Anscom shrugged. "I wish it were more. Frankly, I don't see how you can be so calm about it all. I'm sure I should be a bundle of nerves if someone were trying to make a saint of me."

Camber gave a wan smile as he b.u.t.tered a bit of fine white bread. "You've seen the rationalizations I've had to make, to achieve this state of outward calm," he said, popping the bread into his mouth. "But what else can I do?" He chewed and swallowed. "Revelation of the truth would completely undermine the progress we've made in these past few months. Cinhil is really beginning to think like a king, at last. We haven't seen his likes for at least a century, so far as potential is concerned. You should see the plans for military reorganization that he and Jeb and I drew up yesterday. They're brilliant-and most of the input is from Cinhil, not Jeb or me."

He nodded thanks as Joram refilled his cup with fragrant brown ale, pausing to drain it by half before continuing.

"And that's not all. We've only made preliminary notes so far, but some of his ideas for legal reform are truly revolutionary. He's taken the basic texts that we made him read while he was in the haven, and he's used them as a jumping-off point to devise plans I've never even thought of. Oh, some of them are too theoretical to work, but the point is that he's learning. He's starting to think independently, to synthesize new ideas from what we gave him. Sometimes even I have trouble keeping up with him, Anscom."

Anscom, who had been eating a slab of cheese with apple slices, wiped his fingers and then his knife on a damask napkin and began cleaning his nails with the tip of the blade.

His eyes held a twinkle of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I'm not arguing with you on that point. I know, from my meetings with him, the kinds of things he's proposing." He turned his gaze on Joram. "But, what about you, Joram? And Evaine and Rhys? Can the three of you cope with your father becoming a saint, if that's the price we must pay for our good King Cinhil?"

Joram put down the piece of bread he had been methodically turning into dough pellets and dusted his hands over his plate.

"There must be something we can do to stop it, Your Grace."

"I agree that there ought to be. Unfortunately, your father's life and untimely 'death' are precisely the stuff of which martyrologies are made. There's little we can do to stop the talk."

"But the hypocrisy of it all!"

"I know." Anscom sighed. "But sometimes one can't afford to be overfastidious. Moral scruples aside, can you handle the rest? For example, what if Guaire and his friends should ask Lady Elinor for permission to enshrine the tomb at Caerrorie?"

"Oh, G.o.d, she wouldn't let them, would she?"

"I don't know. I'm asking you. She'll not have Evaine and Rhys to rely upon in the future, you know. If Evaine's appointment as a lady-in-waiting weren't enough to keep them at court, then Rhys's confirmation as the queen's physician certainly will be. Megan is pregnant again, you know."

Camber lowered the cup he had been raising to his lips and looked at Anscom in surprise. "So soon? Does Cinhil know yet?"

Anscom shook his head. "Rhys only confirmed it a few days ago. It will be another boy, if she carries it to term. Needless to say, Rhys's services will be constantly on call until she's safely delivered at the end of the summer. However, Joram still hasn't answered my original question. What will Elinor say if the Servants of Saint Camber ask her permission to enshrine the tomb?"

"Without coaching, she might agree," Joram said gloomily. "She was very fond of- Camber." He looked up at his father, at Anscom, back at Camber again.

"Father, couldn't we tell her the truth? She'll have to know eventually, if you still plan to include the boys."

"Eventually, yes; but not yet. Rhys tells me that she's considering remarriage, and I'm afraid her prospective bridegroom can be a bit of a hothead. If she has to cope with my sainthood, I'd rather she knows nothing she has to be afraid of revealing."

"Cousin Jamie?" Joram asked.

Camber nodded. "Anscom, we're talking about young James Drummond. You may remember him from the haven. When Cathan was courting Elinor, James was also a suitor. Now that Cathan is gone . . ." He shrugged. "At any rate, I'll be very surprised if Elinor doesn't say yes. The boys need a father, and Elinor needs a husband. The combined resources of Culdi and the Drummond lands will make quite a tidy holding."

"But you referred to him as a hothead," Anscom said. "Do you mean that, if he knew the truth about you, he might let it slip?"

"Let's just say that I'd rather not give him that temptation just now," Camber replied. "I don't believe in husbands and wives not being able to share totally, if they want to-which means that both of them will have to learn to cope with the comings and goings at Caerrorie like the rest of us. Joram, do you think they can do it?"

"I suppose," Joram answered doubtfully. "It certainly isn't going to be easy, though."

"Nothing is ever easy," Anscom muttered under his breath, "especially where Camber MacRorie is concerned. Camber, it's a good thing that I know you as well as I do."

