Author Topic: A Gryphon by the Tail Chapter 27  (Read 5604 times)

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Offline Alkari

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A Gryphon by the Tail Chapter 27
« on: November 17, 2010, 03:43:13 PM »
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Chapter 27

“Just keep him away from the great hall and the kitchens, please.  The last thing they need is to be falling over Brendan when they’re setting up for a banquet.”  Richenda smiled at Giles, who had three older children of his own.

“Of course, m’lady,” he replied. “If we can get one of the ponies for him, we’ll take him for a walk.”

“He’d love that,” she laughed.  “Riding, sword fighting, brushing ponies - whatever you like.  As long as he doesn’t get into too much trouble. ”

“Don’t you worry, M’lady, we’ll look after him,” Giles assured her cheerfully.  He neck bowed as Brendan appeared at the inner doorway.  “Good morning, Master Brendan.  Would you like to come down to the stables?  Pearson has to get one of the horses pastured down near the river, so if we borrow a pony, you can come with us.”

Well, that’s him taken care of!
thought Richenda thankfully, as her son departed happily at the prospect of a morning involving horses.  The dressmaker was due any time now, and they could do without Brendan’s “help” while checking fit and adjusting the garment.

A few moments later she heard girlish laughter outside, and a small procession arrived: Meraude led the way, accompanied by Brielle and Meaghan, then Master Drew the dressmaker, his round-faced woman assistant carrying a bundle wrapped in calico and, bringing up the rear, a servant carrying several more bundles.  There was a great deal of excited giggling as the two girls helped Richenda into the new garment.  

“You’re so beautiful!” sighed Brielle, as Richenda pivoted slowly before critical eyes back in the day room.  The gown was the deep blue-green of the sea in summer, and suited her perfectly.

“Just a slight adjustment to the sleeves, my lady,” said Master Drew, making a couple of marks with his chalk.  “We’ll have them finished in no time.”  The girls helped her back into her day gown, and while the assistant sat stitching away at the final alterations, Master Drew showed off the other fabrics he’d brought.  

“Oh, that would be lovely for you!” exclaimed Meraude, pointing to a bolt of damask in rich bronze tones, while Brielle longingly fingered some pale green silk.  An hour later, Richenda had acquired a length of the damask, spread her finished gown out on the bed ready for that evening, and left Lily sorting other clothes.   While Meraude disappeared to speak to Lord Rhodri about something for the evening, Richenda took the girls down to the solar, where they found Maire, Kathryn and Ismay Sinclair chatting away happily as they stitched at items for her wedding.  Lyndall wasn’t there but Muriel and Fenella were: Muriel frowned and pursed her lips in disapproval as Richenda arrived, and pointedly bent her head over her own handiwork.  

“Miserable old cow,” muttered Meaghan to Brielle as they sat down, earning warning looks from Richenda and Maire.  “Well, she is!” she whispered.  “Just because her husband looks like an old sturgeon that’s been stuffed with …”

“Meaghan, shhh!  Please watch your language,” scolded Richenda.  “Pay her no attention, and please don’t make matters worse.”

“My grandmother would say that look would make next week’s milk go sour,” murmured Brielle, and the two girls giggled and whispered between them as they stitched.  Brielle was working a delicate smocking pattern across the top of a chemise, while Meaghan was stitching some cream ribbon onto what seemed to be a night rail.    Richenda caught Maire’s eye and smiled, touched that these women whom she’d known for such a short time were working to provide her with some little personal luxuries for her wedding.  

Shortly before noon a page arrived, asking for Richenda.  “His Majesty said that a courier has arrived from Rheljan, my lady, and asked me to deliver these letters for you.”

Her father’s reply.  Richenda took the letters, one of them addressed to Brendan, and Meraude nodded understandingly as she excused herself to return to her apartments.  She took a seat near the window before breaking open her father’s letter.

Dearest Papa! she thought, her eyes misting as she read of his surprise, delight and love for her.   I’m glad you’re happy for us.  Whatever the future brings, I’ve found my heart match, and Alaric has found his.  And Brendan will have a father figure he can look up to.   Perhaps you’ll now stop blaming yourself about Bran.  Her fingers sought the additional message she knew would be in his seal, and she smiled at the images he’d sent – reading the letters by the fire with Murdo, and their mutual joy at her news.  Murdo had added a few lines at the end of her father’s letter, and sealed it with a loving message of his own.

