girl nearly eight years ago, and I don't think he's even managed to bed her properly yet."

Catalina raised a raven eyebrow at her father. "And how exactly would you know that, Sire? You have eyes in the Royal Bedchambers of Gwynedd, do you?"

Mikhail gave an amused snort. "No, but that's not necessary, kitten. It's hardly a secret in Rhemuth Court circles that despite the best efforts of the Royal Physicians, Cinhil does well to manage an unaccompanied walk to his close stool these days, much less manage the exertions required to sire an heir." He shook his head. "I feel for the lad, but he's been sickly for years, and his health has only worsened since his proxy marriage to Alixa of Joux.  It would surprise me greatly if he manages to survive another winter. No, Nicholas is quite likely the next King of Gwynedd, and he shall need a suitable Queen."

"He shall indeed," Catalina agreed, folding the letter she held and glancing out the window with a sigh, "Though it might have been nice if he had asked for me himself rather than the Dowager Queen Soraya taking it upon herself to do it. This feels a little bit... a bit like being an afterthought on the Royal To-Do list. 'Item the First: send the clothes to be laundered. Item the Second: send an order for the noonday meal down to the kitchen. Item the Third: propose to the Andelonian chit for my son.' That's not much of a courtship, you must admit, Father."

Mikhail chuckled, doing his best to suppress a smile. "Catalina, mija, it's been barely a week since Uthyr was laid to his final rest, which means that letter was likely written almost before his body had time to cool. Prince Nicholas is grieving, not to mention quite likely in shock, but Gwynedd's need won't wait until he is in a better frame of mind for wooing. Uthyr seemed in the best of health until suddenly he wasn't, and all of Gwynedd is still reeling from his loss. It's urgent that Nicholas wed quickly, under the circumstances, and yet can you blame him if he isn't in the most conducive mood for romance?" The smile faded as he studied his daughter's crestfallen countenance. "And yet if you truly object to the match, I won't force you to accept him. It's not like there's a lack of other suitors asking for your hand. Though I think you should at least consider the offer, for while you certainly have other choices, it's far from likely that there will be much better ones. By all accounts, he's reported to be young yet seasoned, personable, well-favored, and is said to have a decent head on his shoulders."

Catalina stood, walking the few steps across the room to stare out the window. It faced roughly northwest towards the Prince's distant kingdom, not that one could see clear across Andelon and Logréine from Rhanamé, much less all the way across the Southern Sea to the coast of Gwynedd. "I know, Father. On parchment, it's a dream match. Gwynedd has been a strong, prosperous, and relatively stable kingdom for the better part of four centuries, though I suspect–no, I know that Torval of Nördmarcke will probably take advantage of Gwynedd's current turmoil to threaten its northeastern border. Torval is cunning, ruthless, and wants to expand his territory into Gwynedd's northern reaches, or even conquer the entire kingdom if he can possibly manage it. Beldouria will stay true to the Old Alliance with Gwynedd as long as it can, but King Miklos also has the problem of dealing with greedy neighbors threatening invasion from the east; he's also well aware that Torval is hungry to reunite the two halves of the former Kingdom of Torenth under his own kingship if Miklos' strength wavers, and Miklos can hardly afford to fight a war on two fronts." She drummed her fingers on the windowsill. "King Torval has also sent his emissaries on his behalf with a far more romantic offer for my hand, but I think I would rather eat broken glass than accept." Catalina slanted a sardonic smile at her father, who nodded approvingly.

"If I thought you meant to accept Torval's offer, won over by his deluge of flowery poetry, fur-lined cloaks and silk carpets, I would feed that glass to you myself. I taught you better sense than that," Mikhail replied, surprising a laugh from his daughter.

"Then there is Prince Alarikos, but while I have nothing against Miklos' heir, he's barely seventeen and hasn't the experience yet to keep Torval off Beldouria's doorstep if something were to happen to King Miklos. I'm sure that Miklos has done his best to prepare the lad, but Alarikos is no Kelson the Great, I don't think. Perhaps in another ten years, but not yet."

"Agreed. He's a fine lad and shows promise, but he wouldn't be my first choice for you."

"And Dafydd of the United Kingdoms seems a pleasant enough sort, and I'm sure his kingdoms of Llannedd, Howicce, and Connait are lovely, but was it just me, or did Dafydd seem just a trifle dim to you when he visited here last spring?"

An amused glint shone in Mikhail's eyes. "He certainly seemed nearly as besotted by you as you appeared to be bored nearly to tears in his company."

