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

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3195.0.html

Chapter Two

January 11, 1464
La Cité de Fianna
A chapel outside the capital city walls
Early evening

Prince Nicholas, dressed in nondescript travel clothing to avoid drawing unwanted attention, breathed a sigh of relief as he and his squire Sebastian stepped off the portal stone onto Fiannese soil. Only metaphorically speaking, of course, for the small chapel he found himself in had flooring made of tiny earthen tiles arranged in a geometric pattern that made him pause briefly to admire its complexity and beauty. Only the marble roundel at the center of the design, engraved with the epitaph of some bygone personage, was different. The portal stone, hidden in plain sight. One of Fianna's many cultural differences from Gwynedd, Nicholas mused. For centuries, the Deryni of Gwynedd were careful to conceal their portal stones, designing them to blend in inconspicuously with the surrounding flooring. Only a Deryni standing directly upon a portal stone could sense the subtle tingle from the magic emanating from it, and it greatly helped if the Deryni was actively seeking a portal. In Fianna, at least in the oldest cathedrals and other portal locations, the portal stone was often incorporated as a key element in the overall design, calling attention to itself as if to signal "Please stand here."

And yet here in Fianna just as in Gwynedd, a human priest would be equally ignorant of the magical significance of either type of portal stone, unless he somehow happened to be well versed in Deryni lore. Nicholas couldn't help but be amused by the irony.

He was not so lost in admiration that he failed to sense the other presence in the room, and had he somehow been so inattentive to his surroundings, his squire's sudden wary stiffness would have alerted him that they were not alone, but fortunately the presence was a familiar one. Familiar enough, anyway. It had been nearly a dozen years since Nicholas last saw his uncle. He gave Sebastian a swift, calming mind-touch, and the lad stepped back, reassured that whoever the unknown stranger was, his prince considered him to be safe.

"Ah, there you are!" the older man said, rising up from his prie-dieu. After giving the Haldane prince's cautious squire an approving smile and nod, he turned to face his nephew. "So, you are Nicholas, are you? Nearly twice the age you were when I last saw you. You've changed a bit."

"I should hope so, Oncle Périgord," Nicholas replied with a wry smile. "Though I could nearly say the same for you. Your hair might have a bit more gray in it than I remember, but that's about all I can see that is different."

"A tactful, if not overly truthful observation. I see you take more after Uthyr in that than my sister. She would not hesitate to point out every new wrinkle and age spot I've acquired since we last met." Périgord flashed a brief grin before turning serious. "I am very sorry to hear the news about your father. How is the young King faring?"

"Losing Father was a great shock for all of us," Nicholas replied, "but Cinhil has been well prepared for the Crown since early boyhood, so he is dealing well enough with his new responsibilities." That was not exactly what his uncle was asking about, he suspected, but he didn't want to go into too much detail about his brother's swiftly declining health here while visiting the heart of a foreign kingdom, not even in a private conversation with a blood relative whose concern he mostly trusted to be genuine. Even if Périgord himself could be trusted, that wasn't to say that someone with less friendly intentions and a keen sense of hearing might not be somewhere within earshot, waiting to gather fresh intelligence he could sell to other interested parties in order to line his coin pouch with more gold. No, even in Gwynedd, most of the populace was completely unaware exactly how precarious the current situation was at the heart of the Haldane court, though it was at least known that the new King did not enjoy the level of robust health taken for granted by most young men in the prime of life.

"I am glad to hear it," Périgord replied. "And I am given to understand that you and your squire are now headed to Andelon so you can wed with the fair Catalina?"

"Perhaps," Nicholas replied noncommittally. "If the lady is amenable to my suit. I am certain mine is not the only offer that has been presented."

"Ah, but you are a prince of Gwynedd, a strong and prosperous kingdom, non? And you are young enough to be handsome, but no longer a callow youth who knows nothing. Why would she not be amenable?" Périgord shrugged as if he considered the entire matter a done deal. "At my sister's request, I have made the necessary travel arrangements. As it happens, I have business matters of my own to deal with in Rhamané as well, so I can be your guide on your way there and arrange for another to accompany you for your return trip if need be.  Although if you are to wed the princess, I am certain Mikhail of Andelon will insist on providing the two of you a full escort back to Gwynedd."

#

January 11, 1464
Le Palais de Fianna
Late evening

"So what can you tell me about this princess of Andelon?" Nicholas asked as he stared into the depths of his wine goblet. He and his uncle had dined privately in his uncle's personal chambers, and while it was clear that Périgord had gone out of his way to have a selection of some of the choicest Fiannese dishes brought up to them, Nicholas had picked at his meal, barely managing to consume enough of it to avoid seeming impolite. Beside him, young Sebastian had no similar difficulties in working up a healthy appetite. Périgord pushed another platter towards the squire, his eyes crinkling at the corner in amusement at the lad's evident appreciation of the Fiannan cuisine.

"Ah, do you worry about what you will find? There's no need, I can assure you! I have had the honor of meeting her a few times, and she is every bit as beautiful and clever as she is widely reputed to be. The man who wins her hand will have quite the prize indeed, quite apart from the benefit of being allied with Mikhail of Andelon. What else would you like to know?"

Nicholas shrugged. "That's a start, I suppose, but I know nothing about the lady, so anything you can share would be helpful. How old is she? What are her likes, her dislikes, her accomplishments? What does she look like, besides beautiful, which everyone seems to be in agreement of, but which is very much subject to the eye of the viewer?"

