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

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3237.0.html


Chapter Twenty

June 5, 1464
The Practice Field
Rhemuth Castle

Balian FitzCarthmoor stood before the pell, taking another swing at it with his practice sword and trying to hit a narrow strip between two marks. His aim was still uncertain, though a few weeks of practice had steadily improved it, and Lord Salim had assured him that he was making decent progress.

The rising sun combined with the humidity of the day caused him to pause and remove the new tunic that he wore, folding it neatly and setting it to one side so he could continue in his linen undershirt, which he was less worried about soiling. The tunic was one that had once belonged to his father, Balian had been told, and in these uncertain times he did not want to risk any harm coming to an item so precious. Rumors had been circulating among the pages about stories coming back from the war front, and Balian was far more worried about his father than he liked to let on.

He took up the practice sword again, stepping forward and taking another swing at the target.

"Your aim was true that time, but you need to be more mindful of which surface hits your target," said a voice behind him. "You want to kill your foe, not spank him."

Balian glanced back at the speaker, startled. For one thing, he had not sensed her approach. For another, she had never before deigned to speak to him.

Queen Soraya held her hand out to him, palm up, with a meaningful look at the wooden sword he held. Wide-eyed, he handed it to her. She hefted it in her hand, appearing to test the weight of it, before doing a slow, controlled swing towards the pell. "Like so," she said as she tapped the target area with the edge of the wooden blade. "Not so," she said, demonstrating again with her wrist slightly turned, smacking the pell lightly with the flat of it before handing the sword back to him. "Stay mindful not merely of your target, but of how you hold your weapon. It will come more naturally in time."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, bowing politely, doing his best to hide his wary confusion. "Have you practiced at the pell before?" He thought it highly unlikely and hoped she wouldn't think the question insolent. He could scarcely imagine his crusty old granddam ever having done so, yet she seemed comfortable enough with the exercise while she was demonstrating it.

"Not since I was just a little older than you," she said to his surprise, "and I wasn't meant to be doing so. My younger brother had just entered the Page School at the time. My older brother was newly squired. I wanted to know what all the fuss was about." She gave a faint smile, lost in the memory. "So I slipped away from my governess one night when I was meant to be abed and spent a few hours at practice. The practice master caught me at it. He told my father it was a pity I hadn't been a boy, since he thought I had some aptitude."

"Did he let you practice with your brothers after that?" Balian asked.

Queen Soraya shook her head with a slight frown. "No, my father forbade it. It was needful for my brothers to learn the arts of war, but I was to stay out of his sight as much as possible, as were they when not actively about their training or their duties. Our upbringing made us strong in many ways, but I would not recommend it for training up a child. It made it very difficult to learn how to relate to children of our own. I am glad my son is a better father for you."  She patted his shoulder. "Carry on, page."

Balian watched his grandmother thoughtfully as she turned and walked away.

#

June 12, 1464
The Harrowing of the North
The Kingdom of Rhemuth
Morning

It was summer, and the laborers were busy bringing in the June harvests. The berries had ripened and were ready to be gathered and preserved, and several of the vegetable crops had come in as well. Legumes needed to be picked and dried, and a portion set aside for the leaner months of winter, because after the early months of war it was already looking likely that the kingdom would have a very lean winter ahead if sufficient precautions were not taken against it.

Prince Rémy surveyed the lowlands below his base on a high plateau in the mountain region near Culdi, using his spyglass to get a better look at several towns and villages in the distance. This seemed like an ideal location to work from, situated as it was above the Cleyde River, which fed directly into the Eirian. That would be very convenient for him when it came time for his troops to help secure Valoret and Ramos before moving further southward towards Rhemuth.

But those grander plans would need to wait. Right now he had other priorities.

He handed the spyglass to the boy beside him, for tonight's work was going to be a joint effort between his own forces and those of the young King of Eistenmarcke, his mother for once allowing her son the option of leading a campaign somewhat on his own, although under the supervision and protection of his uncle Björn. Rémy was glad to see his young ally again, especially since seeing young Haakon without the interfering influences of his mother or King Torval around meant he would have more opportunity to influence the young King's mind, both by normal means of persuasion and, if required, more esoteric means. Björn was a very capable warrior indeed–Rémy had seen ample evidence of that in the past few days–but he was no Deryni.

It would be like having a younger brother to guide and train. Rémy had always wanted a brother.

He watched as Haakon studied the landscape below with a grin. "What are you thinking, Exalted Son?" He had recently learned that was the meaning of the boy's name and enjoyed teasing him with it at every opportunity, a gentle ribbing that Haakon accepted good-naturedly.

"I am thinking you should have been born an Eistenmarcker...'Oarsman.'"

Rémy laughed. Haakon had delighted in discovering the more humble meaning behind his name. He could think of no less likely an occupation for himself than an oarsman, as much as he loathed sea travel.