Catalina sighed again, turning back to face her father. "Well, I don't imagine Nicholas of Gwynedd could possibly be worse than my other current prospects, and hopefully he'll turn out to be a fair sight better. How long do I have to prepare my answer?"

"I believe the messenger hopes to be back in Rhemuth within the week, weather permitting."

"A week?!" Catalina's green eyes widened, startled. "But it will take him at least four or five days just to ride back to the coast of Fianna! Surely he can't mean to make the sea crossing from there to Desse in just two days? And in winter?!"

"Ah, but remember, Uthyr's widow is Fiannese. The courier is Deryni. It's likely he knows the location of a portal in Fianna and means to make the crossing directly to Rhemuth from there."

The Andelonian princess sighed. She crossed over to the desk and reached for the pen knife to begin sharpening a quill. "Then I'd better get started on my reply."

#

December 16, 1463
Kingdom of Gwynedd
Rhemuth Castle


Soraya, once a princess of Fianna, now the Dowager Queen of Gwynedd, dabbed discreetly at her eyes one last time before rising from her prie-dieu. She was exhausted, having spent most of the previous day and night at her late husband's bedside, watching helplessly as the physicians ministered to his stricken form. Uthyr had not regained consciousness before gradually slipping into the final slumber of death, and Soraya felt numb, like a sleepwalker watching some nightmare unfold from somewhere outside of herself.

She could not sleep, not yet. For now, she had one more queenly duty left to do.

She summoned a messenger. "Has the King my son been notified of his father's passing?"

"Aye, Your Majesty," he answered. "The physicians are in the process of informing Prin...I mean, King Cinhil now."

"And Nicholas? Has he bothered to extricate himself from his doxy's bedsheets yet?" The veiled shock on the messenger's face belatedly reminded Soraya that she ought to take more care to keep her anger towards her middle son better concealed--the servants needn't be privy to every inkling of her family's dirty laundry. She schooled her features to reflect placid calm up at him, concealing her inner turmoil.

"He just arrived but a quarter hour past, Majesty."

"Good. Tell him to attend to me as soon as he has changed out of his traveling clothes." She nodded her dismissal at the man, who swiftly retreated to do as he had been bidden.

#

Nicholas was not unduly surprised to discover his youngest brother waiting in his bedchamber, under the circumstances. Camber looked pale but composed as he rose from his corner seat to embrace him.

Nicholas held up a warning hand. "Wouldn't advise that, Cam. Might want to wait until I've changed clothes, lest you get mud all over your cassock."

Cam favored him with a fleeting smile. "Good point, Colin. No need to give Maman an excuse to fuss at both of us. Did you ride here or wallow?" He waved an arm towards the adjoining room. "I took the liberty of having bath water brought up for you."

"Considerate. The sooner I make myself presentable, the sooner I can ready myself for the approaching storm."

The brothers were silent as Nicholas disrobed, handing his travel-soiled clothing to his squire, Sebastian. "Once you've taken that to the laundry, you're free to rest until the dinner hour. I'll try not to need you sooner." He waited until they heard the lad's footsteps retreating down the corridor before stepping into the linen-lined tub.  "How bad was it?" he asked Cam.

There was no need to elaborate, Cam understood his meaning even without the shared rapport between them. Cam lowered his shields, allowing his older brother a brief glimpse of their father's bedside as he lay dying, their mother and three youngest siblings gathered around the late King.

"His end was peaceful enough, for the most part. It was a sudden apoplexy, and he hit his head on the edge of the hearthstone when he fell. The physicians say the apoplexy might have been survivable had it not been for the head injury on top of that." Cam handed Nicholas a sponge and a ball of rosemary and lavender scented Savon de Bremagne before pouring a bowl of bath water over his brother's bowed head. "Or had there been a Healer available right after it happened, but by the time one could be summoned, the damage was too great."

"Has anyone managed to contact Miranda yet?" Nicholas asked as he swiftly lathered up his raven hair before bowing his head once more for his younger brother to rinse the soap suds out. Their married sister, born barely a year after Nicholas, was the eldest of the Haldane princesses, wed several years earlier to the Hort of Orsal.

Cam shook his head. "A messenger was sent to Horthánthy late last night, once it became evident that Father was unlikely to recover, but her husband said he had sent her on to Tralia to winter there rather than keep her on the Isle of Orsal during the cold months in her delicate condition, since she's with child again. I'm certain the Hort has a Portal in his Tralian palace, but as he seemed disinclined to share the portal signature with a messenger, I suppose I'll be deputized to deliver the news once Maman can spare me."

"Or I can." Nicholas scrubbed hastily at the muddy patches on his skin with the soapy sponge.