Périgord spread his hands. "I am not well enough acquainted with la princesse to know her particular likes and dislikes. But as to her age, I think she is in her nineteenth year, or maybe her twentieth. Many offers have already been made for her hand ever since she began to blossom into young womanhood, but King Mikhail is not one to give his daughters the benefit of a university-level tutelage only to lose them in childbed from sending off to breed heirs while they are barely more than children themselves, so he has only recently started to give any of her suitors more serious consideration. I have seen her play the harp and the virginal, and there are several paintings in the Palace gallery which I have been informed were by her own hand. She is fluent in seven languages, including your own, and has at least passing knowledge of a few others. I am told that she sits on her father's Council and that he values her insights, so she is evidently not one of those ladies who can only speak knowledgeably of fashions, flowers, lap dogs and perfumes. And as to her appearance...well, you can judge for yourself." Périgord held out his hand to Nicholas.

Nicholas paused briefly before lightly clasping Périgord's hand. He lowered his shields enough to permit Périgord's memories to flow between them. A flood of images suddenly filled his mind:

A dais in a large hall, a crowned man seated centrally at the head table, with a lady on each side of him. The younger woman's green-eyed gaze traveled around the room, briefly stopping as it met Périgord's admiring regard. She inclined her head and smiled politely in acknowledgement before continuing her perusal of the room.

The same lady seated before a harp in what appeared to be a withdrawing room, her long, raven hair half-concealing her features as her slender fingers nimbly flew across the strings in a complicated melody Nicholas recognized. Her tutelage had been excellent. Nicholas had heard the same tune butchered by many aspiring bards more times than he cared to recall.

A garden labyrinth, hedges taller than man-height to either side of him. He turned a corner, and the narrow path turned into a small, circular clearing. At the center of it stood a statue, carved in the ancient Rûman style, and near it stood the princess next to an easel, intently focused on her work. At Périgord's approach, she turned, revealing a smudge of paint on one cheek as she set down brush and palette and wiped her fingers on the stained linen apron protecting her simple homespun gown. "Mille excuses, Votre Altesse," Périgord's voice said. "Je ne voulais pas vous interrompre." The lady smiled graciously back at him. "Pas de problème, mon Seigneur, je venais juste de finir de toute façon." Despite the paint smudge, humble clothing and stained apron, the princess was undeniably stunning.

Nicholas withdrew from the rapport, feeling oddly disloyal for admiring another woman's comeliness. He had been faithful to Melisande for the better part of ten years, and had only agreed to this marriage to another woman with the greatest reluctance. It shouldn't matter to him whether his mother's chosen bride for him looked foul or fair, yet he found himself feeling relieved that whatever other faults she might turn out to have, at least she wasn't so unattractive as to render him incapable of doing what would be required to sire an heir and spare. His momentary feelings of disloyalty to Mellie gave way to a strange sense of guilt at that thought also. A lady deserving of the high esteem Périgord quite evidently held her in must surely deserve far more than to be shackled into a loveless marriage and treated as a broodmare. Did she also resent the way that her prospective suitors viewed her in the same way that he resented being regarded as little more than a stallion for the Royal Stud? For the first time, he looked beyond his own misery and wondered if this proposed alliance felt as awkward to the Andelonian princess as well. What had she been told or shown about him? He's the black sheep of the Haldane line, but no worries, Your Highness, we're sure he'll straighten up and do his proper duty if only to preserve his lineage. Nicholas winced internally at the imagined conversation.

He looked up to see Périgord studying him, an almost anxious expression in his eyes despite his sunny smile. "She's beautiful, non? And as gracious as she is talented. Surely you must agree she would be well suited to be a Haldane bride, perhaps even a Haldane queen someday? If only I were twenty years younger, I would seek her hand myself, not that such a divine young vision would have any desire to wed a crusty old widower like myself, eh?" Périgord waved the thought away with a self-deprecating laugh. "But you, young Colin! You have the Haldane looks, and surely there must be quite a lot of charm in the Haldane blood as well, if Uthyr managed to thaw Soraya enough to get six children from my iceberg of a sister."

Nicholas chuckled. "Aye, they doted on each other. Given their temperaments, their marriage was very stormy at times, but no less loving for all that. Which is why I'd hoped...." Why I had hoped they would allow me to follow my heart, he thought, though he kept the rest of the thought to himself.

"Why you hoped they would allow you to marry for love," Périgord finished for him. "Non, mon neveu, it is the rare royal who has the freedom to follow his heart in such matters. Uthyr and Soraya never even met each other until three days before they wed, although a few letters were exchanged beforehand. Yet they learned to respect each other, and from that garden bed of respect, eventually love grew and blossomed. Pick the right bride, one who is well suited for you and for the responsibilities you two must share, and who knows? Perhaps you, too, shall see your own garden of love bloom in due time. And if not? Well, there are other women who would be glad to warm a prince's heart and bed. Just be wise enough to pick one who knows how to be discreet." His uncle spread his hands in a philosophical shrug.

So I'm not just a stallion now, I'm to be a gardener. Nicholas suppressed a sigh and simply nodded as his uncle continued to laud the merits of the Andelonian match.

#

January 11, 1464
The Camberian Council chamber
Somewhere in Lendour
Late Evening

"So, Prince Nicholas has begun his journey?" asked Lord Alexei Petrovich, brother to the Patriarch of Beldour and, at age fifty-eight, the senior member of the Camberian Council, at least in terms of age. "Very good work, Arilan!"

Lord Geoffrey Arilan, coadjutor of the Council, shrugged modestly. "Honestly, I had little to do with it. I suggested the match to King Uthyr in early December, and he was planning on broaching the topic to the Prince when Nicholas returned to Rhemuth for Christmas Court. Though as you all know by now, Uthyr died before he had the opportunity to see his son again. However, I think he must have informed Queen Soraya of his plan, because Uthyr was hardly dead more than a few hours before she wrote the letter proposing the intermarriage between Prince Nicholas and Mikhail's daughter. A neat little bit of serendipity, that, and it saved me the trouble of having to suggest it to King Cinhil myself."

