«I shall do my best to keep Alaric out of their sight as well», Llion said with a tiny smile.
«I know you will, Llion, and I appreciate your loyalty», Kenneth replied.
Chapter 26
«Do nothing without advice; and when thou hast once done, repent not».[27]
Archbishop William’s funeral cortege left Rhemuth early the following morning, after a simple celebration of the first Mass of the Epiphany. Later that morning, the king and his court rode down to the cathedral for more solemn observances, at which Bishop Corrigan presided, then processed back to the castle for Twelfth Night Court, under sunny skies.
It was a less festive occasion than it should have been, for custom required that the court remain in mourning until a new king was crowned. Accordingly, King Brion wore deepest black in memory of his late father, though the fabrics were sumptuous, and a prince’s coronet crowned his sable head. He also wore the other accoutrements of his Haldane heritage: the royal brooch with its Haldane Lion clasping his mantle, the Ring of Fire, and the Eye of Rom glowing in his right ear.
But the Haldane sword was not yet his to wield. His uncle, Duke Richard, had charge of that, and would later use it to give the accolade to several young candidates for knighthood.
First, however, there were official greetings to be delivered from neighboring rulers already present for the now-delayed coronation, presentations to be made, petitions to be offered up. Fortunately, there were no Torenthi princes to send shivers up the spines of Kenneth Morgan or Seisyll Arilan or Michon de Courcy, though Count János Sokrat did make an appearance on behalf of the King of Torenth to express his condolences over the passing of the late king.
To all of these, King Brion responded graciously and competently, much as his father might have done. Watching from his place near the throne, Kenneth could see much of the old king in him, and knew that Donal Blaine Haldane had trained his heir well. Occasionally Brion would glance aside at one or another of his advisors for guidance or confirmation, but for the most part he moved the business of the court along smoothly, and seemed to enjoy himself.
He definitely enjoyed the next item on the agenda, once the foreign ambassadors had been received: the investiture of the new crop of royal pages, come to be sworn in and receive their crimson tabards from the hands of the king. The promotion of several senior pages to squire also brought a smile to the new king’s lips, though he was technically still a squire himself; and Prince Nigel, serving their mother as duty page for the Twelfth Night Court, watched the proceedings with wistful longing, for it would be several years before he was old enough to join them.
Only two knights were made that day: young Arran MacEwan, a distant cousin of the Duke of Claibourne, and Ewan de Traherne Earl of Rhendall, whose family obligations had delayed the original plans for his knighting, several years before. For both of them, King Brion conducted the ceremony of knighthood without deviation from what had always been done, save that it was Duke Richard’s hand wielding the Haldane sword, with Brion’s hand atop it. But both new knights then swore fealty with their hands between those of the king, to the evident satisfaction of all concerned.
Following this routine business, the rest of the court progressed mostly according to expectation. Given the delay anticipated before the new king could be properly crowned, those peers present were summoned forward to renew their fealty to the Crown of Gwynedd. Kenneth had already given the new king a fealty unsuspected by any of the others present, and had renewed his oath as an officer of state with the other members of the crown council, shortly after Brion’s accession; but when the earls were called, he went forward with his son at his side, to kneel and set his hands between those of the king.
No words accompanied the renewal of these oaths, for none were needed; but before Kenneth could rise, Brion smiled and briefly laid a hand on young Alaric’s head as if in blessing, and leaned forward to murmur words intended only for Kenneth’s ears.
«I look forward to the day when the heir of Corwyn, my father’s Airleas, may take his place among my other peers», he said quietly, before letting his hand slip softly from the silver-gilt head.
Kenneth doubted that the king’s words meant much to the four-year-old Alaric, but Kenneth found himself greatly moved as he rose and the two of them made way for the next earl and then the barons. Leading his son back to their place among his Lendour knights, he put the boy in Sir Llion’s charge, then returned to stand with the king’s advisors beside the throne.
There followed a further succession of the king’s subjects, seemingly endless, coming to pay their respects or offer gestures of loyalty. Later on came more official greetings from neighboring lands, with emissaries and ambassadors offering the felicitations of their masters and presenting gifts.
One of those present who did not go forward was a man from distant Cardosa, who had no business before the throne of Gwynedd. But his presence was noted by at least one of the crown advisors standing at the king’s side, and another man amid the throng gathered in the great hall, who had affirmed a baron’s oath of fealty earlier in the afternoon. Both men were members of the Camberian Council.
«What was he doing in Rhemuth, and at the king’s court?» Michon muttered to Seisyll Arilan, as the two of them withdrew into one of the window embrasures during a lull in the banqueting that followed.
«You saw him, too, then?» Seisyll replied, with an automatic glance out across the crowded hall. «I was fairly certain I’d caught just a glimpse of him, as the peers were coming forward to swear, but then I couldn’t find him again, and I thought I’d been mistaken. Are you certain?»
Michon folded his arms across his chest and turned to gaze out the window to the dark garden beyond, though in fact he was studying the crowd behind them, reflected in the black of the window glass.
«Oh, he was here, all right», he said, «hardly an arm’s length away — and he saw that I had recognized him. But then people moved between us, quite possibly at his instigation, and I lost him. But it was definitely Zachris Pomeroy».
«The devil take him!» Seisyll said under his breath. «What do you suppose he was up to? Spying for Prince Hogan? Surely you don’t think he came here to kill the king».
«Not this time, or not yet», Michon murmured, with a glance toward the dais, where the king sat at the high table between his mother and his brother Nigel, all of whom were laughing at the antics of a jongleur’s sleight-of-hand, as was Duke Richard, seated on the queen’s other side. «I’ve already told your nephew to stay close; and he knows what Pomeroy looks like. Sir Kenneth is also nearby, as always, though he doesn’t know about this specific threat — and I don’t know of a way to warn him without revealing ourselves».
He nodded toward the left side of the dais, where Jamyl Arilan was carefully topping up Bishop Corrigan’s wine from a pewter ewer, a towel over one shoulder of his Haldane squire’s livery, though his gaze roved continually, always returning to the king. Farther along the table, Sir Kenneth was chatting companionably with Sir Trevor Udaut, though he, too, turned his glance often in the king’s direction.
«I still don’t like it», Seisyll muttered. «What can we do?»
«We tell the Council, once the king has retired for the night», Michon said, «and meanwhile, we keep a sharp eye. And I would say that we bring Jamyl with us later, except that I’ll feel more certain of the king’s safety if we leave him here while we’re away. We can brief him afterward».
Others voiced similar concerns much later that night, in the Camberian Council’s secret meeting chamber.