Alaric’s letter had obviously included assurances about Brendan, for Richard FitzEwan sounded both pleased and touched.   “It’s hard to judge a man on one brief meeting, but Duke Alaric certainly couldn’t have been kinder or more understanding with Brendan that day.  From what you’ve told me about them since then, it seems he will try to be a good stepfather, which is all I could ever ask. I’m glad Brendan likes him.  I’ve written back to Brendan, though I didn’t say anything about your betrothal because I didn’t know what you have told him.  If he asks, please tell him that I’m very happy you are getting married and that he will have Duke Alaric as his stepfather.  And that I’ll see him at your wedding.”

She smiled as she read his letter through again, before placing the one addressed to Brendan on the table where he’d see it before his meal.  Joan and a servant arrived with enough food for several people.   “They’re hither and thither like ants, my lady, with all the sweeping and cleaning and polishing, so I thought you’d be better eating up here in peace,” Joan opined.  Moments later, Brendan charged in, Giles following more slowly and bowing politely to his mistress.

Richenda laughed as she hugged her son, who was full of his usual excited chatter.  At least this time he was merely slightly damp, and not muddy.  

“Did you have a good morning?” she said, setting him down again.  

“I rode Joker.  We went to get another horse.  He had to have new shoes.  There was a very hot fire.  And the smith man hit the shoes with a big hammer so they fitted.  And they were hot so he put them in water and lots of steam came up.  Then he put them on the horse.  He used special nails and cut off the ends.”  

Giles nodded.  “Aye m’lady, I thought he’d like to see the smithy at work.  Kept him well back of course.  He asks a lot of questions, doesn’t he!”

“Sometimes he never stops!”  She smiled at Brendan.  “What else did you do?”

“I helped Rogan.  He was cleaning and I polished things for him.  I did the spurs.  And parts of a bridle for Duke Alaric’s horse.”    Clearly the morning had been full of grown-up joys for a small boy.

“You helped Rogan?”

“Yes.  He showed me how.  He said I have to learn so I can be a page.”  Brendan suffered Joan to lead him away for a wash, and Richenda turned inquiringly to Giles.  

“He was helping Duke Alaric’s squire?”

“Yes, my lady.  The Duke had been riding earlier, and his squire was in the stables when we returned, checking horses and cleaning some tack.  Brendan wanted to help, so the lad showed him how to do the spurs and a couple of straps.”  He smiled.  “He didn’t get wet – just a bit of saddle soap.  The squire showed him how to do it properly.”

Richenda shook her head, amused, and thanked Giles for his care.  “My pleasure, m’lady.  He’s a good boy.”

Brendan was delighted to find “my very own letter” from his grandfather, which Richenda helped him read.  Yes, Grandfather had noticed how he’d sealed his letter using his sword, and he was glad Brendan was riding a proper pony now.  When he was little, Grandfather had learnt to ride on a brown pony called Woody.  “I think I’ll call Sir Knight’s horse Woody,” announced Brendan happily as he finished his meal.  “He needs a name.  He’s brown too.”  

For once he made no protest about having a nap, and fell asleep clutching both Sir Knight and his grandfather’s letter.  

*     *     *

To Richenda’s surprise, it was Duncan who arrived to escort her down to the banquet.  Over his priest’s cassock he wore a McLain tartan plaid pinned across his shoulders with a large silver clasp shaped like a lion’s head, while a ducal coronet looked somewhat incongruous on his tonsured head.  

“Alaric apologises,” he said, kissing her cheek.  “He had to do something for Kelson at the last minute, so he asked if I’d bring you down.”

“Not trouble, I hope?” she asked, as they walked along the corridor.  
Duncan grinned.  “Never underestimate the ability of a group of bishops to create a fuss over the most minor things.  Probably someone or other quibbling about seating arrangements – again.”


“Kelson put his foot down firmly this morning.  Said he didn’t care how old or senior Bishop Carsten was, he was not going to sit at the high table after at first siding with Loris last summer, and that was that.  Besides, there’s no room for him!”  He smiled.  “Which is why I’m emphasising my status as a duke rather than a priest – no sense in worrying them any more than usual about a suspected Deryni in their midst.   Alaric’s presence is quite enough for them to deal with!”

She laughed. “And Alaric has to be on his best behaviour at a formal dinner, with all Gwynedd’s bishops.   He’ll consider he’s done penance for the next month.”

