Queen of Sorrows--Part Two, Chapter Six

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3479.0.html


Chapter Six

December 16, 1463
Vár Adony Palace, Orsalis
The Queen's Apartment
Evening

Queen Miranda stared dry-eyed out her window and across the Southern Sea towards the distant Gwyneddan shore, although from this distance it was impossible to see more of it than a dark gray line on the horizon above seas only slightly less gray in the wintry drizzle. The King her Father, Uthyr of Gwynedd, was dead. There was some dim recognition that she would come to feel the pain of that in time, but at the moment, she felt empty, as if a part of herself had died as well.

"How did it happen?" she asked her chaplain.

"He had some sort of apoplectic seizure in his bedchamber as he was preparing for bed, according to Prince Camber," replied Father Emrys. "The King's Healer told him that when the King fell, he hit his head against the hearth stone, and it was the impact of that which led to his death just as much as the apoplexy itself." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "It was mercifully quick, Your Majesty. King Uthyr never regained consciousness, just lingered long enough for the Archbishop to administer Extreme Unction and for those of your family who were in Rhemuth at the time to say their farewells. Prince Camber said he had tried to get to you in time to bring you home late last night, once they realized the King was not going to recover, but he only knew the diplomatic Portal signature in Horthánthy, and he'd needed to rush back home once he discovered you weren't in residence there. But he returned there tonight and just arrived here by ship half an hour ago."

Miranda turned to face her chaplain. "Where is he now?"

"Having an ear-blistering 'discussion' with your husband, from the sounds I heard coming through the door as I was leaving to come find you," Father Emrys divulged with a faint grin. "Apparently the Hort made the mistake of expressing his reluctance to allow you to return home for your father's funeral on the grounds that you are currently bearing the long-awaited Prince of Orsal and Tralia."

"Oh, did he now?!" Miranda exclaimed, finally feeling something besides apathetic numbness. "Well, as I am nowhere near my due date yet, he can go leap off a high cliff with that nonsense!" She called for Lady Jadviga, who had recently begun serving as her Mistress of the Robes since Lady Genevieve, also pregnant with her first child now, had returned to her father's castle in Marley to await his birth in the safer environment of her family home. "Jadviga, I will need a traveling trunk packed at once for a visit home to Rhemuth. I will need clothing and accessories suitable for a Royal funeral."

Jadviga, looking startled, swept her a deep curtsey. "I'll make one ready at once, Your Majesty. My deepest sympathies. Ah...how many changes of clothing will you need?"

"At least a week's worth, I should think," Miranda said, glancing uncertainly at her chaplain, who shook his head.

"Prince Camber also mentioned something about your brother Prince Nicholas leaving for Andelon shortly after Twelfth Night in hopes of bringing home a bride. So unless you think the Hort can be persuaded to allow you to make two visits home in short succession, it might be better to plan on a longer stay until after the wedding," Father Emrys informed her.

"Andelon?!" Miranda stared at him in dismay. "So Cinhil has refused Colin permission to wed Lady Melisande?" She knew Cinhil had originally hoped that circumstances would allow him to give their brother permission for the match if their father died before him, which had never been a certainty given Cinhil's health, especially now that it was starting to decline more rapidly. She wondered briefly what had made him change his mind, but upon further reflection, it was not too difficult to guess. She knew that Torval of Nordmärcke had been making little secret of his ambitions in recent months. Even Adémar had become concerned enough to leave off his pursuit of pleasure long enough to take notice and pay more heed to the security of his own realm.  And also at the time when Cinhil had privately expressed that desire to her, he had still believed he would someday father heirs of his body, taking the pressure off his younger brothers of needing to continue the Haldane succession, a hope that seemed unlikely to ever happen now. She tried to remember what little she knew about the Andelonian royal house. Andelon was not part of the Forcinn, strictly speaking, although it bordered two of the Forcinn States and was on friendly terms with both. She recalled her father speaking very favorably of the Andelonian sovereign, King Mikhail. Their Princess Royal had still been a young girl, the last Miranda had heard, although Catalina of Andelon must be of marriageable age by now. It seemed a suitable enough match, she supposed, except that it wasn't with Colin's beloved Mellie.