Mikhail of Andelon, the Council's second coadjutor, leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I know I was rather surprised to see the offer arrive several weeks sooner than expected."

"And do you think your daughter will be minded to accept?" Lady Emmanuelle de la Flamme of Fianna asked the Andelonian sovereign. "Or will you require her to, no matter how she personally feels about the matter?"

"My daughter knows her own mind, and I have promised not to force her into any marriage she truly objects to. That said, she is well bred to her duty and can see the advantages of the match for herself, although she was less than pleased about the offer coming from the man's mother and not the prince himself. The last I heard, Prince Nicholas was still quite committed to his paramour and was not of a mind to marry. Has that situation changed, Geoff?"

The Laird of Tre-Arilan waggled one hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "I can't say he's elated by the situation, but he seems to have finally accepted the necessity of settling into a marriage with a consort of appropriate breeding and training for the task ahead, and your daughter Catalina is certainly that. I think once he becomes better acquainted with her, Nicholas will come around. If your daughter were little more than the standard, docile court beauty, I might be less optimistic. The prince admires feminine beauty as much as the next man, but is not overly swayed by it. He is far more susceptible to a keen wit and a clever mind, a similar sense of humor, and to someone who isn't overly deferential to his rank and station. I suspect one reason he is so drawn to Lady Melisande's charms is that despite the disparity in their stations, to her thinking he is not first and foremost Prince Nicholas of Gwynedd, but merely Colin, her beloved. If your Catalina also treats him as a man she can respect but is not in awe of, and he also learns to respect and admire her in due course, and the two share enough common cause to build a strong partnership on, it could well be that his admiration will eventually grow into something more someday. We can hope so, anyway."

"I certainly do hope so," the King of Andelon said, "for even though I raised and educated my daughters to prepare them for such a time as this, as their father I also wish them to be happy in their future marriages and in their role in the Court life of their future husbands. But despite my reservations about the match, I think a marriage into the Court of Gwynedd will leave her well placed to make some substantial contributions to the stability of the Eleven Kingdoms, both in helping to oppose Nördmarcke's ambitions and possibly even Joux's, at least if your Prince has the good sense to take her counsel to heart once he is King."

"Perhaps if Lady Melisande were no longer in the picture, the Prince's affections might warm towards Princess Catalina all the sooner?" Lady Emmanuelle suggested. "It's just a thought."

"The loss of his first love would hardly guarantee Prince Nicholas's acceptance of a second love in substitution," Lord Geoffrey retorted, even as King Mikhail was shaking his head in disagreement with the Fiannan lady's suggestion. "Besides which," the Gwyneddan intelligencer noted, "if Nicholas were to have even the slightest inkling that Melisande was either killed or conveniently 'disappeared' in order to force his compliance, that would be the most certain way to ensure he never develops any tender feelings towards his new wife."

"I agree, though I do feel for Princess Catalina, having to give up the chance to wed for love in order to wed a man who may or may not ever love her, to satisfy political needs," Aoife, the Banoidhre of Llyr, stated quietly. It's still not too late to allow her to follow her heart and wed my cousin, she added in private Mind-Speech to King Mikhail before resuming her openly spoken opinion on the matter. "Although I do agree that if she must marry to best political advantage for the sake of the Eleven Kingdoms, you could hardly do better than the Gwyneddan match."

Mikhail shook his head. As much as I esteem your kinsman, and as much as I desire Catalina's happiness, I think the threat to the region's stability is great enough that we can't allow personal preferences to override the needs of the Kingdoms, he silently replied to Aoife before adding aloud, "Renier's ambitions are growing by the day as is his resentment of the Hort of Orsal's suzerainty over Joux. He will seize on any opportunity he can find to swallow up his neighbors yet again and restore Joux to its former size and glory as it was in his grandfather's day during the Forcinn Wars, before Gaspard of Joux lost his Duel Arcane to the current Hort's grandsire. Catalina has known for years that her duty towards Andelonia and the Forcinn outweighs the desires of the heart. Though if she should survive any husband she takes for reasons of political expediency, I have assured her that she will be free to follow her heart should she ever choose to remarry. I don't think we can wait another year or more for my second daughter to catch up to Catalina's level of learning and understanding, even though Esmeralda's training is coming along nicely."

"Speaking of Joux," said the Gräfin Violette von Rhupen, younger sister to Rupert, Crown Prince of Thuria, "my brother has heard a troubling rumor from across our border of late. He sent two intelligencers into Trebaçeaux two months ago to investigate some rumors of Deryni disappearances. Neither has returned. One is believed to have been killed in some sort of tavern brawl on the outskirts of Trebaçeaux, even though he was not a man given to indulging in strong drink. There are reports that a man looking very much like our second missing man has been spotted begging in the market square at Foilly, about midway between Trebaçeaux and Kranburg, as if perhaps he might have been attempting to make his way back to Truria, but that his wits have fled and he has no recollection of who he is or how he came to be in Foilly. Rupert is hesitant to send anyone else into Joux without a clearer picture of what has happened to those two. The man who brought back both of these reports says that something is happening to men Renier suspects to be Deryni who are not fully loyal to him, but he is unable to say what, except that they are disappearing from Renier's court with not a word of explanation. In public life one day, then gone the next."

"The man spotted in Foilly–assuming that is your missing Thurian intelligencer–was he human or Deryni?" Lord Da'ud ibn Yussuf al-Quarrah of the Anvil asked. "Perhaps he has lost his wits because his mind has been tampered with."