It had become easier to communicate with Haakon in recent weeks, ever since the Eistenmarcke forces had captured a language tutor in Grecotha. The lad was showing an aptitude for learning Gwyneddan, or Vestermarcker as he was insistent upon calling it, since it was a language even more akin to his own than the Torenthi they had formerly used to attempt to speak to one another, and the shaved-pated man was a skilled teacher despite serving his new master under duress.

Haakon's other thralls were shaved bald as well, or at least had hair that was very closely shorn, including the girls and women, a practice that baffled Rémy to no end. "Why do you shave your women? Do you not like hair?"

Haakon gave him an amused look. "Of course. But those are just thralls. It is our way. The more powerful you are, the longer the hair. That is why I am growing mine as long as I can." He glanced at Rémy's head. "You should try it, Southern Man." Looking back down in the valley, he pointed out several settlements in the distance. "If you can torch those places, my men will take the others. Then those woodlands in between will serve us nicely for the blót."

"I was thinking that myself."  Rémy little knew nor cared if the sacrifice to Odin was actually effective. It would certainly be effective enough in striking fear into the hearts of the Gwyneddan people, which was all he really cared about. Let them know their enemy could be ruthless, and hopefully they would give up their pathetic attempts at resistance all the sooner. And if not, well, Rémy and Haakon could always string up ninety-nine more until they made their point.

#

June 12, 1464
The Harrowing of the North
The Kingdom of Rhemuth
Evening

They celebrated King Haakon's thirteenth birthday by putting the valley villages and hamlets to the torch one by one, destroying the remaining crops for good measure. The Eistenmarckers' giant Summer Solstice bonfires burned brightly, lighting up the night sky as the enemy surged through the valley, taking some villagers captive along the way, while swiftly putting others to the sword or killing them at spear point. Those were the fortunate ones.

The two forces converged in the village of Woodbury-on-Cleyde. Prince Rémy, spotting Haakon in the near distance, waved him closer, spurring his horse to meet the young king halfway. "What we do next, we will need to finish quickly. So many fires burning all at once are sure to draw the attention of the Gwyneddan levies and their hirelings, so we will need to be away soon."

Haakon smiled. "My mother is working on that. All roads into the valley will divert them in strange directions until morning. We will need to be back at camp before dawn, though. So come, let us see what awaits us in my favorite type of village storehouse."

The two led their men to the center of the village which, like many of the less affluent villages in the region, still had a wooden church rather than one fully rebuilt in stone. "You know what to do," Haakon directed his uncle Björn. The man nodded, beckoning to a few of his faithful hirðmenn to follow him into the building.

"They will collect all of the gold and silver and any other precious items for us and then wait for my arrival to see which captives I wish to keep. These Gwyneddan peasants are so predictable." He waited a few more minutes to make sure his loyal man had sufficient time to disarm and bind any villagers who had sought refuge in the building. "Now see how easy these villagers make things for us," he told Rémy. 

He entered the small church, Rémy following at his heels, and looked around the nave at the bound captives staring fearfully at him, all on their knees. Some who had put up more active resistance were under stronger restraints, their compliance ensured by some of his hirðmenn with drawn swords pointed at their backs. Haakon drew his own sword, pointing out certain captives and then indicating which part of the room they should be led to.

Rémy watched as the boy-king neatly sorted his captives into four distinct groups. The aged and infirm went into one corner, while the strong and able-bodied went into another, and those who had caused the most trouble remained where they were. A much smaller group of the prettiest girls and young women were sorted into a third corner. "Which of them do you think is prettiest?" Haakon asked him in a low voice.

Rémy's eyes swept that corner again, assessing each face and form. "That blonde girl hiding herself behind the redhead, I think," he whispered back.

Haakon nodded. Raising his voice and speaking in Torenthi so that his men and Rémy could understand him, but the captives could not, he called for Björn.  "Leave the pretty blonde girl unshorn and shave the others," he directed his uncle with a slight smirk. "That one is for my brother Rémy. Jouvians find them prettier with hair." Pointing out the most troublesome captives, he added, "Those are for the blót. The rest we can put to good use elsewhere as thralls if they have skills we need. Otherwise we can add them to the ninety-nine or leave them in the building." His eyes swept the room, and he switched back to Gwyneddan. "Once the ones we wish to keep have been removed, you can torch the building."

An outcry of shocked disbelief from the bound villagers followed this statement. "Please, my lord, you can't! This is a church! We have laid down our arms and sought sanctuary!" cried out one of the braver souls among their number.

"So you have, and for that you have my heartfelt thanks," Haakon said with an amused grin. "Unfortunately for you, I do not follow your Hvitakristr, though if my Jouvian brother-at-arms would prefer for me to leave the building untouched, I shall defer to his wishes on this occasion." He slanted a look at his friend.

