Homage and Honour (30 page)

“Bet you were
surprised.”

“I was
flabbergasted but the relationship has come in very useful.”

“Your father is
still alive?”

“Yes, he lives
on one of our manors on the northern tip of Gardiner. Its easy,
well relatively so, for Susa Lynsey’s agents to send him the
information. Father sends it on to me. Don’t mention a word of this
to Conclave. It would cost me my position and the Generals, they’re
older men mostly, are set in their ways.”

“Does your
father ever come here to Court?”

“No, these days
his arthritis is too painful for him to withstand the journey.”

“I
had
wondered how you got to be Lord Marshall so young.”

“I was
thirty-four and it was the Crown-Prince who forced it through
Conclave. We were boys together. I was just two years older than
him; I joined the Companions at the palace when I was eight and he
six. Anyway, I stayed with Elliot, sharing his education until I
joined the Officer Corps. We were great friends.”

“Were you the
only one?”

“No. There was
James, grandson of the then Duke Graham. He went to sea and is a
captain of one of our frigates. He wasn’t as close to Elliot as I
was. He’s three years older than me and Elliot found him
intimidating. The other was Henri Cocteau, older brother of Charles
here. I am, was, a baron’s son, the lowest rank of all but Elliot
didn’t seem to mind.”

“So what is
Susa Lynsey telling us? I’ve met her. Anne’s Uncle James served
with the Vada. He died recently, shortly after …” David stopped
mid-sentence, confused.

“I know,”
smiled Philip Ross, “I know, it’s not common knowledge, I know that
you have a daughter who is vadeln-paired and who serves in the
Vada. None will learn it from me.”

“I don’t
suppose,” David began.

“That my father
could get a message to your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see what
I can do.”

* * * * *

Queen Anne was
resting in her solar when two maidservants brought in yet another
dress. They hung it up on the rack, curtsied to Anne with shy
smiles and left.

“What is
that?”

“Your
coronation gown,” Lady Cocteau rubbed the velvet folds between
appreciative fingers, “beautiful is it not? The women have done
wonders.”

“If you like
that sort of thing,” Anne said uncharitably, “personally, I would
prefer a much simpler garment.”

“It’s for your
Coronation! It is expected that you wear your finest. A queen must
not be out-dressed by her courtiers. You can be sure that every
noble lady in the land is hard at work making sure that she is at
least as finely dressed as those of similar rank.”

“Will these
‘noble ladies’ be dressed in purple velvet too?”

“No, this
colour is reserved for those of royal birth. Princesses Annette and
Ruth may also wear the purple but no other. It is the law.”

Anne sighed,
“there are laws about everything, what to wear, what to say to
whom, who I am supposed to address and how.”

Lady Cocteau
laughed, “you’ll soon get used to it.”

“I don’t think
I ever will,” disclaimed Anne as she watched Lady Cocteau examine
the beadwork on the bodice.

“Just remember
that you are the Queen,” her mentor advised, “and most will make
allowance if you err at first, they know this is all strange and
new to you, newer than to anyone else. We’ve been brought up with
the protocols from an early age; it’s in our blood.”

“Yes … blood,”
said a resigned Anne, “that’s what all this is about. I mean, if I
wasn’t of the bloodline David, the children and I wouldn’t be here.
We’d be back at the farm looking after our stock-herds, worrying
about the harvest. We’ll never go back now.”

“No, you
won’t,” answered the older woman, “and your new life does have its
compensations.”

“Does it? What
compensations? I’m finding it hard to think of any right now.”

“Well,”
considered Lady Cocteau, “you’ll never have to cook and clean
again, that’s one I can think of immediately.”

“But I
like
cooking. I enjoyed looking after my family, making sure
they had clean garments, mending their clothes. Now I don’t even
see the children apart from when you bring them to me.”

“I can see that
you’re finding life difficult,” said Lady Cocteau with sympathy,
“after the coronation though, you will be queen in fact. You can
always make changes to the running of the household; have the
children with you more often. The servants are only running things
the way they always have.”

“You are sure
about this?”

