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Chapter EightJanuary 31, 1464
The Cathedral Steps
Cathedral of Saint George
Rhemuth, Gwynedd
Early Afternoon"I take you to be my wife and my spouse...." Archbishop O'Flynn prompted as he officiated the Royal Wedding from the top of the cathedral steps.
"I take you to be my wife and my spouse," Nicholas echoed as he cast a swift sidelong look at his bride. The Princess Catalina--or Princess Catherine, as the crowds of Rhemuth had joyfully proclaimed her as the small wedding party had made its way from the Castle--smiled up at him, her luxuriant silken hair, dark as any Haldane's, uncovered and unbound, and her vivid green eyes slightly misty with what he could only hope was some form of happiness rather than regret. The expected caravels had arrived only two days earlier, much to the relief of the Princess and her entourage, and while he was hardly any expert on ladies' apparel, it would seem from the awed responses of the women of Rhemuth watching them exchange their vows that their new Princess's appearance and choice of wedding finery had not failed to impress.
"...and I pledge to you the faith of my body...." The Archbishop's keen blue eyes peered down at him sternly, as if daring him to say the words. Catalina's soft hand squeezed his gently, and Nicholas looked back at her to see a knowing, encouraging smile.
He swallowed and repeated the phrase with a silent apology to Melisande, fortunately not present on this day, or Nicholas would still not have been able to go through with this ceremony. "And I pledge to you the faith of my body...." It was true enough for the time being, anyway.
"...That I will be faithful to you and loyal with my body and goods...." Archbishop O'Flynn recited the vows with a slightly arched eyebrow at him, damn the man!
"That I will be faithful to you and loyal with my body and goods," Nicholas repeated slightly more forcefully, as if daring the Archbishop to disagree. The man had the audacity to allow his features to crack in what might have almost been a smile.
"...and that I will keep you in sickness and health and in whatever condition it will please the Lord to place you...."
Because that doesn't sound ominous at all, Nicholas thought sourly before an image of his ailing brother, absent on this occasion due to his health, popped into his head, stifling his irreverent thought. "And that I will keep you in sickness and health and in whatever condition it will please the Lord to place you...." It belatedly occurred to him that he might be the one brought back from the field of war in less than whole condition for his young bride to care for. The thought sobered him entirely.
"And that I shall not exchange you for better or worse until the end."
Well, that part was easy enough to promise. He wasn't the sort of man who wished to change his woman as often as changing his linens, unlike some. "And that I shall not exchange you for better or worse until the end."
The Archbishop turned to his bride, reciting the same vows for her to repeat, the crowd around them quieting even further to hear her soft, faintly accented tones. At the end of her vows, she looked up at Nicholas with a smile.
A deacon stepped forward, holding out an alms basin. Nicholas recognized this as his cue to place the wedding ring and a small bag of silver onto the dish, which the deacon offered to the Archbishop.
The prince watched as the Archbishop counted out the customary thirteen pieces of silver, the bitter thought flashing through Nicholas's mind that the cost of betraying the mother of his children was less than half the price Judas had accepted for selling out his Lord. He kept that thought well shielded from the innocent maiden beside him, watching as the Archbishop selected a portion of coins to place in the bride's purse before returning the remaining coins to the alms basin to be given in charity to the poor of Rhemuth after the ceremony. Looking back up at Nicholas, the Archbishop asked, "Has this ring been blessed previously?"
"It has not," Nicholas answered.
Holding the ruby and emerald ring up before the people of Rhemuth, the Archbishop spoke the familiar words, "The Lord be with you."
"And with thy spirit," the crowd replied.
"Let us pray. Creator and Preserver of the human race, giver of spiritual grace, bestower of eternal salvation, thou, Lord, send thy blessing upon this ring, that she who wears it may be armed with the virtue of celestial defense and may advance with it to eternal salvation, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." Accepting the holy water offered to him, he sprinkled the ring, handing it back to Nicholas.
Catalina extended her hand, and with the Archbishop's quiet coaching, Nicholas continued with the remainder of the ceremony. "With this ring I thee wed, this gold and silver I thee give, and with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow." Placing it on the tip of her thumb, he continued, "In the name of the Father...." Moving it to her forefinger, he added "And of the Son..." The middle finger next. "And of the Holy Ghost." Sliding the ring onto her ring finger, Nicholas's gaze met Catalina's. "Amen."
The church bells pealed joyfully as the small retinue prepared to return to the Castle, the throngs of people who had witnessed the exchange of vows cheering them on as selected escorts assisted the bride and groom into their waiting carriage, the rest of their retinue following behind them as they made their way back to the Castle for the private wedding Mass to be held within the Royal Chapel. Some of the populace also followed along behind them on the King's Way as far as the Castle gatehouse, while others veered off once they reached the Prince's Square to head towards Market Square instead, having heard that the market fountain would be filled with wine that afternoon and evening for the people of Rhemuth to continue in their own celebrations of the happy event.
King Cinhil had been unable to witness the ceremony in person, but he smiled in quiet satisfaction as he watched the festivities in the distance from his bedchamber window high above the city. His Queen would fill him in later on everything he had missed, he knew.
He took a step back, allowing his physician to assist him back into the Bed of State.
January 31, 1464
The Upper Bailey outside the Royal Chapel
Later AfternoonThe bridal couple were helped down from their carriage, the rest of the wedding party also dismounting from their horses, handing them over to grooms to be led back to the stables while they awaited the Archbishop's arrival. Seeing a flash of bright sea green at the corner of one eye, Catalina turned to see Queen Miranda of Orsal and Tralia being handed down from her horse. The slightly older woman caught her eye and smiled. Catalina dipped a respectful curtsey towards the higher ranking lady.