Rémy shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me one way or the other. They believe in a god of miracles; let him save them."

Haakon laughed. To Björn, he said, "You have your orders. Meet us at the grove once you are done. We still have much work to do before dawn."

#

June 15, 1464
The King's Map Room
Rhemuth Castle

Prince Camber walked around the map table in the King's Map Room, touching his finger to various spots across the map. Wherever his finger landed, a glimmer of cool handfire sprang up. "The villages and hamlets in this valley were pillaged and put to the torch by Prince Rémy's forces, who we believe was working alongside with King Haakon's, especially since the full extent of their activity was concealed by some form of glamour until the following daybreak, so that bespeaks more Eistenmarcker involvement." Walking to the side of the table, he touched a few other areas along the border between Corwyn and Beldour. "On the same night, similar activity was happening east of the Grande River between Coroth and Cardosa. Those were not similarly concealed, but as they were coordinated to occur more or less simultaneously, it was difficult to get our forces where they could defend all of the targeted areas at once. The occupied territories north of the Argoed River and the Arran, on the other hand, remained more or less peaceful, possibly because there was little left in that region still needing to be subdued." His eyes blazed with frustration. "But on the upside, our brother-by-marriage the Hort of Orsal has finally got his arse off his chamber pot long enough to send us some aid."

"It's about time," King Cinhil said. "Having a new heir likely helped remind him of his responsibilities to our alliance. Either that or Miranda threatened his future chances of fertility if he didn't put some money where his mouth is."

"More likely, Adémar has realized if Joux is involved, that must mean something is in it for Joux, and that 'something' is likely a horde of Northern barbarians sailing down the Beldour River arm in arm with Rémy to take Beldouria and Tralia next. As long as it didn't smell like potential treason, he could just throw money at the problem and look the other way," Duke Joscelin, briefly visiting from the front with his report while Prince Alarikos covered for his absence, drily observed. "I am assuming he is recognizing this as evidence of Joux's treasonous intent against his suzerainty, and not just some unpleasant pissing contest in his back garden that he can continue to safely ignore."

Cinhil sighed. "As much as an alliance with Orsal and Tralia seemed like an amazing match on paper, I still wish our late father had accepted your offer for our sister Miranda instead."

Joss gave him a wry smile. "Then she'd have bloodthirsty Nördmarckers knocking at her front gates rather than a crown. Under the circumstances, I suppose things turned out for the best. What is it that Adémar is offering now? Something like twenty-thousand gold forints and another five-thousand men?"

"And increased patrols in the Southern Sea, yes," Cinhil confirmed.

"While we are appealing to our allies for aid," Princess Catalina added, "we will likely need more grain and dried legumes in our stores come winter in order to stave off famine, especially in the harder hit regions of our kingdom. Any other foodstuffs that can be preserved would be helpful as well. So if our allies could spare a few extra crops in some of that fertile soil across the Southern Sea where they have a longer growing season, that could yield enough to get us through if it's managed carefully. Fianna and Tralia certainly could be helping us out that way, as well as Bremagne. Andelon is more arid, but Father is looking into other ways to assist us to that end."

"I'll write a letter to the King my brother Arnaud," said the Dowager Queen. "Though Arnaud is reluctant to involve himself in matters not directly pertaining to Fianna, it won't do any harm to remind him he has a sister who married into the House of Haldane."

"You might wish to send a copy to Prince Périgord as well," suggested Catalina. "He may be more sympathetic to our needs, and is better situated to put pressure on Arnaud if needs require."

Soraya slanted a glance at her daughter-by-marriage. "Indeed. You seem to have read my brothers well."

The Princess shrugged. "You've certainly known them both for longer than I have, and also much better, but I have had the advantage of being better placed to observe how they interact in more recent years, having been a near neighbor with more frequent contact with their Court." She jotted down a note to herself. "I owe Queen Miranda a letter anyway, so I'll go ahead and ask her what sorts of food provisions they might be able to spare."

"I could write to Richeldis," said Princess Elisa quietly, still feeling a little insecure about speaking up, since up until now she had rarely been invited to participate in one of the King's Councils unless it was just between family members, and while she had known Duke Joscelin all her life, she did not wish to come across as a gauche little girl in front of the King's Champion during her first war council. "From what Alarikos says in his letters to me, we will likely need more hospitals and almshouses once the war is over, not to mention the field medics are running short of medicinal herbs and opiates. Do poppies grow in Bremagne?"

"I think so," Catalina said encouragingly. "Richeldis is perfectly placed to ask, if you want to add that to your letter to her."