“I wouldn’t say
so if I was not. You’ll see. Get through the coronation then we’ll
see what can be done. I’ll help.”

Anne felt a lot
better. Perhaps, she thought, things might not be so bad but she
knew she would always look back at those more carefree days in the
North with wishful regret. Anne was looking forward to the
coronation with reluctance, a sentiment shared by David and
Annette.

Ruth was too
young to have many worries about the effects of her elevation. She
was more concerned about the more mundane upheavals, to whit, the
curtailment of her freedom. She hated the skirts she was forced to
wear and had twice been caught ransacking her brother’s clothes’
chest for trousers and tunics.

Xavier was
looking forward to the day with pleasurable anticipation.

He was, Lady
Cocteau informed him, the Crown-Prince, a very grand person, the
heir to the throne. More importantly, as far as Xavier was
concerned, that tenday the boys who were to be his Companions would
be arriving at the palace and would join him in the nursery to
share his daily life. He was a gregarious young lad and had missed
having boys to play with.

On the farm in
Vadath he had run and played with the sons of the farmhands and
craftspeople who worked there. In his opinion, sisters were no fun
at all. Annette had always been a quiet little miss and Ruth was
too small to be much fun.

His sisters
were also to be allotted Companions, noble girls who would likewise
share nursery life but Xavier gave their arrival little
thought.

The three
children practiced their respective roles for the ceremony, at
least Annette and Xavier practiced, gaining the Court Seneschal’s
grudging approval of their poise and demeanour. Ruth had not gained
this grudging approval. The little princess had fidgeted through
the practises, tried to escape her attendants and voiced her
displeasure at the top of her excellent lungs.

Unfortunately,
Ruth had to be present at her mother’s crowning. Those invited
wanted, needed to see her; to see with their own eyes the new royal
family and that included the youngest. This was of great import to
those hoping to make a marriage alliance with Anne and David’s
youngest daughter, the only one not betrothed.

Xavier was to
marry Michaela Baker, Annette, Tom Brentwood and the Dukes of
Cocteau, Gardiner and Duchesne all had aspirations in Ruth’s
direction. Few were aware of the existence of an older daughter in
the Northern Continent and David and Anne intended to keep it that
way. Part of their agreement to accept the crown was that the
secret should be kept. Both Annette and Xavier were scrupulous
about not talking about Jess where anyone might overhear and the
events over the last months had made Ruth a much shyer little
person than she had been hitherto and even she was becoming more
careful with whom she talked and about what.

After some
thought, Anne had taken Lady Cocteau into her confidence and told
her about Jess.

Lady Cocteau
had proved to be both sympathetic and practical. Of Anne’s worries
that Ruth might talk, she advised, “tell her not to talk about her
sister apart from the rest of her family. No point going into the
finer details, she’s too young to understand.”

“I’ve done
that.” Anne had said, “but I’m worried, she might mention her when
these other little girls arrive in the nursery.”

Lady Cocteau’s
solution to this was a masterstroke.

“It’s your
bloodline that is the important one. We could say that this Jess is
your husband’s daughter and that she lived with you, that you took
her in as your own; or a niece if you prefer.”

“You are a
genius,” smiled Anne, “then if Ruth does mention Jess it won’t
matter so much?”

“Precisely and
let us spread the rumour before it comes out. I’ve always found
that prevention is far better than the cure in circumstances like
these. Does anyone else know, apart from my husband, Charles and
Duke William?”

“The Lord
Marshall, but Duke Henri swore him to secrecy. He’ll not say
anything. David said he seemed more relieved than anything else. I
think he believes that if the pestilence returns and we are wiped
out, there will be another heir of the blood that he can call
on.”

Anne was
greatly cheered by their conversation.

Ruth’s elders
need not have worried. Ruth had worked it out on her own. She would
not mention Jess to anyone. She loved Jess and would have died to
protect her beloved sister from what she continued to call ‘this
arwful pwincess life’.