She wondered how soon after their father's funeral Colin could realistically leave the Kingdom to go courting a foreign bride, with Christmastide being one of the busiest seasons of Court life even at the very best of times, which the sudden death of one King and the accession of a swiftly failing one was certainly not! He likely would not be able to be spared until early to mid-January at the very earliest, and there would be the travel time to Andelon and back to factor in as well....

"On second thought," Miranda advised Lady Jadviga, who was still waiting for her answer, "just go ahead and pack all of my warmest winter wear. And make sure there are outfits suitable for both a royal funeral and a royal wedding."

"Shall I send for the nursemaids to pack trunks for the Princesses as well?" her Mistress of the Robes asked.

Miranda sighed. If it were up to her, she would insist on bringing them both, for without her remaining here in Orsalis to keep a close personal eye on them, she would worry for their safety. But her plan to make an extended visit to Gwynedd over the Christmas and Twelfth Night seasons and possibly lasting nearly until Lent would push the very limits of Adémar's forbearance already, she knew. At least the attack on Lady Marija's children and the death of her daughter several months earlier had at least partially awakened Adémar to the potential dangers to their own children, and falling pregnant with his heir at last had made her husband a lot more indulgent towards her wishes, including finally persuading him to allow her to dismiss from her household a few of the ladies-in-waiting he had foisted upon her. Hopefully in time she could replace them with others she felt she could trust more, or at the very least distrust a whole lot less.

"I very much doubt the Hort will allow me to bring them with me," she told Jadviga, "so I will need you to ensure they have the most trustworthy of my ladies and men-at-arms attending to them in my absence. Which means I will also be unable to bring you with me. I need you, Danelija, and Katja to be my eyes and ears here."

"As you wish, Your Majesty, but who will attend to you while you are in Rhemuth?" asked her Mistress of the Robes, looking concerned.

Miranda gave a dry chuckle. "Oh, I'm certain Maman will be able to spare a lady-in-waiting or two to foist upon me."

#

December 16, 1463
Vár Adony Palace, Orsalis
The Hort's Private Reception Room
Evening

"Her Hortic Majesty Queen Miranda," the liveried manservant announced as Miranda swept past him into the small reception room that was just past the guard room in the Hort's personal apartment. Adémar looked up in surprise, evidently not expecting her arrival just yet. Her brother Camber rose from his chair to sweep her up into his strong embrace.

She hugged him back, drawing strength from the brief contact with her youngest brother. It was still a bit of a shock to her to see him now as a man fully grown. When she had left Rhemuth to be married, he was still a youth of sixteen years, man enough to go off to university, yet still half boy in many ways. Now, while his face still looked nearly as youthful as she remembered, he had finally reached his full height and had developed the greater breadth of shoulder and more pronounced musculature and facial structure of a man who had finally left his boyhood years behind him. Clearly despite his academic and ecclesiastic pursuits in recent years, he had not neglected his martial training.

"It's good to see you, brother," she told him. "Or perhaps I ought to say Father Camber?" Miranda smiled up at him, which was also a little unnerving, given that she was fairly certain she had been able to look him directly in the eye without tilting her head when she'd last seen him. "You were ordained recently, were you not?"

"Yes. A year ago at Eastertide."

"That's what I thought." She had wanted to visit Rhemuth then, but she had still been dealing with morning sickness with Silvé at the time. Perhaps she would see her family at Christmas instead, she had thought, but by that following Christmas she had been far too afraid to leave a toddler and an infant daughter behind to Lady Jesaminda's tender mercies. And now she was heading home for a family Christmas at last, but still without her daughters, and in any case no longer able to present her father with the grandchildren he had never seen. The realization of that loss stabbed her in the heart, yet still the tears refused to come.

#

December 20, 1463
The Cathedral of St. George
The City of Rhemuth, Gwynedd
Afternoon

The Cathedral was as cold and dreary as Miranda's emotional state as she stood with her family for the funerary Mass. Beside her, her youngest sister Elisa suppressed a quiet sniffle, and Miranda's hand absently went to her sleeve cuff to draw forth her handkerchief, as yet unused, to offer to the grieving girl. On Elisa's other side, her other sister Richeldis had withdrawn very deeply within herself, staring stonily at their father's coffin but paying little heed to the eulogy, her anger and impatience at the entire universe barely contained. Miranda was concerned for her middle sister, yet also a bit envious. At least Richeldis was clearly able to feel something.