"Full Deryni, and a strong one at that," replied Violette. "So it seems unlikely that someone tampered with his mind."

"Yet not impossible," said Da'ud. "Though granted, if he resisted and was overpowered anyway, he'd likely have been Mind-Ripped and left for dead, if not killed outright. It bears closer investigation, though I can see why Rupert would be hesitant to risk anyone else, especially since Renier might well be suspicious of travelers of Thurian origin."

"I might be able to assist with inquiries," Aoife of Llyr said. "I have a merchant currently in Nabat, but he is planning on traveling downriver towards the Isle of Orsal in the next week. I believe Foilly is one of the river ports where he berths for a day or two to exchange cargo. His Jouvian is nearly fluent, but in any case a slight Llyrian accent at the river port may be less likely to raise suspicion than a Thurian one, given the state of relations between Joux and Thuria at present. Llyr has been studiedly neutral when it comes to Joux's aspirations...officially, anyway."

Lord Geoffrey Arilan stood. "Lords and Ladies, I'm afraid I must be on my way. I have a ship to catch in the next hour. Do we have any further business?"

"There is the bothersome matter of King Torval's intentions come springtime," Alexei of Beldouria replied, "Though we can convene another meeting once you are able to join us again, even if the matter can't wait another full month."

"Hopefully by the next meeting, I will have more to report on that front also," said Arilan. "And hopefully not from the very thick of things. For once I am grateful for the winter snows preventing everything from happening all at once."

#

January 16, 1464
The Kingdom of Andelon
Entering the City of Rhanamé

It had been a cold and mostly dreary ride from La Cité de Fianna, Prince Nicholas's and Prince Périgord's small traveling party following the River Bhutti through the narrow valley between the mountains separating Fianna and Logréine. The roads were muddy but decently maintained, so despite the wintry weather, the travelers made reasonably good time in their ride towards Andelon. Nicholas was fervently grateful that the lands on this side of the Southern Sea were blessed with a milder climate than Gwynedd's, so there was no snow or ice to contend with. Crossing the Bhutti at a ferry crossing two days' journey inland from La Cité had not been pleasant, as the horses had been less than pleased to venture onto the shallow wooden boat, but there had been a warm, dry monastic guest house awaiting them just a couple of miles further inland, on the Logréine side of the ferry crossing.

Now another two days of travel through Logréine and into Andelon had finally brought them to the end of the valley road leading them towards Rhanamé, and in the distance, beyond what appeared to be fields of fluffy white qtun, Nicholas could see the rooftops of that grand walled city, the Palace overlooking it gleaming above the surrounding buildings and terraced gardens. The lands surrounding the walled city were a fertile, verdant jewel in the more arid landscape around them, owing their lushness to the two rivers bordering this corner of Andelon. Somewhere in the distance beyond the city, the Bhutti would branch off from the great Thuria River, though from this viewpoint it was impossible to see where the tributary that had guided them into Andelon had broken away from its source.

While Nicholas could still summon up little enthusiasm for the courtship and wedding that lay before him, he had to admit he was very much looking forward to reaching his destination and enjoying some rest and whatever diversions this strange new kingdom had to offer. He had traveled outside of Gwynedd on previous occasions, serving as his father's envoy to represent the Haldane Court in various diplomatic matters, but none of his other travels had taken him as far abroad as exotic Andelon.

As the small party drew closer to the city walls, the road began to slope upwards, their riverside trail merging with a more heavily traveled and stone-paved one leading uphill towards the capital city. They eventually found themselves riding single file, making room for cart traffic traversing the cobbled street alongside them, some laden with wares being brought into the city markets, others laden with different goods leaving Rhanamé in transit to other destinations. 

As they approached the city gates, Périgord's man-at-arms unfurled the banner of the House of Fianna while Nicholas' squire did the same for his Haldane banner. A short time later, an armored member of the Rhanamé city guard approached the small retinue, halting his horse alongside Nicholas' as he saluted the new arrivals.

"Vos passe-partouts, messires?"

Nicholas opened the flap of his diplomatic pouch, withdrawing a packet of folded and sealed parchments. "Our letters of safe conduct," he affirmed as he handed the documents over for inspection. The guard studied each missive carefully, paying particularly close attention to the embossed images in each wax seal before handing them back with a respectful salute and waving them forward. At a signal from the watch tower above, a trumpet heralded their entry through the gates of the walled city.

The party processed through the narrow cobbled streets towards the castle hill, though the route was not a straightforward one. The main street wound from side to side, doubling back on itself as they continued ever upwards along the slope of the hill, their route bordered by stuccoed, double-storied homes and shops that lined both sides of the street, the sunlight giving their red tile rooftops a rosy glow. As they traveled through the city, curious Andelonians appeared at their windows or stopped along the sides of the streets to watch them pass by, some doffing their caps respectfully, others merely watching the foreign arrivals in wary silence. The layout of the city streets in Rhanamé along with the steep terrain was designed to serve as part of the castle's external defenses, Nicholas noted. Even if an enemy army were to breach the city gates, there would be no swift, straightforward march directly uphill to the castle, yet he had no doubt that their progress through the city would be easily observed and defended against by archers on the castle ramparts.

