«Thou shalt also be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of thy God».[12]
Festivities the following day were to begin at noon. As expected, Jessamy rode up from Rhemuth to witness her daughter's final vows, bringing along Jessilde's two younger sisters and also young Krispin, just turned three.
As a courtesy to Jessamy, the king and queen also made the journey up from the capital, their presence lending additional solemnity to the occasion, even though it was a private visit. Prince Brion, who was almost four, rode proudly at his father's saddlebow; the toddler Blaine, much to his disappointment, was relegated to a well-padded horse-litter with his mother, who was six months gone with child.
The three-year-old Krispin had expected to share that fate, but to his glee found himself hoisted up before Sir Kenneth Morgan, who had come along as the king's aide, and also to help supervise the three boys — and to visit with his daughter.
The convent chapel was packed even before the royal party's arrival, not only with the families of the two principals in the day's ceremonials but with local folk come to catch a glimpse of the king and queen.
«It's rather like a wedding», Jessilde had told Alyce, Marie, and Zoë early that morning, amid the bustle of last-minute preparations. The previous afternoon, while the nuns saw to the final cleaning of the convent church and made certain that linens were pristine and habits brushed up, the students had woven floral garlands to bedeck the altar rails and pillars in the nave, and now were finishing the final touches. It was Jessilde herself who had made the wreath of multi-colored roses for Cerys.
«These have opened nicely», she said, adjusting one of the pale pink ones. She'll wear her hair loose on her shoulders like a bride, and her best gown, all of it covered with a very fine, very long white veil».
«Is there a bouquet?» Marie wanted to know. «I can't remember whether they carry flowers or not. I've only seen this happen once before».
«No, these will be her flowers», Jessilde replied. «She'll carry a lighted candle instead — carefully, lest she set her veil alight! — and her parents will conduct her down the aisle while you and the rest of the choir sing the Ave Vierge Doreé».
«I don't think her parents are entirely happy about her decision», Zoë said. «Her mother looked like she'd been crying when they arrived last night, and her father hardly said a word».
«They had a rich husband all picked out for her», Alyce said. «Of course, he was old enough to be her father — and nearly, to be her grandfather».
«I'm sure they did», Jessilde replied. «She's a beautiful young woman, and she would have made a fitting adornment to any lord's court». She flashed an impish smile. «Of course, God had other plans for her».
Marie screwed up her face in a grimace of dismay. «Somehow, I don't think that being a bride of Christ is quite the same».
«No, it's much better!» Jessilde said happily, «at least for me. And for Cerys». She picked up the finished floral crown. «I'd better go and help her finish dressing».
They had decked the chapel with flowers, bursting from vases to either side of the altar and garlanded all along the altar rails, in addition to the garlands festooned across the ends of the benches set to either side of the rainbow-carpeted center aisle, where the guests would sit. Flowers also bedecked the fronts of the choir stalls, and hung in swags from the canopies over the back row. The altar wore a blanket of roses as a frontal, and had acquired a rainbow canopy of fine tapestry, with threads of gold woven amid its many colors, so that it glistened in the light that poured through the east window, already aglow from the colored glass.
By noon, the church was packed, Marie with the soloists of the choir, Alyce and Zoë amid the other students in their places with the general choristers, the sisters, servers, and clergy waiting ready for the entrance procession. As the last stroke of the Angelus bell faded into stillness, the choir-mistress moved before the choir, gathered their attention with a glance, and raised her hands in signal for them to rise.
With the first sweet notes of the Salve Regina, sung a cappella in three-part harmony, the two girls given the honor of conducting the king and queen to their seats started forward, with the royal couple and the two young princes walking under the rainbow canopy they carried. Zoë's father and one of the queen's ladies followed behind them as the royal party were led along the rainbow carpet and into the choir, where they were shown to seats of honor on the Gospel side, nearest the altar.
Sir Kenneth caught his daughter's eye and winked as he took a seat next to the king, also sending an amiable nod and a smile to Alyce; the young princes sat dutifully between their parents. In the nave, Jessamy stood before a front bench with her two younger daughters and Krispin, also on the Gospel side — and on the Epistle side were Cerys's brothers and sisters, all dressed in their finest. Their parents waited at the rear of the nave with the daughter soon to be received under the rainbow, for her reception would precede Jessilde's final vows.
Others, too, had particular cause to be present here today. Standing in the row behind Jessamy and her children, Alyce noticed a pretty, dark-haired young woman who looked a lot like Jessamy, who glanced back at the double line of blue-robed sisters now starting down the aisle behind the crucifer and two torch-bearers. By the woman's expression, as she saw Jessilde among them, Alyce decided that the one who looked like Jessamy must be her eldest daughter Sieffany — which suggested that the two men next to her, farther from the aisle, were probably her husband and her father-in-law, both of them Deryni.
It occurred to Alyce that Jessamy had mentioned the father-in-law before, and had said that he came occasionally to court — Michon de Courcy, was it? — and the son was Aurélien. Jessamy had not said it in so many words, but Alyce had been left with the distinct impression that the father was a formidable Deryni, indeed, and to be avoided, if at all possible.
Certain it was that Jessamy did not look pleased to have him standing behind her, and had positioned herself as a buffer between him and her youngest, the boy Krispin, sitting quietly in the aisle position. Surely she did not think that Michon would hurt the boy?
The sisters filed into their stalls and the clergy took their places to begin the Mass, for the two ceremonies would take place within that context, following the Gospel. After the opening prayers, the readings spoke of being called by God, and the symbolism of the rainbow as a sign of His promise, and then a pious account of the apparition by which the Blessed Virgin had made her will known concerning the foundation of what became l'Ordre de Notre Dame d'Arc-en-Ciel.
At the conclusion of that reading, as the girls with the rainbow canopy went back up the aisle to fetch Cerys and her parents, a hush settled within the sun-drenched brilliance of the chapel, and then Marie's pure voice lifted in the first verse of an old Bremagni bridal hymn, Ave Vierge Dorée. The rest of the choir joined in as two of the youngest girls from the school strewed fragrant rose petals before the bridal party as Cerys's parents led her down the rainbow aisle. Uplifted before her, Cerys bore her candle of profession as if it were the most precious treasure the world could offer.
With all eyes focused there, young Krispin chose that moment to dart from his mother's side and into the choir to join the two princes, eliciting smiles and a few suppressed giggles among the girls of the convent school, a stern glance from the king, and an indulgent hug of the culprit from Queen Richeldis as he settled happily between her and Prince Blaine for a better view of the proceedings.
Murmurs of amusement gave way to sighs of wistful admiration as Cerys passed into the choir, for she had never looked more beautiful, or more content. Her figure-skimming gown of costly damask was the rich lilac hue of hyacinths, shot with gold, her loose hair tumbling down her back like a cascade of flame, and crowned with roses in every color the convent gardens had to offer. A veil of sheerest gossamer fell to her waist in the front and onto her gown's short train in the back.