As Miranda approached her, Catalina said "We're both very happy you were able to stay long enough to share our special day with us, Your Majesty."
"I'm very happy that I could be here," Miranda of Orsal replied, "though I shall likely need to head back home sometime tomorrow. My husband has need of me there, and I miss my children greatly." One hand cradled her swelling belly, carrying her third child.
"You are not staying through the winter, then?" Catalina asked, surprised. She could not imagine sailing all the way back to Orsal over rough seas during the wintry months while pregnant. "You aren't worried about the journey home this time of year? I'm told the caravels had a choppy crossing from Fianna."
"No. With war coming, there is little guarantee that the sea lanes will actually be safer come springtime, for very different reasons, but in any case, I will not be sailing home. My husband has a Transfer Portal, which is how I managed to get here in time for my Father's funeral, so I shall be returning home in the same manner." Lowering her voice, Miranda added, "There are matters I would speak with you about before I leave, though not on your wedding day, which you should have leisure to enjoy to the fullest. I am in no hurry to leave tomorrow, though I would prefer to arrive home in time to sleep in my own bed tomorrow night. So sometime on the morrow, after you've been allowed to lie in as late as a busy castle will allow a sleepy bridal couple to, and after you've enjoyed your breakfast, if you could stop by my quarters afterwards, hopefully we can have a little time to ourselves to talk."
"I would like that, Your Majesty," Catalina said.
"Miranda," the Queen of Orsal replied. "We are sisters now."
January 31, 1464
The Royal Chapel
Late Afternoon"He is blessed whatsoever he be that feareth God, walking in his ways," the Archbishop said as the bridal couple stood before him at the altar step in the Royal Chapel. "For thou shalt eat the labors of thine hands, thou shalt be happy, and all shall go well with thee. Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine upon the sides of thine house. Thy children shall be like olive branches round about thy table. Behold, for thus shall the man be blessed that feareth God...."
Catalina stood beside her new husband, relieved that this time he had shown no hesitation at entering the chapel where he had suffered such a painful crisis of conscience a mere week earlier. She knew he had been shriven in the days since then, though he had not called any attention to his decision, but she had seen him enter the Basilica a few days earlier in the company of an elderly priest, and when he had joined her later that same evening, he had seemed more at peace.
Catalina brought her full attention back to the service at the sound of the
Kyrie, knowing that was the cue for Nicholas and herself to prostrate themselves before the altar.
The Archbishop's prayers continued.
"Our Father, save thy servant and handmaiden who put their trust in thee, my God. Lord, send to them help from your sanctuary, and look down from Zion upon them. Mayst thou be for them, Lord, a strong tower from the visage of the enemy. O Lord, hear my prayer and let my cry come unto thee. The Lord be with you."
"And with thy spirit," the people responded.
As the service continued on, Catalina sent up her own private, fervent prayers for God's blessings upon their marriage and for wisdom to discover how she might win her new husband's affections.
January 31, 1464
Rhemuth Castle Great Hall
EveningThe newly-proclaimed Princess Catherine of Gwynedd, Duchess of Carthmoor, had thought that the welcoming feast her mother-by-marriage had arranged a week earlier to celebrate the unexpected early arrival of the Andelonian entourage had been very nicely pulled together, given that the Dowager Queen had only given her kitchen staff a mere day's notice that they needed to pull a culinary miracle out of the heavens. Now she was seeing the results of Rhemuth Castle's household staff having a greater length of time to prepare, for in addition to the even more superb selection of dishes that were brought up to the High Table in multiple removes, this evening's celebration was accompanied by entertainers brought in to delight the wedding guests with their talents.
A troupe performing a complex routine involving twirling and juggling fire batons drew gasps from the crowd. Catalina was fascinated by their coordinated movements, though privately relieved that the floors of Rhemuth's Great Hall were no longer customarily strewn with flammable rushes. The troupe completed their act and approached the High Table to offer their bows of reverence.
Catalina was not sure if it was the custom in Gwynedd as it was in Andelonia to reward such efforts with largesse, but she had come prepared for such an eventuality just in case. She reached into her belt pouch, withdrawing a small selection of rings and brooches. They were not of the expensive sort like her wedding jewels or her mother's necklace that she wore, but more the kind of ordinary bauble that one might discover in the market stalls of any decent-sized town–not overly costly, but pretty nonetheless. Such trinkets and small coins were normally bestowed upon entertainers who had provided pleasure to their audiences in Andelon; Catalina hoped the custom was similar here in Gwynedd.
The juggling troupe seemed very pleased to be the recipients of these small tokens of her gratitude, and Nicholas had smiled up at her as she stood to bestow them and he had realized what she planned, so Catalina breathed an inner sigh of relief.
Another troupe assembled in the space between the U-shaped arrangement of tables, this one composed of dancers and acrobats. The musicians in the Gallery started playing their tunes once more as this new group of entertainers captivated the wedding guests' attention for a few minutes until her new husband said something to her, and she turned away from them to give him her full attention.
Nicholas directed her attention towards the back of the Hall, where to her delight she spotted
Don Riordan standing next to Rhemuth's chamberlain, holding his lute. "Is your secretary planning on playing for us tonight?"
"He's said nothing to me about it, if he is, but I hope he will offer to perform for us. He's very good," Catalina replied, wondering what Riordan was up to. "If that is allowed, that is. I realize your mother and your chamberlain took pains to arrange the evening's entertainment, but in Andelonia, it's not unheard of for extra singers or musicians to add their talents as well, when time permits, especially for a celebration, so I can't say I'm entirely surprised. But I'm sure he would understand if that is not the custom here."
"I have no objection, I was just surprised to see him there prepared to perform. If he's a good lutenist, then I don't imagine
Maman will object, but if she has any complaint about it later, I'll smooth things over with her."
