«Sir Se», he called, lifting his gaze and the hand with the letter toward that young man, tending the hawks a little ways away.
Sé gave the hawks into the care of a nearby squire and came at once, curiosity in his eyes.
«Sire?»
«Yours, I think», the king replied, handing him the letter. «May I take it that you know nothing about a parcel of marchpane sent to the Lady Marie in the last diplomatic pouch to Rhemuth, ostensibly from her brother?»
Sé shook his head distractedly, his face blanching as he glanced at the letter and recognized his own handwriting.
«Sire, on my honor — nothing untoward…»
«I do not question your honor», the king said quietly, briefly lowering his eyes. «And I know you are innocent of anything besides the letter you wrote». Reluctantly he then handed Sé the letter from Seisyll Arilan. «I'm very sorry, son».
Only a faint breeze stirred, there on the moorland — that and the soft whuffing of the horses nearby, and the screech of a hawk — as Sé read what Arilan had written, his embarrassment turning abruptly to stunned disbelief.
«No!» The word escaped his lips before he could stop it, his breath catching in his throat as he raced through a second reading of the letter in hope of finding some reprieve that he had missed. Tears were welling in the blue eyes as he then looked up at the king, every line of his body begging for it not to be true.
«It can't be. It isn't possible».
Sadly Donal shook his head. «I cannot think Lord Seisyll would make up such a thing, lad. I was aware of your affection for Marie — though obviously, neither of us was aware that the Lady Muriella had fixed her heart on you». He sadly shook his head. «And how badly wrong it went. Not only did she eliminate her rival, but two more innocents as well — and then took her own life».
Sé screwed his eyes tightly closed, battling for control. «Had I been there», he whispered, «and known her to do this deed, I would have taken her life. Dear God, I was mustering my courage to ask you for Marie's hand — little though I am worthy of her. We had hoped we might be married!»
«Se, Se — dear boy», Donal murmured. Having lost his first wife and many a friend, over the years — and nearly having lost Krispin — he had an inkling what Sé must be feeling.
«We'd best go back to Castle Coroth», he said aside to Sir Kenneth. «Young Ahern must be told, and I've no stomach for any more hunting today».
With almost military precision, Sir Kenneth called in the others of their party and organized the return to Coroth. They found Ahern de Corwyn up on the castle's highest parapet, leaning on his stick and gazing out to sea toward the west, where any approaching ship from Rhemuth would first appear. Gaining this vantage point could not have been easy, for stairs were still a major challenge for Ahern's stiff knee. But when the king saw Ahern's face, he knew that the messenger must have given him at least the gist of the message he carried, before heading out to the moors to find the king.
«Ahern?» the king said quietly.
The young man turned his face toward the voice, his profile still and drawn against the lowering twilight.
«I heard», he replied. «My sister Marie is dead».
The starkness of his tone had a finality about it that sent a chill up Donal's spine.
«It's because she was Deryni», Ahern went on, in an even softer voice. «Oh, I know Muriella was jealous. Both Marie and Alyce had mentioned her in letters, over the past year or so. She fancied Sé, I gather. But I can't imagine that she would have acted, if she'd thought she was only competing with another ordinary woman. And Marie was not ordinary».
«No, she wasn't», the king replied.
Ahern heaved a heavy sigh and turned his face back to the sea. «I'd like to be alone now, if you don't mind. I expect it will be a few days before the ship arrives with her body».
«Ahern, I…»
«You needn't worry that I'll do myself harm», the young man said firmly. «Please, Sire. Go».
Two days later, just at dusk, a royal galley under bellied sable sails glided into Coroth Harbor between the twin lighthouses known as Gog and Magog, each with a signal beacon already lit for the night. Amidships, beneath a striped canopy of gold and Haldane scarlet, Alyce de Corwyn stood with a protective hand atop her sister's white-draped coffin, gowned in unrelieved black and with a black veil wrapped closely about her head, covering her bright hair. Zoë Morgan and Sir Jovett Chandos flanked her, and the ship's crew stood to attention along the rails to either side, interspersed with the men of the royal honor guard sent along from Rhemuth at the command of the queen, black crepe tied to each man's sword-arm, bared heads bowed in respect.
The long-drawn question of a lookout's horn floated across the light chop with the clang of the harbor-buoys as the galley skirted between the two sea jetties of tumbled granite locks, answered by a deeper horn-blast from the shore. The sounds had always welcomed Alyce home in the past; now they cried out the sadness that accompanied the ship like a cloak.
Her brother and the king were waiting on the quay with Sé Trelawney and a contingent of Corwyn archers drawn up as an honor escort, each holding a torch aloft. Ahern's council and all the knights who had come with the king's party stood among them, solemn and silent, as were the townspeople gathered behind them, for Corwyn's people had come to admire and respect their future duke and his sisters.
Deftly the steersman brought the galley close to the quay, where he turned the craft into the wind and the crew scrambled aloft to furl the sable sail. At the same time, men waiting ashore threw lines across to those on deck, so that the vessel could be warped alongside the quay.
The king came aboard at once, not waiting for a gangplank to be set in place, leaving young Ahern to stand with Sé and the other royal officers. Alyce accepted the king's condolences in silence, then moved to the rail and, as soon as the ship was made secure, went ashore and into the arms of her brother.
«I am so glad to see you!» Ahern whispered, as they clung to one another. «I think I sensed that she was gone. The night it must have happened, she was in my dream. Actually, I dreamed about both of you. But when the messenger arrived, a few days later, I know what the news was that he brought».
She drew back a little and sadly shook her head — but without tears, for she had spent herself of tears days before.
«You cannot imagine how awful it was», she said quietly. «And it might have been far worse. As it was, two more died with our sister — three, if you count Muriella. Poor, stupid cow!» She drew a breath. «How is Sé bearing up?»
Ahern shook his head. «Not well. He was in love with her. They hoped to be married, if the king agreed. And I think it might have been allowed, if…»
He broke off, biting at his lip, and Alyce hugged him closer. After a few minutes, Sé and four of the archers from his honor guard came aboard to bring the coffin off the ship, Jovett joining them, bearing it on their shoulders as they fell into place in the funeral cortege that would take Marie to Coroth Cathedral. There she would lie in state through the following day, so that Coroth's citizens might pay their respects.
Though the ship's escort joined that of the king, marching solemnly in the foot procession that now started toward the cathedral to a muffled drumbeat, Alyce accompanied the king and her brother in the vast, boxy carriage that had brought them down from the castle. Alyce sat next to Ahern, hand clasped tightly to his; Donal was seated opposite. The leather side-curtains were rolled up and secured, so that the occupants could be seen, but the crowd gathered along the Via Maris was there for the coffin, not the carriage that followed it, quiet and respectful, men doffing their caps and women dropping little curtsies as the cortege passed, a few crossing themselves. Zoë rode behind with the maid who had accompanied them, in a pony cart led by her father.