She glanced towards the other side of the nave where what remained of the Morgan family stood, glad that her sheer black veil, fashioned in the more Eastern style preferred in her husband's homeland, helped to conceal her features. Duke Alain had succumbed to a sudden heart ailment not long after the death of his beloved Duchess Jocosa, leaving his heir Joscelin to become Duke of Corwyn in his stead and also assume the mantle of King's Champion. Joss had only served King Uthyr in that role for a matter of months before the King's own untimely death. Miranda wondered how long he would be able to serve her brother Cinhil in that role before Cinhil followed in their father's footsteps.

She had not been prepared for how much Cinhil had declined since she last saw him. Mostly confined to his bedchamber now, only able to leave his bed for short periods of time, he was a mere shadow of his former self now, pale and nearly gaunt, although he still managed to remain just active enough to retain enough muscle tone to prevent him from looking skeletal. He was no longer well enough to make the short trip down the King's Way to the Cathedral to attend their father's funeral or accompany his casket downstairs to the Royal Crypt afterwards to see it to its final resting place, but his Jouvian wife attended the service in his stead, the new Queen's face pale and anxious, already feeling the weight of her new responsibilities, her burden doubled by the need for her to assume many of the more public-facing responsibilities that ought to have been Cinhil's as well, but without the lifelong training for those tasks that ought to have been hers by birthright. Despite her personal feelings of wary animosity towards Alixa's father and brother, Miranda couldn't help but feel a deep sympathy for Alixa's predicament, not to mention no small measure of worry about how quickly she could learn to take up the reins of a kingdom on the verge of war in Colin's absence and with the King's continued ability to rule over the coming months now far from certain, for Camber and Cinhil had both brought Miranda up to speed on the current state of affairs with regards to King Torval's continued aggressions in the few days since her arrival in Rhemuth.

Colin himself stood next to their mother, the Dowager Queen, neither of them deigning to acknowledge the other's presence with so much as a quick glance. Tradition dictated that the Dowager Queen ought to have been accompanied by the new monarch, but as Cinhil had been too unwell to attend, that responsibility had fallen upon her second son instead. There was a chill in the air between them that had little to do with the bleakness of the winter day. Miranda had heard that it had been Maman who had taken it upon herself to send the courier to Andelon to propose a royal marriage between Colin and their Princess Royal, the message already sent before Colin had even managed to return home after hearing of their father's death. Miranda's lips tightened. She could hardly blame him for being furious. While she had regretfully come around to thinking the match with Andelon was likely necessary, Lady Melisande being no better equipped to suddenly take on the duties of a King's Consort than poor Alixa and Gwynedd in desperate need of allies and a Princess's dowry sufficient to help defray some of the burdensome expenses of wartime, Miranda couldn't help but think that Cinhil would have handled the delicate matter far differently and with greater sensitivity if only he'd been given time to do so, rather than awakening to the news that he had become King during the early night hours and that his mother had already undertaken the task of attempting to assure the Haldane succession in his stead.

Miranda turned her concerned gaze towards Camber, his head bent solicitously towards the new Queen as she whispered something, nodding as if in answer to a question. He looked exhausted, his expression far more somber than she was accustomed to seeing on the brother she had privately nicknamed the Haldane Hellion in his younger years. While she thought his newfound maturity became him far more than his feckless youth, she had noticed he seemed to have taken on the role of caring for the needs of everyone else around him, quite likely to the detriment of his own. She wondered if he was destined to be pawned off on the royal marriage market as well, required to make some advantageous match for the greater good of the Kingdom, his personal hopes for a bishopric someday quietly sidelined due to the greater necessity of putting the needs of the Haldane dynasty above any personal desires or dreams. She hoped not. It was bad enough that Richeldis and Elisa were likely to end up married off to strangers within the coming year, both to secure necessary alliances and to move both Princesses to positions of greater safety before the Kingdom ended up embroiled in conflict as was likely to happen soon after the spring thaw. She desperately hoped her sisters would find greater happiness, or at least contentment, in their future marriages than she had ever known in her own.

#

December 25, 1463
Rhemuth Castle
The Queen's Tower
Afternoon

Christmastide had come, and while the denizens of Rhemuth Castle were in far from a festive mood, there was still annual business to take care of at the Christmas and Twelfth Night Courts that had already been scheduled months in advance of King Uthyr's unexpected demise, so while the usual holiday festivities had been either quietly dispensed with and those events still scheduled were far more subdued, the castle was filled with people and bustling with activity nonetheless. Some of the noblemen in temporary residence had been traveling for days or even weeks to attend the winter courts, either not hearing of the King's death until they had arrived in Rhemuth or at least uncertain if the rumors swiftly spreading throughout the Kingdom had been founded in truth.

