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

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3220.0.html


Chapter Twelve

February 14, 1464
Morning
Palais de Trebaçeaux
The Kingdom of Joux

"Wake up, girl! Today is your wedding day." Renier of Joux unceremoniously yanked his sleeping daughter out of her bed by the wrist, forcing her upright before releasing her as she was still waking up and trying to gather her wits about her. Cécile stumbled, catching herself with her free hand by clutching at her bed frame.

Seeing that she was fully awake and aware, Renier tossed a new dress onto her bed.  "Bathe and get dressed. I want you downstairs in the hall in an hour."

"Where is Marthe?" Cécile asked as she looked around the room for her little sister, who had been allowed the privilege of sharing her chamber again over the past week, since neither child had managed to inadvertently commit any perceived infraction during that time that would get either of them punished by a week of solitude and limited rations.

"That's none of your concern," her father told her. "You are wasting valuable time. Be clean, dressed, and in the hall in an hour." He stalked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Cécile found the bucket of cold water her father had a servant bring up for the purpose. She hastily washed herself before quickly pulling the new kirtle over her chemise that had also served as a nightgown, doing her best to lace up the front opening of the gown as quickly as she could for modesty's sake. She rebraided her hair, selecting her prettiest ribbon to bind it before slipping her feet into fresh stockings and her shoes. The door flew open just as she had managed to get the second ribbon garter tied to hold her stockings up. "Time's up!" Rémy announced, throwing the door open when the hour was not yet fully over, Cécile was certain, and leering as she jumped up quickly so her skirts would conceal her exposed calves, though she dared make no protest. She had expected as much, which is why she had dressed with such haste. She brushed past her brother as quickly as possible, not dignifying his statement with a reply, and dashed down the staircase as fast as she dared, making her way to the Great Hall.

She found the Hall surprisingly full of people, mostly men of her father's Court, although there were a few oddly-dressed strangers as well. She wished she had been allowed more time to dress with more care and do something nicer with her hair, but it was too late for regrets now. In public view, Renier was nearly cordial, though as she approached the dais to make her curtsey to him, he frowned slightly and whispered, "Unbraid your hair. A bride should wear her hair down." Cécile hastened to comply, her eyes surreptitiously searching the Hall for her younger sister as she untied the ribbon at the end of the braid and shook out her long red hair.

Seeing no sign of Marthe, she glanced around more obviously, this time also registering the lack of any bridegroom, or at least not one resembling the twelve-year-old boy she had been told to expect to wed after her father had signed the betrothal contract back in January. Confused, she looked back at her father.

"Your bridegroom is still in his homeland," her father explained. "So he has sent a proxy in his stead. After the festivities today, you will go upstairs and pack your belongings. You leave tomorrow at the changing of the tide."

Cécile was uncertain whether to be alarmed or relieved by this development. On the one hand, she was glad she would not be required to endure an actual wedding night with a total stranger with no real chance to prepare herself beforehand. But on the other, she would be venturing into the unknown with one total stranger to meet yet another one she would already be married to before she even met him. She was not sure which fate was worse, but wherever it was she was going, surely it had to be better than her father's court.

A man stepped forward to stand beside her, and she glanced up at him warily. He appeared to be in his early thirties and tall, with long blond hair held out of his face by a wide gold fillet, his chiseled features far more handsome than she had expected, though she had little reason to place her trust in any man, handsome or not, for she had learned a man's outward appearance whether foul or fair did not necessarily indicate the foulness or fairness of his heart. Rémy was proof enough of that, for many a young woman had been charmed by his appearance to her cost, striving to gain his full attention only to regret her mistake once she had gained it.

Her father's herald started to read out what sounded like it might be her betrothal contract, which included among other things a contingent of men-at-arms who would be escorting her to her new home. Again, Cécile was a little confused, for although she was still quite young when Alixa had been married, she did not recall her older sister's betrothal agreement or even her marriage offering her any sort of Jouvian escort. No, as she vaguely recalled, Alixa and her chaperone had simply been shipped off to the Isle of Orsal to be met by a Haldane escort assigned to bring her the rest of the way to Gwynedd. Clearly her bridegroom, or perhaps his father, had managed to secure a better deal from Renier. What had they offered for her in exchange?

Ah, there it was! Gold and ships, and fighting men. Joux would send men to fight on behalf of Eistenmarcke and their allies; in exchange, Eistenmarcke would send ships and men to fight on behalf of Joux. She wondered who their allies were and who they were meant to fight. She knew who Joux meant to fight. Anyone who got between Renier and his ambitions.

The reading of the contract before witnesses accomplished, Cécile expected that they would soon be processing towards the nearby cathedral to exchange wedding vows on the cathedral steps, but instead her father stood and announced, "This concludes the betrothal announcement. We will be celebrating Cécile's nuptials with a hunt later this afternoon."

Cécile gave her father a startled look, but he made no explanation, leaving her bewildered.

"Can you ride a horse, Your Highness?" the man beside her whispered.

"Not very well," she whispered back."

"You can ride pillion behind me."

#

A short time later, an odd procession of wedding guests, smaller than the gathering in the Hall earlier that morning, made its way to the forest just beyond the city's outer walls, their way led by her father, who was carrying a sword she couldn't recall ever seeing before. They rode only a short distance, maybe a mile or two at Cécile's best guess, before the small party stopped inside a clearing. Within this tree-enclosed space stood a short pile of carefully stacked stones and a strangely dressed man leading a goat.

Her father helped her dismount, and the man she had ridden with joined her, handing the horse's reins to one of his companions in exchange for a small wrapped bundle which, when unwrapped, contained a gold coronet, which he placed on Cécile's head. She gave the man beside her a questioning look. In accented but understandable Jouvian, he leaned over and whispered, "Since Haakon follows the old religion of Eistenmarcke, you will be married according to the customs and traditions of his people rather than the customs and traditions of yours, since your Church will not consent to the intermarriage of a Christian bride to a pagan. But don't fret; their wedding customs may seem strange to you, but they are harmless." He grinned. "At least if you are not the goat."

Cécile stared up at him, still confused. "You say these are the traditions of his people, not of yours. Are you not of his people as well?"

The man shook his head. "No. But I am familiar enough with their ways."

Cécile stifled a scream as the oddly dressed man before them swiftly slit the goat's throat, allowing its blood to drain into a shallow bowl. As the life blood drained from the creature and it died at her feet, he placed the bowl on the pile of stones, dipping a branch into the blood and shook it over her and the man beside her, chanting something incomprehensible in his Northern tongue. Cécile's eyes widened in fear.