Exotic goods, sights, and scents enticed the senses as they passed through the market district. Fine tapestries were laid out for display, the skilled craftsmanship of the local weavers, and Nicholas found himself momentarily distracted by the magical aura emanating from several of the stalls, but there was no time to linger and investigate what type of curious spellcraft might be woven into the wares. Intricate carvings of a dark, fragrant wood decorated another merchant's stall, while yet another shop boasted finely crafted jewelry and decorative items with skillfully cut gemstones and precious amber. Nearby, he could hear the plucking of some unfamiliar stringed instrument playing an equally unknown tune, and over everything the mingled aromas of the spices sold at the épiceries prevailed. Passers-by were clad in robes of familiar linen, silk, or lightweight wool, but many also wore brightly colored garments of dyed qtun that would have cost a small fortune in the markets of Rhemuth. Everything around him played on his senses, inspiring both fascination and yet also an odd longing for the familiarity of home.

A final bend in the road brought the party within sight of the base of the castle curtain walls, gleaming white in the noonday sun. As they approached, another guard on the gatehouse watch tower heralded their arrival with a short trumpet fanfare. They had reached their destination at last.

#

January 16, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The King's Bedchamber
Afternoon

Since the King was too unwell to meet with his Council in the regular council chamber, the Council met in his private bedchamber instead.

Cinhil Haldane surveyed the small group gathered in a semicircle around his bed. This was not the full Royal Council, more like a gathering of his close family members, yet their reason for gathering concerned important Kingdom business nonetheless.

The Dowager Queen tapped her foot, impatient for the meeting to begin. Cinhil made a mental note that she might need a reminder, perhaps more than one, that this was his Council meeting and not hers. She was far too accustomed to being the one giving orders and accepting direction from no lesser person than her husband the late King, and while he respected his iron-willed mother's advice, that didn't mean he intended for her to rule Gwynedd in his stead. He was ill, but not yet dead, not quite.

Miranda, the eldest of his younger siblings currently present, having only recently arrived from her husband's court in Tralia, sat near the foot of his bed, her dove gray eyes darkening with concern as she studied him. He gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned before glancing away, settling herself more comfortably into her cushioned chair. In deference to her own delicate condition, since she was midway through her third pregnancy, he had arranged to have a more comfortable chair brought up for her than the fauldstools the rest of his family were supplied with, since more of the folding stools could be fit into the small amount of floor space in his chamber.

Next to her sat his wife, Alixa, her eyes downcast as she plucked at one sleeve of her gown nervously. His brother Cam leaned over to whisper some quiet observation, causing her to laugh and give him a fleeting wan smile, momentarily easing some of her anxiety. Closer to the window, his youngest sisters Richeldis and Elisa also giggled over some shared confidence too quiet to overhear. Nicholas, of course, was en route to Rhanamé, if he had not yet reached the Andelonian capital already. And placed centrally among his wife and siblings sat his mother, who had arrived earlier than the others, partly to secure this prized position for herself, but no doubt also so she would have more time to share her many strongly held opinions with him privately under the guise of dispensing valuable advice.

To be fair, some of it was valuable, not to be discounted simply because he found her behavior rather annoying at the moment.

Cinhil straightened, adjusting his pillows and drawing all eyes to himself. Once he was certain he had everyone's full attention, he nodded in satisfaction. "Maman...Camber...I know the two of you are already too well aware of the dire circumstances Father's untimely death and my own health concerns have placed us in. It is time my sisters become aware as well, because of what I must ask of each of you."

"Sisters, our kingdom intelligencers have informed us that Torval of Nördmarcke has been amassing a large army to our northeast, which they plan to mobilize against us this coming spring. Father, upon hearing early rumors of this activity, sent scouts across the border this past autumn to confirm the truth of it. It wasn't difficult for them to find the proof they sought; Torval makes little secret of his aspirations. He hopes to annex Our lands in Rheljan, Eastmarch and Marley into his kingdom, extending from there into Kheldour if he can. He fancies himself quite the Second Festillic Conqueror, our neighbor."

"Without a single drop of Festillic blood in him, even," Camber observed drily. "Though what do minor considerations like bloodlines matter, if one can drum up enough support for the cause? Not that the Festillic claim was ever legitimate, even back in the days of our early forefathers."

"Questions of 'right vs might' aside," Cinhil continued, "this provides an even greater challenge for us now than it did a mere few weeks ago. Were Father still alive, he would have led our troops into battle, likely with either Colin or Cam at his side, the other remaining behind with me to act as regent in case I decided to inconveniently stop breathing while he was otherwise occupied at the front. Now the situation is a little more precarious. I am hardly in any position to lead our armies myself; therefore, Colin shall have to go in my stead. He is my heir, but he is also more battle-seasoned than Camber. However, if things should truly go awry in the fortunes of war, and we were to lose Colin as well...."

"God forbid!" Miranda whispered, crossing herself fervently.

The young king nodded briefly in acknowledgment as he continued, "...that would leave the sole responsibility for leading our defense and also for the continuance of the Haldane dynasty on Cam's shoulders, which of course presents additional difficulties."

Richeldis glanced towards Camber. "You'd have to leave holy orders, wouldn't you?"

Camber gave her a wry grimace. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. At least clergy in Gwynedd can marry now, but yes, for practical reasons I would need to. It would be a bit much to try to juggle a priestly vocation with finding a Queen, securing the dynasty, and leading the army. I'm already at a loss, thinking how a courtship and honeymoon are meant to be managed while facing off against Torval in the foothills of Marley or in some Eastmarch mountain pass. 'Thank you for the evening of idyllic pleasure, Madam, but I'm off to the battlefield yet again now. Should I manage to avoid being captured and impaled by the enemy, we can try for a son again tomorrow night. Ta!'" He shot a sardonic grin at Elisa as she burst into appalled laughter. "So while you're crossing yourself over Colin, Miranda," he added, glancing at his elder sister, "If you could manage to spare a prayer or two for me also...."