Catalina was right, Prince Nicholas thought. The man was an excellent lutenist, and also a very good singer. Had the man not preferred the life of a scholar and a scribe, he might have done well enough for himself as a troubadour.
He watched as his bride listened intently to the lyrics of the song, a feat made easier by the way the voices of the assembled guests died down so they could hear the singer more clearly. The lyrics were in Andelonian, and while Nicholas's grasp of sung Andelonian was a little shakier than his understanding of the spoken language, he could make out the sense of the words well enough to grasp that it was a wedding ballad, a song celebrating the marriage of a maiden to a man across the sea, uniting hearts and lives together. A fitting enough song for the occasion, with nothing the least bit objectionable about it, except that the deep emotion in his bride's eyes as she listened filled him with a slight sense of misgiving for some reason. Looking around the Hall, he saw others with similar looks of rapt attention. Ah well, he was likely just startling at shadows; the man did have an extremely good voice, after all, and his performance captured the feeling of the song quite ably.
The song ended.
Don Riordan handed the lute to
Don Salim, who had approached at the very end of the performance to take the instrument for him as he stepped forward to offer his reverence to the High Table. With a damp-eyed smile, the new bride reached into her pouch for a third time that evening, rummaging around in its contents until she found the token of appreciation she was looking for. To Nicholas's surprise, it was a rather ordinary ring, appearing to be fashioned from twisted copper, of even less value than the trinkets she had given the performers before him.
Don Riordan accepted the ring with a gracious nod of thanks nonetheless, studying it for a long moment as if assessing its size before slipping it over the smallest finger of one hand. Stepping back, he accepted his lute back from the weapons master, and the two withdrew to the outer perimeter of the Hall.
The next set of performers entered, a group of vielle players. Queen Soraya leaned over to make some observation about them, and Nicholas turned to listen to his mother, distracted from his private musings.
He had recognized it immediately, of course.
Don Riordan twisted the ring on his finger as he listened to the next group of instrumentalists perform, a wistful smile on his face as the memories returned.
"Come now, you promised!" Fifteen-year-old Catalina's excited eyes had laughed up at him. "I've even talked Amina into the adventure, imagine that!"
Her tutor–for such had been Riordan's position at that time, when he'd entered the young princesa's
newly formed retinue fresh from his university studies, shortly after she had entered young womanhood–shook his head. "I am fairly sure your father would kill me, Su Alteza"
he told her, only half joking.
"My father does it also; where do you think I got the idea?" she had replied. "He likes to walk hidden in plain sight among our people, so he can get a better sense of what the common folk are thinking. Should I not be learning how to do the same as well? And you did
say that once I had mastered the spell, we would go test the disguise outside the Castle walls."
"I did say that, Señora, but I did not mean I was planning to take you on a shopping excursion in the very heart of Rhanamé!
"Why not, though? We will be in disguise, so no one will know I am their Princesa. We can bring Don
Salim with us. Surely two caballeros and a duenna
ought to be sufficient to guard a simple merchant's daughter out at market buying...whatever it is merchant's daughters buy!" She unleashed the full brilliance of her smile. He could feel his defenses crumbling by the second.
"Do you not think others will find it odd that a mere merchant's daughter is walking around the market accompanied by two knights of the Royal Court as well as her duenna
?"
"Not if you have the appearance of merchants also."
He had allowed himself to be persuaded, although not before checking first with King Mikhail, who had been amused enough to indulge his daughter's whim, provided she took care to be obedient to all three of her minders and not protest when they told her it was time to return to the castle. Catalina had readily agreed, and the four 'merchants' had left the castle grounds, traveling down the steep and winding street to the bazaars of Rhanamé.
It was there that she had spotted the ring. It had been coated with a very thin layer of some other metal, making it appear more like silver, but even then the illusion had been unconvincing. Catalina had marveled at how inexpensive it was, wondering why anyone would spend even so little coin for such a cheap looking trinket, until Riordan had reminded her that what was a mere pittance for her was a day's wages for some of the poorer folk of Andelon. She had looked at the ring with new eyes then.
"You're right, Señor,"
she told him."I had not thought of it in that light." Picking it up and looking at it more closely, she said, "Can we buy it?"
He'd been surprised. "Why? You own far nicer rings."
"Because it will serve as a reminder. Besides...." She turned that sunny smile up at him that no magical illusion could dim. "It would be a keepsake so I can remember this day always."
Salim had laughed. "It will turn your finger green, Sultana. Are you certain you wouldn't prefer to pick something else?"
"A green finger would make it even more memorable, wouldn't it?"
Even Amina had laughed at that, though she'd muttered, "Dios mio, Señora
, you'll forever be scrubbing your hands in a week, trying to remove the stain."
Riordan had picked up the ring, briefly haggling with the merchant, mostly to show the princesa
how it was customarily done and because the man would be expecting it, though he had ended up paying nearly the full original price for the trinket, unwilling that the merchant should lose too much of the negligible profit he hoped for. He handed the ring to Catalina, who held out her hand to him, looking up at him with her young heart in her eyes.
It was then that he realized that she also felt what he had recently started to feel for her as well, an attraction that he had worked very hard to deny, even to himself.
Gently, carefully, he placed the ring on her smallest finger. Not her ring finger; even then, he felt sure that one was meant for another man's ring someday.
She closed her fingers into a loose fist to keep her ring safe, unwilling that it should slip off her hand into some crack in the cobbled streets of Rhanamé. "Thank you, Don
Riordan."