Duncan chuckled appreciatively. “At least protocol worked to his advantage and he’s managed the seating to his liking.   Cardiel on his right next to Kelson, Wolfram on his left.  You’re next to Wolfram, with Tolliver on your other side.  Alaric’s pleased about that – he’s told Tolliver about your betrothal and it’s a good chance for you to get to know each other.  Wolfram’s still wary about us, but he’s more open-minded than most, probably because he’s been an itinerant bishop for so long and has travelled widely.  I’m sure you’ll manage him perfectly. ”

They reached the withdrawing room behind the great hall.  It was a sea of episcopal purple, supplemented by gleaming gold and silver trimmings, while across the room, bright flashes of royal crimson marked where Kelson and Nigel were talking to Bradene and a younger man.   Alaric appeared at her side as if by magic, eyes widening in appreciation at her appearance and his formal greeting supplemented by a mental caress.  As at Twelfth Night court, he was garbed in black and red as King’s Champion, but the torchlight reflecting off his coronet and fair hair gave the impression he was wearing a golden halo.
“You look ravishingly beautiful,” he murmured as she took his arm.   “If we didn’t have to go to this dinner, I’d whisk you off somewhere all alone.  I’m sure we could find much more pleasant things to do than sit and be stared at with a bunch of bishops!”

The next few minutes were a whirl of introductions and greetings: Kelson looking relieved and delighted to see her, Nigel and a blue-gowned Meraude, Bradene and her uncle Thomas, and a younger man introduced as Bishop Conlan.   Denis Arilan smiled warmly as she kissed his ring, and mischievously asked if the heavy pearl pendant cross and earrings she wore were another gift from Alaric.

“No, they were my mother’s – my father’s wedding gift to her,” she replied, smiling innocently and wondering how long it would be before Denis Arilan connected her to Andelon’s Deryni royal family.  Much as she enjoyed his conversation, she was rather glad she was not sitting next to him that evening.

The dinner passed more pleasantly than she’d expected.  Ralf Tolliver proved to be a down to earth person, happy to remain in his See of Coroth rather than be promoted to one of the more senior positions.  The See took in both Corwyn and Carthmoor, and because of its history, he had a degree of ecclesiastical autonomy which he appreciated.  He liked the city of Coroth, found the people of both duchies interesting, and had never had much trouble dealing with a Deryni duke.  He deeply regretted the events of the previous spring.

“I’m no great scholar, Lady Richenda,” he admitted.  “At least, not when compared to some of my learned brethren.  I prefer life in Corwyn where I am not confined to the cloistered walls of a monastery or bishop’s palace.”  He chuckled.  “I like to get out and about, see to the workings of my estates, and travel around.  I don’t think I’d be suited to somewhere like Grecotha or Dhassa.”   Whatever his protestations about being a mere rustic bishop, his conversation showed him to be otherwise, and she encouraged him to talk, eager to learn more about Tolliver himself and her future home.
On her other side, old Wolfram was gruff but polite and seemed to be getting along quite well with Alaric, for which she was thankful: a verbal rescue mission was not required.  Alaric in turn was at his charming best and appeared to be enjoying himself, and she smiled inwardly at the image being presented to the court of a known Deryni talking pleasantly with a bishop and Rhemuth’s new archbishop.  The food was excellent, given that it was winter; the wine and ale flowed; the entertainers excelled themselves.  Kelson’s speech had been carefully crafted as an expression of welcome and hope for the future; Bradene’s in reply thanked the King for his hospitality and shared the royal sentiments.

“All in all, a successful evening,” she remarked, as Alaric accompanied her back to her apartments.  “Now for the Mass and oaths of loyalty tomorrow.”
The morning was cold but clear as a small cavalcade wound its way from the castle down to the Cathedral.  Richenda travelled with Meraude: she’d decided that the service would be much too long for Brendan to survive without incident and had left him happily playing with Robert, under Joan’s watchful eye.   She watched with reverence and joy as Bradene was first ordained as Archbishop and Primate of Gwynedd, followed by her uncle Thomas as Archbishop of Rhemuth.  The remaining new appointees followed.  

And then it was Kelson’s turn.   With last summer’s events still fresh in mind, the king clearly intended to emphasise that temporal loyalty was also demanded.  To this end, Gwynedd’s four dukes attended him to witness the oaths, Nigel and Duncan to his left, Alaric and Ewan to his right.  They stood quietly as Kelson stepped forward, youthful but majestic, to receive the solemn oaths of all bishops and archbishops, each of them in turn swearing their fealty to the Crown of Gwynedd.   She wondered if Kelson was Truth-reading some of them as they knelt before him, though perhaps those men were more worried about the tall black-clad figure standing nearby in support, his mere presence a subtle reminder of the powers that the King himself could call upon if required.
At length the service was over, and the royal party and clergy filed out, gathering in front of the Cathedral where Cardiel pronounced a blessing for the crowd of citizens who had gathered.  Back to the castle then, to the relief of less formal clothes and the everyday bustle of the midday meal.  Afterwards she happily agreed to Alaric’s suggestion of an afternoon walk.  