"There now, that's the worst of it," the man beside her murmured. "I hope you like goat, since it will be on the feast menu tonight."

The man who had handed him the coronet earlier now stepped forward with a sword, which the man beside Cécile took from him. He held it up before handing it to Cécile. "This was the sword of your husband's father, which was buried with him. It is a tradition for the husband to give the bride the sword of a dead ancestor, which he must himself dig up. This symbolizes his death to his old, unmarried life and his birth into married life."

Cécile was not at all sure she wanted to hold a sword that had been recently exhumed from a corpse's grave, but there didn't seem to be much choice. She looked at her father uncertainly. To her surprise, he looked at her almost approvingly as he took the sword from her and handed her the one that he held. "Give it to him," he instructed with a nod of his head to indicate the man beside her. She did as instructed. Hopefully the second sword didn't need to be exhumed from the family crypt, as Cécile could not imagine that Renier had gone hunting through the family vaults in Joux's Cathedral for one!

The man standing in for her husband slipped a cunningly wrought gold ring onto the tip of the sword hilt and extended it to her, indicating that she should put it on. Renier then did the same with another gold ring, which the man accepted from him before holding the sword point down with his ringed hand, indicating that Cécile should also hold the hilt with her own. "Now we will exchange the wedding vows," he whispered. "Repeat after the goði as best you can; if you aren't able to recite them exactly, that's fine, but give it your best effort."

"What is a goði?" she asked.

"The...priest, for lack of a better term. The one who killed the goat."

The goat-slayer began to utter words in an incomprehensible tongue, fortunately speaking only a short phrase at a time, which Cécile began to repeat to the best of her ability, panic beginning to spring up within her. Was she expected to learn this language? She turned wide eyes to her husband's proxy, who was repeating the vows now with a slight smile. Once he finished, he leaned towards her once more and asked, "Little bird, do you speak Torenthi?"

"I speak some," she said, "though I'm not very good at it yet," she whispered back.

"No worries, that will serve. Haakon speaks Torenthi reasonably well. You will not be expected to know the Eistenmarcke tongue the moment you get off the boat, and as Torenthi is my mother tongue, you will have lots of opportunities to practice on our way to your new home."

"What should I call you?" asked Cécile.

The man smiled. "Your husband's people call me Thórvaldr."

#

The feast that evening followed Jouvian custom, much to Cécile's relief, although the roasted goat was given pride of place at the high table, even though it was served to all present as well. Having seen it slaughtered before her and still wearing light spatters of its blood, she was not all that eager for that particular dish, although she took a few bites to avoid giving offense. Thórvaldr was a perfectly charming guest, keeping her engaged in light conversation when he wasn't speaking with her father. She hoped her real husband would be the same, or at least not as gawky and awkward as most twelve-year-old boys she knew.

As the feast wound down, he leaned towards her to whisper, "You are about to be led upstairs to your chamber. Do not be frightened, little bird, what will happen next will be purely ceremonial. Your ladies will undress you and put you to bed. You may or may not be left in your chemise, according to whatever the custom is in your land; it matters not to me or to our Eistenmarcker guests, but if you are a modest little bird, I promise I shan't peek. Your hair will also be left down and you will wear your new bridal crown. Once you are in bed, I must join you and remove your crown in the presence of at least six witnesses. I will also be undressed, but you need not look if you are shy.  Then while all are still present, I will move my leg over yours in a token consummation in order for the marriage to be considered valid. After that, the witnesses will then draw the bed curtains closed if there are any, and they will depart. Once they have left, I will also leave and you may go to sleep if you wish, though if you have much packing to do, I suggest you tend to it before you retire for the night, as the tide will change in mid-morning around nine of the clock, so we will need to be on the ship before then."

She nodded, feeling relieved, for she wondered how the marriage was meant to be consummated, or if that would be delayed until she arrived in her new kingdom. "Thank you for telling me, Thórvaldr. I can be ready by then." In truth, she had little enough to pack. "Is there any chance we could take Marthe with us?" She felt a twinge of guilt that in all the excitement of her wedding festivities, she had not thought to look for her sister since her return from the forest, nor had she seen her there during the wedding ceremony.

"That is your little sister? I very much doubt it. She is still a little too young to wed, as I understand, so I can't imagine Renier allowing it. But perhaps a visit could be arranged in time. How old is she?"

"She is only eight."  She felt a surge of disappointment, though as another thought occurred to her, it was replaced by faint hope. "But my husband is only twelve. Perhaps he has a younger brother who will need a wife, and you can be his proxy too?"

Thórvaldr smiled. "Alas, he does not. However, I have a son. Who knows, maybe when he is ready for a wife, Renier might be amenable."

#

February 14, 1464
Morning
Rhemuth Castle
The King's Tower

Prince Nicholas sat on the edge of his bed, struggling with the lacings on his sleeve. Beside him, his princess, still clad in her nightgown, sat up to assist him with fastening the points.

"What are your plans for the day?" she asked him as she finished attaching one sleeve and got started on its companion. "Isn't this the day you had set aside to go get your son, or has the King's health lapse made it necessary to postpone that?"

"Cinhil seems to be in a more stable condition now, at least as of late last night, and I have heard no further reports otherwise this morning," he told her. "But in any case, because of the conditions set up for Balian's sponsorship, that just makes it more imperative that he come to Rhemuth all the sooner rather than later."  He wrapped his arms loosely around his wife's waist, studying her expression. "I will be back tonight, hopefully in much better condition than I was in after my last visit," he said with a wry smile.

Catalina shook her head, her lips twitching. "Please don't return in even worse shape, or I'll have to put you out of your misery and then hang for it! And that would hardly endear me to your son."

Colin laughed. "You wouldn't hang, sweeting. A fine, highborn lady like you would at least warrant a very sharp sword." He bent to kiss her. "I might be home very late. I will be bringing most of my squires with me, as well as Lord Geoffrey and my brother Camber, because I don't want to ride off to war next month without having a Portal installed at the lodge first, in case of some major urgent need for one arising while I am gone." He sobered. "I don't anticipate the enemy advancing so near to the capital, but it's not completely outside the realm of possibility, so there is always the chance that someone might seek to take the children or Mellie hostage to use against me. But portal making is exhausting work, so we will need to rest for a while afterwards before we make the journey back. And of course the horses can't be brought back through the portal, so we will need to ride back to Rhemuth in any case."

"It seems a sensible precaution to install a portal there," Catalina said after a moment's thought, "but will your lady know a second location to escape to with the children if she has need to?"

