Disturb nothing that his father had set in place until it was time to take hold of it and shake it mightily, that was what he had determined: the roads to the capital were good enough—the winter would not greatly discommode them from travel to the capital once the wedding was a fact the Quinalt would have to live with, and by then- By then he would have the border matter at least at a state he dared leave to Idrys and Cevulirn.
“Meanwhile,” he continued, “the greatest change in my plans—precludes my waiting for the oath-taking of the northern barons before I pursue matters against this incursion on our frontiers. I had wished to have the winter to prepare. We are not to have that grace, I much fear, and while I had asked you, sirs, to remain here at disadvantage to your domestic affairs, I must now prepare differently. I took the crown on the field without ceremony. I have entered into agreements with the Regent of Elwynor. I have done many things—” For a moment he lost his thoughts and his breath at once. But the next breath brought the next line back. “—many things unanticipated. As King holding power from the gods I swear to them due observance and reverence, and am prepared to swear so. So I shall swear to you. So I ask you to give oaths of homage, first of all the provinces, and of fealty for yourselves as I am prepared to swear, without ceremony such as the capital could provide, so that when you part from this company of brothers and friends you will have the assurance of me, as I require of you.”
There were looks, shaking of heads in amazement, a little muttering from Sovrag’s lieutenants, who, with war pressing on the border, and-which they did not necessarily know—with Ynefel increasingly perilous, could not get their boats safely home. He could not permit the attempt.
He had other use for those boats.
Emuin came, in his immaculate gray: his personal—Teranthine-priest, well-known to the court, now counselor to the King, bearing the battle-crown, and presenting it.
Then he could let go his careful grip on the things he had to say: then it was for Emuin to remember, and Emuin to deal with while he answered yes and I swear, and had the crown in his hand and in Emuin’s.
The hall was very quiet. No one so much as coughed, the lords surely wondering by now why they had not been advised and where the trap might lie. There were the solemn bows and the oaths the Teranthine rite required. There was the setting of the crown on his head, the religiously valid coronation, which would hold valid against all claims until his death, and which settled any remote challenge to his kingship.
He called his brother first; Efanor knelt and swore the simple oath as he swore his to Efanor, confirming him as heir, in terms he had advised Efanor, against the getting of an heir of his own body. Then the officers of his household, the Marhanen custom; and third the barons, in the order their houses had sworn to his grandfather, first Pelumer, and then Cevulirn, in their true sequence. Third of ducal houses present was Umanon’s, then Sulriggan’s, and, far down the ordinary precedence of history, Sovrag, who, after swearing to defend the King and to be his friend, to preserve the life, the person and the honor of his sovereign, and receiving the customary vow of his sovereign to defend his life, his person, and his honor, asked if he could add the decks of his boats to his domains.
He could all but see Duke Umanon, with a port Sovrag used, gathering wind for a storm of protest: he knew the dispute on which the old pirate based his request, and the King did not grant it. “No,” he said pleasantly, and gave Sovrag his hand to kiss.
“Don’t hurt to try,” Sovrag said.
“I need a brave man, riverlord. I hold you are that.”
“Then we talk?” Sovrag asked.
“Swear and give me your hands, riverlord. I’ll repair your boats. Or build you new ones. And hold you dear as a friend.”
Sovrag gave him a look as sober as any he had had of Sovrag. He might have touched the man. “Aye,” Sovrag said in a husky voice, “aye, Majesty.” And kissed his hand with a grip fit to break it.
“Tristen Lord Warden of Ynefel,” the next proclamation was, as Sovrag went down the steps. “Lord High Marshal of Althalen.”
There was a murmur then. And he could feel the anxiousness arising among the Elwynim. But of Tristen he asked and gave only the oath of fealty, and set its term from harvest-time to harvest-time. “Annually to be renewed, an oath of friends, to save each other’s life, limbs, rights and honor, before the blessed gods and by their favor.” He lifted Tristen up and, embracing him, said against his ear, “Say, Before the blessed gods, and say it so they hear.”
“Before the blessed gods, Your Majesty,” Tristen said, and added, in his own way but with a straightforward look as clear and as knowing as ever he had heard from Tristen, “I am your friend.”
Thank the aforesaid gods he said nothing else. Cefwyn could see the clenched jaw of Efanor’s priest, and Efanor’s hand tightly clenched on a prayer-book.
No one knew what oath had existed between Mauryl and his grandfather. There had been no witnesses, no priest, nothing holy. The barons were surely asking themselves where Tristen ranked in relation to lords grown old in service to Ylesuin: the Warden of Ynefel had never been at court, nor ever fit within the protocols.
Cefwyn embraced him a second time. “Thank you,” he said into Tristen’s ear, and released him.
After that, Ninévrisé in brief and in her own as Regent: “Before the gods, to bear true friendship to the land and people and the Crown of Ylesuin.”
Then he dared breathe. No one had refused their oath, no one had protested, and Lord Tasien through Ninévrisé was bound. “My faithful friends,” he said, and added, “truly first, as your houses were to the first of my line. I shall not forget who stood here, and who swore.”
“No one is here to swear for Amefel,” Cevulirn pointed out, “Your Majesty.”
“For Amefel we do as we can,” Cefwyn said under his breath. And more loudly: “Gentle lords, I shall swear for Amefel, under Ylesuin’s law.
Under my wardship Her Grace Duchess Orien holds the province. For one thing, we shall fortify all the bridgeheads leading to Amefel, since I take Amefel for Aséyneddin’s immediate desire, rather than to attack the northern border, which would be exceedingly foolhardy. As6yneddin, on my best information, believes that he can peel away Amefel easily and present Ylesuin a land-bound border directly fronting Guelessar. He thinks that Amefel will defect to him as lord. I think not. He thinks we dare not arm the Amefin. I think not. We shall fortify all along the river to protect Amefin villages from Aséyneddin’s threats. Her Most Honorable Grace the lady Regent will herself send to those villages jointly with me, urging them to stand fast against Aséyneddin. Those messengers go today.” The politics of that joint appeal were an embarrassing fact Ylesuin was not wont to admit, one that brought mouths open and lords ready to speak, but he plunged ahead.
“We have already sent men and supplies for the fortifications; and Lord Haurydd has, by now, in company with Lord Sovrag’s nephews, entered Elwynor, to reach forces loyal to the lady Ninévrisé and defeat the rebel Aséyneddin, so that the lady Regent’s loyal men may set her in authority at Ilefinian.”