"I will, but...." Elisa swallowed, her voice coming out in a sudden rush. "I want to train to do field nursing also." At her family's astonished looks, she said "I know you won't let me go to the war camps, I know that, but from the look of things, unless something changes soon, this war is going to end up coming to us. And I want to be ready to help when it does. And we have so many injured, not just the soldiers, but all the women and children too! The field medics do their best, but they are overwhelmed, and they will need more help. I know I'm not a Healer, and I'm not asking to learn how to be a physician–God knows I haven't the aptitude for that sort of learning!--but I can learn how to wrap bandages, or help manage pain, or...or maybe feed patients their pottage, or comfort a crying child so a midwife can examine her...." She burst into tears. "I need to do something besides just sit here and be useless!"

There was a brief silence as everyone around the table sat stunned by the unexpected outburst. Then Queen Soraya laid a hand over her youngest daughter's.

"It is the duty of a lady to tend to the healing needs of her household, and when the lady happens to be a Queen or future Queen, I suppose one's household includes one's Kingdom as well. In addition to learning how to wrap wounds, you will need to learn your 'simples' also:  those basic remedies best kept on hand should some need arise that isn't so complex as to need a physician's or Healer's care, but must be tended to nonetheless. Fortunately you needn't memorize them all; we have books of written recipes, but the most frequently used ones are easy enough to remember once you've made them a time or two, and you are usually quick enough to learn any skill that you can get your hands into. I will show you what to do and which herbs you will wish to keep in your garden and bring to your new home once you're wed. I fear you are correct; if the war does not come here to our very gate, then I suspect it shall at least approach far too close for us to assume the stock of medicinals we have on hand will be sufficient. We should prepare for the worst even while hoping for the best."

Elisa stared at her mother in shock. "You mean you'll let me do it?"

"My dear, I very much doubt I could prevent you, if you feel so strongly about it. But besides that, it is our job to lead by serving our people. I will simply ask that you use common sense and not go looking to put yourself in harm's way. And also that you develop the wisdom and discernment to know what you can and cannot handle on your own. You are correct that we are not going to be sending the future Queen of Beldouria anywhere near the enemy's forces–your Alarikos would not be best pleased with us if we did!--but if the war camps are short on simples and medical supplies, we will do our best to send more when we send the other supplies they request."

"Shall I let Prince Alarikos know that you will be assisting in helping us restock our medicinals, then, Your Highness?" the Duke of Corwyn asked Elisa with a faint smile. "I am certain you can enlist my sister's help as well."

"I shall! Yes, thank you, Your Grace."

#

June 20, 1464
The Great Hall
Rhemuth Castle

Devyn Miles McLain, sometime known as Devyn FitzCassan, stopped in surprise at the screens passage into Rhemuth's Great Hall, which appeared to have been turned into a hive of industry. Along one side of the large room, he saw a line of trestle tables positioned along the windowed wall to take advantage of the sunlight streaming through the large glass windows. At the center of the activity sat Princess Elisa (mercy, could she be that old already?!) directing a half dozen maidservants as she demonstrated how she wished to have what looked like several hundred glazed pottery containers filled with some substance that appeared to have been freshly brought up from the kitchens and which smelled of some strange admixture of green herbs and horse liniment, and then properly stoppered and sealed. Beside the Princess, a lovely blonde noblewoman of similar age sat painting the sides of the containers with what appeared to be a sticky gum before carefully affixing paper labels onto them. Elsewhere, other ladies of the court tore thin linen into strips. Those, he could easily enough surmise, were meant to be bandages.

He slipped his bone whistle out of his belt pouch and trilled a short series of notes from a merry border ballad Elisa used to enjoy hearing him play when she was a young child. She looked up, her face lighting up with recognition as she hastily put her sealed pot down and launched herself across the room at him.

"Devyn, is that you?" the laughing princess exclaimed as she all but threw herself into the unexpected visitor's arms, to the great consternation of her chaperone, the troubadour was quite certain. He gently disengaged from the young and very much off-limits Haldane princess, smiling down at her.

"It is indeed! I am glad to see that Rhemuth has such a warm welcome for me, especially given my great difficulties in getting here. I'm sure the King will be pleased to know his southern border is quite secure."

"Unfortunately our southern border isn't our main source of worry at present, but that's good to know," Elisa said. "Where have you been all this time, and how long will you be staying?" Her exuberance died down as she added, "You know my father died in December, right?"

"I do, and I am heartily sorry for your loss. And I would not be very good at what I do if I was still unaware of that fact a full six months later, would I?" He raised a teasing eyebrow at her. "Is King Cinhil available? However long I will be staying will greatly depend on what work he has in mind for me. He called me here."

#

June 20, 1464
The King's Bedchamber
Rhemuth Castle

"Master Devyn McLain is here to see you, Your Majesty," Cinhil's young page announced. Something about the lad seemed vaguely familiar, though Devyn couldn't imagine why. He had not been back to Rhemuth for nearly four years. The child would have been only half his present age at the time, unless he was older than he appeared.