Colin shook his head. "Mellie isn't Deryni.  My children are, but they are still mostly untutored and under training controls. So the portal would merely serve as a means to get to them more quickly if the need is urgent, and also for Balian's convenience once he is sufficiently trained to be able to use a portal by himself safely. If the worst should happen, Camber will know how to locate the portal in my absence." He hesitated. "It's not that I don't trust you, but...I don't think Mellie is at all ready to meet you yet. She is a bit fearful of you, I think."

"I understand; I'm certainly not prepared to meet her either. And can you really blame her for being afraid of me? That sounds extremely sensible of her, from my standpoint. I have rank and power, and quite sufficient motivation to wish to be rid of her, except that I have grown rather fond of my husband and have no wish to hurt him, not to mention I'm exceedingly fond of my head and its present location on my shoulders. So she is safe from me, though I agree Camber would be a better caretaker of that knowledge under the circumstances."

"So noted." He stroked a strand of hair off her cheek. "I realize I'm not the easiest man to be married to, and I'm sorry."

"No, you certainly test my patience, though I will admit there are a few compensations for being married to you, frustrating though you are at times." She smiled, taking a little bit of the sting from her words. "Around what time should I expect you to return home?"

"It will likely be after dark, but not too late. Even though we will be riding together in sufficient numbers that we are likely to be safe enough even after early dark, at least while covering the short distance to the capital mostly on well traveled roads, I wouldn't want to take too much risk, especially with Balian still being a fairly inexperienced rider." He took her hand, his thumb lightly stroking her wedding ring. "We will likely not dine in the Hall tonight; Balian will need to get settled into his new quarters, so I will just arrange to have something brought there, especially since that will make it less likely that Maman will react badly to his arrival if she happens to spot him before Camber or I have had the chance to inform her that he will be in service here." He sighed. "I am not looking forward to that."

"Shall I forewarn her?" Catalina asked.

He shook his head. "No. It's my task to do. You've already taken on more than your fair share of onerous tasks, and this one is my full responsibility." Meeting her eyes, he asked, "Will you be available later?"

"Of course. I live here now."

Colin chuckled. "So you do." He gave her a lingering kiss. "I meant will you still be awake and available for me?" His eyes studied her face questioningly.

"My husband, we share a bed. If I have fallen asleep, it is but a moment's work to nudge me awake again." She kissed him back. "But yes, you will be welcome, at least if you have washed the worst of the travel mud off first and leave your dirty boots at the door."

"I will do my utmost to come to you looking reasonably presentable, my picky wife," he replied with a grin.

#

February 15, 1464
The Spotted Pard
The Twin Rivers
Evening

The Beldourian merchant ship The Spotted Pard set down anchor in the waters of the Twin Rivers, at the mouth of where the Western and Beldour Rivers met the end of the Southern Sea. In the distance, the lights of Furstánán shone dimly through the mists rising above the waters, catching Cécile's rapt attention.

She had not been certain whether to be more upset or relieved to discover upon setting foot on the ship that morning that her brother Rémy would be traveling along with her, since he would be leading the Jouvian troops that were promised as a loan to the King of Eistenmarcke's service in the terms of her betrothal agreement. She would prefer for him not to be anywhere near her, yet having him along on this journey meant that he would be nowhere near Marthe, and at least with Cécile on her way to meet a husband, Rémy would not dare risk any actions towards her that might anger their new allies.  Fortunately he had looked quite ill as he'd boarded the ship, before they'd even left port, so she couldn't imagine he was merely seasick, but whatever had caused him to feel unwell was also causing him to remain confined to his cabin, which he only emerged from every hour or two to fling the contents of his bucket over the side of the ship into the ocean depths below. Whatever his ailment was, if he happened to die from it, that would merely be another cause for celebration as far as Cécile was concerned. At least she had no reason to believe it was contagious, for after a short conversation with one of the royal physicians, Thórvaldr had seemed entirely unconcerned at the thought of taking a sick passenger on board, and while the ship's captain also had shown some reservations at first, he had broken into loud laughter over whatever Thórvaldr had shared with him later, once Rémy had disappeared into his cabin and out of sight the first time.

She was, however, very upset she had not been given an opportunity to say goodbye to Marthe, her father giving her no explanation except that her youngest sister had misbehaved very badly and was being confined to her chamber for the next month. A month of confinement was rather a long sentence, even by Renier's very strict standards, so Cécile could only surmise the child had found some especially unique way to rebel this time. Hopefully their father had not beaten the poor girl black and blue as well. Marthe had hardly been able to sit for two days after her last act of rebellion, and Cécile had had to apply a horse salve to her aching body every couple of hours until the pain had subsided. While Cécile was glad that thus far their father and brother had not yet managed to break Marthe's spirit, she feared the girl would push them too far someday.

Thórvaldr approached, sketching a formal bow towards her, much to Cécile's delight. He removed his cloak, draping it around her shoulders. "Your Majesty, is there a reason you are standing outside the cabin in the cold and damp? If your stomach is unsettled, I have a ginger syrup that might help."

She pulled the cloak closer around herself. The wool was perfectly dry on the inside, retaining the warmth of his body, and she found herself blushing as it embraced her, which warmed her even more. "I am not too queasy," she told him, "but I didn't wish to miss seeing the lights. I have not had many opportunities to leave the Palais."

"Come inside, little bird, and I will tell you all about the beautiful sights you will see along the way as we journey up to Beldour and beyond," he told her. Lowering his voice, he added, "I understand your father is Deryni; are you accepting of the powers that come with that heritage, or do you fear them? I could simply show you with pictures in your mind some of the delights that lie in store for you up ahead, but I do not wish to frighten you in any way, so if you would prefer that I simply describe them to you, that is fine also."

She glanced up at him warily as she entered the cabin, but in truth she knew he could easily have overpowered her at any time if he had malevolent intent, or ripped any thoughts from her mind that he wished to know, yet thus far he had made no move to take advantage of her powerlessness. After a long moment she extended her hand to him. "I wish to see."

Thórvaldr smiled as he took her cold hand in his warmer one. She hoped he was not reading her at that moment, for her stomach had leaped into a pleasant somersault at the touch that had nothing to do with the motion of the ocean waves around them. She took a deep breath, trying to still her inner confusion, when a sudden vision in her head made her catch her breath again, this time in delight of a completely different sort. It was a memory of Furstánán, she thought–or at least it was some city that looked extremely similar to the one she had seen in the distance before entering the cabin–only in his memory there was a dome of shimmering iridescent light arising from it like a glorious aura.

