Childe Morgan Read Free Page B

for an important court like Twelfth Night. The queen will like them, too—and your mother and Zoë and the other ladies of the court,” he added. “Women set great store by such things, you know.”
    The stream of adult patter utterly charmed away the boy’s remaining resistance, so that he made no objection as Kenneth got to his feet and picked him up, holding him close to breathe of the fresh scent of his silver-gilt hair and kiss his cheek. As he braced the boy on his hip, he silently nodded for Zoë to resume shoeing the child.
    â€œMy lord, you are entirely too indulgent,” Alyce murmured, though she smiled as she said it, and blew him a kiss.
    â€œWell, he is my only son,” Kenneth replied. “And I’m afraid I indulged my daughters, too,” he added, with a fond glance at Zoë and Alazais, both of whom obviously adored both their father and their younger half-brother. “It doesn’t seem to have hurt them.”
    Zoë gave him a smile as she finished fastening the shoes on Alaric’s feet, then let her father set him back on the floor so she could pull his new tunic over his head; no one would know that the shirt underneath was less than clean. Then, while she hurriedly ran a comb through his silky hair, Alyce fastened a little fur-lined green cloak around his shoulders, pinning it at the throat with a silver gryphon brooch.
    â€œThere, that’s perfect. Now you look like a proper little future duke,” Alyce said, standing back to inspect him. “Shall we all go down to court?”
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    T HE great hall was filling fast, though the dais at the far end was yet unoccupied, save by pages and squires and other functionaries completing their preparations for court to come. A faint haze of wood smoke hung on the air from the three great fireplaces, leavened by the clean tang of pine resin from the torches along the walls and under-laid by the aroma of damp wool and damp courtiers; for many of those summoned to Twelfth Night Court were obliged to travel from lodgings outside the castle precincts. Sleet and rain were still pummeling the darkened glass of the clerestory windows that overlooked the castle gardens to the left of the hall.
    But all within was festive and gay. High above, banners of most of the great families of Gwynedd hung from the hammer-beams and rafters, bright splashes of color against the oak and stone. Behind and above the twin thrones set at the center of the dais, a great tapestry of the royal arms of Gwynedd declared whose hall this was, the Haldane lion gazing over all with regal disdain. The buzz of conversation from the gathering court set the place alive with anticipation.
    â€œAh, Kenneth, I’ve finally found you,” said a handsome man of about Kenneth’s age, who had materialized at his right elbow.
    Kenneth turned to regard Sir Jiri Redfearn, like himself, one of the king’s most trusted aides. Jiri looked relaxed and unruffled, and gave Alyce and the other two ladies a graceful inclination of his ginger head.
    â€œJiri. Well met,” Kenneth said amiably, acknowledging the other man with a nod.
    â€œThe king desires a word before court,” Jiri said. “He’s in the withdrawing room. Perhaps the ladies would care to warm themselves by one of the fires—except for Lady Alyce and the boy. They’re summoned as well.”
    â€œOf course,” Kenneth replied. “Do you know what this is about?”
    â€œI do, but it isn’t for me to say,” Jiri answered, though he smiled slightly as he stood aside, indicating that they should precede him. With a glance at his wife, Kenneth took young Alaric’s free hand and headed them around the dais to the left, leaving Zoë and her sister to wonder.
    Though intended as an informal audience chamber for matters requiring discretion, and a staging area before ceremonies of state, the withdrawing room also functioned as the