"Send him in," the King said. Devyn felt a twinge of sorrow. Even sight unseen, he could hear in his old friend's voice that his illness had taken a severe toll on him even in the few years since they had last seen each other. He stepped into the King's bedchamber. The sight of Cinhil was not too great a shock, but only because he had been braced to see changes.

"I would rise to welcome you properly," his old friend said, "but as you can see, this has not been an especially good morning for me, so consider yourself embraced. I'll even give your shoulder a proper smack once I'm feeling more up to it."

"My shoulder has been forewarned," Devyn said with a chuckle, "and as for the warm embrace, your sister has beaten you to it. Mercy, she's turned out lovely! Is it true you've betrothed her to Prince Alarikos?"

"Yes. And it appears to be a love match, or at least rapidly heading in that direction. I suppose it's a bit early to consider it genuine love yet, given how little time they've had to get to know each other, but I'm hopeful." Cinhil glanced at the young woman seated near the window, smiling up at their visitor over her sewing. "Speaking of love, you've met my Queen, right? You're not allowed to steal her, you heart thief."

"Well, darn, that's one ambition thwarted," Devyn said with a smile as he bowed before his new Queen, who giggled at the banter between him and her husband. "Yes, you introduced me to your lady the last time I was at Court. Good morning, Your Majesty," he added to Alixa.

Cinhil waved towards a fauldstool. "Drag that over so I can see you without feeling like I'm gazing over the treetops. You McLains are too tall."

He and Cinhil were pretty much the same height when both were standing, Devyn remembered. He shielded the wave of sadness as he positioned the fauldstool closer to the King's Bed of State.

Cinhil turned to his side to face his boyhood friend, the move bringing Cinhil's hand closer to the edge of the bed. On it, Devyn could see the Haldane Lion ring that King Uthyr had once worn. It fit more loosely on Cinhil, secured in place by a loop of ribbon around his wrist. Devyn bent to kiss the royal ring.

"You have need of my services, Sire?"

"I do." Cinhil pursed his lips in thought. "I am just trying to work out the best way to deploy you."

Devyn raised a brow at that. "I am assuming you require my skills as an intelligencer. Surely you have little need for a troubadour in battle, unless I'm meant to bash Torval over the head with my lute."

Cinhil laughed, the laugh producing a cough that made him need to take an extra moment to catch his breath again. "I would dearly love for that to happen, and for you to write an epic ballad about it to spread throughout the Eleven Kingdoms. Though yes, I think I do actually need a Deryni troubadour, as well as an intelligencer and a skilled clerk, and you are all three."

"Intriguing. What sort of work do you have in mind for me?"

"My problem is, I haven't quite decided which of the various jobs I have in mind is most needed at the moment, and I can't very well send you to do both at once. So let me just throw some of my ideas at you, and maybe we can work out together which one to pursue first." Cinhil attempted to sit up, causing Alixa to set down her sewing and rise to adjust his pillows to help support him in a more upright position. Devyn, noticing the rounded curve of her abdomen now that her lap was no longer filled with a mound of fabric, shot the King a swift inquiring look.

"Alixa is bearing my daughter. If you could use those musical enchantments of yours to lure any unsuitable suitors into the nearest midden, I would be much obliged. But that's a job that's hopefully well into the future."

"Shall he also warn her of ardent young princes who appear more saintly than they actually are, my heart?" the Queen asked archly, surprising a laugh out of their visitor.

"My lips are sealed on the subject of ardent young princes who may or may not have existed at the Haldane Court in the past, although certainly I can attempt to warn her that young men in general are not always to be trusted," Devyn assured her with an amused glance at Cinhil. "Though young ladies are also sometimes less than eager to heed such warnings, especially from ancient killjoys old enough to be their mother or father, so I would suggest a very diligent chaperone anyway."

Settling back against the pillows into a more comfortable position, the King smiled his thanks to his wife, who returned to her chair by the window. "Setting aside the entire topic of my possibly misspent youth, here's what I've been pondering. One possible use for your abilities would be in the field with Colin. His aides-de-camp could use the extra assistance, for wars can't run smoothly without skilled clerks to tend to the record-keeping and correspondence, but just as importantly, it would place you in a position to see and hear what is happening on the battlefield. Your martial training as a Duke's son would be an advantage his other clerks lack, so that's an asset. And of course, your talents as a troubadour would help to boost morale among our men. But if I do send you to the front, it would not be with the intention of leaving you there." Cinhil closed his eyes. "We need support from outside this Kingdom, Devyn, and we need a voice to speak and sing for us. And you are more than just a simple bard, you are Deryni-trained and have the skill required to spread a tale that will grip hearts and spur men to action rather than merely to pretty speech and empty promises. If our enemies win, they will not stop at Gwynedd. The Eleven Kingdoms need to understand what we are facing, because if we cannot stop it, they will soon be facing it as well."