"It looks like that on the eve of every Sabbath," he told her, "when the sisters and monks of Saint-Sasile's create the display to show their devotion to their God. It is quite lovely, I must admit."

He still held her hand. "What else can you show me?" Cécile asked eagerly.

Thórvaldr smile grew. "Oh, I can show you a great many things, little bird."

#

King Torval smiled down at the little Jouvian princess, thoroughly enjoying himself. The entire Jouvian jaunt had proved to be extremely amusing thus far, between Renier's pretentiousness and preening and his son's arrogance and lofty conceit, at least until he had been brought low by an eight-year-old girl's scheming. From what Torval had managed to gather from a few minds who had pieced together what had happened behind the scenes, while all of the wedding festivities were taking place, the young fool of a Dauphin had previously stashed a half-full bottle of pennyroyal tincture somewhere where his youngest sister had discovered it, and either knowing or surmising that it might make him sick if consumed in sufficient quantity, she had taken it upon herself to pour the remaining contents of it into his drinking flask. The idiot had then drunk sufficient quantities of it to make himself very ill, despite pennyroyal not being a flavor especially easy to disguise. Torval assumed he liked the minty taste and didn't stop to wonder why it had been added to whatever else had originally been in the flask. Maybe he thought it was a new recipe for hippocras.

The little would-be poisoner, knowing her cunning plan would easily be discovered if any Deryni, most likely her father, happened to go poking about inside her mind, had hidden herself as long as possible, although she had eventually been discovered sometime after nightfall. By that time, young Rémy had already started to feel quite ill, although at first that had simply been ascribed to too much feasting and partying, until Renier's questioning of his youngest child had revealed the true cause. So as Torval had been occupied with the lovely little Cécile, staging a fake consummation with the trembling little bird (who had indeed been just as shy as he'd expected), Rémy had been dragged off to a Healer to procure an antidote. At least he was past the worst of the effects now and judged well enough to travel, despite still managing to fill a bucket every few hours from both ends, as long as he stayed rested for a week or two and drank copious fluids to replace what he had lost.

Torval had not been serious when he had told Cécile he might consider Marthe as a future bride for his son, but once he had learned the full story of what else had transpired that evening besides the wedding feast, he wondered if perhaps he should reconsider. The little savage might be quite the asset some day, at least if her loyalties could be turned to Nördmarcke's cause and if she retained the same devious mind as she got older. What an admirable little beast!

And then there had been Cécile herself, the original object of his quest. The red-haired maiden of Ingrid's prophecy. Torval felt a little reluctant to hand her over to Haakon, who he felt certain would fall quite short of being the husband of her dreams, especially since the husband of her dreams was apparently himself. He had been hard-pressed to stifle a laugh at the admiration in her eyes at times; it was a wonder what a little kindness towards a maiden so starved for it could do. It was quite flattering, though as much as he would have enjoyed seeing how short a time it would take to seduce the young maiden and if he might manage to woo her into his bed before they even reached Beldour, he wasn't certain if whatever ceremonial ritual Ingrid had planned for her would require an actual virgin or just a symbolic one, so he dared not take the chance. A pity, that. The girl was adorable, and Torval was certain Ingrid would not begrudge him a little fun otherwise, as long as he didn't spoil hers.

#

February 15, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The King's Apartment
Morning

Balian de Northwode could hardly contain his excitement over all of the new sights and sounds in Rhemuth. The large city had nearly been overwhelming at first for one who was mostly accustomed to life on the outskirts of a small village, and who had only had the opportunity to visit a town fair with his mother and their maidservant twice. The immense castle dominating the city had more than lived up to his imaginings of what his father's home must look like.

When they had first approached the imposing gatehouse the evening before, his Papa's squire Sebastian had spared a moment to nudge his horse closer to Balian's pony, giving the boy a friendly grin. "Not too shabby for a pile of rocks, is it?" Balian had laughed, grateful for the jest, for in truth he had begun to feel quite intimidated as the realization had hit him that he would be living here now, and he knew not the slightest thing about what would be expected of him besides what he had managed to glean from Papa's many stories about what it had been like for him growing up in Rhemuth, and his own years spent as a page and later as a squire like Sebastian.

Moving his few belongings into the dormitory where the rest of the pages lived had gone smoothly enough. Papa–no, he must get used to calling him by his title in public now–'Prince Nicholas', or 'the Duke of Carthmoor,' had introduced him to one of the older boys, a page named Adam, who had shown Balian where he could store his things and which bed would be his. Adam had seemed friendly enough, if a little reserved, and he had readily agreed to help show Rhemuth's newest page around the castle the next day once his other duties had been completed. Balian was looking forward to that tour later.

Now he was feeling a twinge of apprehension along with his excitement, for he was about to meet the King. Fortunately his Papa was with him, otherwise he might feel too tongue-tied to know what to say, much less what to do, even though he knew the King was part of his family. Balian might not know much about Court life yet, but he knew he couldn't just call the King 'Uncle Cinhil' even though he was Papa's brother.

A guard bowed deeply as they approached the King's apartment and opened the door to announce them. A young man who was dressed in what Balian had been told was the livery of a senior squire greeted them with another bow, two other younger squires doing the same as they entered the room. Balian, unsure of what to do but figuring that everyone here probably outranked a lowly page anyway, bowed back, then risked a look up at his father, who regarded him with an understanding smile and slight nod, much to his relief.

"I am William de Lacy," the senior squire said, addressing Balian directly with a welcoming smile, "and these are my brother squires Edmund de Nore and Lucas Tremont. Lucas just recently moved up from the page ranks a few weeks ago, so you probably inherited his bed and page school slot."

"I'm Balian," he answered shyly, feeling a little in awe of these young men, especially William, who was closer to full manhood than the others and quite likely nearly of an age to be knighted.

William offered his hand for a handshake. "Very pleased to meet you, Balian, and welcome to the King's retinue. I primarily attend to the King during the daytime hours as his needs require, and Edmund primarily serves him in the evening hours until bedtime. Then Lucas here runs occasional errands or delivers messages during his waking hours and then is on call in case the King or Queen should have need of a squire in the middle of the night, but as you can imagine, he has to sleep sometimes, so that's where you will come in. You will be assisting with some of those errands and courier duties, once you've had sufficient training to take on some of those responsibilities." Looking up at Prince Nicholas, he added, "Let me check to see if His Majesty is nearly ready, Your Highness. I think he was hoping to meet his new page in his sitting room."

"He continues to improve?" asked the prince.

