But he would visit the man again, if need be, the abbot assured himself. His life had purpose and a direct path, and he swore then on the soul of Master Jojonah-his mentor, his dearest friend-that he would continue the good fight.
"Lady Pemblebury approaches," the sentry in the hall announced.
Abbot Je'howith crinkled his old face at the proclamation, but King Danube couldn't hold back a smile.
"You have not made the open declaration yet," Je'howith reminded him. "Whispers speak that the coming child is yours, of course, but word has not been sent, nor has your decision concerning the status of the child."
"I did not know that anything was required of me," Danube replied sarcastically, for he was the king, after all, and his word, whatever that word might be, was law in Honce-the-Bear.
" I only wonder what your brother might come to think if those whispers reach his ears," Je'howith said; and that did indeed give Danube pause. "The new Father Abbot is of Vanguard, and a friend to Midalis. It seems likely that the region will be more closely tied to the rest of the kingdom now, with Agronguerre leading the Church."
"And perhaps those of your Church are not well versed in discretion," Danube retorted.
"The only brother who returned to Vanguard from the College of Abbots was young Dellman, no friend of mine, I assure you," Je'howith came back. " If Brother Dellman has brought news of Constance Pemblebury's condition, then he learned it from someone else."
"The same Dellman from Palmaris? " King Danube asked, for he remembered well Braumin Herde and his little group of imprisoned companions.
Je'howith nodded.
"The same Dellman who is friend to Jilseponie? " King Danube asked.
Abbot Je'howith raised an eyebrow at that and at the way Danube spoke the woman's name. Apparently, that little spark Je'howith and others had seen up in Palmaris continued to burn. Constance, beginning her eighth month of pregnancy, would not enjoy the sight of that simmering flame.
Constance Pemblebury entered the room then, waddling more than walking, one hand supporting her lower back. Her look was not one of a woman in pain, though, but of a woman fulfilled and in bliss.
King Danube went to her immediately and brushed aside her attendant, taking her by the arm and guiding her to a seat in the audience room's only chair: the throne.
How ironic, old Je'howith mused.
"You do realize, my King," the old monk said, grinning wryly, "that the Church must openly frown on our monarch producing a bastard child."
King Danube turned and scowled at Je'howith, but Constance laughed. "How unprecedented!" she said with complete sarcasm, and then she groaned and winced.
Danube turned to her immediately, feeling her swollen belly, putting a gentle hand to her forehead. "Are you all right? " he asked.
Je'howith studied the man, his movements, and the tone of his voice. Gentle, but not loving. He did care for Constance, but Abbot Je'howith recognized at that moment that Danube would not likely marry the woman, not while images of the fair Jilseponie danced in his head.
Constance assured him that she was feeling quite well, and Je'howith seconded that sentiment, guiding the doting Danube away from her. "She has two months yet to go," the old abbot reminded him.
"And then comes our child," Constance remarked.
"My son," Danube agreed, and again Constance beamed.
To hear Danube speaking of the child with such obvious pride fostered her hopes, Je'howith realized. And what of those hopes? the cleric wondered. What course would King Danube take once the child, his son, was born? Would he employ the Denial of Privilege, as they had discussed, or would he be so overwhelmed by the birth of this child that he would accept it openly?
Wouldn't Prince Midalis be thrilled if that came to pass!
Je'howith couldn't contain a chuckle, though when Danube and Constance looked at him, he merely shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. In truth, the old abbot hardly cared which way King Danube chose to go concerning the child. Certainly, if he did not disavow the child's bloodline rights, the kingdom could be in for a difficult and messy transition, but that would not likely afreet Je'howith, who would probably be long dead by that time. And if King Danube did openly accept the child, keeping the babe, and thus, Constance, at his side, then the possibility of Jilseponie ever getting close toJe'howith's beloved Ursal seemed even more remote.
In either case, this situation could be getting all the more interesting in about two months' time.
Abbot Je'howith fought hard to contain another chuckle.
Abbot Braumin was surprised and quite pleased to see the visitor to St. Precious that day. He was a handsome man of about Braumin's age, with a slender but hardened frame and alert dark eyes that took in every detail of the room about him. He was a military man, obviously, trained in readiness.
The snows had continued heavy that winter, but word had come to Abbot Braumin that Duke Kalas had left Chasewind Manor, and the city altogether, for a trip to the south. And now this, an old friend, the return of a good man who had shared some very important moments in Braumin Herde's life. Yes, the year was off to a grand start.
"Shamus Kilronney," the abbot greeted him warmly. "I heard that you had resigned your post in the Kingsmen and traveled south."
"Not so far south, my friend, Brother-Abbot Braumin," Shamus Kilronney replied. He looked around appreciatively. "You have done well, and are deserving of all that has befallen you of late."
Braumin accepted the kind words with a nod and a smile. Shamus had been with him on that journey to the Barbacan, when the goblins had encircled them, closing in. Shamus Kilronney had stood tall and proud, prepared to die, when the miracle of Avelyn's upraised, mummified arm had sent forth waves of energy to destroy the goblin horde.
Shamus had been beside Braumin again on a second occasion in that same place, when King Danube and Father Abbot Markwart had marched in with their respective armies to take them as prisoners.
In truth, the two men hardly knew each other, and yet they had forged a deep bond in trials shared and miracles witnessed.
"The sky is thick with snow," Abbot Braumin remarked. "Why does Shamus Kilronney return to us at this unlikely time? "
"Duke Kalas bade an AUheart knight named Mowin Satyr to serve in his stead while he returned to the court at Ursal at the summons of King Danube," Shamus explained. "Satyr is an old friend of mine, and he knew that I have family within the city, so he bade me to come and aid him."
"Colleen?" "She is north, in Caer Tinella, I have heard," Shamus replied.
"Well, I am glad that you have returned," Abbot Braumin said, motioning for the man to follow him to more comfortable quarters. "You may be aware that the relationship between Church and Crown in Palmaris has not been a good one since the events at Chasewind Manor."
"Duke Kalas has never been fond of the Church," Shamus remarked, "at least not since Queen Vivian became ill and died, and the brothers of St. Honce could do nothing to save her. You will find Mowin Satyr more agreeable, I believe."
"For however long he might serve."
"It could be some time," Shamus explained. "That is why I have come to you. Duke Kalas claimed that he was summoned to Ursal, but none of those remaining at Chasewind Manor know anything about that. Nor, according to Mowin Satyr, is he planning on returning to the city any time soon, per- haps never."
Abbot Braumin couldn't help but smile and shake his head. He couldn't believe how effective his hints concerning the powries had been, further confirmation to him that Kalas had indeed engaged in some sort of underthe-table dealings with the bloody caps. He poured himself a glass of wine and one for Shamus, then handed it over.