«Get up, you! You must help me make myself beautiful for your father. This is my wedding day!»
The nuptial Mass was to begin at noon, following on the last stroke of the Angelus. By eleven, the convent chapel was prepared, bedecked with flowers and flooded with summer sunlight. The few invited guests had begun to arrive.
The king and queen had come the night before, taking over part of the guest quarters with the three young princes and Princess Xenia, who was bouncing with the excitement of being allowed to serve as Alyce's flower girl. Also in the royal party were Lady Jessamy and her two daughters still at home, Jesiana and Seffira, along with the king's two principal aides besides Kenneth: Sir Tiarnán MacRae and Sir Jiri Redfearn. Duke Richard was on assignment in the field, and sent his regrets, but Sir Seisyll Arilan had deputed in his place.
From farther afield came the seneschals of both Corwyn and Lendour, along with several knights each, come to witness the nuptials of this daughter of both houses and to express their glad support for the man who now would become a principal regent for both honors. They had met him often in the past, and knew that Ahern had liked and respected him. Sir Jovett Chandos was among them — and Sir Sé Trelawney, once again come from wherever his personal quest now had taken him. The newly wed Earl of Kierney and his bride arrived, and Vera left his side for a time to spend a few moments with her secret sister.
The sisters and students of Arc-en-Ciel had all lent their efforts to the creation of the gown Alyce donned that morning: a sweep of nubby green silk embroidered with golden gryphons the size of a man's hand, with Kenneth Morgan's gold double-tressure bordure set along the hem. She wore the Furstána emeralds at her throat — and on one wrist, the gold bangle of opals and sapphires that had been her mother's. A bridal wreath of roses in a myriad of hues adorned the tumble of golden hair cascading to her waist, like the one that Cerys Devane had worn to her novice profession; and the now fully professed Sister Iris Cerys was one of the those who held the poles of the rainbow canopy under which the bride would walk down the aisle; Iris Jessilde was the other.
The chapel and players were prepared. The guests, such as there were, had been seated at the westerly ends of the choir stalls, the royal party on the Gospel side — king and queen and royal children, along with members of the king's staff — and Kenneth's sisters and younger daughters with the Corwyn and Lendour men on the Epistle side. The scent of summer flowers floated on the still air, dust motes sparkling in the sunlight that streamed through the great rose windows, east and west.
As the last stroke of the Angelus faded, Father Paschal led Sir Kenneth and Sir Jiri Redfearn from the sacristy to the front of the chapel. The convent's three chaplains were also vested and ready, ranged behind them. When all were in place, Mother Iris Judiana bowed to the four priests, then made her way down the aisle to greet the bride, who was waiting under the rainbow canopy.
At Judiana's approach, Alyce sank to her knees to receive a blessing. Then, as the king helped her to her feet, coming beneath the canopy with her, the sisters and students of the convent choir began the Ave Vierge Dorée — and truly, as the pair of them began their walk down the aisle to where Sir Kenneth Morgan waited, she was the «golden virgin» of the anthem.
Later, the details of that next hour blurred together in a series of somewhat disjointed images of ceremony. Preceded by the Princess Xenia, who paused every three steps to gravely fling a handful of rose petals into the air, and by Prince Brion in his pages' livery, bearing a cushion on which lay the coronets both of Corwyn and Lendour, Alyce made her way down the aisle on the king's arm, the canopy accompanying them, pausing at the steps into the choir to reverence the altar. Zoë followed behind, as witness and attendant.
Up into the choir then, where the king and Mother Judiana led her out from under the canopy, now no longer sheltered under the Lady's rainbow mantle but given into the keeping of the man in whose hand the king now set hers, kissing her cheek and then stepping back to take his place beside his queen.
Readings, then, speaking of the duty of husbands and wives to one another and to God — and the joy recounted in the Song of Songs:
«Surge, propera, arnica mea, Columba mea, formosa mea, et veni…»
My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away, for lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone…
Next, the vows, kneeling before Father Paschal as he bade them exchange promises, a ring, a kiss. And then the coronets, brought on their velvet cushion by Prince Brion, which cushion she took and extended to her new husband, that he might lay hands upon the two in token of the responsibilities he now assumed as a regent of Corwyn and Lendour.
The remainder of the Mass then — heavenly bread upon the tongue and the sacred cup shared each to each. And after that, the laying of her floral crown at the feet of the statue of the Virgin, bows to king and queen, and the recessional, following the double line of blue-robed students back up the aisle and into the chapel forecourt, where the girls showered them with flower petals as they emerged into the sunlight.
After, there was a festive wedding supper, and good wishes from the wedding guests: Zoë's enthusiastic embrace for both of them, the shy kisses of Kenneth's other two daughters, the awkward embraces of his sisters; the more heartfelt kisses of the three young princes and little Princess Xenia, who kept gathering up the rose petals from the chapel floor so she could shower the couple again; a promise of the king's ongoing protection and favor; Sé's promise that he would always be there, if needed. Vera's grin as she whispered a word or two about what awaited Alyce in the marriage bed.
After supper, the bridal couple were conducted to the principal guest apartment, occupied the night before by the king and queen but now vacated, with their imminent departure to return to the city. When the queen and Jessamy had dressed Alyce for bed, and Father Paschal had blessed the bed and her in it, everyone withdrew save for Kenneth, left standing against the door, simply gazing at her. In the garden beneath the window, the sweet voices of the students sang a gentle bridal blessing from distant Bremagne, that soon faded into stillness with the sound of departing feet on gravel.
He came to her then, in the twilit summer night, shedding his outer robe to slip into the bed beside her. He lay there on his side for a long moment, simply gazing at her, head propped on one elbow, before lifting a reverent hand to brush along her cheek, across her lips, down the curve of her neck to the ribbons at the throat of her night shirt, briefly caressing the sweet swell of her breast.
«Dear God, you are beautiful, in body and in soul!» he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. «I asked you once before whether you were an angel, for surely I stand before the gates of Paradise».
As she shivered slightly at his touch, he gently tugged at one of the ribbons until its bow parted, rolling closer then to nuzzle kisses on the creamy skin thus exposed.
«Actually, I've just lied to you», he admitted, raising an eyebrow at her astonished O of indignation. «I am not standing anywhere; I am lying here beside a beautiful woman who is my wife at last — though a part of me is upstanding».
The playful downward flick of his glance to the region of his groin elicited a giggle and a maidenly blush on the part of his bride, after which he resumed his reverent exploration of her neck, loosing another tie, slipping a gentle hand into the open neck of her gown as his mouth sought hers and began to draw her with him into Paradise.
Several times they had their pleasure of one another that night, and again shortly after dawn, before slipping back into languid dozing for another several hours. Around noon, shortly after the Angelus, they surfaced for a meal, brought to their room by a smiling Sister Iris Cerys, who bobbed in blushing curtsy over the tray she presented as Kenneth opened the door.