Katherine Kurtz: Childe Morgan

«Ah, of course. Well, they all look incredibly like you. I can’t keep them straight. The others are not with you today?»

«Alas, no, Sire, but they send loyal greetings and apologies for their absence. I fear that all of them had duties in Meara that precluded their attendance. But they look forward to having their brother join them in service».

«I’m sure they do», the king replied, «though I imagine that the Mearans will hardly be glad to have another Talbot enforcing the king’s peace. Sir Alun», he said to the just-knighted Alun Melandry, «perhaps you would be so good as to invest your young comrade-in-arms with his spurs. Lucien, I am also disappointed to see that your lady is not with you this year», the king went on, as the grinning Alun knelt to perform his office.

«As am I, Sire», the Mearan governor replied, «but the reason is a happy one. Our eldest daughter is soon to present us with our first grandchild, so her mother has gone to Laas to be with her for the lying in. When Your Majesty’s children are of an age to present you with your own grandchildren, I know you will understand».

«Indeed, indeed», Donal said, chuckling. «When you return home, then, I trust that you will give your goodwife a full accounting of today’s honors. And send me word when the child is born». He glanced aside at Sir Jiri Redfearn, standing duty behind the throne. «Jiri, remind me to send an appropriate christening gift».

«Yes, Sire».

As Sir Alun rose, his spurring duties fulfilled, Donal’s gaze flicked back to the still-kneeling Arthen.

«So, young Master Talbot. Are you certain you would not prefer to receive the accolade from your father?»

«With all due respect, Sire», Lucien said, before the candidate could answer, «we could have stayed in Ratharkin if my hand were sufficient».

«Arthen?» the king insisted. «Your father is a very honored and puissant knight, else he would not be my governor in Meara».

«Aye, Sire, but you are my king», young Talbot replied. «I have always dreamed of receiving the accolade from your own hand. And I would lief swear you my fealty in person — for the bond between vassal and liege is as hallowed as that of blood».

«Well, I cannot dispute that», the king replied, smiling as he shifted the hilt of the great Haldane sword of state into his right hand and lifted the blade before him. «Arthen Talbot, son of Lucien». The blade flashed downward to lightly touch flat on the young man’s right shoulder.

«In the name of the Father, and of the Son», the blade shifted to the left shoulder, «and of the Holy Spirit», the blade lifted to rest on the crown of the young man’s bowed head, «be thou a good and faithful knight». Donal lifted the blade to kiss the holy relic enclosed in the pommel, then reversed it to rest the tip on the floor and offered his right hand to the new knight. «Arise, Sir Arthen, and be invested with the other symbols of your new rank».

Only just controlling a grin, Sir Arthen got to his feet, bowing as the queen came to gird him with the white belt of his knighthood, faintly blushing as she buckled it at his waist. Donal handed off the Haldane sword to Kenneth to hold. When the queen was done, Arthen’s father presented him with a sword, which he slipped into the hangers at his waist before kneeling again to set his joined hands between those of the king.

«I, Arthen Talbot, Knight, do become your liege man of life and limb and earthly worship; and faith and truth will I bear unto you, to live and to die, against all manner of folk, so help me God».

The king then returned the oath, pledging justice and protection for the new knight’s loyalty, after which the other Mearan knights in the hall gave a whoop of affirmation and surged forward to congratulate their new brother. The brief commotion served to bring young Alaric’s attention back to the head of the hall, for he had begun to grow restive at his mother’s side as the ceremonies stretched on.

«Pay attention now, darling», she whispered in his ear, as the space before the thrones again cleared and the chamberlain rapped with his staff for attention.

Jovett was lining up the Lendour candidates and bidding their two sponsors to fall into place behind them, each bearing a sheathed sword with spurs looped over the quillons. The newly squired Jamyl Arilan had been drafted to carry the Lendour banner when their turn should come around, and came smartly to attention as the chamberlain cleared his throat.

«Let the candidates from Lendour approach».

At Jovett’s nod, Jamyl started forward with the Lendour banner, Jovett following with the two candidates, their sponsors, and several more Lendour retainers. Young Alaric stood on his tiptoes to see them better, only restrained from following by his mother’s hands on his shoulders.

«Your Majesty», Jovett said, making a graceful obeisance as his charges did the same and Jamyl dipped the banner, «on behalf of the regency council of Lendour, I beg leave to present two candidates for knighthood: the squires Yves de Tremelan and Xander of Torrylin».

«And I am well pleased to receive them», the king responded, settling back slightly on his throne. «I have heard excellent reports regarding the accomplishments of both Lendour’s candidates. However, a striking irregularity makes me loath to confer that honor».

Following on an instant of shocked silence, a murmur of question and consternation rippled through the hall. Jovett stood stunned, as did Xander; young Yves bore an expression of blank bewilderment, as did both sponsors. Alaric caught the tumult of the various reactions and looked up at his mother for reassurance. Alyce felt the sharp glance of question from her heart-sister, but only slipped her free hand around Zoë’s shoulders and slightly shook her head, sending a close-focused thought into her mind, as Deryni sometimes could do with humans.

Don’t worry.

Don’t worry? Zoë returned, carefully shaping the words in her mind. Do you know what this is about? Is this why the king summoned you before court?

Somewhat, Alyce replied. Just wait and see.

«Sire, I don’t understand», Jovett said uncertainly, as he exchanged glances with his two candidates and their sponsors.

«Allow me to rephrase», the king said. «And please reassure your candidates. This has nothing to do with their suitability for knighthood». He swept his gaze across the waiting courtiers and their ladies, then nodded toward Kenneth.

«Sir Kenneth, my sword, if you please — and Lady Alyce, please attend, and bring the boy».

Bracing herself, head held high, Alyce kept her son’s hand in hers and led him before the throne, pausing before the first step of the dais to make her reverence. Young Alaric followed his mother’s example with a grave, courtly bow that brought a smile to the king’s lips. At their approach, Jovett had moved his knighting party to one side, where all of them watched anxiously.

«I see that your young son flourishes, Sir Kenneth», Donal said, settling the Haldane sword in the crook of his arm, its hilt in his left hand. «You have performed your duty well, in providing an heir for Corwyn and Lendour — though methinks it can have been no onerous duty, with so fair a lady at your side». At his nod toward Alyce, a faint snigger rippled through the watching court, but she only inclined her head gracefully at the compliment.

«I am also much pleased with the counsel that you have given with regard to the regency of your wife’s lands», the king went on, «which, someday, will be your son’s lands. Given his tender age, however, it seems to me that those lands deserve a more tangible symbol of lordship, and sooner rather than later. In addition, as I much desire to continue employing your talents on my own behalf, as I advance in years and my own heir approaches his majority, it seems to me fitting that you possess a more appropriate rank by which you may speak in my name and his, in matters diplomatic».