Miranda had spent the past several days either quietly lending support to Cinhil's Queen by assisting her with various tasks in the background or diverting her mother Queen Soraya's attention towards herself to the best of her ability, to prevent her from attempting to control everyone else around her, since the dowager queen was not handling the sudden loss of her husband at all well, adding an extra layer of ferocity to her temper and a determined forcefulness to her already strong personality that was threatening to alienate her entire family at a time when she needed their support the most. She hoped that whoever Colin ended up marrying would have a suitably strong personality to deal with Maman's iron will after her own return to Orsalis, but without being so similar to Maman herself that her brother would end up abdicating his princely responsibilities to run away back to Candor Rhea in utter disgust and despair, unwittingly repeating the maladjusted family history of their late grandparents in Fianna.

Now she had finally found a few brief hours of peace and quiet between pressing tasks, and her mother had succumbed to her ladies' urging to get a little rest before the Christmas feast later that evening, so Miranda headed towards the apartment block thinking to do the same. She started up the stairs towards her former apartment, furnished by their loyal chamberlain with many of the same furnishings she had used there in her maiden years, when she had shared the rooms with Melisande. The thought of Melisande made her think of Colin, whom she had barely had a spare moment to reconnect with since her arrival, but a quick stop at his apartment revealed that he was not within. Given the number of guests who had arrived for the fortnight of Court events, that was hardly a surprise. Camber was finding himself similarly occupied this week, perhaps even doubly so, for he was having to function both as a chaplain and as a Haldane Prince, the role he was born to but which had taken on lesser importance to him in the past year now that he had made a commitment to Holy Church.

The thought occurred to her that she had not managed to spend more than a few minutes at a time with Cinhil yet. In their younger years, they had been nearly inseparable, but even though she had been back in Rhemuth for a little over a week, she had only seen him a few times since her return. That was in part due to not wanting to overtax his energies, knowing his primary focus needed to be on ensuring a smooth transfer of power from their father's reign to his own, as well as needing to ensure that Colin would be properly prepared to assume the throne after him, but deep down she knew there was also her fear that he would see straight through her and realize her deep unhappiness that was holding her back. She didn't want to add yet another burden to his already full plate.

And yet, if she failed to take advantage of this rare visit to spend more time with Cinhil, when would she ever be able to do so in future? She did not wish to spend the rest of her life swamped with regret that she had chosen not to spend what time she could with him when she'd had the chance. Miranda found herself heading towards her eldest brother's apartment, which was still the same one he had moved into shortly before his marriage to Alixa. Despite his recent change of status, he was comfortable there and had no desire to relocate to their late father's Bedchamber of State in the King's Tower.

#

December 25, 1463
Rhemuth Castle
The King's bedchamber
Afternoon

Miranda couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so heartily. Cinhil watched her with a gleam in his eye, waiting for her to catch her breath so he could resume his story.

"So anyway, in comes Camber afterwards, with no idea at all of what that damned kitten had just done–and remember, mind, that he's not even supposed to be harboring the flea-ridden little fugitive at all! He sits on the bench at his writing desk all unsuspecting, not noticing the ink spill because the bench is ebony and it was winter, so his habit was a thicker wool. And also...well, it was Camber. Doubtless his mind was on other matters at the moment." Cinhil grinned.

"Oh dear, and if it was a black habit, the stain likely didn't even show," Miranda observed. "And then what happened?"

"A few minutes later, Maman sent for him. It seems a letter had arrived from Grecotha, something about a final settling of accounts for expenses owed from Camber's final year at university. Nothing too extravagant by that point, since at least he'd left his wastrel years well behind by then, but still a high enough charge that she wanted to be certain nothing had been added onto the bill that oughtn't to have been before settling the account. Camber walks in and sits down on one of Maman's favorite bench cushions. You remember the black and gold silk brocade set from Fianna that we were all but forbidden to touch when we were children?"

"Oh, no...!"