"You're welcome, my lady."Riordan returned his attention to the musicians, who had finished their first song and started a new tune, a familiar melody from his father's homeland of Llyr. Riordan was the grandson of an
Ard-Tiarna, a member of the ruling house of Llyr, but for the one woman he had ever aspired to wed, his rank and title hadn't been enough, for his father had renounced his birthright in order to marry an Andelonian lady of lesser degree. Riordan was titled, but he was virtually landless, save for a small manor that had been insufficient to persuade a King to allow his eldest daughter to overlook dynastic needs just to fill needs of the heart.
He had asked the King anyway, the following year. He'd had to try. The King had respected him for asking, but had denied him just the same. As far as Riordan knew, Catalina was unaware of that, and he had no intention of ever telling her. There would be little point, especially now.
Salim, standing beside him, spoke into his mind.
Is that ring what I think it is?Riordan nodded.
His friend sighed, reaching into his robes for his belt pouch and fumbling inside it until he found the object he sought, pulling out a long length of leather lacing.
Wear it on this thong inside your shirt until you can find a proper chain. And be careful; if the Sultana still has feelings for you and you for her, you dance a dangerous dance, even if your intentions are honorable, which I have no reason to doubt, else I would kill you myself before Prince Nicholas does.January 31, 1464
The King's Tower
Rhemuth Castle
NightThe bridal couple had been shown into the Prince's bedchamber, the Princess arriving first with her ladies, who had readied the young bride for her wedding night, adorning her and tucking her under the covers with some lighthearted jests to make her smile. Then once the bride had been modestly covered, the Prince, wearing an especially festive nightshirt for the occasion, had been led in by his squires, their own comments as they turned back the covers on Nicholas's side of the bed being considerably more restrained than Father Camber, arriving at the same time to bless the bridal bed, had expected of that lot of normally somewhat rowdy youths. He guessed they had been sternly warned beforehand to be on their best behavior so as not to discomfit their lord's bride with any ribald comments.
Camber stepped out of the room briefly to check on the other family members and retainers arriving to witness the blessing. Seeing that all were ready to proceed, Father Camber opened the chamber doors fully to allow the assembled wedding guests entry into the room. He was happy and grateful to be allowed the honor of performing this duty for Nicholas, although he had been prepared to use royal prerogative to insist had the Archbishop proved balky, after Nicholas had pulled Camber to one side earlier in the day to express his preference to his brother. Fortunately the Archbishop had been understanding of his desire to serve his brother in this way.
Once everyone had been assembled, Camber walked into the center of the room. "The Lord be with you," he said
"And with thy spirit," came the response.
"Bless, O Lord, this bedroom and all who dwell in it, that they may abide in thy peace and remain in thy will, and live in thy love, and grow old and multiply into length of days. Though Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen."
He drew closer to the marriage bed, making the sign of the Cross over it. "Bless, O Lord, this bed, thou who sleepest not, nor may sleep. Guard thy servants who rest in this bed, that here and anywhere they may be guarded by the help of thy defense. Through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."
Moving to the foot of the bed, he raised his hand to bless the couple within it. "May God bless your bodies and souls, and may he give his blessing over you and send his holy angels to guard you all the days of your lives. Amen."
The bed blessing concluded, the wedding guests filed out of the room to continue their celebrations elsewhere. Father Camber was last to leave, turning in the doorway to give the bridal couple an encouraging smile before closing the door to allow them their privacy.
As his brother blessed the bridal chamber and the bed, Prince Nicholas was unaccountably nervous, and he had no idea why. It was not as if he'd never shared a bed with a woman before.
On second thought, he considered, his earliest experiences in a shared bed had been occasions for learning rather than teaching, the eager fumblings of a youth learning how to deal with new, delightful urges. Then he had lost his heart to Melisande, and the learner had become the teacher, but ten years of commitment to his lady had given him ample time to discover what would most delight her.
He felt tonight like he was starting afresh, which was entirely the point, he supposed, but it also left him feeling like that uncertain, inexperienced youth he'd once been, hoping not to get his marriage off to an uncomfortable start. Fortunately the Princess did not seem to have any feelings of trepidation about the experience to come, as far as Nicholas could tell anyway. If anything, the maiden appeared to be more relaxed than he was. It seemed an odd reversal to conventional expectations of a bridal couple on their wedding night.
The last of the guests left the chamber, his brother lingering in the doorway briefly, looking back towards them both with a smile, then with one last look at Nicholas, Camber had raised one brow slightly with a cheeky grin as he shut the door behind him. Nicholas found himself chuckling at what he assumed was meant as a silent command to be fruitful and multiply.
They were alone at last. Nicholas turned towards Catalina, who was watching him with a slight smile on her face.
"Would you like a little wine, my lady?" he asked, pointing to the carafe and two goblets on the nearby sideboard. "Cinhil sent up a bottle of his best Fianna Red earlier in the evening."
"That would be delightful," she replied. He got out of bed to pour the wine for them both, when a sudden noise at the connecting door between his bedchamber and hers caught their attention. Catalina's gaze met his, looking alarmed.
"Oh no....
¡Dios mio!" She sprang out of the bed, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her slender body through the sheer silk of her nightgown as she rushed towards the door her chaperone was entering, carrying a wooden stool into the room with them. "Amina!"
Dumbfounded, Nicholas stood with carafe in hand, wondering what in the world was going on as the two women spoke in low whispers, though the matter soon became clear enough, since their voices were not quite low enough to avoid him easily overhearing their conversation.
"Amina, no, I do
not need my
duenna here to witness the consummation! This is not ancient Andelonia!" Catalina all but shoved at her chaperone, trying to get her to leave. "Queen Sofiana abolished that nonsense centuries ago!"
"But...the people will need to know for certain ...."
"They will
know, Amina!