But the immediate future, at least, was easy. Guaire was gone by the time Camber returned to his quarters, and Joram's discreet inquiries over the next few days revealed only that Guaire had left Valoret alone and headed southeast. Now they would simply have to wait for Guaire's next move.

And so, after warning Evaine and Rhys of what had happened, Camber left for his scheduled visit to Grecotha, resolved not to worry further where worry would do no good.

He found his neglected see in good hands, and was once more nagged by the suspicion that Willowen of Treshire could get along very well without him. Though the winter had been wet and cold, the see's holdings had prospered. A bountiful if late harvest and Willowen's frugal management had left the diocesan granaries still more than half full.

Sale of a portion of the excess for seed and flour would net a tidy profit for the recovering cathedral treasury. Lambing and calfing were also at a record high.

Final refurbishing of the episcopal residence had been completed only the month before, balky drains and all. Several leaks in the cathedral roof had been repaired, using lead salvaged from a collapsed and abandoned chapel in the chapter complex. Inside, the choir stalls had been refinished and repaired, and all the statues of the sanctuary and side chapels cleaned and regilded. The great nave glistened when the bishop entered to celebrate his first Ma.s.s upon his return.

But of greatest interest to Camber, personally, was the progress made on the cathedral archives. Willowen had embarked upon a library exchange program with the Varnarite rector who was his counterpart. All through the cold, dark winter, ten scribes each from the Varnarites and the cathedral chapter spent most of their waking hours in their opposites' library, piecing together chronologies and copying missing portions of important records and chronicles of interest to both groups. Their diligence did much to fill in some of the gaps in the history surrounding the original schism.

Willowen even found a chest full of ma.n.u.scripts penned in the ancient script which only his bishop could readily read. These he saved for Camber, who took them into his private quarters to begin translating in his spare time.

Camber returned to Valoret on schedule, well pleased with the state of his episcopal affairs, only to find the gathering court in an uproar over the impending arrival of Earl Sighere, who all now knew had subdued the princ.i.p.ality of Kheldour. Barons Torcuill and Udaut had brought Sighere's acceptance of a springtime visit months before; but as the time grew near, and no new word came directly from the powerful earl, reports of his actions and intentions became more varied and more speculative.

Sighere marched toward Valoret with an army at his back-no, he came in peace. No, Sighere brought only an escort with him, but his army approached by another route for a surprise attack, swelled to double its previous size by newly hired Kheldish and Torenthi mercenaries.

Camber counseled a postponement of judgment, but some there were who could not accept that. Paranoia was a very popular sport at court that spring-which was perhaps understandable, given Gwynedd's past year.

But when Sighere did appear before the gates of Valoret, bright on the morning of the Ides of March, as he had promised, he rode with only a modest escort of fifty knights. Still, their initial impression could have been construed by even the level-headed as warlike.

Sighere's fifty men were heavily armed, as was their leader; even their horses were caparisoned in leather battle bardings and steel chamfrons. Earl Sighere himself did not improve upon that ominous image, riding silent and distant behind a closed war helm, the coronet of his rank nearly obscured by a veritable explosion of sable ostrich plumes. Nor were the couped dragon heads on his scarlet shield rea.s.suring.

But an unarmed herald bore Sighere's personal banner at his left side, while his war banner followed behind him; and that should have told them something. Also, Sighere readily consented to leave all but ten of his knights outside the city gates, if those remaining ten might retain their arms to provide suitable escort before the king.

Cinhil agreed, with apparently more confidence in Sighere's good will than most of his retainers felt, and called his court together to receive the earl. For this occasion, even Megan was at his side, though looking a little pale in the early stages of her pregnancy.

Jebediah stood in the privileged position of earl marshal, on the top step of the dais and on the king's right side, minus his helmet but otherwise in full Michaeline battle attire, one gloved hand resting competently on his sword hilt. Udaut, the constable, who had gone to treat with Sighere months before and still was unsure just what decision the earl had reached, waited midway between Jebediah and the king, likewise mailed and armed, Gwynedd's great sword at rest beneath his gauntleted hands.

Camber, wearing the full ecclesiastical vestments in which he had been consecrated bishop, with the addition of his collar of office, stood directly to Cinhil's right, clerical as well as secular advisor for the occasion, since Archbishop Anscom was abed with a digestive upset-an event which was occurring with disturbing regularity of late.