"Oh, yes!" affirmed Cinhil. "So Camber sits briefly, transferring the ink stain from one fabric surface to the other, essentially turning the bench seat into a giant ink stamp with no idea that's what he's just done. He answers Maman's questions and goes off on his merry way, still with neither of them the wiser."

"How was the matter discovered?" Miranda asked.

"Well, about an hour later, enough of the remaining dampness had managed to seep through the habit and Camber's braies for him to finally notice the next time he chanced to sit, which fortunately wasn't until he was back in his own chambers. Once he bothered to investigate, that's when he noticed the large, butterfly-shaped stain on his white linens, not to mention–once he managed to get his hands on a mirror–his bum." His lips twitched as his sister burst into another shout of laughter. "And in the meantime, Maman's ladies-in-waiting had mysteriously been finding similar black splotches and smudges on their gown skirts the entire evening, but no one could figure out where they were coming from."

Miranda grinned. "Did Camber ever confess?"

"Maybe to his confessor. I'm not sure he ever found out about the confusion he caused among Maman's ladies until much later. I heard the story from Richeldis, who had managed to piece the events together in the meantime, having heard about the cat's antics and the ink spill from Camber and then realizing how he must have inadvertently transferred it to Maman's apartment when he met with her that same afternoon."

"How did Maman react when she discovered he'd ruined one of her favorite cushions?" asked Miranda.

The young King grinned. "Richeldis found the ruined cushion and flipped it over the following morning to conceal the stain. I don't think anyone else has discovered it yet."

Miranda collapsed into giggles yet again. Cinhil smiled. "See the joys you'll get to experience in a few years with your three and their sibling conspiracies?" he joked.

Her giggles died away as she tried to imagine Rezza and Silvé as older children, much less the babe growing within her whose personality was still very much unknown. "I hope they will have the chance to have as happy and carefree a childhood as we did, and that Adémar won't decide to marry our daughters off too early. If I could, I'd arrange for the girls to be fostered here when they're a little older, but I don't know how amenable Adémar would be to that idea. And I'm certain he won't want his heir growing up outside of Orsal and Tralia."

Cinhil nodded. "He'd want his heir to grow up at his Court, known by all his courtiers and able to learn the art of governance at his father's knee, but perhaps the Hort would be more agreeable to allowing him a few short visits to a foreign Court or two, for comparison's sake if nothing else. And that would give our family more of a chance to get to know the boy." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Tell me about my nieces. Or better yet, Show me."

She Mind-Shared an image of the young princesses playing on the rooftop garden in Horthánthy that past summer, her eldest chasing one of the household pages with wobbly but determined steps while the younger sat on a blanket with one of the junior nursemaids, attempting to stack a set of colorful wooden blocks but knocking half of them over in the process. Her face screwed up in preparation for an angry wail. Cinhil laughed.

"My oldest child, Rezza, looks more like a Haldane to me," Miranda noted, "although she has my husband's eyes. Silvé takes more after her father, but every so often I see a fleeting expression on her face that reminds me of Richeldis or Elisa."

Cinhil smiled. "Hopefully she'll be more even-tempered like Elisa. I love our sister Richeldis, but lately she's been angry at the entire universe."

"I've noticed," said Miranda. "Do you know why?"

"As best as I can make out, for existing," her brother joked. His expression sobered after a moment. "It's a difficult age, twenty. At that age, I was often pretty mad at the universe myself."

"At that age, you had more cause to be," she reminded Cinhil. That was around the time the family had begun to realize his condition was likely to be terminal. "And I'm sure her personality being very similar to our mother's, at an age when it's natural for a young woman to want to set her own course in life and make her own choices rather than follow a strict mother's direction, hasn't helped."

"It has not." Cinhil sighed. "I would love to have had daughters, but all the same, I'm very grateful I'll never need to learn how to navigate the perilous waters of a daughter's young adult years. I think I'd have found that even more daunting than trying to manage a son, since at least I'd have my own life experiences to draw upon for that, though I certainly don't know that I'd want an heir at this late date either, adding more uncertainty to the succession. I am very concerned about what the lack of either will mean for my wife, though." He looked up at her. "I don't suppose there is any possibility that the Hort would be amenable to offering Alixa sanctuary, should it come down to that after my death?"

"I think Orsal and Tralia are among the last places I would counsel anyone to seek sanctuary right now," Miranda reluctantly admitted. "Our political situation is a bit of a powder-keg at the moment, not that I've managed to convince the Hort of that. But wouldn't Alixa be able to remain here? She would be a dowager Queen of Gwynedd, after all!" Miranda frowned. "Or are you truly worried the coming war will reach as far inside our borders as Rhemuth?"