Devyn nodded. "No pressure, then. And the other job you had in mind?"

Cinhil sighed. "That one might not be quite as pressing, but make no mistake, it is still quite pressing indeed. Renier of Joux has a captive Blocker stashed away somewhere. He needs to be found, and if possible, extricated."

Devyn stared at the King in shock. "Putain de merde!" Behind Cinhil, Alixa collapsed into giggles.

"If you were thinking to avoid shocking my Queen by swearing in another language," Cinhil said drily, "you should be aware that Alixa is Jouvian." His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter at his friend's chagrined expression. "But yes, that was my reaction as well."

"So noted, and a thousand pardons, my lady." Devyn considered the problem. "Do you happen to know if the Blocker would be amenable to being extricated?"

"We believe so, yes. Though the job would be hazardous anyway, since Renier is hardly likely to offer you rewards and honor for attempting to do so. If you were caught, he'd likely force his Blocker to use his gift against you."

"Lovely. And do you have any idea where in the Kingdom he might be hidden away? Joux is not a large kingdom, but it's not tiny either. I could spend the rest of my life going from house to house knocking on doors, though if Jouvians like ballads, I could earn a lot of coin that way."

"I have a few memories of where I was brought to have my powers Blocked," the Queen offered. "They aren't very clear ones; I think I may have been drugged at the time. And they are mostly memories of an interior set of rooms, though you can see a bit of the surrounding landscape through open windows. I don't know if that would be enough information to give you somewhere to start, but I can ask my sister if she remembers more."

"Any memories you have could be helpful, Your Majesty, even if it's just a hint of the terrain I am looking for and what sort of stone or other materials the hiding place might be built with. If you were brought through a portal, I might be able to figure out the portal signature, though I suspect that was one reason you were drugged, especially since I assume you have already shared your memories with your husband and he hasn't found enough to send someone through for the Blocker already." He gently extended his senses, stopping immediately when he met shields. "You are not Blocked now," he observed.

"No, I am not," she confirmed.

Turning his attention back to Cinhil, he stated "So the intention is not simply to acquire a Blocker, since you already have access to one, but to rescue one who is being forced to use his gifts unwillingly? In that case, unless you think there is an urgent need to find the Blocker first, I can go join Colin's aides and learn what I need in order to do the first half of the job more effectively. Then I can go sing my way through the courts along the coast of the Southern Sea, stopping in Joux along the way, though my chansons de geste there shall need to be entirely different ones, of course. I don't think my charms are quite strong enough to convince Renier to allow me to recruit for you under his very nose."

"Says the man who can literally charm birds out of trees," Cinhil joked, "but yes, that would be asking a bit much from you."

"What of the Anvil and R'Kassi? Shall I work my musical wiles there also?"

"The more, the merrier," Cinhil told him. "Especially if the R'Kassi are willing to throw in some additional horses and the Anvil can supply trained Anvillers. Though I'd skip trying any magical means of persuasion when it comes to the Anvillers; they'll simply see straight through it."

"That's where my skill with words and ordinary methods of persuasion will come in," said Devyn.

Cinhil nodded. "I need to rest. But stop by Camber's apartment and he will equip you with enough coin for any necessary expenses as well as letters of safe conduct. And then come back later when I am better rested so we can spend a little more time together before I send you off to wield your pen in Colin's service. I may not have another chance to see you after."

Devyn stood, bowing to kiss his sovereign's ring. "I will stop by later in the evening, Sire, if it's a better time for you then." Bowing to Alixa, he added, "And that will give you more time to ascertain which memories would be best to share, Your Majesty."

#

June 20, 1464
Prince Camber's apartment
Rhemuth Castle

"How much longer does he have?" Devyn asked the King's youngest brother as he stared into the depths of his glass of MacRorie Old, turning it in his hand before taking another sip from it.

Prince Camber shook his head. "We don't really know, but not much longer. He has good days and bad days, but the bad days are becoming more frequent as of late. My guess? He might make it through harvest time, if we're fortunate. Maybe until Christmas, but for his sake I'm hoping not, at least if his condition continues to worsen at the rate it's been going." He sighed. "I suspect if we weren't Deryni, he'd have succumbed a year or two ago already, but you know Cinhil, he's a fighter. He's just traded one battlefield for another."

Devyn nodded. "And when is the little princess due?"

Camber took a sip of his whisky. "Middle of September, I think."

The troubadour leaned against the back of the settle, stretching his feet towards the fire, for while it might be the middle of summer, this was Gwynedd, not Bremagne or Andelon. "Speaking of princesses, I hardly recognized Elisa. I imagine there are a fair few people around here who have changed a lot since I last stepped foot on native soil. Any idea who the scrumptious blonde was who was potting simples with her?"