Cinhil himself sat in a long velvet robe of Haldane crimson, his golden lion bright upon his breast. Miniver showed at sleeves and neck, repeating the snow-white of the belt girding his waist. On his head was the state crown of Gwynedd, jewel-winking gold with crosses and leaves intertwined, more formal than was his usual wont, in marked contrast to the silvered sable of his hair and beard. The ruby Eye of Rom was barely visible among the strands of collar-length hair over his right ear whenever he turned his head and the great jewel caught the light of torch and candle.

Trumpets sounded a fanfare, brief but honorable, the entry doors swung apart at the opposite end of the hall, and all eyes turned in that direction.

First to enter was a company of Cinhil's own knights, lightly armed, but patently prepared to quell any disturbance which might be engendered by the men they escorted.

Following them walked Sighere's knights, two by two, battle-armed and vaguely menacing in the mystery of their intentions.

Eight of the knights marched before their master, helm-shadowed eyes watchful, wary, as they approached the dais and bowed, brief inclinations of proud heads, giving no more obeisance than strictest courtesy required. As Sighere came between their ranks, herald on his left, a captain on his right, and his war banner at his back, his knights split to either side and bowed again with well-trained precision, the depth of their bows leaving no doubt as to just whom these men owed their allegiance.

Sighere, when he reached the dais steps, stopped and removed his helm with a spa.r.s.eness of motion appropriate to the iron-willed man who had recently subdued most of proud Kheldour. He wore a mail coif beneath the helm; but when he handed that helm to his captain, he did not uncover to the king. Dark eyes gazed out impa.s.sively from their frame of metal links, the mind behind them shrewdly measuring the man who wore the crown of Gwynedd.

Sighere's herald footed his master's standard on the lowest step of the dais and bowed with precise formality.

"Sighere, Earl of Eastmarch and Warlord of Kheldour, brings greetings to His Royal Highness Cinhil Donal Ifor Haldane, King of Gwynedd and Lord of Meara, Mooryn, and the Purple March," the herald recited.

Sighere bowed, a stiff inclination of his upper body, but there was something in the set of his mouth, almost hidden behind a bristling red beard, which Camber could read as almost a smile, tempering the solemnity of the occasion to a game which Sighere played for the benefit of those watching, lest what was to come seem far too easy. Abruptly, Camber was certain that Sighere meant to offer a full alliance, though the exact terms still remained to be disclosed. He glanced at Cinhil to ascertain whether the king had caught Sighere's intentions, but Cinhil's nod of acknowledgment to Sighere's greeting betrayed nothing of his inner state.

"Your Royal Highness," the herald continued, "my master bids me say the following: The King's Most Excellent Grace will no doubt recall how our two hosts of Gwynedd and Eastmarch did fight side by side in war last year, and did prevail against a common enemy.

After that great battle, we two did go our separate ways, to rebuild our war-torn lands and stabilize a new order, free from the Festillic tyrant's heel.

"But, while the King's Grace built his peace in Gwynedd, I and mine were forced to battle other enemies which stood to threaten Eastmarch in the north. This we did. Kheldour now lies beneath the guard of my son Ewan and an Eastmarch army, secure for now, except for its capital of Rhorau, but uneasy for want of ample troops. If a.s.sault should come from either Torenth or rebellious Rhendall, whose mountains hide many things, we are undone; and not only our Kheldish holdings, but Eastmarch as well-and with us, your border buffer which we maintained in our common struggle last year.

"I, Sighere of Eastmarch, therefore propose the following alliance-not as full equals, for you are ruler of a mighty kingdom and I, though owing fealty to no other suzerain, am yet a petty prince beside Your Grace's might-yet, I would become Your Grace's chief est va.s.sal.

"If Your Grace will consent to accept my sword in liege fealty, to take conquered Kheldour as part of Gwynedd, to protect and defend it from the likes of those who have lately ruled, then I, Sighere, will be your man of life and limb, serving you in all things as are within my power. In return, I ask only that Your Grace grant unto me, and all the heirs of my body whatsoever, such t.i.tles and lands as Your Grace may deem fitting for one who has thus enlarged your kingdom. As Your Grace's viceroy in Kheldour, I would rule in Your Grace's name, governing Kheldour's people in justice, to the greater good of all your people of Gwynedd."

As the herald finished speaking, Sighere drew his sword and kissed its blade, then knelt and laid it on the top step of the dais before him, the hilt toward Cinhil's throne. He bowed his head, still kneeling, as Cinhil leaned to consult with his chancellor, also beckoning Jebediah to approach. Sighere's knights had also knelt as their overlord did, and Cinhil glanced at all of them thoughtfully.