"You? Oh, hell no! With Father gone and Cinhil rapidly declining, you're the heir now, not a spare. And long may you live and beget plenty of sons, Colin, because if I have to seek a dispensation from Holy Orders in order to reign after you, I'll go digging through the Royal Library archives to find some ancient resurrection magic just for the satisfaction of killing you again myself!"

"Fortunately for me, you're too obedient a son of the Church to try your hand at necromancy." Nicholas glanced up at his brother with a wry smile as he reached for the towel Camber held. "I suppose it's time I stopped postponing the inevitable. I'm sure Maman is sending someone to drag me into her presence already."

As if on cue, the bedchamber door opened, and Sebastian entered. "Your Highness, there is a messenger in the Queen's livery here with a summons from–"

"Yes. Have him tell my lady mother I am on my way. I trust that, despite having seen me enter the world naked, she will be willing to wait long enough for me to put clothes on."

#

A liveried page escorted Nicholas into his mother's receiving room. "His Royal Highness the Prince Nicholas, Your Majesty," the boy announced.

"Thank you, Adam. You may leave the room, though do not wander far in case I need you later," the dowager queen told her page, who bowed deeply and retreated into the room's antechamber.

Nicholas stopped just inside the room. Beside his mother, his sister-by-marriage Alixa de Joux, Cinhil's wife, looked up briefly from her embroidery and favored him with a wan smile. He turned towards her, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty." Straightening, he suppressed a smile as he noted Alixa's startled expression and the quick look of shock on his mother's face, just as quickly masked. As he'd suspected, the thought hadn't occurred to Queen Soraya until that moment that Alixa, as Cinhil's consort, was now Queen of Gwynedd and thus outranked her in the order of precedence. Nicholas, not being as holy-minded as his younger brother, quite reveled in his mother's momentary discomfiture. "And good morning, Your Majesty," he added, this time directing his words to the dowager queen. "You summoned me?"

"I did." Turning towards Alixa, "My dear, you may lea–" Soraya broke off, the look of consternation returning as she belatedly realized it was no longer her place to summarily dismiss her daughter-by-marriage from her presence. "That is, Your Majesty, perhaps you might wish to attend to the King whilst I have a moment in private with Nicholas?"

Alixa blushed. She shot Nicholas a furtive look that put him in mind of a frightened deer, then rose, reflexively starting to curtsey before his pre-emptive bow reminded her once again of her sudden change in status. The blush deepened. Flustered, she turned to her mother-by-marriage, inclining her head in agreement. "Maman, that seems a good idea; Cinhil should be awake by now." Looking back at Nicholas, she nodded. "Your Highness."  Alixa exited the room with almost unseemly haste and a look of relief that nearly made Nicholas laugh.

Once the door shut behind the younger Queen, Queen Soraya fixed a steely glare on her son. "You quite enjoyed that."

Nicholas shrugged and took a seat without waiting to be invited to sit, a move which he knew would irritate his mother, who insisted on strict formality even in private. "I might have. But I also knew it has been a very long and exhausting night and morning for you, Madam, and that Alixa's change in status might have slipped your mind, so I thought it best to bring the matter to your attention before you might chance to misspeak in a more public setting." And because I know that Alixa has the temperament of a whipped puppy and would not dare to put you in your place, so I stepped in because someone needs to, he thought to himself, but kept that thought very carefully shielded.

Soraya's glare lasted a moment longer, then thawed slightly. "Thank you. I had indeed forgotten," she grudgingly admitted. She rose, a move which ought to have brought him to his feet as well, though in his present mood he felt disinclined to oblige her.  As she walked towards her writing desk, Nicholas blurted out, "What time last night did you send a courier to inform Miranda that Father was dying?"

Soraya froze briefly, shooting a cautious look at her son. "Around nine of the clock, I think. Why?"

"You sent a message to Horthánthy, all the way to bloody Orsal, at nine o'clock at night, and didn't think to inform me about my dying father until this morning, well after the fact?!"

The dowager queen clasped her hands at her waist, glaring back at him. "You have no Portal at your hunting lodge. Or if you have, you've certainly never bothered to share its signature with your family."

"It's a mere hour and a half's ride away, Maman!  Even less, on a swift horse. Was the imminent death of my father not of sufficient urgency to summon me back to Rhemuth so I could say my goodbyes?"