¡Madre del Amor Hermoso! With all the Deryni in this household, surely they can read the resonances in the room afterwards if they must be certain! Now
go!"The woman had reluctantly turned to leave, bringing her stool with her, but she stopped in the doorway to add tearfully, "Just close your eyes and do as your
esposo bids you. It will be over very soon, I promise." Nicholas, who had just taken a bracing gulp of wine in the moment preceding this alarming statement, was hard pressed not to forcefully expel the mouthful of wine across the room.
"Not
too soon, I most certainly hope!" was his bride's indignant reply as she finally managed to shoo her overly zealous
duenna through the doorway, all but flinging the wooden stool out with her and slamming the door closed.
"If you should need me tonight, just cry out my name and I will come running,
mi preciosa!" Nicholas and Catalina were both horrified to hear through the closed connecting door. At that dire threat, Catalina yanked the door back open, pulling the heavy iron key out of the lock and slamming it back shut, this time locking the door from the inside before leaning her whole body against it, looking thoroughly mortified.
Nicholas found his annoyance warring with amusement deep within himself. His sense of humor finally won. "Here," he told his trembling bride, gathering her in a comforting embrace, "have some wine. I think you might need this more than I do right now." Handing her his goblet, he took the key from her. "I'll lock the other door just in case she gets the bright idea to try charging past my squires to get at you that way, once I've done my duty by you and fallen asleep after my brief minute of conjugal bliss," he quipped with a wry grin, drawing a reluctant giggle from her.
"Dios mio, I am sorry, Colin! I do not know what has gotten into Amina lately. She has always been very protective of me, but ever since we set foot in Gwynedd, she has been acting especially
loca. Riordan thinks she might be worried about losing her place in my household, but she certainly
shall lose it if she keeps acting like
that!""That's a concern that can be addressed in the morning." He locked the main chamber door as well, leaving the key in the lock. "Just
please tell me you didn't receive all your instruction on what to expect tonight from Lady Amina!"
Catalina gave a shaky laugh as he returned to draw her into a closer embrace, lightly planting a soothing kiss upon her brow. "No,
mi Madre did that, thank God! You'll be relieved to know that at no point did 'Close your eyes and wait for it to be over' enter the discussion." She leaned into him trustingly, growing calmer.
"I'm glad. I wouldn't want you to be frightened."
She looked up at him. "I'm not frightened, Colin." Catalina surprised him with a gentle kiss somewhere in the vicinity of his chin. He turned his face towards it, returning her kiss with an equally gentle one of his own.
She regarded him somberly as he pulled back slightly to gauge her reaction. Catalina lifted a finger to one corner of his lips, standing on tiptoe to plant another kiss there. "I have wanted to do that almost from the moment we met," she quietly admitted. "You have such a kissable smile, especially the way your lips tug up at the corners when you are fighting it. But I had to be sure I wanted the whole man, and not just the smile."
He found himself touched by her shy admission.
"I was not expecting to find such a desirable bride awaiting me when I first arrived in Andelon," he told her, leaning in for a longer, slightly less restrained kiss, though doing his best to hold himself back to avoid rekindling any lingering anxiety she might be attempting to hide. The transparency of her silk gown was not doing him any favors in that regard. Breaking away, he took the wine goblet from her, setting it down on a nearby table.
She lowered her eyes demurely, but surprised him again with a gentle tug on his hand, taking a step towards their bed. Raising her eyes to his with that enigmatic smile of hers, she asked him, "Would you like to properly welcome me to Gwynedd now?"
He smiled back, scooping her up in his arms. "I would like that very much." A sudden thought made him laugh as he carried her back to bed. "And let's hope it's not
Amina's name you find yourself crying out tonight or any other night hereafter. I would hate to think I've gotten things
that disastrously wrong!"
February 1, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The upper bailey
Late morningWhen the newlywed couple emerged from their bedchamber late the following morning, they found
Don Salim awaiting them along with Sebastian and the other squires in the Princes' antechamber.
"Your Highnesses," Salim addressed them with a deferential bow, "If you would permit me to lead the way, there is a wedding present for the two of you from Their Majesties of Andelon awaiting you downstairs in the castle bailey."
Nicholas looked at his bride curiously, but she appeared to be equally baffled. "All right," he replied. "Lead on!"
The small retinue left the apartment, continuing down the stairs to the courtyard, where they found
Don Riordan holding the bridles of two magnificent Andalonian horses, a mare and a stallion.
Catalina was certain the horses had not somehow been hidden on the cargo barge that had taken her dowry goods downriver to Fianna. "How did you manage to convey them here so quickly?" she asked, running a hand over the mare's coat. She looked so similar to the one Catalina had had to leave behind in Andelon, the princess found herself growing teary-eyed, realizing the mare had likely been selected for her with that in mind.
"If you mean, how did we get them here so quickly from Andelonia, we didn't,"
Don Riordan explained, offering her a hand up as she took the reins and moved to climb into the saddle. "But the King your Father told us where to find one of his merchants here in Rhemuth who would know where we could purchase them near Gwynedd's capital, and he supplied the purse to select the best from what we found available. Your husband's squires were very helpful in assisting our efforts to keep the horses hidden until this morning."
"See, we have not been entirely idle in the week before the caravels arrived,"
Don Salim joked as he took hold of the stallion's bridle while the Prince acquainted himself with his new steed before also mounting, thanking his squires and his bride's courtiers for their parts in arranging the surprise gift, and taking his new horse on a brief experimental ride around the bailey to test its gait, Catalina following at a more sedate pace.
She returned to the King's Tower to find her
duenna had also emerged from the building, regarding her nearly in tears.
"¡Su Alteza! You must not ride now, not so soon! It will make you more sore, and you might be..." Amina sought the right word in Gwyneddan and failed to find it. Sketching a huge dome in the air before her abdomen, she blurted out,
"Embarazada!""Amina!" Catalina's eyes flashed dangerously, giving her a strong resemblance to her father at his deadliest in that moment. "We need to talk.