With Brendan running happily ahead of them, they strolled hand in hand through the gardens towards St Hilary’s, turning out under the gatehouse and onto the road leading downwards through the castle’s outer defences.  Guards at the lower guardpost saluted them in some surprise; Alaric said they’d be back before dark and they walked onwards past orchards and vegetable gardens towards the small southern gate in the city walls.   Brendan excitedly pointed out a group of horses picking at winter-brown grass in a field just inside the walls. “That’s where we went with Giles, Mama,” he said. “”For the horse that needed new shoes.”

It was a relief to be away from the castle, even if it still loomed behind them.   Outside the walls they followed a small pathway that meandered across towards the main river.  Brendan skipped along, exclaiming over this and that, picking up a sturdy stick and swinging it happily, pointing at a squirrel that scampered higher into a tree as they approached.   As they neared the river he stopped, staring out over the dark grey water flowing sluggishly under the pale afternoon sun.  

“Where does the river go?” he asked.

“That way – down to the sea at a place called Desse,” replied Alaric, pointing left.  “And up that way, it comes down from the mountains, near a place called Caerorrie.  Several other rivers join it, which is why it’s wide here.”

“Do boats go on the river?”

“Oh yes.  Small boats, and lots of barges that bring goods up from Desse.  The river is too shallow for bigger ships, so the goods are unloaded at Desse and brought up here.  And they bring things down the river too, from farms and villages upstream.  Look – see, there’s a barge coming up now.  They’ll want to reach the landing near Rivergate before it’s dark.”  Alaric showed Brendan where a low barge drawn by several horses had just appeared on the other side of the river.  The boy perched on a log to watch its progress.

Richenda smiled as Alaric put his arms around her, leaning back contentedly against him.  There was no need for conversation: it was enough to simply be here with him, enjoying the peace and quiet away from ducal duties, and the castle with its bustle and curious eyes.  Brendan stood up for a closer look at the barge as it neared them, and she sensed Alaric become alert as her son moved nearer the bank.
“Not too near the edge, Brendan,” he said mildly.  “It’s quite steep there.”    

“There are ducks,” he said, pointing.  “Do they have nests?”

“Yes, they nest downstream a little, where there are lots of reeds and long grass they can hide in. But they won’t lay eggs until the spring.”  

“Can we see?”  Brendan looked hopefully at them.   Alaric took her hand and led the two of them along to where the river curved slightly, and the bank gradually fell away into a tiny shallow cove.  “Here you are.”  He fished into a pocket of his cloak and to Richenda’s amazement, produced several hunks of dry bread.   Brendan gleefully broke one of them into small pieces which he tossed to the ducks, laughing as they squabbled over the titbits and delighted when two swans also appeared and sailed majestically towards them.

“You came prepared?” she smiled, watching her son’s pleasure at the simple activity.  Alaric tossed a couple of pieces further out for the swans.

“Duncan and I fed ducks when we were little.  I think we only fell in a couple of times. There are always ducks down here, and quite a few swans.”  He smiled as he handed Brendan the last piece.  “That’s all.  They’ll have to get their own dinner now.”

Eventually ducks and swans paddled away, and the first hint of evening mist started to rise from the river.  The sun was sinking, and they turned back up the slope towards the city.   Brendan raced ahead once more, pausing to scramble into a small tree with invitingly low branches.   Richenda held her breath as he balanced in a fork and reached for a higher branch, once more aware of Alaric’s calm alertness as he watched.  
“Don’t go out any further,” he advised, as Brendan edged out along the branch. “See – it gets quite thin and won’t be able to hold you.  It could break, and then you’d fall.”

“’s not far,” said Brendan, assessing the drop.

“Quite far enough,” said Alaric dryly.  “Enough to hurt yourself.  You might break your leg or sword arm if you fell.”    Brendan considered this unpleasant prospect, then carefully clambered back to the main trunk, scrambling and sliding down in a scatter of twigs and bark.   He grinned at Alaric.

“See - I didn’t fall!”

Alaric sensibly made no reply to this challenge, just ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately.   “I fell out of a tree when I was eight”, he sent to Richenda as they continued back towards the castle.  “Broke my right arm too.  Luckily an old peasant woman set it for me before Duke Jared’s surgeon arrived, and she did a good job.”  She sensed a story, but decided that would have to wait.