"Yes, my lord. No new episodes since his breathing attack two days ago. The physicians think he has stabilized again for now."

A door opposite the entrance they had just come through opened, and a blond-haired man emerged. "Thank you, William," he said. "His Majesty says you lads can go on about your regular duties for now."  Smiling down at Balian briefly, he glanced back up at his father. "Good morning, Your Highness. I presume this is your son Balian?"

"Indeed he is!" said Papa, smiling down at him also. "And Balian, this man before us is the Duke of Corwyn, Duke Joscelin Morgan. He is the King's Champion, and you will likely be seeing quite a lot of him now that you will be part of the King's retinue."

Balian bowed. "Good morning, Your Grace," he said, hoping he'd got the title right, and was rewarded by a smile that assured him that if he hadn't, at least he hadn't got things too badly wrong.

"Is the King ready for us?" asked Papa.

Glancing briefly into the room behind him, the blond man said, "I think just about. Balian, the Queen sends her apologies; she was hoping to join us, but she is feeling a little poorly this morning, so she is still abed, but she looks forward to meeting you at a later time. So King Cinhil will meet with you in his sitting chamber."  He stepped back to allow them entry into the room.

Balian spotted a man seated before them in an odd throne-like chair that was perched on wheels. From the strong resemblance the man bore to his Papa, Balian knew at once this must be his uncle the King, and his guess was confirmed when his father bowed towards the man. Balian hastily did likewise.

"Good morning, Balian," the seated man said. "I am Cinhil."

Balian bowed again. 'Good morning, Your Majesty."

The King smiled. "Nicely done. In public or when you are on duty, you should properly address me by my title or by 'Sire.' When you are off duty and alone with me or with just other family in the room, 'Uncle Cinhil' will be fine." Glancing over at the Duke of Corwyn, he added, "Duke Joscelin here is close enough to family, I don't think he will collapse in a faint if you happen to call me 'Uncle Cinhil' when it's just the three of us in the room."

"I will do my best not to," the King's Champion said with a faint smile.

"Please have a seat," the King said, gesturing towards some comfortable chairs set out for the purpose. "At least Balian is at eye level to me while seated, but I refuse to get a crick in my neck talking to Colin." He waited for them to get settled before continuing. "I understand you arrived last night and have already been assigned your bed and had a quick look around the areas where you will begin your page training, yes?"

"Yes, Sire." Balian brightened. "And Adam says he will show me around the rest of the castle once he has finished with his duties."

"That is good," the King said. "Adam has been a page for long enough to be very familiar with the castle by now. If you need some extra assistance learning your new duties, he could likely help you with that, or my squire Lucas who you just met has only recently left his page training, so everything you'll be expected to learn is still quite fresh in his mind. For that matter, Edmund and William probably haven't forgotten what it was like to be a brand new page. God knows I sure haven't!" he added with a laughing glance at his brother, who chuckled knowingly.

"You may feel like you are drowning in new information at first," the King continued, "and you may be worried about getting something wrong–and I can almost guarantee that you will make a mistake or two, especially at first–but most people will be willing to make allowances because they will realize you are still young and still learning. Just be certain to learn from those moments. As you meet new people, there may be some who you find yourself getting on well with almost instantly and perhaps some who require extra effort. Also, while this might not be as much of a problem for a page as for a squire, you might find that there are certain people who may attempt to cultivate your acquaintance not simply because they like you, but because they are hoping that by having your ear, they might somehow influence me, or perhaps might learn more about my dealings than I wish to make public." At Balian's baffled look, he smiled. "That will likely make more sense to you later if it ever happens. But as a safeguard against anyone seeking to use you in order to obtain sensitive information that you might overhear while working in my service, I would like to set up a few safeguards in your mind that will help to keep that information secure. They would also prevent you from even accidentally sharing information that ought not be shared. I promise you that it will only take a moment or two, and it won't hurt, but if you wish to be in my service, it is something I require of all my retinue. May I have your permission to continue?"

Balian glanced at his father, who nodded slightly. "You are my King, Sire. Of course you may," Balian said.

Cinhil smiled. "And has your father shown you how a man offers homage to his lord?"

Balian nodded eagerly before looking slightly uncertain. "He did, Sire, but I forgot the words."

His uncle chuckled. "That's perfectly fine, Duke Joscelin can assist you with the words." He glanced upward at his Champion. "I assume you remember?"

Joss smiled. "I might be able to wing it, Sire."

"Let's find out." He glanced at Colin, who put a cushion down on the floor in front of his brother and motioned to Balian to kneel.  Balian knelt before his King, placing his hands in the traditional position he used to say his bedtime prayers, which he had learned was also the traditional position for giving homage. The King enfolded Balian's small hands in his larger ones and waited for Duke Joscelin to begin.

"I, Balian..." the duke prompted.

"I, Balian..."

"...Do become your liege man of life and limb and earthly worship...." Duke Joscelin continued. "And faith and truth I will bear unto you...to live and to die...against all manner of folk...so help me God."

Balian repeated each phrase in turn, bowing his head before his uncle the King, who placed a hand on his head afterwards to set the necessary protections in his mind before continuing. "And I, Cinhil, King of Gwynedd, hear and shall not forget, nor fail to reward, that which is freely given: fealty with love, valor with honor, and oath breaking with justice."

#

After Balian's departure, the King's Champion offering to introduce the lad to his own squires and page before returning him to the page school grounds, Prince Nicholas remained in the King's chamber at his request to continue their discussion.

"I noticed Balian avoided using a surname. Why is that?" Cinhil asked his brother.

Colin flushed. "That's still under discussion. Mellie and I have been calling him 'de Northwode,' since I thought that might be less of a reminder of his illegitimate origins and would allow him to make a name for himself without having as much public scrutiny as the Haldane connection would bring his way. But when I mentioned the name to Catherine, she pointed out it might come across as a reluctance to publicly acknowledge Balian as my son, which is definitely not my intent. But I have reservations about calling him FitzHaldane. You of all people should know what weighty expectations the Haldane name would place upon his shoulders."

Cinhil nodded. "I can see both points, though if you fear that calling him 'FitzHaldane' would bring too much attention to his origins, 'de Northwode' is hardly likely to do him any favors either. I know you probably still think of it as simply the surname of Mellie's late father, Sir Edward of Northwode, but that's also how the gossips refer to Melisande. She's 'the Northwode woman' to them, so that might not give Balian the anonymity that you think it will, especially since the boy resembles her."  He paused to think about the matter for a minute. "What about FitzCarthmoor? It still denotes his relationship to you, but maybe without as much weighty baggage as the Haldane name. And as for his origins being on the wrong side of the blanket, so to speak, the more he proves himself as a loyal page and squire and a member of our family, the fewer whispers and slights he will have to contend with over time. Yes, he will need to grow a thick skin, but even your legitimate heirs will need to do the same. We're Haldanes. Whatever we say or do, and no matter how many may approve, we're always bound to piss off someone who doesn't." Cinhil shrugged.