Soraya had the grace to look somewhat abashed. "We...we didn't realize the end was going to be as quick as it was. I knew it would take Miranda longer to make arrangements to return, since...since she will need to pack enough clothing to stay until after the funeral." She turned her face away briefly, blinking rapidly in an effort to hold back unaccustomed tears. "And at any rate, there shouldn't have been any need to send someone after you at all! You should have been here, in Rhemuth where you belong, not with your wh–!"

"Madam...!"

The ominous note of warning in Nicholas' voice brought Soraya up short of uttering the unladylike epithet she had been about to use. She took a deep, quavering breath. "Well, at any rate, that's all water under the bridge now. With the King your father gone and his heir your brother very unwell, you must immediately cease evading your duty to this family and marry."

"I will do so right gladly, but the last several times I have brought up the matter, you and Father refused to give me permission to wed with Melisande."

"Will you cease with this maddening obsession with a woman far below your station!" Soraya's voice rose angrily as she punctuated her demand with a loud thump of her fist on her writing desk. "Upon Cinhil's death you will be the next King of Gwynedd. You will need a suitable Queen who has been raised from birth for the role. It is well beyond time you stopped being a spoiled and selfish wastrel and put away your childish plaything." Taking her seat at the desk, she opened a drawer, pulling out a rolled parchment. "I took the liberty this morning of sending a missive to the Crown of Andelon to seek his eldest daughter's hand in marriage on your behalf. By all reports, she is eminently suitable, very well educated, her bloodline is impeccable, and her deportment is beyond reproach. Unlike your own."  She reached across the desk to offer the parchment scroll to her stunned son. "Here is a fair copy of that letter."

"You...did what?" Nicholas felt short of breath, as if he'd been kicked in the gut by a mule.

"You heard me. You've had years to do the right thing, but you chose to be stubborn about the Northwode girl, so now I am forced to take matters into my own hands for the sake of the Kingdom." The dowager queen raised her chin and pointedly looked away. "Now go. I need my sleep, and I am certain that Cinhil will want a word with you as well. We should hear back from Andelon hopefully within the week, so I would advise you to remain within easy reach. If all goes well, you should be wed within a month, with an heir on the way within the year."

#

As Nicholas approached his eldest brother's bedchamber, he found the new Queen in the process of exiting it. He bowed his obeisance. Alixa caught both his hands in hers, bidding him to rise. "Don't," she begged him. "Not here, not in private. It feels so strange."

"I know," he told her, filled with sympathy for the anxious young woman before him, "But that's why it's necessary. You need to become accustomed to being Queen of Gwynedd, because with Cinhil confined to his bed, you will be the public face of the Crown. I'm so sorry. I know you don't feel ready, and it will be awkward for you at first, but...."

"I know. It's my duty."  Alixa smiled up at him through tear-filled eyes. "Thank you, Colin. You're very kind."

"Is Cinhil awake, or should I come back later?"

"He's awake and asking after you. I was about to see if...if the Queen Mother still had need of you."

Nicholas snorted. "That reminds me. You mustn't let her push you around. You are Queen of Gwynedd now, and she will never learn to respect you if you don't stand up to her."

Alixa blushed. "I know. But it's easiest to let her have her way in things as much as possible. She...has very strong opinions at times."

"Only at times?"  Nicholas grinned, causing his sister-by-marriage to giggle.

"Well, most of the time. But honestly, Col, she means well, and she is not so difficult to get along with, really. Not for me, anyway."

"As long as she is getting her way," Nicholas cautioned, "which may not always be the case once you and Cinhil start making any decisions she disagrees with. Though I shall defer to your judgment, Alixa; you've always gotten on with Maman  better than I have."

"That is because we are not so alike, votre Maman et moi. Unlike you, every inch a Haldane in stubbornness. Ma belle-mère la reine is not the only one who likes to have their way in things." The young queen smiled, taking the sting out of the words.

#

"I see you survived the lioness's den." Cinhil Haldane sat up a little straighter against the pile of pillows at his back and waved his hand towards a nearby chair.

Nicholas took a seat. "Aye, but hardly unscathed. Did you know about this?" he asked Cinhil, handing the parchment scroll to him.

The young king gave the text a cursory glance. "Yes, Maman mentioned it, but not until after she had sent the original off to Fianna. I let her know I was not best pleased by her doing so without my prior consent. But what's done is done, and to be honest, the match had already crossed my mind, only I would have given you the chance to make the offer yourself." Cinhil sighed, letting the scroll drop onto the covers as he leaned back into the pillows, his eyes fluttering shut. "I'm very sorry, Colin. I know I once promised you that if it was within my power when I became king, I would allow you to follow your heart and marry Melisande, and do my utmost to persuade the Church to legitimize your children. But the situation is no longer what it once was." He opened his eyes again, nodding in the direction of the window. "Bring me the red box on the windowsill."