They entered the city gate and turned towards the castle in fading light.  Brendan held hands between them as they walked, jumping and trying to swing with their support, but by the time they’d passed the orchards he was flagging.  “A long way for little legs, and it’s getting dark,” Alaric murmured.  He swung the boy up onto his shoulders for the ascent to the castle, acknowledging the guards’ smiles at the first outpost and again as they passed through the lower gatehouse.

Once again, Richenda found herself marvelling at how natural and relaxed it was to be with Alaric like this, and how easily Brendan seemed to accept him.  It won’t always be this simple, she thought, knowing that Brendan could be very determined and would invariably test Alaric’s patience and authority as their relationship settled into that of stepfather and stepson.  But this afternoon he’d heeded Alaric’s quiet warnings when he might not have done so with hers, and she hoped that any future battle of wills would be no more than could be expected between any father and son.

They entered the palace quietly through the formal gardens and a side door rather than the great hall, Alaric only setting Brendan down when they were inside.  Back at her apartments he gave Brendan a quick hug before Joan whisked her tired charge away for a bath and some supper, then turned and took Richenda into his arms for a leisurely kiss.  

“I have to catch up on a few things with Kelson this evening,” he murmured at last.  “So I may not be in the hall for dinner.  Sleep well, dearest.”

“And you.  Thank you for a perfect afternoon.”  She smiled up at him tenderly. “Alaric Morgan, fearsome Deryni, feeding ducks with a little boy and letting him ride on his shoulders back to the castle!”

“Must be the effect of associating with all those bishops,” he grinned.  “I’ll try to be more terrifying tomorrow!”


Next chapter:

« Last Edit: February 19, 2011, 06:30:53 PM by Alkari »

Offline Evie

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Re: A Gryphon by the Tail Chapter 27
« Reply #1 on: November 17, 2010, 04:12:08 PM »
At least if Brendan fell out of a tree, he'd have an experienced Deryni healer right on hand.  Still, it's just as well that he didn't!   :D

I can send Alaric some tooth polish, if that will help him look more terrifying when he needs to shed his new softie image and get back to being that "fearsome Deryni" again.    ;)
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Re: A Gryphon by the Tail Chapter 27
« Reply #2 on: November 17, 2010, 04:54:32 PM »
I love how Brendan and Alaric are getting along in this story.  Alaric's got quite a hand with children for a man who hasn't any yet, or even any nephews or nieces to spoil. :)  (He'd have made a wonderful uncle, I think, if Bronwyn and Kevin hadn't died.)
"If having a soul means being able to feel love, loyalty, and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans."

James Herriot (James Alfred "Alfie" Wight), when a human client asked him if animals have souls.  (I don't remember in which book the story originally appeared.)

Offline Alkari

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Re: A Gryphon by the Tail Chapter 27
« Reply #3 on: November 17, 2010, 06:17:44 PM »
I've always seen Alaric as being good with kids.   He's not the jolly 'everyone's favourite uncle/grandfather' type of course, :) but in his own quieter way he genuinely likes children and enjoys spending time with them.  He also has a streak of mischief which comes out unexpectedly - there's still a little kid inside, LOL - and yes, Desert Rose, he'd have been a great uncle for Bronwyn's and Kevin's children.   Just imagine the likely chaos that could have occurred if Uncles Alaric and Duncan had visited together!!!   I would think in the long term, Alaric will turn into a totally indulgent and mischievous grandfather ;)  

In terms of how he's managing now, I do think he acted very much as an "uncle" to Kelson when Kelson was growing up - there's that brief reference in DR where Kelson meets with Alaric in the garden, and his initial reaction is wanting to run to Alaric and let him soothe away his fears as he'd done before.   Alaric also probably remembers the sorts of things he enjoyed as a kid with his own father (*sobs at Kenneth dying way too early*) plus he'd remember family life with Jared and Vera.   One thing that Brendan instinctively appreciates about him is that he never talks 'down' to Brendan or brushes off genuine questions or concerns: from what we see of young Alaric in CM, his own parents and relatives treated him with proper respect for his intelligence and concerns, so I think he simply grew up with that as the basis for his own future relationships with children.  He'll try to use age-appropriate language, but that's all.

We get interesting little glimpses of Alaric with Brendan later (all too few alas), and obviously he is a very relaxed and loving father as we see from the few scenes with Briony and Kelric in TKJ and KKB.
« Last Edit: November 18, 2010, 08:38:07 AM by Alkari »

Offline Elkhound

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Re: A Gryphon by the Tail Chapter 27
« Reply #4 on: November 17, 2010, 08:21:03 PM »
Oh frabjous day!  Caloo!  Callay!  I chortle.


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