"Oh, do stop exaggerating the difficulties, Camber!" Queen Soraya retorted hotly. "In the event things should reach such a horrible pass, which we have very little reason to assume, that would mean that Cinhil is already dead, therefore you would already have a potential bride right under your nose! I'm certain that a dispensation for you and Alixa could easily be arranged."

In the shocked silence that followed, Cinhil cleared his throat, recalling everyone's attention back to himself. "If you could kindly refrain from burying me while I am still alive, Mother, I think we can hold off on planning out Camber's entire future for now. Or my wife's. I have called for our generals to muster our troops. The levies are gathering near Iomaire, readying themselves to meet Torval's advance once the winter snows thaw and our scouts determine which direction his armies will move. But we will need the support of our allies as well." He looked towards Miranda.

"I cannot unequivocally speak for my husband, but I am fairly certain that the Hort will be readily persuaded to lend his support," his eldest sister confirmed. "Adémar is no more eager to have Torval of Nördmarcke any closer to our doorstep than you are, and there is always the chance the invaders might choose to move southwards through the Rheljans rather than northwards towards Marley. Marley is more fertile, but Corwyn is equally prosperous and could give him access to the Southern Sea and the mouth of the Beldour River. Plus, he would have another border from which he could harry Beldouria later if he chose, though certainly he would have his work cut out for him attempting to take Beldouria while also harrying Gwynedd. The splintered kingdoms of the former Kingdom of Torenth reunited under Torval's banner would be a danger to all of our interests in the Southern Kingdoms as well as here in Gwynedd."

"We shall be grateful for the Hort's support. And speaking of alliances and husbands," Dowager Queen Soraya added, "It is time now for Richeldis and Elisa to do their parts as well."

"I was just coming to that, Maman," Cinhil said, taking in the anxious expressions of his two younger sisters with a faint sigh. "I had hoped to give the two of you more time to get better acquainted with the suitors who have expressed an interest in a marriage alliance with our House, but now that you are aware of our situation, hopefully you both understand the need to proceed with greater haste than originally anticipated. Your marriages are no longer simply a matter of securing your futures anymore, they will be vital in strengthening alliances with other Houses who will either join us in common cause against Torval or at least agree to deny him any aid in his aspirations. We can discuss the potential merits and pitfalls of each prospective match later, if you wish, though it is imperative that I know your preferences as early as possible."

Queen Soraya scoffed. "You would leave such important matters to the judgment of two girls still young and silly enough to be swayed by inconsequential considerations like a handsome face or well-turned form? Nonsense! Richeldis can intermarry with Beldouria's heir; perhaps with young Alarikos breeding heirs, Miklos will throw his full support behind us and stop fretting over a possible Phourstanos invasion that is constantly threatened but will likely never happen. After all, Torval is every bit as much a threat to his kingdom as he is to ours, so it would be to both our advantages to join forces."

Richeldis took a deep breath and responded with forced calm. "Maman, I will thank you to recall that I am more than simply a womb perched atop walking legs, nor am I incapable of making a sensible choice. I was not spawned by the union of two complete idiots, after all." Her faint emphasis on the adjective was not quite pronounced enough to be pointedly insulting, but she could see in her mother's outraged scowl that Soraya had picked up on it nonetheless. "In any case, is not Prince Alarikos overly young to be breeding heirs yet? I thought he was still a child."

"He is Elisa's age, so seventeen now, quite old enough. I was seventeen when I wed Uthyr."

Only on the outside, Maman. I'm quite certain you were a manipulative old bat on the inside even then, Richeldis thought but was far too wise to say aloud. Tightening her shields lest her mother catch any inkling of the sentiment, she replied, "Then mayhap he is better suited for Elisa, since they would be of an age together, and as I recall, they played nicely together that time several years ago when the Crown of Beldouria paid a diplomatic visit to our court." Beside her Elisa stiffened, at first looking indignant, though upon considering the suggestion a moment longer, the expression changed, becoming more thoughtful.

"He was nice, wasn't he?" Elisa pondered aloud, lost in childhood memories for a moment. "I suppose I wouldn't mind so much wedding with Alarikos, Cinhil, if that would help. At least he wouldn't be some wrinkly old man. Though I shall have to work harder on my Torenthi." She wrinkled her nose at the thought; language study had never come as easily for her as it had for her older sisters, though she had gained at least some basic competence in the foreign tongue.

"That won't do at all," Soraya said. "This is not a matter for likes or dislikes, child. Alarikos is Miklos' heir, and therefore a natural ally for our mutual cause, yet he is also very young and inexperienced as a leader of men. Should anything happen to Miklos, Alarikos would need a more experienced queen at his side, and Richeldis has a few extra years of education in statecraft which you still lack. You require a husband who is more mature and who can complete your education, since you still have several areas of deficiency."

"Hopefully not too much older, Maman," Miranda spoke up on behalf of her sisters. "If they are to work well together, a wife must have some grounds of commonality with her husband, just as you had with our dear father, and he must value her as a partner, not view her as a mere child. Of course it is our duty to be peaceweavers and bearers of heirs–and daughters too, to strengthen future bonds between our kingdoms–but the burdens of queenship are far easier to bear if a marriage is founded on bonds of mutual respect where affection and even love might grow. Have you no memory at all of your own feelings, being wed to a stranger while still in the early spring of your years, knowing you would spend the rest of your life in a kingdom far from the land of your birth?"

Soraya sighed. "I am not insensible of your sisters' romantic hopes and very natural concerns regarding their marital prospects and duties. But these are difficult times, and difficult times call for greater sacrifices."

"I will wed as the King my brother requires," Richeldis said, "though if I might request a single boon in return, I would have the freedom to wed as my heart wills, should I survive whatever husband is chosen for me." She turned a look of appeal towards Cinhil, who nodded.