"The one containing your dispatches?" Nicholas rose to fetch the velvet-covered box.

Cinhil nodded. "Read the missives at the top of the pile. They are from our intelligencers in Marley and Eastmarch."

Nicholas unfolded the sheets of vellum and skimmed them quickly. "Bold of Torval to think he can help himself to parts of our Kingdom."

Cinhil gave a dry chuckle, punctuated by a sharp cough. "Bolder of him to think he might have a chance to take the whole thing. But he has been calling on his levies, and our scouts think he is planning on making his move as soon as the spring thaw allows his army to move through the mountain passes. We need allies, Colin, and even more importantly, we need to secure the succession quickly. Especially since I will need you to lead our army come springtime. I can hardly send poor Alixa to do it; can you imagine?"  The mental image brought a brief smile to Cinhil's face. "Which means if anything should happen to you as well as to me, our entire line depends on Camber. And while a dispensation from his vows would be inevitable at that point, it would take a little time to come through, and even more time for him to secure a bride so he can try for heirs of his own, all whilst simultaneously attempting to keep Torval off our front doorstep. That's time that none of us can spare."

Nicholas sat in silence, his head bowed, forcing himself to accept the inevitable. At last he spoke, his voice rough with emotion.

"My duty is to you and to our Kingdom, my liege. But if I might ask for a boon, I would ask that I be allowed to pass one of my lesser titles on to my son. I know the request is irregular, under the circumstances, but there is precedent for it, and it would secure his future. Especially if you would allow him to enter our household as a page, that he be properly trained and educated as befits the son of a prince. I will wed with Catherine of Andelon if I must, assuming she will have me, but grant me that much at least. Especially if I am to ride off to war in a matter of months, I would see that Balian's future is secure. The girls' dowries, I can easily arrange for myself. And Melisande...." His voice broke.

"I can grant her the permanent use of the lodge and a living allowance, if aught should happen to you," Cinhil assured Nicholas. "And I can take Balian into my personal service, for what time I have left, unless you would prefer for him to be in your own. If he is known to be in my service, the Court would also know him to be under my personal protection, which may carry more weight, since while some might quibble at the idea of a baseborn son being allowed the honor of entering into Royal service, and may cry favoritism if you take him into your own service, they are less likely to say so directly to their King, nor are they as likely to treat him with scorn if they know their ill-treatment of him would end up reaching my ears. Anneke and Emmeline will also be educated as befits the daughters of a prince to increase their chances of securing good marriages when the time comes. I'm truly sorry, Colin. I wish I could do more."

"You could ensure that if aught should happen to you and me both, Maman can't take everything from Mellie and leave her destitute. She would, you know! She hates Mellie."

"It's not Mellie she hates, Colin, just your love for her that diverts you from your duty. If anything were to happen to you, I very much doubt she would seek to harm Mellie or your children. She might be furious at your constant defiance of her wishes, but to harm any of your children is to harm a Haldane, and I feel sure she would draw the line at that, much as it might pain her to acknowledge their existence. Her biggest concern in regards to your natural children is that she sees them as a potential threat to your legitimate heirs yet unborn, but for that same reason I agree with you that it would be for the best if they receive the benefit of a Court education and be acknowledged as members of our family while they are young, lest they grow up to resent the privileges of your future heirs. But I will speak to our lawyers tonight and have the legal writs drawn up properly and securely for Melisande's sake and that of your children."

#

December 20, 1463
Rhemuth Castle
The Haldane Princesses' bedchamber
Night

The State Funeral for King Uthyr had been held earlier in the day, the grieving family processing from the castle to the Cathedral of Saint George for the ceremony and interment of their late father in the family crypt. Only the new King had been left behind to mourn in privacy, given his ill health that had left him mostly confined to his bedchamber in recent weeks. The other Haldanes had been paraded out before the people for them to gawk at, being forced to conceal their own sorrow with a show of compassionate strength as they comforted throngs of mourners who grieved for their King, their sovereign, their heroic leader, their representative of the Divine anointed by God to rule over them...but not their loving father. Not their husband. Not a member of their family suddenly and unfairly taken from them even though a mere week ago he had seemed as healthy and vital as any man could dream of being in his middle years.

Princess Richeldis was sick to death of the entire lot of them! The only people who could possibly fathom the extent of their loss was Uthyr's own family, and yet they had so many years of hurt piled upon hurt to precede this loss, even they were hard pressed to know how to grieve for the man properly.