An image popped into his mind. "This one?" At his confirming nod, Camber laughed. "That's Lady Gabrielle Morgan, so don't even think about venturing within ten feet of her."

"That's scrawny little Gabi? Sweet Jesú! Maybe instead of a drink, I need a sturdy cane."

"You'll need one with a strong blade in it if Joss ever hears you describing his precious baby sister as a 'scrumptious blonde.'"

"No worries, hope abandoned.  What about Cinhil's page? I swear he looks familiar for some reason."

"He ought to," Camber told him. "That's Colin's boy."

"Ah. I should have guessed. He looks more like Melisande, but something in his expression definitely looked more Haldane." Devyn finished off his whisky. "So, what can you tell me about what I'm likely to find at the front?"

Camber set his glass aside. "Come with me to the Map Room, and I'll show you."

#

June 22, 1464
The Upper Bailey
Rhemuth Castle

The troubadour raised one hand in a warding off gesture as Princess Elisa and her companion approached him with a large handcart filled with medicinals. "Young ladies, I only have one horse and some saddlebags, not a pack mule or a team of elephants," he joked.

Princess Elisa and Lady Gabrielle laughed as Gabrielle selected a small assortment of potted simples from the cart while the princess jotted down the number of each item being sent with him. Carefully wrapping each pot in a strip of linen to help cushion it, the Duke's sister handed each one up to him so he could decide how they would fit best into the saddlebags so that the weight of their contents would be evenly distributed.

"There's talicil to help control fevers and inflammation, and aloe salve for burns," Lady Gabriella explained as she handed over each into his keeping. "These dark red pots contain dwale for pain, or if something stronger is needed, the large black pot contains a mixture of opium, mandragora, and henbane. But that's only for drastic need, such as if required for an amputation, and it should only be used under the direction of a properly trained field medic. That's from Master James; obviously he didn't let us mix that one ourselves!"

"I should hope not! That's strong stuff," Master Devyn commented as he turned to carefully place that particular pot where it was least likely to get damaged. He heard a quiet intake of breath behind his turned back, and glanced over his shoulder at her once the pot was fully secured and he'd double checked to make sure it was still tightly sealed.

"That's a lovely shoulder bag! Is it for your travel lute?" she asked, her eyes admiring the fine craftsmanship of the protective leather case. As well they should; it had cost him a small fortune, offering magical protection to his favorite instrument as well as being elegantly ornamented.

"It is," he said, shrugging it off his back for her to inspect more closely. "I picked it up during one of my travels through the Jacan region, although I think it is of Andelonian origin, or perhaps from Nur Hallaj."

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up, though whether that was due to his mention of the foreign kingdoms or because the curious fingertip tracing the design had just picked up the subtle magical tingle of the spell, he wasn't sure. Wonder-filled green eyes flitted back up to his face. "How many kingdoms have you visited, Master Devyn?"

"Hm, I'm not sure. How many are there?" He pretended to ponder, but couldn't hold back a laugh as her eyes widened. "Thirteen so far, though I can hardly count R'Kassi, since I didn't venture any farther south or east across its border than Nabat. And my journey to the Anvil would be more accurately described as my ride through what used to be Jaca and a single two-day excursion across the border from Bremagne to Kharthat."

Lady Gabrielle glanced at the princess with a delighted smile. "Lord Salim is from Kharthat. He told me they ride camels there." Glancing back up at him, she asked, "Have you ridden a camel, my lord?"

"And what is a camel?" Princess Elisa asked, looking nonplussed.

Devyn grinned. "It's a very odd looking beast, and rather difficult to explain, so perhaps I should just show you," he said, taking her hand and sharing the mental image with her while gallantly kissing the air above her fingers. Smiling at Duke Joscelin's far too adorable sister, he offered her the same courtesy. "I assure you, the novelty wears off rather quickly. They're mean-tempered beasts, and they spit at you when they're annoyed."

"Oh dear, that sounds unpleasant!" The maiden giggled at the thought of being spit at by annoyed exotic beasts. "I do wish you didn't have to leave so quickly," she said wistfully. "I would love to hear more about your travels. Will you be returning to Rhemuth anytime soon?"

"I'm not certain yet, my lady. I might be returning briefly, but I don't yet know when or for how long. And of course, with the war constantly affecting travel conditions, nothing is very predictable right now. But if I do happen to return this way while you are still in residence here, I would be glad to tell you more about my journeys, if your brother the Duke will permit."

Princess Elisa laughed. "Oh, I'm sure Duke Joscelin will permit that...as long as he's there personally with all of his squires, several men-at-arms, an army of chaperones and a handgonne!" she teased as Lady Gabrielle rolled her eyes, her cheeks turning a becoming shade of pink.