"Anything's possible in wartime," Cinhil admitted, "though my more immediate concern is the terms of our betrothal contract. Father agreed to Alixa's return to Joux if she hadn't produced a child by the time of my death, and despite our continuing efforts when my health permits, the chances of that happening now are minute. Of course, at the time of the betrothal Father had every reason to think I could live well into my thirties, and that we would surely have time to produce several children before then. And Renier must have been hoping I would do him the favor of dying younger, I suppose. But I'm sure you've come to know your neighbors across the Thuria River well enough by now to understand what Alixa would be returning to?"

Miranda shuddered. "I'll speak to Adémar on her behalf. But I can't make any promises. I don't know if he would consider having custody of Renier's Princess Royal to be more of an asset or a liability, but he's likelier to have a more transactional view of the matter than an empathetic one, looking for some way to leverage the situation to Orsal and Tralia's advantage. Perhaps if Richeldis or Elisa happens to marry into a more sympathetic House by then, something could be arranged there?"

"Possibly. Though again, I've only barely begun to look into the potential matches for either, much less figured out the best way to broach the topic of marriage to them both," her brother admitted. "I need them to understand the vital importance of making strong alliances, and that I need them to do so very soon, yet I also don't want to condemn either of them to a lifetime of unhappiness just because Gwynedd's peace is under threat right now." Cinhil sighed, staring out his window. "I think Father came to regret his choice when it came to your marriage," he added, so low that Miranda had to strain to hear him. "If that counts for anything at this late date. He admitted to me recently that he ought to have let you marry Joss."

She swallowed, tears prickling her eyes at last. "It's good to know, even though the change of heart came far too late. I just wish he'd lived long enough to be able to admit that to me himself."

#

May 20, 1464
Vár Adony Palace, Orsalis
The Queen's Apartment
Morning

Queen Miranda sat up in bed as her Lady of the Bedchamber brought in the morning mail for her perusal. She had been delivered of her husband's heir only fifteen days earlier, and the spread of the happy news of the newborn Prince Létald Kelliam Rogan Josse as the long-awaited heir to the House of Horthy had brought some measure of joy to a land that in recent months had kept a nervous eye on its coasts and southwestern border, for the war which currently raged in neighboring Gwynedd just a few short miles across the Southern Sea could potentially end up spilling over to their shores as well now that fractious Joux was also involved in the fray.

Miranda was happier for other, more bittersweet reasons as well. In addition to still being in confinement and therefore her husband Adémar blissfully absent from her side (although the birth of a son had made him uncommonly indulgent and he had just recently sent off an unexpectedly decent amount of aid to Cinhil's war effort as a result), her original Mistress of the Robes and Lady of the Bedchamber were back in Tralia. Lady Genevieve had been evacuated back to Miranda's household from Marley mere days before the enemy soldiers invaded her father's lands, and thus far they had received no word about how her homeland fared, although as both she and Genie had fallen pregnant close to the same time, at least they could share their confinement period together and both benefit from the assistance of Miranda's other ladies-in-waiting. Lady Ailis was also back in her household along with a young son, Ciardha, her husband the Laird of Drumlithie sending them both to safety before joining up with the Cassan, Kierney, and Transha levies along with Ailis's father and brothers. As worried as Miranda was about the stability of the political situation in Orsal and Tralia, at least for the moment the Hortic Principality seemed united in common cause, the various factions seeming to set aside their usual covert hostilities for the moment due to the greater threats to Hortic sovereignty looming ominously beyond their borders.

She reached for the bundle of letters, handing her son over to Ailis in exchange, and breaking the seal on the top missive. It was from her sister Richeldis, newly married and living in Bremagne with her husband's family now. She skimmed it quickly before looking up at her friends.

"Richeldis seems to be very happy with her new husband. Philippe's brother King Meyric is delighted with his younger brother for having secured an alliance with Gwynedd despite the difficult times it is currently facing, and is all too happy to help thwart Torval's and Renier's ambitions across the Southern Sea. And she says her new mother-by-marriage is very doting and has done her best to help Richeldis get settled in and meet new friends among the Court ladies at Millefleurs." Miranda smiled. "That's a relief! I must admit, this is the happiest my sister has sounded in ages. It seems that Cinhil chose well for her."