She wanted nothing more than to strip off her clothing, crawl into bed, and pretend this nightmare wasn't happening, but she could hear Elisa sobbing into her pillow, trying not to be heard, and that wasn't something she could just turn her back on and ignore. Elisa was the most tender-hearted of her siblings, the one she felt closest to aside from Camber, and she had been the one with the closest relationship to their father. Likely if Uthyr had lived a little longer, he would have come to disillusion her also, but he hadn't managed that yet.

No, Richeldis realized, that was somewhat unfair to their father. If he had sometimes been a stern father to his Haldane offspring, he was also a mostly fair one, generally more moderate in his dealings with his children than their mother. It was just that the very notable exceptions to that rule had been rather glaring ones. Even those had some excuse–Richeldis had been made well aware from her cradle years that sometimes royal duty had to take precedence over personal happiness. But even so, she was certain that some of those conflicts had been managed by their father extremely heavy-handedly, more so than was strictly necessary, to the lingering detriment of his children's relationships with him.

She finished undressing, changing out of the fine silk shift into a warmer and sturdier nightgown better suited for the cold winter night, and crawling into bed beside her sister once the last of her cast-off garments were neatly piled for the chambermaid to take down to be freshened up or laundered as needed. She gathered Elisa into her arms, allowing the girl to sob into her shoulder until she was fully spent. Richeldis hadn't managed to cry yet, not a single tear shed since those harrowing moments in their father's bedchamber when Uthyr had drawn his final breaths, at least. She was still too angry. In that, she could relate far too easily with Colin and Miranda, though Miranda had almost completely mastered the ability to hide her anger, masking it behind a calm, serene wall which hid her true emotions from nearly everyone while allowing her to remain sane in her prestigious disaster of a marriage that their loving parents had arranged for her.

Camber's way of coping was by serving everyone else, tending to their sorrows, meeting practical needs, or bringing a smile to their face to lighten their mood while retreating to his private chamber at night, no doubt to lose himself in a bottle of wine and the company of Titivillus, his cat, who provided the sort of unconditional love his sensitive soul required in order to thrive and which certainly neither of their parents had known how to offer. Maman's brand of grieving evidently required her transformation from a normally strong-willed and often meddling harridan who could occasionally be reasoned with into a completely despotic termagant with a raging need to control everything and everybody, now completely unchecked by their late father's more moderating influence. Poor sweet Alixa had found herself suddenly thrust into the spotlight as their new Queen, a role she was still woefully unprepared for despite her and Maman's continuing efforts to bring the poor girl up to speed, not that any of that was Alixa's fault. Colin was barely functioning at the moment, existing under a storm cloud of mingled fury and despair while his personal world fell apart as he mechanically went through the motions of trying to keep everything running smoothly that Cinhil wasn't able to tend to on his own, since they still had Christmas Court and Twelfth Night Court to get through before the great lords and ladies of Gwynedd would finally, mercifully leave them all the hell alone to get on with the business of trying to reconstruct their lives.

Because Colin was needed to help keep everything running smoothly at the Haldane Court until Twelfth Night was over, his presence required for the two Christmastide Courts ahead because Alixa would be too overwhelmed to know how to conduct them without his careful coaching, he had been forbidden to go home to Candor Rhea to grieve properly and privately with Mellie, where any compassionate person in possession of a heart would have immediately sent him, or at least sent for her to be here for him, as it was glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes that he was barely managing to hold himself together as it was. So Mellie and their children had no idea yet that he was being ordered to leave Gwynedd as soon as their guests had all left Rhemuth, to bring home a foreign bride of suitable royal birth, the proposal seemingly having already been sent off by Maman before Father's body was even fully cold, and giving Colin no option to tell Mellie the painful news in person until presumably right before leaving for Andelon. At least Richeldis hoped he would finally manage to take a day or two for that side trip before leaving the Kingdom! It was certainly not the sort of news to have to break to one's beloved of ten years, the mother of his children, by means of a courier bearing a letter, though she suspected if Maman had her way, Melisande would not be afforded even that simple courtesy.