Now!" Swiftly dismounting, she handed the mare back to Riordan as she marched her
duenna back into the castle.
February 1, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
Late morningCatalina left a sulking but considerably more subdued and chastened Lady Amina behind as she crossed the courtyard by herself to visit the Queen of Orsal as she had promised the afternoon before.
Queen Miranda had greeted her at the door to her apartment herself, and as Catalina entered, she found the antechamber empty, although the occasional sounds through the door of the adjoining chamber told her that someone else, likely a lady-in-waiting or a maidservant, was in the apartment with them.
"My maidservant is helping me with the last of the packing," her sister-by-marriage confirmed, "and I have informed her I wish to keep this conversation private." She invited Catalina to sit in one of the cushioned seats in her window embrasure, waving a hand towards a small table before it that was laden with finger foods and sweet delicacies, as well as a pot of what the princess's nose informed her was hot
qahwa from the Eastern realms. The rising aromas reminded Catalina that she had missed having breakfast, between finally catching some sleep, the distraction of the unexpected gifts from her parents, and then her rising fury at Amina's impertinence and strange behavior.
"Thank you! I quite forgot to eat this morning," Catalina admitted as she filled a small dish with an assortment of dainties. "Where in the world did you find
qahwa in Rhemuth? I must tell
Don Salim; he has been missing it greatly even in the short time since our arrival."
Miranda laughed. "It can be found here at the dockside market, but it's horribly expensive compared to what you'd pay across the sea. I brought a little with me from Tralia. Do you like it? I know some people find it too bitter. It took me ages to grow accustomed to it, but I'm used to having it in the mornings now. There is also some wine if you prefer, but I thought you might wish something to help you stay awake this morning, not encourage you to fall back asleep."
"I was up rather late last night," Catalina admitted, before remembering she was speaking to Colin's sister, who would doubtless be able to correctly surmise why. She felt her cheeks grow warm and ducked her head as she poured out a small cup of the hot beverage, hoping the blush would go unnoticed.
Miranda chuckled, taking a seat beside her. "I rather thought you might be. At any rate, I imagine you are wondering why I wished to speak with you? Apart from a natural desire to get to know you a little better before I have to leave, that is."
"I had wondered if you had a specific reason for inviting me besides that, yes."
"I know you have met my brother's Queen, Alixa, a few times already. How familiar are you with her homeland of Joux and the situation there?"
Catalina took a sip of the hot
qahwa, pondering the best way to answer. "I visited Joux once with my father, when I was sixteen," she finally answered, keeping her voice carefully neutral. "King Renier wished to make my acquaintance to see if I might be a suitable bride for his son. Rémy and I were not well suited, as it turned out."
"Fortunately," Miranda said drily. "And not only for my brother Colin's sake."
"I do not think Rémy was well pleased by my decision."
"Rémy can go kick rocks," Miranda said. "Better he kick them than kick you, as he used to do to poor Alixa before he learned to harm in other ways that left no bruises or scars. No need to diplomatically tiptoe around the subject; my husband may be Renier's suzerain, but we are well aware he is no friend to us, nor do we condone his high-handedness. Unfortunately Joux does enjoy a certain level of semi-autonomy that we can't disaffirm without clear evidence of treason, which either he has not yet gone so far as to commit, or at least we have seen no concrete proof of it. Yet."
"I am certain Renier just needs to play out a little more rope in order to hang himself from his ambitions, though if you are asking me if I know of any such proof that he is actively acting against your husband, I am not aware of anything provable. But my father has suspected for some years that Renier has hopes of returning Joux to what he sees as its earlier days of glory." Catalina took another sip of her
qahwa, not entirely savoring the somewhat bitter taste, but appreciating the boost of extra energy it gave her.
"The last time Joux attempted to swallow up the Forcinn States and came dangerously close to succeeding?" Miranda nodded in agreement. "Yes, we also think he is trying to drum up the necessary support and resources to try again, in hopes of winning back what his grandfather lost nearly a century ago. Or if he can't entirely win support from some quarters, he hopes at least to neutralize them so they won't oppose him."
"Like offering his daughter to wed your brother Cinhil in hopes that the late King your father would look the other way when Joux makes its move?"
"It wouldn't have worked, but yes, exactly that."
Catalina took a bite from one of the tempting pastries on her dish. "A band of brigands attacked my entourage as we were traveling downriver from Rhanamé to the coast. Colin's squire Sebastian saw the badge they were wearing, which the King of Fianna identified as belonging to a company of mercenaries who have been causing problems on the Logréine side of the river, and now possibly in Fianna, since they attacked our barges from both sides of the Bhutti. King Arnaud believes the mercenaries are on Joux's payroll. What proof he might have of that claim, I do not know, but that wouldn't surprise me. Nor would it surprise me that Renier, or at least Rémy, would leap at the opportunity to find both me and Colin vulnerable to an ambush in the middle of a mostly uninhabited stretch of river. But I am not certain, even if you find proof of Joux hiring mercenaries, that this would be certain proof they mean to use those mercenaries against Tralia or Orsal."
"Were you to discover such proof in future, you would let me know?" Miranda asked.
"Certainly. Andelonia neighbors the Forcinn States. We have no wish to become next door neighbors to an expanded Joux. We certainly have no wish for Joux to cast its greedy eyes beyond the Forcinn either. I wish your lord husband well in his search for the evidence he needs to keep Renier in check, or better yet, to hang and replace him, so long as he is not replaced by Rémy, who I suspect is even worse.. And as for Rémy, let
him see what it feels like to be kicked. After seeing the bruises he left on his sister Cécile, I care little if he ends up with a few bruises or scars of his own afterwards."