"My sister Noella told me in one of her letters that Princess Richeldis chose Prince Philippe for herself," Ailis informed her. "And the Dowager Queen nearly tore a strip out of Noella because of it, because she'd wanted Richeldis to accept another man's suit, and Noella was helping Princess Catalina chaperone the event where they became more closely acquainted. Then the Princess went full feral on Queen Soraya for not taking her daughters' wishes into account when trying to select advantageous matches for them. I'd have paid to witness that!" Ailis laughed.

"Oh, did Richeldis actually choose him?" Miranda's smile grew. "Even better, then! I'm glad Cinhil approved the match. My mother had hoped Richeldis would marry Alarikos of Beldouria, but to my mind Elisa seemed to be a better match for him than for Dafydd of Llannedd." She set Richeldis's letter aside, cracking the seal on the next letter. It was from her brother Cinhil.

Miranda quickly skimmed the text, expecting it would be another update on the current war. Instead, she nearly dropped the letter in her surprise, tears of joy filling her eyes.

"What is it?" Genevieve asked, sounding alarmed, assuming it was news from the war front.

"The Queen of Gwynedd is pregnant at last," Miranda informed her, tears in her voice. "Jesu be praised, it's what Cinhil always longed for!"

#

Later, as Miranda nursed her newborn son, the bittersweetness of Cinhil's news began to sink in. Queen Alixa would bear Gwynedd's King a daughter, but one he might not live to see. She had evidently already caught with child shortly before King Uthyr's death, but neither she nor Cinhil had realized it until Alixa had nearly reached the middle months of pregnancy, not knowing it was even possible for them by that point. And they had waited another couple of months to be even more certain that she would not miscarry before cautiously sharing the good news beyond their inner circle in Rhemuth who had the greatest need to know that the succession might be affected if the expected child should turn out to be a boy. But they were having a daughter instead. Miranda imagined her brother was both joyful and relieved.

The birth of a son, on Miranda's part, was fraught with worry. As Queen of Orsal and Tralia, expected to produce princes to continue the Von Horthy lineage, she was glad to have borne her husband's heir at last, yet deep down she was still worried that once the current crisis died down, Létald's birth could still respark older tensions. And might giving Adémar a second son someday make matters worse or cause Lord Davorin to give up his ambitions once and for all? She could only guess, but only time would tell.


Next chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3483.0.html

[Evie]

So I just discovered completely by accident, while scrolling through The King's Deryni looking for something totally unrelated, that the Palace at Orsalis actually has a name that isn't mentioned in the Codex. So I have just gone back and changed references to "the Palace at Orsalis" in previous chapters and this one to "Vár Adony Palace, Orsalis." Glad I happened to find that reference before I posted the entire story!

[Evie]

It turns out that Vár Adony is Hungarian for "Adony Castle," with Adony being a town in Hungarian. I'm happy to discover that, since I had speculated that the Hortic lands of Orsal and Tralia might be similar in some ways to Hungary and Croatia, which also had a shared history in medieval times despite their cultural differences, and from what I read about Tralia in the Codex, I guessed that the merger of Orsal and Tralia was meant to be the Eleven Kingdoms parallel. So I drew from both languages for the names I used in this story, and was glad to find independent confirmation that my guess was on the right track.

[tmcd]

"powder-keg"? Gunpowder?  Oh, "handgonne" is in Pawns and Queens, ch. 20. I didn't make any note of that.

[Evie]

"powder-keg"? Gunpowder?  Oh, "handgonne" is in Pawns and Queens, ch. 20. I didn't make any note of that.

Yup! Kinda hard to have effective handgonnes without gunpowder. 

[LauraS]

"powder-keg"? Gunpowder?  Oh, "handgonne" is in Pawns and Queens, ch. 20. I didn't make any note of that.

Yup! Kinda hard to have effective handgonnes without gunpowder. 

In our world, guns were being used in the Wars of the Roses.

[tmcd]

Kinda hard to have effective handgonnes without gunpowder.

"My lord, I call it a 'handgonne'. You hold it in your hand and swing it at his head, and then he's gonne go to Jesus."

"Hmmm, I think we'll stick with maces. If you can think of some way to use the tube part, though, please let me know."

[Evie]

😂😂😂