Colin chuckled. "True. I just seem to excel at that more than most Haldanes."

"You do have a special talent," Cinhil teased.

#

February 15, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The top of the Old Keep
Late afternoon

"If you look yonder in the distance, you can see Market Square and the Rivergate from here," Balian's fellow page Adam informed him, "and beyond that, you can see the docks where the barges from Desse unload their cargo."

Balian gazed off in the distance, but even for his keen Deryni senses, it took him a moment to spot what Adam was talking about. He used his fingers and a thumb to create a tiny hole the size of a pin head to peek through, hoping to focus his gaze even more to see the distant barges more clearly. An odd contraption with a long swinging arm lifted what appeared to be a large crate of cargo off a barge and slowly swiveled before lowering it onto the dock. "What is that machine called that moves the big crates around?" he asked.

Adam turned with a shrug, then gave a startled bow towards someone approaching from behind Balian. Turning to see who was there, Balian reflexively bowed also.

The dark haired woman smiled at the boys and nodded in acknowledgement of their respectful greeting. "Good afternoon, boys." Looking at Balian, she answered, "The machine is called a crane. It makes unloading the barges a much quicker process, doesn't it?" Approaching the embrasures, she pointed out several long buildings between the docks and the city walls. "Those long buildings are where some of the newly arrived goods are stored before being loaded onto other barges going further upriver. Some merchants also do business directly from there. The King's wheeled chair was inspired by one that one of my retainers saw in use there."

"Did you arrive here on a barge, Your Highness?" Adam asked.

The woman chuckled. "Well, not the entire way, I assure you! That would have been quite the eventful journey, crossing the Southern Sea on a barge."

Balian studied the woman uncertainly. This wasn't his Papa's new wife from Andelon, was it? Surely she couldn't be! This lady spoke good Gwyneddan, although now that Balian considered the matter more carefully, she did have just the tiniest bit of an accent. But then again, so did several other people Balian had met earlier in the day. Given how many corners of the Kingdom the nobility of Gwynedd had come from, it was hardly surprising that not everyone would sound the same, and some accents had been harder for him to comprehend than others. At least this lady's speech sounded very clear to his undiscerning ears. But this couldn't be the princess from Andelon! At least Balian hoped not. This lady was young and beautiful, and Papa's new wife was supposed to be old and ugly. At least he'd always imagined her so, ever since he found out Papa was going to have to get married. She ought to be ugly, or at least plain and boring, so Papa would be in no danger of falling in love with her and not loving Mama anymore.

"Is it true that you were attacked by pirates, Ma'am, and that you fought them all off?" Adam blurted out after a momentary hesitation, wide-eyed with curiosity. Balian stared at him, wondering what had possessed him to make such a wild speculation.

"Hm." The woman tilted her head thoughtfully. "No, I don't think I would call them 'pirates' exactly. More like common ruffians looking to take advantage of travelers passing through. And no, I didn't singlehandedly fight off an entire band of ruffians," she clarified with an amused twinkle in her eye, "though I might have helped just a little. You must be careful of which rumors you believe; stories tend to get grossly exaggerated in the telling."  She took a close look at the boys before her. "Prince Nicholas was looking for someone earlier; perhaps you two can help me? I was told that his son Balian might be on a tour of the Castle with a page named Adam. Might you assist in finding them and sending them on to his private apartment? The Prince is looking for Balian so he can be fitted for his new livery."

"I'm Adam, Ma'am, and this is Balian," said the older page, gesturing towards the newcomer.

"Oh! Then it's fortunate I encountered you up here." The lady's pretty green eyes met Balian's briefly. He blushed and bowed, eyes averted and feeling very self-conscious. "The tailor is waiting for you at your father's apartment in the King's Tower, so if you'll follow me, I can show you where that is. Adam, you may come along if you wish, unless you have other duties to attend to. I don't think the fitting will take very long. Balian, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm Princess Catherine, but more privately among family I am also known as Catalina."

#

Well, that was awkward! Catalina had absented herself from her apartment specifically to give her husband and his son more privacy while the tailor was there to take his son's measure. The top of Rhemuth's old Keep had seemed a safe enough place to retreat to, as it was the last place she had expected to encounter anyone aside from the occasional castle guard, so she had thought it would be a safe and private place for her to gather her thoughts. But as large as Rhemuth Castle was, in some ways it was still far too small.

She had suspected he was Colin's son by the psychic feel of him as she'd approached the boys, but she had been expecting to find someone who looked like a miniature version of the Haldanes she'd already met – black-haired and gray-eyed, bearing a strong familial resemblance. Now that she took a closer look at the younger lad, she could see her husband in certain expressions, perhaps the shape of his jaw and chin, but his brown hair and blue-gray eyes must have come from Melisande or at least have drawn quite strongly from her features. The realization was disconcerting, to say the least. She wondered what he had expected to find in her, or if it had crossed his mind to wonder about his father's new wife at all?

A figure came towards them along the curtain wall walk, and Catalina waved at him in recognition. Prince Camber, seeing the small group together, smiled and waved back. "There you are, Balian! Do you remember me?"

The boy looked momentarily baffled, then grinned. "Unc–Prince Camber?"  He bowed as Camber reached the trio. "Good afternoon, Your Highness!"

Camber laughed, tousling the boy's hair. "I see you've gained some Court polish since I met you last year." He winked at Balian before turning towards the other page. "Hello, Adam! We're swooping in to whisk the newcomer off to measure him for new clothes, but if you'd like..." He glanced at Catalina. "Wait...can he join us?"

"Of course. I've just invited him." She smiled at Adam. "Unless there is someone else you need to ask for permission beforehand? I wouldn't want a second party out looking for you if there's somewhere else you're expected to be this evening. I'm sure we'll be done with the fitting well before the evening meal, at least if we head down now."

"I'd like to come, thank you Ma'am," the older page replied, looking happy to be included. As the group descended to the upper bailey, Catalina felt grateful for her brother-by-marriage's timely arrival, which had helped to dispel some of the awkward tension of her first meeting with her husband's son.