"Speaking of Rémy's sisters," Miranda continued, "I have some concerns about Alixa. No fears about her disloyalty to the House of Haldane, but as you have seen for yourself the situation in Joux and Renier and Rémy's disdain for women, even those of their own household, I cannot imagine she has been adequately prepared for her role as Cinhil's Queen. I believe she will do the best that she knows how, and fortunately she has had the advantage of being able to learn some parts of her expected role from watching
Maman these past seven years, but I also know
Maman has likely spent those seven years doing less training and guidance of Alixa, and more simply ordering her about and delegating tasks to her.
Maman hasn't the patience to guide, suggest, and direct gently. And Alixa is too used to a subservient role to speak up for herself as she ought. She will need support from someone who can encourage and advise her without running roughshod over her."
"I had wondered how prepared Queen Alixa was beforehand for her expected role here in Gwynedd, given that Renier's notion of the ideal Queen seems to be a woman who will look decorative, keep her mouth shut, and pump out heirs on command. Had I married his son, I can't speak for how well I would measure up to his expectations on the first and third of those criteria, but I would have been an absolute disaster when it came to that second one."
Miranda laughed. "Rémy's loss is Colin's gain. Fortunately Colin is better used to women who speak their own mind."
"Good, because for better or worse, he has me." Catalina smiled. "I will do my best to support our sister Alixa however I can."
"Thank you," said Miranda. "I also have one additional concern. Well, technically two.
Maman has informed me that she has invited two of my sisters' suitors to visit Rhemuth in the very near future in hopes they will find Richeldis and Elisa suitable as brides for their courts. I believe her intent is to secure these alliances as soon as can be arranged, in hopes that we will be able to count on their support in the war to come. Her intent is to see Richeldis in Beldouria and Elisa established in the United Kingdoms. I personally have a few reservations about either match, despite understanding
Maman's reasons for those preferences, because I think she has become so focused on seeing them wed to political advantage she may have lost sight of the fact that a mismatch of a husband and wife unsuited to each other could turn out to be just as much of a disadvantage. On top of that, Elisa in particular may feel she is ready to be a wife, but she is not yet ready to be a queen with all of the responsibilities for a royal household and as a king's supporter and sounding board that role entails. It could be that once the proposed suitors actually meet my sisters, all of my concerns will prove unfounded, but I wished to voice them anyway since I will not be here to provide guidance or stand up for them if either of them decide they would rather not go through with the arrangements. And in the meantime, if you could help Elisa get some better understanding of what will be required of her, I know it's too much to expect a miracle to occur in so short a time, but if she leaves Gwynedd even a little more prepared for her task, every bit of advance preparation will be helpful. She is a sweet girl, as I think you have already discovered, but learning new things doesn't come as easily for her as for Richeldis.
"I will do my best to look out for both of their interests, though I don't know how much weight my voice will hold with me so newly come into the family."
"It will hold some, at least. I believe my mother respects the level of preparation for your role that you received in Andelon. And also that you are willing to hold your ground, even against her. She might not
like that, for she is very stubborn and set in her ways, but she can respect it."
"I am hopefully not set in my ways, but I can be stubborn as well, as I warned your brother before I accepted his offer."
"I think you will find my brother has stubbornness in equal measure to
Maman, if you have not learned this already, so I am glad you are not too easily cowed." Miranda stood. "It has been delightful to spend some time with you, but the time is passing and I want to spend a little more time with Cinhil before I depart. I do not know if I will have another chance to return while he is still here with us. My husband Adémar is not entirely happy with me remaining here this late into my pregnancy as it is."
"I hope we meet again, hopefully sooner rather than later, but not for any unhappy occasion," said Catalina, rising as well and dropping into a curtsey before the visiting queen. Miranda escorted her to the door and embraced her before bidding her a fond farewell.
February 1, 1464
The Kingdom of Joux
Alta Jorda Healer Berthelot Vivien Jordanet, Lord of Alta Jorda in the Kingdom of Joux, looked out the window of his ancestral home, now his prison, in mute despair over the condition of his vineyard. Of all things for him to be in despair over, that was the least of his many concerns, yet he focused on that one because it seemed the most manageable.
He had never aspired to be more than he was by birthright: lord of a respectable manor and holder of an ancient Deryni birthright dating back to the days of ancient Rûm in these lands. And more than anything else, he wished to be left alone with his wife and son, to manage his land and tend to his vines, and enjoy the products of his fields. He might have even been happy enough with a commoner's birth, even if others might exclaim over how far the Jordanet line had fallen since the days of his more illustrious ancestors, if such happy fortune might have kept him from ever coming to the notice of the King of Joux.
He might even wish not to be Deryni, for little good that gift had done him, though that would also mean not being a Healer, and as much as he wished to abjure that gift as well at times, deep down he knew Healing was as much a calling for him as a talent, meant to be used in the service of others. Meant to be used in service of the weak, the fallen, and others in need, not to be misused in the service of those who merely lusted for power, and that was at the core of his despair.
But even so, it was not the simple gift of Healing that had become a curse, for although Healers had never been plentiful in the Eleven Kingdoms, or indeed beyond them, the King of Joux had access to other Healers. But Lord Berthelot had an additional talent that no other Healer in the Eleven Kingdoms could supply, or at least no others with his curse were known to Berthelot's overlord and jailer. They might be feared even as he was feared, if they were known to exist, but as far as either Berthelot or King Renier knew, he was alone in his unique ability.
Others managed Alta Jorda now, living in his home, denying him his freedom, his wife and young son torn from his arms and stolen away to some secret location to ensure his compliance with the King's commands, while Berthelot spent his days locked up in his own tower along with the few Healer tomes and the tools of his trade that he possessed, although he rarely had the opportunity to use them. Alta Jorda was too far from the capital for King Renier to seek him out to heal minor illnesses or injuries, even though he had a Transfer Portal at his command.