"Joss isn't that bad," the Duke's sister half-heartedly protested. At her friend's skeptical look, she sighed. "It would only be one of his squires, two men-at-arms, three chaperones, and a stiletto."

Devyn's lips twitched as he thought back on what Duke Joscelin was like when he was his sister's age. "I spent several of my younger years here at Court. Trust me, your brother has his reasons for being protective of you." The grin broke free. "Maybe if I remind him of all the stories I could tell you about his squire years, I might be able to negotiate him down to something more reasonable, like one sensible and diligent chaperone and a vigilant older brother glaring balefully at me from across the room, ready to knock me senseless if I misbehave."

Next chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3241.0.html

[DerynifanK]

I like Devyn a lot. I hope he will be successful in his missions. If he is able to free the blocker, what about the man's family. I'm sure he wouldn't agree to go without them. Does anyone in Gwynedd know about them?

[DerynifanK]

I also enjoyed the changes in Soraya. You said she would change and evolve and she has, into someone much more likable. Her interaction with Balian was delightful and her description of her father's treatment of his children certainly explained her own difficulties with relationships. At least she recognizes them and is willing to change.
Now if we could just do something about Remy and Haakon.

[DerynifanK]

Since they are writing to her, has Richeldis already married and gone to Bremagne with her husband?

[Evie]

I like Devyn a lot. I hope he will be successful in his missions. If he is able to free the blocker, what about the man's family. I'm sure he wouldn't agree to go without them. Does anyone in Gwynedd know about them?

They would at least know that Renier likely has some sort of hold on the Blocker to force him to do his bidding. It's probable they would know about the family if the Royal Healer in Rhemuth read Cecile's memory of being brought to the Blocker (which I think he probably did), since Remy threatened the Jouvian Healer's family during that visit if the Healer didn't cooperate.

I also enjoyed the changes in Soraya. You said she would change and evolve and she has, into someone much more likable. Her interaction with Balian was delightful and her description of her father's treatment of his children certainly explained her own difficulties with relationships. At least she recognizes them and is willing to change.
Now if we could just do something about Remy and Haakon.

Soraya is very much a product of her upbringing. She dearly loves her family, but she didn't have healthy parenting modeled for her when she was growing up, so she struggles to know how to relate to her own children. Until recently, she also had trouble envisioning having a relationship with Colin's children by Melisande at all, because her upbringing taught her that children of a mistress are natural and inevitable rivals for the royal heirs and will likely end up being favored while the heirs end up getting neglected and unloved. That's how things were for her when she was growing up. Catalina's argument with her in which her daughter-in-law pointed out that Soraya's own actions towards Colin's children might bring about the very hostility that she feared was a wake-up call that caused a paradigm shift to her thinking. Until that moment, it never occurred to her that there could be some alternate outcome where Colin's first family could grow up to be loving and supportive towards his second, legitimate family if those relationships are properly nurtured.

Re: Remy and Haakon, we've still got several more months of the war season left. I'm sure the Gwyneddan main force and theirs will eventually meet up.

Since they are writing to her, has Richeldis already married and gone to Bremagne with her husband?

Yes, in their original betrothal agreement, Philippe was planning on returning home to Bremagne sometime in March, as soon as the weather became calm enough for ship travel across the Southern Sea, in order to prepare the way for his bride to join him shortly thereafter and marry in Bremagne. So she likely joined him there around April or early May. Cinhil would have wanted her settled and outside the kingdom as soon as it was safe for her to travel across the sea and away from the current conflict.

[DerynifanK]

I can't help wishing for a miracle cure for Cinhil.  I have a severe case of wishful thinking

[Evie]

I can't help wishing for a miracle cure for Cinhil.  I have a severe case of wishful thinking

I know, right? He started off as a background character, but honestly he's become my favorite in this story. (Not that I don't love Colin and Catalina, of course I do, but Cinhil snuck up and stole my heart.)

[DerynifanK]

Any possibility of at least achieving a period of stability for him so he can be with us longer? I can certainly see why he stole your heart, and he doesn't even wear a cassock.

[Evie]

Any possibility of at least achieving a period of stability for him so he can be with us longer? I can certainly see why he stole your heart, and he doesn't even wear a cassock.

All I can say while keeping things spoiler-free is that he will have a very pivotal moment in the story that I think you will find satisfying.  Also, I still have two spin-off stories saved up that feature him, because the man simply won't shut up. 😄

[DerynifanK]

Any possibility of at least achieving a period of stability for him so he can be with us longer? I can certainly see why he stole your heart, and he doesn't even wear a cassock.

All I can say while keeping things spoiler-free is that he will have a very pivotal moment in the story that I think you will find satisfying.  Also, I still have two spin-off stories saved up that feature him, because the man simply won't shut up. 😄

Good for him!