"He bl.u.s.ters, as was always his wont, but what think you from a military point of view, Jeb?" he whispered, as the marshal crouched beside the throne.

Jebediah gave a slight nod. "Acceptance will mean a summer campaign, at least in Rhendall, and there remain many details to be worked out, but the offer is a princely one, Sire. With Sighere's strength added to our own, we can hold what he has won and greatly reinforce our eastern front. A lesser campaign of this sort would also give us an opportunity to test our new military organization before we must answer a more serious threat in the future."

"My thoughts precisely," Cinhil murmured. "Alister?"

Camber also nodded. "The offer is princely, Sire. And I have heard naught but good of Sighere, despite his bl.u.s.tering facade. If he gives his word, then he is your man, come what may. I think you could find far worse viceroys than Sighere of Eastmarch, for any of your lands."

With a nod, Cinhil sat straight in his chair, giving Jebediah time to get to his feet, then stood and let his gaze brush Sighere's kneeling men, settle on the earl himself, who now gazed up stolidly from his place at the foot of the dais. The sword of promise lay bright on the dais between them.

"My Lord Sighere," Cinhil said, in a voice which carried to the farthest reaches of the hall, "we are greatly moved by this n.o.ble offer, and are minded to accept your allegiance under the general terms specified. But take up your sword, I pray you. No oaths are yet required, and certainly no surrenders. We must speak further on the details of what you propose."

Sighere had started to retrieve his sword at Cinhil's bidding, but then he hesitated and stood instead.

"Your Highness." His voice was a pleasing tenor, unexpected in so large and robust- looking a man. "I have no wish to defy you so early in our relationship ..." There was a rustle of discontent among Cinhil's knights. "But, I pray you, let me bind myself in oath."

The knights relaxed, with a few audible sighs.

"I concede that further negotiations will be necessary," Sighere continued, "but in the meantime, your a.s.sistance in Kheldour is much needed. I would not have formalities lose either of us what we desire. The word of Cinhil Haldane is sufficient to me to ensure that all are fairly treated."

There was a murmur of approval at that last, and Cinhil bade Camber come closer.

Camber could see the king's satisfaction, and suddenly he wondered whether Cinhil had worked this all out before, unbeknownst to any of the rest of them. Perhaps they had all underestimated Cinhil.

"My Lord Bishop, are you prepared to witness Lord Sighere's oath, since he does desire it?"

With a bow, Camber beckoned for a young sub-deacon, who held a jewel-encrusted Gospel book.

"I am prepared, Sire."

Nodding, Cinhil turned to face Sighere once more.

"Sighere, Earl of Eastmarch, you may approach us. My Lord Marshal, please bring his sword."

As Sighere slowly climbed the dais steps, sweeping back his coif at last to bare his head, Jebediah moved behind him and took up his sword. Sighere, easing himself down on greaved and mailed knees, lifted his hands to Cinhil, palm to palm. Cinhil took Sighere's hands between his own and let his eyes meet Sighere's brown ones as Jebediah knelt on one knee with Sighere's sword.

"I, Sighere, do become your liegeman of life and limb," the kneeling man said in a low but steady voice. "Faith and truth will I bear unto you, in living and dying, against all manner of folk, so help me G.o.d."

With that, he leaned forward to touch his forehead to their joined hands.

Cinhil, obviously much moved by the gesture, drew a steadying breath before returning the oath.

"This do I hear, Sighere of Eastmarch. And I, for my part, pledge the protection of Gwynedd to you and all your people, to defend you from every creature with all my power.

This is the word of Cinhil Donal Ifor Haldane, King of Gwynedd and Kheldour, Lord of Meara and Mooryn and the Purple March, Overlord of Eastmarch. So help me G.o.d."

With that, Cinhil released Sighere's hands and leaned to kiss the Gospel which Camber extended with a bow. The Book was then presented to Sighere, who also touched it reverently with his lips. As Camber was withdrawing the Book, Cinhil took Sighere's sword from Jebediah and held it with the blade up, signaling for Sighere to remain kneeling.

"Sighere of Eastmarch," Cinhil said, glancing along the length of the blade, "in token of the oaths we have just exchanged, I shall return your sword-but not before it, too, becomes a symbol of the bonds we have forged this day."

Deftly he brought the flat of the blade down on Sighere's right shoulder. The earl flushed with pleasure and bowed his head as he realized what Cinhil was doing.

"Sighere of Eastmarch, I confirm you in your present rank and t.i.tles-" He moved the blade to strike Sighere's left shoulder lightly. "-with the understanding that more suitable forms have yet to be decided."