No, the Lords of Joux only sought Berthelot's services for their most secretive needs, and when they called upon him, he must obey, lest they take their displeasure out on his family. Berthelot wanted to resist, but dared not take the risk.
He felt the arrival of his unexpected visitor–these days, all his visitors were unexpected, for they liked to catch Berthelot off his guard–before he even turned to see who it was. He need not even open his chamber door to see who had landed on his Transfer Portal, since the door which had formerly separated the two uppermost chambers of the tower had been removed, replaced by a strong ward designed to keep him in and others, for the most part, out.
Nearly always, his visitor was King Renier, usually bringing with him some poor hapless victim requiring Berthelot's special services. This time, to Berthelot's surprise and even greater disquiet, it was the
dauphin, Prince Rémy, along with a girl the Healer thought he recognized, though he had only seen her one other time before, when she had been considerably younger.
The girl–or young woman now, the Healer recognized once he drew closer to the wards to get a better look at her–appeared to be under Rémy's full control, eyes staring vacantly ahead as she appeared to sleepwalk towards the ward on his command, stopping just short of the barrier of magical energies.
Prince Rémy waved Berthelot back with a frown, waiting until the Healer retreated to the rear wall of his cell before briefly sketching an opening in the wards to shove the young woman through. The prince hastily sealed the barrier again.
"My sister will be marrying soon," Rémy told him. "Ensure that she isn't already pregnant."
Berthelot paused in his examination of the girl, who had fallen onto the hard floor when Rémy had pushed her through the opening in the wards. "Do you mean check to be certain there is no possibility of that, my Prince?" he asked warily. With the Lords of Joux, he'd learned the hard way it paid to ensure he had understood the brief correctly the first time around. They were not very forgiving of errors.
"Check, ensure, don't waste my time bandying words with me, Master Jordanet! If the bitch is not yet breeding, tell me that; if she is, then ensure she isn't any longer before we leave here. It's not that difficult an instruction to understand."
Berthelot bent to give the princess a closer examination. "I think she is not, my Prince. But if you think there is any chance she might be, and that it is simply too early for me to tell for sure, I can give her a tisane of pennyroyal so she will bleed it out. Though if that happens, she should be left alone until she has time to heal fully afterwards." The Healer felt sick at the thought. "I cannot imagine it possible she would be, though."
"We don't keep you here to imagine things, Berthelot." Rémy studied him for a long moment, his lips pursed in thought. "As I said, she will be marrying soon. I imagine her husband will be checking her bedsheets for blood afterwards. Do whatever is needed to ensure that will happen as well."
Berthelot did as instructed, his mind racing as he tried to think if there was anything he might do to help the young princess, who he sensed was every bit a prisoner in her own way as he was. "Since the Princess Cécile is to be given in marriage, will she be going to a foreign court, my Prince?"
Rémy narrowed his eyes. "And why is this your business?"
The Healer did his best to summon up his courage and speak casually, without allowing his voice to tremble. "Because it is known that the Rulers of Joux are Deryni, so if another kingdom is seeking to intermarry with your house, perhaps they are expecting a Deryni bride. And if that is the case, perhaps it would be best if you would allow me to Unblock the princess before she leaves here?" It might give her a small chance to escape the monsters of Joux, and even a small chance was better than none at all.
Rémy chuckled. "That won't be necessary. Her betrothed husband is some barbarian heathen from the North. They have their own forms of magic; they won't be requiring her to know any."
It would be tempting to Unblock the girl anyway, but Berthelot dared not. Any sign that her powers, even fully untrained ones, had been returned to her without his prince's or king's permission, would be seen as direct disobedience, and his family would be forfeit.
Berthelot didn't imagine he could hate anyone more than he hated the
Dauphin in that moment, but as if reading some small spark of defiance in his eyes, though the Healer kept his thoughts very carefully shielded, Prince Rémy's lips tilted into a shark-like smile.
"Your wife is very beautiful, Berthelot. I have discovered where Father has been hiding her. You'd best pray your work doesn't disappoint me." With a wave of his hand, he yanked his sister onto her feet, drawing her to the very edge of the cell before opening the ward again just long enough to pull her back out. "I will return tonight for that tisane. Be certain it is ready."
Next chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3215.0.html
So, just for funsies, when I was writing the wedding feast scene, I was listening to the song "Midsummer's Eve" by Kamelot, which is not a medieval ballad, but it struck me that the lyrics could be interpreted in very different ways depending on if you were listening as Nicholas, Catalina, or Riordan. So I wrote out those different perspectives just for fun here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1o8ha5CsSqvyzUMzWlQaj9UtMNw3UpnwTgVfaHkFwh1o/edit?usp=drivesdk
So when Riordan is singing about the maiden marrying a man from across the sea, you can imagine a similar kind of mixed interpretations going on. ;D
Well if I didn't want to kick Remy below the belt now, I certainly feel that way now.
Rémy is pretty despicable, isn't he? I don't really suggest looking to him as a role model. I'm liking that idea of repeated percussive maintenance with the swift and forceful application of steel-toed boots in the groin area myself.
He is the apple of his father's eye, though. I suppose there's no accounting for tastes.
I take it none of you are particularly sad that Catalina ended up marrying Nicholas instead?
I like the idea of a 15th-c. Gwynedd story. Someday I may have to do a story that's set in something like Gwynedd in the 21st-c. I'm thinking about something like the 800th anniversary of Charissa's coup and an interviewer talking with a couple of historians about how those events are seen by "modern" eyes...or with the screenwriters and lead actors of the streaming series about it all...