Their mother looked appalled. "Even as a widow, she has a duty to the House of Haldane!"

Cinhil smiled at his mother, looking much like his late father had upon spotting a winning move on the cardounet table before him. "As do you, Maman. Tell me, to which foreign house would you like me to offer your hand in marriage next, now that you are widowed? You are, after all, still fairly young, unquestionably skilled in statecraft if somewhat lacking in tact and diplomacy, and not uncomely. Your fertility might not be what it used to be, though that may matter very little to a widower who already has sufficient heirs."

Soraya, Dowager Queen of Gwynedd, felt her mouth fall open in shock and swiftly snapped it shut again.

#

January 16, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The garden arcade
Evening

"Tell me truly," Princess Richeldis whispered. "Has Maman gone utterly mad?" She pulled her heavy cloak closer around her as she glared at her brother Camber, awaiting his answer. The bitter winds tugged at the fur-lined woolen fabric, and not for the first time she wished they had selected a better place to meet for this private conversation, but a busy castle was hardly the best place to discuss private matters out of earshot of anyone else. Especially if one was a Haldane Princess, closely guarded at all times, though at least the fact that Camber was her own brother as well as a priest made him a chaperone whose suitability no one would dare to question. "I understand the necessity of marrying us off, but did she honestly mean to hint at a marriage between you and Alixa? To Alixa's own husband?"

"Aye, that was a bit over the top, even for Maman," Cam replied. "I thought poor Alixa would expire from sheer mortification, and while I had suspected our mother had something of that sort in mind and had half expected her to pigeonhole me at the earliest opportunity to try to get me to agree to the idea, I hardly thought she would be bold enough to voice the idea to Cinhil himself." Camber winced at the memory. "Father's death has affected her far more deeply than she lets on, and her instinctive response to dealing with things outside of her control is to attempt to control everything and everyone around her. Our mother is deeply worried, and with good reason. We must hope that Colin's return from Andelon with a bride and stepping up to his duty will ease her fears sufficiently that she will settle down and not drive us all to murder, madness, or into early graves before Torval gets a chance to." He sighed. "I suppose I ought to have a private word with Alixa, to make sure she knows I didn't put that notion into Maman's head. Though if I thought it was sometimes still difficult to get Alixa to look me square in the eye before, even now after years of getting to know us, the poor girl is probably too shy and embarrassed to look any higher than my kneecaps after that suggestion!"

"If it weren't for the fact that we are actual human beings with emotions and not mere foot soldiers on a cardounet board, it wouldn't actually be the worst of ideas," Richeldis mused, "at least if Cinhil doesn't end up having the final laugh by unexpectedly outliving us all, and if the poor girl weren't barren. We're all very fond of Alixa already, and she's quite sweet and clever. If only she wasn't so utterly cowed by Maman."

Camber frowned, casting a quick look around before drawing Richeldis deeper into the shadows of the arcaded walkway to whisper even more quietly than they had done thus far, "I very much doubt that she is barren. I think she's just never had the opportunity to prove otherwise."

His sister stared up at him in confusion. "But...she's been wed for seven years!"

"There was a wedding seven years ago, yes."

Understanding dawned. "You mean...?" At Camber's shrug, she blurted, "But surely–!"

He frantically gestured for her to lower her voice. Reining in her surprise, she whispered, "How, though? Cinhil was in better health back then! And...the bedsheets were checked, I know they were! I overheard the chambermaids...."

Camber nodded. "I could be mistaken. But even back then, Cinhil was in far worse health than he liked to let on. I'm certain he must have tried to consummate their marriage; whether he succeeded is anyone's guess, but in any case it normally takes more than one coupling, or even several, to get an heir, and if you'll think back, his condition took a steeper decline not very long after their marriage, when he went through his Haldane potential setting and that almost went catastrophically wrong due to his heart issues. Also, I may have led a sheltered life at seminary--though I very much doubt it--but even I know that ladies of marriageable age have monthly courses. So if the timing happened to be just right, a few little stains of blood on a bedsheet for the chambermaids and nosy busybodies to gossip about proves nothing about whether the marriage was ever consummated."

"I suppose. But even if there were grounds for an annulment or a special dispensation to allow you to wed her...do you want to marry her, Cam?"

He shrugged again. "It wasn't really in my plan to marry anyone, because even though priests in Gwynedd have been permitted to marry for the past century, it's still somewhat preferred in some circles if we don't, at least if we are hoping to be considered for a bishopric someday. But if it should turn out that I need to marry to help secure our line, at least with Alixa I would know I was getting someone we're already fond of, and you're right, she is sweet and also more capable than she realizes. But I'll not see her forced into the match. If I must wed, I want a willing bride at the very least. Khadasa, this is all a right mess!

"Language, Camber! And you a priest!" His sister's eyes laughed up at him.

He chuckled. "You've heard worse, even from me. Come, I'd best get you back to the Queen's Tower before Maman wonders where you've run off to."


Next chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3202.0.html

[DerynifanK]

Evie you always amaze me. You are a master (or mistress) at creating intrigue, so many twist and turns. I Loved what Cinhil said to his mother about arranging a marriage for her. That certainly stopped her in her tracks, at least temporarily. I do wish Nicholas kept one name or the other. Don't like Colin as much but can get a little confusing. I really enjoy your description of the political intrigues, especially the Forcinn States and the earlier Forcinn War. One of my characters in the fic I'm working on is a very ambitious prince from Vezaire. If you don't mind I might include a foreshadowing of the Forcinn War. I loved this and can hardly wait for the next chapter.