Lady Melisande, though merely a simple knight's daughter before Sir Edward of Northwode had died and she had become King Uthyr's ward, was still better educated and suited to be a future King's wife than poor Alixa, denied the education that ought to have been her royal birthright and having to spend her brief hours away from Cinhil's bedside trying her best to remediate that lack. Yet Maman refused to see the utter hypocrisy of denying Colin the woman he loved just because her birth wasn't royal enough, under the pretext of claiming that meant she would make an unsuitable and untrainable Queen. That struggle between Colin and Maman had never been about Melisande being a scandalous harlot bent on luring Colin into sin and dissolution, no matter what their mother might claim. Anyone who had ever truly known Mellie's heart and character knew that was not the case. It had been about Colin taking a mistress–never mind that she and Father had never left him any other option–which had caused their mother to leap to the entirely unreasonable opinion that he had turned into a completely feckless ne'er-do-well like their Grandpère the late King of Fianna, who had all but abandoned his royal duties to pursue hedonistic pleasures, and who had loved his mistress and their children to the almost complete neglect and abandonment of his Queen's. If that ever happened in Colin's case, Richeldis was quite convinced it would only be because Maman's own inability to see that Colin was of far sounder moral character than Grandpére would drive him completely into the sort of ruinous life their mother was already envisioning for him, turning her fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And then there was Cinhil, strong of will and mind but trapped in a body that was steadily failing. That was another grief that Richeldis could not bear to consider too closely yet, having only enough emotional energy to deal with one dead or dying relative at a time. Had he even been given a private moment to properly grieve and feel his own feelings about their father's death yet, with the heavy burden of kingship so suddenly thrust upon his frail shoulders? Hopefully he had managed to do so while the rest of the family had all been trotted off to the Cathedral, being the populace's public freakshow. That was all the privacy the poor man was likely to get before having to get on with the job of being King, the source of the entire Kingdom's strength, while he lay slowly dying in the confinement of his four gloomy bedchamber walls.

Sweet Jesú, she could hardly wait to wed and get well away from this horrible place! No matter who Cinhil ended up choosing for her, surely it couldn't be any worse than living here trapped in this gilded cage along with their smothering and ever-meddling Maman.

#

January 11, 1464
Near the village of Candor Rhea
Royal Hunting Lodge

"Must you go back to Rhemuth so soon, Papa?"

Eight-year-old Balian's blue-gray eyes, with their reflected brilliance of Melisande's blue eyes muted by the gray that was his inheritance from his Haldane bloodline, looked trustingly up at his father. Nicholas, stopped as he was about to mount his horse for the journey ahead, remained standing, securing the reins to the hitch before bending to scoop his son into a quick embrace.

"Not just to Rhemuth, son, but beyond our borders all the way to Andelon. I shall be gone for a few weeks, I think, so I shall need you to be a good lad for your mother and help her care for your sisters. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Papa!" Balian looked a trifle indignant that his father might think otherwise, and Nicholas smiled at his expression, so similar to Camber's at the same age.

"When I return–well, maybe not immediately after I return, but someday soon–I will come back for you, and that time we will both return to Rhemuth together. How are your riding skills coming along? Do you think you are up to the journey?"

"Really, Papa?  To Rhemuth?" Balian's face lit up with excitement. "To see where you grew up?"

Nicholas smiled wistfully. "Yes, son. And also to enter the King's service."

Balian nodded. "I should like to meet my uncle Cinhil. I've met my uncle Camber, you know. He stopped by here last autumn. He was nice."

"Cam stopped by here?" This was the first Nicholas had heard of it.

"Aye, Papa! He said he was on his way home from Arx Fidei, and stopped to see if you might be here, but you had just left. He stayed but an hour, I think, only long enough to talk a bit with Mama, but he asked to meet me too. And the girls. They were very good, except Emmie wet on him just a little. She didn't mean to."

Nicholas tried to hold back a smirk at the mental image of his younger brother holding his niece gingerly to avoid stains on his cassock, but he suspected his effort was not wholly successful, because Balian laughed. "At least she didn't poop on him," the boy added.

"Yes. Thank heaven for small mercies." Nicholas laid a hand on the boy's hair, struggling to figure out how to broach the subject he needed to raise, yet knowing it would be better if the lad heard it from him first and not from some other traveler passing through. And it was hardly something he could keep to himself until Balian came to live with him in Rhemuth.

"Son...you know I love your Mama with all my heart, right?"

"I know."

"Years ago, when I was only a little older than you are now, your Mama's father died. He was in my father's service. Your grandmama had already gone to Heaven, so your Mama was left an orphan. She became my father's ward. Has Mama ever told you this story?"

Balian shook his head.