#

February 16, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
Queen Soraya's private apartment
Late morning

"I cannot fathom what my son is thinking in bringing his bastard into my home, and I am very surprised at you for even allowing it!" the Queen Mother raged the following morning after her daughter-by-marriage had turned up at her private chambers in response to her summons. "I will not allow my page to consort with a boy like that!"

Catalina pulled herself to her full height, her eyes flashing fire to equal her mother-by-marriage's equally fiery glare, refusing to be cowed. "Madam, that innocent child is my husband's son and your grandson! As the son of a Prince and a Haldane, he is entitled to a royal education, and I shall see that he gets one and that his sisters will as well!" Looking around the private apartment's sitting room pointedly, she continued. "And he is not in your home at all, Madam. He resides with the pages, but he will also be welcome to his father's home any time he chooses to visit or reside there, because he is his father's son!"

Young Adam, Queen Soraya's personal page (though Catalina had been unaware of that until the summons earlier that morning) stood cowering in a corner of the room, desperately attempting to remain unnoticed. Catalina, noticing his plight, started to make a subtle gesture excusing him from their presence, but the dowager queen spotted her movement and took umbrage. "Hold your place, boy, I did not excuse you!"

"So you would inflict this highly personal matter on yet another innocent child?" Catalina asked coolly, lowering her voice in an attempt to keep their argument more private and reverting to a more conversational tone. "Why? Because you can no longer rule over your adult children with an iron fist or govern your own temper; therefore, younger and more defenseless ones must bear your wrath? Madam, I am equally surprised by your choices. If life among your own family has become so insupportable for you that you rail at the thought of your own grandchildren receiving an education under your son the King's protection--for it is he who is sponsoring Balian, not Colin--then it is a wonder you have not yet chosen to retire to your dower lands, or perhaps to Eirian House, where you might be happier having more freedom to keep an entire household under your personal control and manage everyone's lives as you deem fit."

Queen Soraya stared at her aghast, rendered speechless for once, though Catalina was certain the momentary respite would pass quickly.

"As for poor Adam, who has been unfortunate enough to witness our appalling display of foul manners, he is also under the King's direct protection. We are allowed the privilege of pages and squires to serve us, but their direct fealty is to him, and Cinhil may assign and reassign his liegemen as he deems fit. So, do you wish to bring this dispute before the King for him to weigh in on, or shall I? It matters little to me which of us brings the matter before him, since the lads are under his protection either way, and I have no reason to doubt that Cinhil takes his oaths seriously. I doubt he would wish young Adam to continue in service in a household where he feels unsafe."

"Adam is perfectly safe in my service," replied Queen Soraya frostily. "I simply do not wish him to have any dealings with that Northwode boy."

"The boy has a name, Madam. He is Balian FitzCarthmoor, and I am given to understand that on his mother's side he is the grandson of a man who was a loyal knight in your husband's service. I am certain my own husband must have apprised you of his son's name when he informed you of his son's presence here last night. And I must ask, when you were born, did you have any say in your parentage? For I did not, though I am very grateful for mine, and I very much doubt that Balian had any say in the matter either, for better or for worse. I am given to understand that you have never even seen the child; therefore, I am at a loss to imagine how he could possibly have offended you."

"He offends me by existing! Nicholas should never have consorted with that woman!"

"Perhaps not, but does Nicholas have the power to undo the past? Does any man?  Having fathered children, should he be a lily-livered excuse of a man and simply abandon them to their fates? Is that the example that a Prince should set, or do we not all have the responsibility to face up to the consequences of our actions and seek to remedy them where we can?" Catalina took a deep breath. "Your son intends to be a proper, loving, and supportive father to all his children, both present and future. Perhaps it is not too late for you to learn how to be a proper, loving, and supportive mother to your son who needs one."

"You dare to censure me for my parenting! You, who have yet to bear heirs for my son?"'

"Yes, I dare! Because by your dogged insistence on making enemies of my husband's children for no better reason than your own injured sensibilities, you endanger the security of those heirs I hope to bear in future, so yes, I dare! Are you so stupid that you fail to grasp that pitting Colin's natural-born children against mine by actively creating enmity where none need exist would result in setting them against each other rather than making them natural sources of support for each other? ¡Dios mío!, woman, think with your brain rather than your accursed pride for once! When Balian is a man full grown, he can become one of my son's greatest assets and sources of support if shown proper love and nurture from his family in his tender years. Or if treated with naught but disdain and scorn, he can become the enemy of those who hate him for no reason but his birth which he had no control over. If the latter, the blame for that will lie squarely on your doorstep, Madam. Neither your son nor I will ever forgive you if your refusal to deal lovingly with my husband's existing children ends up creating enemies for my husband's heirs!"

The dowager queen looked quite stricken as her son's wife stalked out of her apartment.

#

February 16, 1464
Behind the Page School dormitory
Late evening

"I thought the Queen Mother was scary when she gets in her moods," young Adam told his new friend much later that evening, when they had finished with the day's duties and were hiding in the shadows between their dormitory building and the castle wall, speaking in whispers, "but Princess Catherine stood right up to her! Queen Soraya didn't want me to be your friend anymore, but the Princess gave her what for and reminded her that we're both under the King's protection and that you have every right to be here because you're a prince's son and all!"  Stars shone in the boy's eyes. "It was amazing!"

Balian was confused. "Why would she care about defending me?"

Adam shrugged. "Because she's your father's wife and it's her duty to care for his children? I don't know. But she was mad as a wet hen at Queen Soraya, and Queen Soraya was just as mad back at her. The princess said you have a right to be here and get an education and your sisters do too." He wrinkled his nose. "I hope that doesn't mean she expects them to come to Page School. That would be weird."

"What else did she say?" Balian asked, very curious. He had assumed his father's wife would hate him.

"Something about children needing love and support, and not enemies," Adam told him. "I couldn't hear all the details after they stopped yelling at each other, but I remember that bit. And also something about if Queen Soraya wasn't happy here living with her family, maybe she should leave and go boss people around somewhere else. And that none of this is your fault, so Queen Soraya needs to quit being so mean and uppity." Adam considered that last statement. "Well, she didn't say it exactly like that, but that's what it boiled down to."

Balian sighed. "She'll probably be more mean and uppity then, if she's still mad about me being here and mad about arguing with the princess about me, but hopefully I can avoid her. Thanks for warning me."

Adam shrugged. "Maybe she will. Though I know I'd think twice about being mean to you if the Princess came at me like that! Don't forget you can always go to the King if anyone starts being mean to you. He'll put a stop to it."