[Evie]

Evie you always amaze me. You are a master (or mistress) at creating intrigue, so many twist and turns. I Loved what Cinhil said to his mother about arranging a marriage for her. That certainly stopped her in her tracks, at least temporarily. I do wish Nicholas kept one name or the other. Don't like Colin as much but can get a little confusing. I really enjoy your description of the political intrigues, especially the Forcinn States and the earlier Forcinn War. One of my characters in the fic I'm working on is a very ambitious prince from Vezaire. If you don't mind I might include a foreshadowing of the Forcinn War. I loved this and can hardly wait for the next chapter.

The Forcinn War would have been in the current King's grandfather's day, so maybe 75 years or so earlier. The current king of Joux (King Renier) isn't old enough to have lived through that time period, but he would have grown up hearing stories of "Joux's glory days" and wanting to bring them back. If you are writing in Kelson's time, I don't know if the conditions that led to the Forcinn War would have had even their early origins yet, since that was some 300 years earlier, and a lot of what sparked the war 75 years earlier was one man's ambition to expand his territory beyond what was rightfully his, plus his desire to overthrown the Hort of Orsal's suzerainty over Joux and the other Forcinn States. It is possible that some earlier ruler of a Forcinn State was equally desirous of rebelling against his overlord the Hort, though, despite the fact that the Forcinn states are at least semi-autonomous, so maybe this isn't the first time a war in the Forcinn has happened for similar reasons.

Re: nicknames, I tend to only use my full first name for legal documents or sometimes in my professional duties at work. Otherwise, it is simply the name my mother or sometimes my husband calls me if they are really upset with me.    At least 90% of the time, I use my nickname. I think it likely that Nicholas/Colin would do the same. One reason he prefers Colin, in fact, is that Soraya pretty much always calls him Nicholas, and she is nearly always displeased with him for some reason or another, so that would have a negative association in his mind. But on the other hand, it is his legal name, so he would definitely use it for more formal settings.

[drakensis]

I'm glad Colin is considering Catalina's feelings at last. He was at least considering those of people other than himself last chapter, but more his existing family than others. Understandable, particularly when grieving.

Soraya continues to be right in what she does but then doing so in the most abrasive ways. I did wonder if Cinhil might strongly hint that she take time away from court to grieve but from what he says here, that would probably be far more of a blow than I had thought for her and understandable he'd not want to do that to his mother even at the best of times. I hope she has a confessor willing to lead her to better understanding.

[Evie]

I'm glad Colin is considering Catalina's feelings at last. He was at least considering those of people other than himself last chapter, but more his existing family than others. Understandable, particularly when grieving.

Yes, in the shock of the initial week or two after Uthyr's death, while everyone else was grieving one loss, Colin was (and still is) grieving two. His entire world has just been upended, but as inconvenient as a long overland trip can be, at least it will give him a little more time to think through how to approach this unexpected new chapter in his life. (Like, literally a new chapter...sorry, couldn't resist....  )

Soraya continues to be right in what she does but then doing so in the most abrasive ways. I did wonder if Cinhil might strongly hint that she take time away from court to grieve but from what he says here, that would probably be far more of a blow than I had thought for her and understandable he'd not want to do that to his mother even at the best of times. I hope she has a confessor willing to lead her to better understanding.

Soraya tends to be right quite often. Even when she is wrong, there is usually still some kernel of truth in her reasoning. Everything she does, she does out of genuine love for her family, but having grown up without healthy role models to teach her more effective ways to parent, she tends to live up to the old saying "Hurt people hurt people," and just because one loves one's children, that doesn't necessarily mean that one knows how to show it in a healthy and effective way that they understand to be born out of love. One of the more satisfying things about writing this story was watching how certain characters evolved over time, often in ways I didn't expect when I first began writing it and was still wondering who these new people were who had just walked onto the page.

[Jerusha]

Wonderful chapter, Evie.  I do like King Cinhil, though I'm wondering if there is some bad karma associated with that name.

[Evie]

Wonderful chapter, Evie.  I do like King Cinhil, though I'm wondering if there is some bad karma associated with that name.

It also might not help that Alroy is one of his middle names. 😅

[DoctorM]

Could be worse. His middle name could be Melvin. Or Poindexter.

Wonderful chapter, Evie.  I do like King Cinhil, though I'm wondering if there is some bad karma associated with that name.

It also might not help that Alroy is one of his middle names. 😅

[Evie]

Could be worse. His middle name could be Melvin. Or Poindexter.

Wonderful chapter, Evie.  I do like King Cinhil, though I'm wondering if there is some bad karma associated with that name.

It also might not help that Alroy is one of his middle names. 😅

True, although at least neither of those names is reminiscent of a former chronically ill King of Gwynedd who also died far too young.

[drakensis]

How are the Haldanes dealing with awakening their traditional potential? Is it still just the king and his heir or do they allow others to do so?

It's mentioned Cinhil's awakening was problematic for his health and Nicholas uses a portal so it seems likely Nicholas has awakened potential as well, how about Camber? Or is this just deryni heritage given that Kelson's children would have had substantial deryni ancestry and likely others wed in over the generations since.

[Evie]

How are the Haldanes dealing with awakening their traditional potential? Is it still just the king and his heir or do they allow others to do so?

It's mentioned Cinhil's awakening was problematic for his health and Nicholas uses a portal so it seems likely Nicholas has awakened potential as well, how about Camber? Or is this just deryni heritage given that Kelson's children would have had substantial deryni ancestry and likely others wed in over the generations since.

I would answer this, except spoilers. 😄 But they do also have a more recent injection of Deryni blood, not just what they inherited from Jehana 300 years ago. For more detailed answers, I think you'll learn a lot more details in future chapters.