"As children, we grew up together. As we got older, we fell in love. I asked my father the King for permission to marry her, but he wouldn't grant it. He liked Mama very much, but he had his reasons for opposing the match, and...well, I suppose I was young and very foolish, and quite persuaded I could change his mind, especially once you came along. But a prince is rarely free to wed where his heart wills. My head knew that, but my heart...."  He sighed. "Balian, I don't regret falling in love with your Mama for many reasons, not the least of which is that without that love, I wouldn't have you, Anneke, or Emmie. But I do regret that my disobedience to my father's wishes has caused your Mama great heartache at times, and has denied her of opportunities she might have had otherwise, even though I meant only to cherish her, not to harm her. Without meaning to, I have greatly wronged your Mama by my actions and my stubborn willfulness and refusal to listen to those who tried to make me see reason sooner. You may not understand that now, but someday you will. But now I must do my duty towards the Kingdom, for reasons I will do my best to explain once I return, but you ought to know that when I return from Andelon, I will likely be returning with a wife."

"Oh." Balian looked confused. "Whose wife will you be returning with?"

Nicholas might have laughed if his heart hadn't felt like shattering. "My own, I'm afraid. Your Uncle Cinhil likely hasn't much longer to live, and once he dies, I will be King. And a King needs a Queen to help him rule."

"Oh." Shadows chased the light from his son's eyes. "Can't you just make Mama your Queen?"

Nicholas shook his head. "Unfortunately, I can't. There are complicated circumstances why that wouldn't work, which I will try to explain someday. I would if I could, Balian, but there are some things that are beyond even a King's power. At least not if he has the Kingdom's best interests at heart, as a King should."

"Does Mama know?"

"Yes. We talked about it at great length last night. She's very sad about it, as am I, but we both must do as we must. Which is why it would be very helpful if you would be on your best behavior and also help her manage the girls when they are acting naughty or cross."

Balian nodded solemnly. "I'll be good, Papa."

Nicholas hugged his son. "I know you will, lad. You're a wonderful son, and I'm so very proud of you."



Next chapter:  https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3199.0.html

[revanne]

What a story you have set up. Tears and laughter in the first chapter. Thank you.

[Nezz]

Oh yes, the new scene answers those specific doubts a reader might have regarding this lovely, dysfunctional family.

[Demercia]

Hmm, I note another gorgeous man in a cassock

[Evie]

Thanks, y'all!

What a story you have set up. Tears and laughter in the first chapter. Thank you.

Thank you and DesertRose for being my beta-readers and helping me figure out ways through tight spots, as well as keeping me motivated to continue writing when I hit the "messy middle" of the story. There's nothing like having someone reading along in real time to force a flagging writer to keep going, if only for self-preservation since I was half afraid if I stopped in media res, you might fly across the Atlantic just to kill me! 

Hmm, I note another gorgeous man in a cassock

It's an Evie story, Demercia. I have to have at least one good looking guy in a cassock! 

Oh yes, the new scene answers those specific doubts a reader might have regarding this lovely, dysfunctional family.

Yeah, they do have a few issues, don't they...?   

[DerynifanK]

Evie I am most impressed. I have been looking forward to your new novel and it does not disappoint. You have certainly set the stage for all kinds of intrigue and complications. It is certainly clear that being a royal is not always what we think. Duty always has to come first and probably leads to a fair amount of unhappiness as it is in this case. Dysfunctional is a mild term for the relationships in this family. Even if Nicholas marries as his mother wants, I don't think she will be satisfied nor will she make things easy for any of them. Seems to be a really controlling sort. I am sure this is going to be a most interesting not to say fascinating tale.

[Evie]

And I haven't even introduced you to my villains yet.... 

[Jerusha]

A wonderful first chapter, Evie! Though once and a while I get just a tad confused; Nicholas and Colin are the names of my DS1 and DS3.  I get an occasional moment of "Wait, how did they show up here?"  (They would likely be villains.      )

[Evie]

A wonderful first chapter, Evie! Though once and a while I get just a tad confused; Nicholas and Colin are the names of my DS1 and DS3.  I get an occasional moment of "Wait, how did they show up here?"  (They would likely be villains.    )

I'm just going to hope that they don't call you Maman....😂😅

[DesertRose]

Nicholas, whatever his faults, is a good brother and brother-in-law.

Also, this is a test post to make sure I did the setting toggle right.

[drakensis]

I like this very much and look forward to seeing more.

You went and hooked my imagination, I spent most of my walk today trying to guess how the trip to Andelon will go.

[Evie]

Nicholas, whatever his faults, is a good brother and brother-in-law.

Also, this is a test post to make sure I did the setting toggle right.

It worked! Thank you.

[Evie]

I like this very much and look forward to seeing more.

You went and hooked my imagination, I spent most of my walk today trying to guess how the trip to Andelon will go.

There's also a trip back from Andelon. One of those might go a little more smoothly than the other.... 🤔