He brought the flat of the blade down lightly on Sighere's bowed head, then raised the sword and laid it across both his hands to present it to Sighere. The earl, receiving the sword with another bow of his head, kissed the blade and then slid it back into its sheath with a resounding click.

The sound was the signal for loud and spontaneous cheering all through the hall, as Earl Sighere of East-march was raised by the king's own hands and taken to meet his new brothers.

chapter twenty one.

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

-Galatians 6:9 The alliance with Sighere somewhat changed Cinhil's summer plans. Instead of remaining at Valoret to continue his administrative reforms, he accompanied his army into Kheldour with Jebediah and Sighere, observing with increasing interest how those two able generals subdued and consolidated the lands which Sighere had given largely in name.

His chancellor he left at the capital, to a.s.sist Queen Megan in her duties as regent during his absence and to direct further work on the judicial reforms which Cinhil proposed to treat at his Winter Court, when he returned. Rhys and Joram also stayed in Valoret, Rhys to attend the expectant queen and Joram to continue his service to the chancellor-bishop.

Almost as an afterthought, Cinhil sent a lesser portion of his army with Earls Fintan and Tamarron, to patrol the Eastmarch-Torenth borderlands and prevent any Torenthi invasion force from cutting off his main van in Kheldour. It was a wise move; for if Nimur of Torenth had contemplated such an invasion with his ransomed men, he did not follow through. In any case, all was quiet on Gwynedd's new eastern border that summer of 906.

Cinhil could never know whether or not his deterrent had been necessary.

In the north, Cinhil's forces encountered little resistance. The greater part of Kheldour had accepted Sighere's liberating army the previous autumn, and by now greeted the almost-legendary King Cinhil as a long-awaited friend. Rhendall was more difficult, for the rugged terrain of that mountain region afforded ample hiding places for Festillic forays against the occupying Gwynedd army. But by the end of August, even the last of the Kheldour Festils had been ferreted out of their hiding place between Rhendall's twin lakes, the young niece and nephew of the slain Termed finally surrendering their fortress stronghold of Rhorau.

Cinhil would not allow the two to be killed, though Sighere urged it and Jebediah counseled the same; for they were, both of them, hardly more than children. Nor could he allow them to go free and breed future Festillic threats. G.o.d knew, one such threat in Torenth was enough to antic.i.p.ate. Reluctantly, he consigned them to the wardenship of Sighere's eldest son, Ewan, to whom he also gave the lordship of the entire Rhendall region. Ewan would keep the two in close but honorable captivity until the end of their days-a grim fate, but not so grim as some which Cinhil had considered.

Further consolidation was also accomplished during that summer's campaign. Hrorik, Sighere's middle son, so distinguished himself in battle that he became a chief va.s.sal of Cinhil in his own right, receiving most of the lands of his father's former earldom of East- march as his holding. Sighere's youngest son, also named Sighere, was granted the new earldom to be called Marley, carved out of the northern portions of old Eastmarch, for he had also served Cinhil most valiantly. In all three of Sighere's sons, Cinhil counted himself fortunate. He could not conceive of more loyal and powerful allies to hold this newest extension of his kingdom.

But for Sighere himself was reserved the greatest honor of all: to be created a duke-the first ever in Gwynedd-and to receive for himself and his heirs the royal Duchy of Claibourne, so named for the princ.i.p.al city of the northwesternmost portion of old Kheldour. Duke Sighere also became Viceroy of the Kheldish Riding, that office to become the hereditary due of the Dukes of Claibourne for as long as Sighere's line should last.

Rhendall, now held by Ewan, would be the secondary t.i.tle of the Claibourne dukes, borne during the duke's lifetime by his eldest son but functioning as a separate earldom under that son so long as father and son both lived. On Sighere's death, Ewan would become Duke of Claibourne as well as Earl of Rhendall, until he had a son to administer the lesser t.i.tle. Of course, the viceregal office also went with the ducal inheritance. Sighere had great reason to be pleased as the summer days began to shorten.

And in Valoret, the weeks and months pa.s.sed as quickly for Camber as they did for his king, if with less dramatic excitement than what Cinhil daily faced in Kheldour. The shift from spring to summer brought Queen Megan's condition to the notice of anyone with the eyes to see, her blossoming happiness the delight of all who loved their usually sad-faced young queen. Evaine, too, began to show unmistakable signs of impending motherhood, to be delivered shortly past Christmas. Rhys, physician to both women, could hardly decide whether he was more pleased with the improved health and spirits of Megan or the splendid progress of the son his wife carried beneath her heart.