During the
tendays before the ceremony, the nobles of the kingdom arrived at
Fort in what seemed like droves. The inns and town houses were soon
full of families and retinues. The innkeepers were delighted and
increased their charges threefold. Some stables were put to use as
accommodation, the horses being put out to grass outside the walls.
One enterprising man emptied one of his warehouses and let out
space by the yard. The shopkeepers found their takings increasing
by the day. These people had to be fed and, being on the whole,
nobility, ate only the best.

The poorer folk
too reaped benefits; free food was handed out to those in need and
small coin.

Fort was
therefore in a ferment of loud and largely happy anticipation.
Queen Susan’s Fealtatis had been a low-key event due to her age and
health.

The Dukes of
Murdoch, in particular those of Cocteau and Duchesne, had decided
to make a grand occasion of this one. After the horrors of the
pestilence that had wiped out the late king’s family and many
others, noble, commoner and slave, it was too good an opportunity
to miss. So the Conclave had declared a three-day holiday with the
Fealtatis scheduled for the second day. As Henri Cocteau said to
his compeers, if they didn’t give it, the majority of the free
populace would take it anyway.

The order of
the procession was the subject of much debate and Mikel Senotson
was in demand to sort out who would precede who in the
cavalcade.

Among those
awaiting the events with impatient excitement was one Philip Ross,
son of the Lord Marshall, who was also called Philip Ross. In the
south sons and daughters tended to be named after their parents and
other relatives. He was to be appointed one of David Crawford’s
Gentlemen of the Bedchamber, the Prince Consort having insisted
that he have some youth around him.

* * * * *

Crisis (14)

Not all the
noble families, ducal or otherwise could be accommodated in the
throne room for the actual ceremony. There was a considerable
amount of acrimonious debate and discussion among the dukes as to
who would be invited to be present and who would not.

As the Lord
Marshall was busy, David Crawford took his place, ignoring the
ornate chair at the head of the table. As the discussion progressed
David began to lose his patience. He had not fully comprehended,
until this moment, why protocol knowledge was so important. After a
half-candlemark of portentous and acrimonious debate he most
definitely did. He understood why internal strife ebbed below the
surface and why the kingdom had experienced not one but two civil
wars. He also began to understand why the marriages were so
important.

David cleared
his throat, “it seems to me that there is only one fair way to
allocate the places available.”

“I would be
pleased to see a solution,” groaned the Duke of Gardiner.

The Duke of
Baker regarded the future Prince Consort through narrow eyes, not
best pleased to see David taking an active part in the proceedings.
He still had hopes of undermining David’s position to the
betterment of his own. He sat back.

“I too would
like to hear what ‘Prince’ David has to say. I doubt however, if
he, newly come to our country, can have anything sensible to
add.”

The Duke of
Brentwood laughed but he was the only one. The rest prepared to
listen. David’s words would give them a good idea of the person
they would be dealing with in the future.

“It seems to
me,” David began, “that neither a ballot nor an allocation by
population size is fair. I do not, however, wish to sew discord
amongst my wife’s subjects.” With this he reminded them of who he
was and what he was about to become.

Henri Cocteau
applauded this opening gambit.

“What do you
propose?” asked William Duchesne.

“I will
decide,” was the surprising answer, “it is after all, my wife’s
coronation.”

To say that the
Dukes were flabbergasted would be an understatement.

“You do not
know them,” exploded Sam Baker, “you know nothing about the
protocols involved.”

“I’ve been
learning,” was David’s dry response.

“This is
idiocy.”

“I agree to
this,” said a supportive Henri Cocteau over the tumult.

Duke Raoul van
Buren sighed, “It matters little to me. I’ll agree. We’ve been
sitting here for candlemarks and have got no further on than when
we started. Your proposal at least has the merit of
originality.”

“I do not
intend to choose the attendees personally,” continued David, “when
I said I will choose, I meant that I will choose the method. I
propose we allocate an equal amount of places to each then each
Duke will choose an equal amount of their vassals to attend. The
two vacant duchies of Smith and Sahara I will leave to those who
represent them. To ensure that those missed out do not feel
slighted in any way I further propose that they each shall be
invited to attend a series of private soirees hosted by the Queen
after the coronation. They will be far more intimate
occasions.”