Balian shook his head. "I don't want to go whinging to the King about my problems."

Adam grinned. "OK, then don't. Tell your Uncle Cinhil instead. He might listen." He punched his friend's arm playfully. "Lucky you."


Next chapter:  https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3223.0.html

[Demercia]

Another amazing chapter, thank you, though I dread what might be in store for Cecile.
And for the record, I am reading it at lunchtime, no second breakfasts were involved:-)

[Evie]

Another amazing chapter, thank you, though I dread what might be in store for Cecile.
And for the record, I am reading it at lunchtime, no second breakfasts were involved:-)

What about elevenses?

[Demercia]

Another amazing chapter, thank you, though I dread what might be in store for Cecile.
And for the record, I am reading it at lunchtime, no second breakfasts were involved:-)

What about elevenses?

Nor those!

[DerynifanK]

An amazing chapter. I am also very worried about what will happen to Cecile and especially to Marthe. Torvald was surprisingly nice.
Enjoyed Catalina standing up to  Soraya. I know Soraya has had much to adjust to but if she continues to behave as she has been she is going to alienate all her children. Hope Catalina will tell Colin what happened.
More tangles! And Monday is so far away and a holiday,

[Evie]

An amazing chapter. I am also very worried about what will happen to Cecile and especially to Marthe. Torvald was surprisingly nice.
Enjoyed Catalina standing up to  Soraya. I know Soraya has had much to adjust to but if she continues to behave as she has been she is going to alienate all her children. Hope Catalina will tell Colin what happened.
More tangles! And Monday is so far away and a holiday,

Oh, thanks for reminding me about the holiday! I will still be posting the next chapter on Monday, but unless my body clock just decides to wake me up at the usual time, that chapter will likely be posted a bit later, since I am not going to be setting my alarm clock for 6:15 AM on a day I don't have to work.

So if Monday's chapter isn't posted by lunchtime UK time next week, no worries, that won't mean it's been forgotten! You folks across the Pond might just need to wait for afternoon tea to settle in with it.

[Evie]

I just had an idea that leads me to offer up a modest proposal, though hopefully not one that will require the consumption of babies. (Sorry, I was a Brit Lit major in my uni days!  ) Next week, in addition to the usual main story chapters, I also have a spin-off story that would most logically fit between those two chapters, as that's when it would have occurred in the calendar timeline. However, that would normally require posting it on either Tuesday or Wednesday, meaning I would have three story posts added to the forum in the space of four days, but then long gaps in the posting schedule at each weekend.

OR the alternative that just occurred to me is that I could go slightly off schedule and post the next main story chapter on this Saturday rather than Monday, then post the spin-off story on Monday and Thursday's chapter on Thursday as per usual.

Would you readers prefer this slight deviation from the schedule on order to shorten at least one of the upcoming weekend gaps, or do you prefer keeping to the usual Monday/Thursday main story schedule with the spin-off sandwiched somewhere in between?

[JudithR]

OR the alternative that just occurred to me is that I could go slightly off schedule and post the next main story chapter on this Saturday rather than Monday, then post the spin-off story on Monday and Thursday's chapter on Thursday as per usual.

Would you readers prefer this slight deviation from the schedule on order to shorten at least one of the upcoming weekend gaps, or do you prefer keeping to the usual Monday/Thursday main story schedule with the spin-off sandwiched somewhere in between?

As a "Just a Minute" fan, may I vote for the deviation? 

[Evie]

OR the alternative that just occurred to me is that I could go slightly off schedule and post the next main story chapter on this Saturday rather than Monday, then post the spin-off story on Monday and Thursday's chapter on Thursday as per usual.

Would you readers prefer this slight deviation from the schedule on order to shorten at least one of the upcoming weekend gaps, or do you prefer keeping to the usual Monday/Thursday main story schedule with the spin-off sandwiched somewhere in between?

As a "Just a Minute" fan, may I vote for the deviation? 

You may, and now that I've just Googled "Just A Minute," I think I will be deviating from my usual routine later tonight to play a few of the audio recordings that I found! 

[Evie]

An amazing chapter. I am also very worried about what will happen to Cecile and especially to Marthe. Torvald was surprisingly nice.
Enjoyed Catalina standing up to  Soraya. I know Soraya has had much to adjust to but if she continues to behave as she has been she is going to alienate all her children. Hope Catalina will tell Colin what happened.
More tangles! And Monday is so far away and a holiday,

I'll confess to having a soft spot for Torval. Sure, he's a bad guy, and hardly a great example to emulate. But if I had to choose between spending a day with Torval or with Rémy, there would be absolutely no contest. I might even enjoy my day with Torval, provided he's in one of his more charming moods and not attempting to kill me or take my kingdom at the moment! 

Re: the Catalina and Soraya stand-off, I think Soraya might have met her match. Now let's see if she's as good at accepting advice or correction as she is at dishing it out. If not, it certainly won't be because the volume wasn't turned up high enough or because Catalina was too timid or subtle in expressing herself!

[Demercia]

I too vote for the deviation.  However if you have found "Just a Minute" it may be months before we hear from you again.!

[Evie]

I too vote for the deviation.  However if you have found "Just a Minute" it may be months before we hear from you again.!

It's perhaps fortunate that I have very little time for media entertainment, between having to keep quiet mood music playing here in our waiting room during the work day and normally having the TV switched off in the evenings so I can have some (mostly) uninterrupted writing time. I might play some of the "Just A Minute" episodes during my commute, though, since that's usually when I get a chance to enjoy music or audio entertainment. Fortunately I almost never write while driving.... 

[DerynifanK]

I also vote for the deviation. But I will take anything whenever you want to give it. It can't be easy keeping up with a job and a family and a fascinating story with an avid audience.

[Evie]

I also vote for the deviation. But I will take anything whenever you want to give it. It can't be easy keeping up with a job and a family and a fascinating story with an avid audience.

Simply posting the story is the easy part! I already have the next two weeks of chapters queued up in my forum drafts, ready to launch in seconds when the time is right. Writing the darn thing was the hard part, but that part's been done for several weeks. This is my busy time at work, but I've been plugging away at various spin-offs whenever I get a free moment.

[Shiral]

Tee-hee! I'm also rather fond of Marthe,already. I hope she has som ingenious plan to inconvenience her father that WON'T be easily discovered. But also concerned on both her behalf and Cecile's. I have the sneaking hope that the imprisoned Healer might have unblocked her powers, but gave her magical instructions to keep her father and brother from finding out too soon...but gave her some protection from what she's facing in Eistenmarke...