Healer's Inheritance- Chapter 10
Castle Coroth
December 31, 985
The month of December was near it's end. The next dawn would see the day of the Blessed Virgin Mary with a special morning observance, followed by a farewell to the new members of his family; family that he had guardianship of until the change of the tide on the morrow. Washburn regretted that his lovely Jessamyn was not here to see her mother and brother on their way across the sea, but he was glad she was safe at Castle Cynfyn and had not had to endure the last week's travel, nor the coming week's ride to get home. Although the hours in the saddle were long, the last few days had passed easily enough, with a good fellowship building between Baron Jathurn and himself. His brother-in-law was a learned man. He offered insight on the well-being of their people, and the general welfare of the Deryni who had fled the persecutions within Gwynedd decades ago. Those refugees had escaped with nothing but what was on their backs. However, a generation later, they fared far better in the kingdoms of the South-east than they would have had they stayed in Gwynedd. Washburn related back how few of their kind had remained in their homeland, and how but a handful still maintained their ancestral homes. Most who had survived the harrowing were scattered in places of hiding. A few of whom had found refuge within the mountains of Lendour, but Wash would not divulge just where. He told Jathurn that his own family was likely the only one that survived openly at court, and then so, only by the grace of the King. Wash steadfastly believed that the Cynfyn loyalty to the crown, like that of his father before him, and now of his brother and his own were the best way to combat the intolerance of humans. One day, he hoped, their loyalties would help break down the wall's of distrust and bring about reform from the repressive stance against the Deryni in Gwynedd.
The Tralian party and Lendour escort crossed out of the Duchy of Haldane and into the Duchy of Corwyn. Not so very long ago, less than a year, this boundary would have meant leaving the Kingdom of Gwynedd and entering the independent Deryni Duchy. Although the border no longer prevailed, the entourage as a whole felt relief in entering the lands ruled over by the well respected Duke of Corwyn. At the first tavern they came to, it was instantly apparent that the people of Corwyn were far more respectful to the Tralian delegation than had been the lowlanders of Gwynedd. And to Washburn's surprise, to his Lendour insignia as well. To be sure, Tralia and Corwyn were on good terms; a far more solid relationship than that which Lendour and Corwyn had only recently begun to share. The duchy and the sovereign principality had a history of collaboration when it came to monitoring the Twin River deltas and the traffic that passed through their mutual ports. Each also, had a sizable fleet of vessels, which by treaty maintained trade across the Southern Sea. The Earldom of Lendour, on the other hand, had only come to befriend the duchy in the last year. Even in the eyes of the common-folk, it was clear that the threats of Torenth had been a great enough catalyst to form new bonds with their western neighbor. The innkeeper had been friendly at their mid-morning break. And when they arrived at the gates of Coroth that afternoon, the guards greeted them openly and escorted them into the great hall of Coroth Castle and the presence of their ruling Duke.
The formalities of greeting transpired quickly. The entourage was made welcome and given rooms to divest themselves from the dirt of the road. An hour later, Duke Jernian invited his guests into his private solar. Here his duchess was seated with her back to the warmth of the sun that shone brightly after the passing of the last storm. The sunlight gleamed low across the expanse of the sea that glistened blue beyond the castle walls. Duchess Procida, daughter of Reynard IV Duc du Joux of the house of Buyenne-Furstan, was a stunning lady. Her straw-colored hair hung in twists of green ribbons to the floor, and her soft round face was pale in the sunlight. Where Duke Jernian was a year or two younger than Wash, the Lendour knight guessed that her grace was a year or two older than his own lady. At her grace's feet, her son, barely a toddler, sat in a midst of six small puppies with coats of red and white, and black and white with tan markings, all of whom seemed to joyfully frolic around the boys feet and legs. The puppies' mother, a pretty tri-color, slept in the sunlight at the duchess side. The little dog seemed at ease with the small child and his playing with her brood.
"Welcome to my home Baron Kyriel, and welcome Highness Elzia." Wash was a little surprised that the duchess deferred to the dowager Baroness's secret higher rank. "With you, I presume, is the renowned Knight Captain of Cynfyn. I have heard much about you these past months, Sir Washburn."
"Duchess Procida," Wash greeted the noble lady with a respectful bow, "and Lord Stiofan." He extended his bow to the young boy. "I hope what you have heard is favorable, my lady. May I say what a handsome young man you have at your feet? I was there on the field this last spring when his grace received the news of his son's birth. It is my honor to meet you both."
Procida tilted her head toward her guest in acceptance. "Sir Washburn, I am glad Corwyn and Lendour were able to fight side by side. Our families have much to recommend to each other. As to the day of Stiofan's birth, I am told Lord Jernian did a dance when he got the news. As I have not been able to imagine my lord performing in such a manner, perhaps you can convince me that it was so?"
Wash gave a light laugh at the duke's embarrassment, "I can assure you that such a tale is nothing but the truth. A heartening little jig, as I recall."
Jathurn raised his brow in mirth and spoke up before Duke Jernian could protest. "That, my lady, would indeed be a father's prerogative. I dare say, I did much the same last year when my son was born."
"And you, Sir Washburn, will likely do the same when your wife grants you a son." The duke clasped the baron's brother-in-law on the shoulder, well aware of the knight's new marriage from stories that were told when Jathurn and Elzia arrived on his shores a month ago.
Lady Elzia was quick to bend down to the small puppies and lift one up from the litter. "I know who would love to have you," she said, brushing the little black and white face next to her own.
"When the time comes, though it may ruin my reputation as a staunch commander, I too will promise to do a little jig," replied the knight in black. Both men laughed and clapped the shoulder of the Knight Captain..
The duke was ever gracious to his guests. He put forth an extravagant dinner feast, the last to be had before the great feast of Twelfth Night. So it wasn't the duke's appetite nor the quality of entertainment that caused Duke Jernian's mood to turn sour as the night progressed. Wash was well aware that his news from the road had not been taken lightly. During dinner, as Wash had told the story of his difficulty with the magistrate of Abbeyford and with the abbot of New Argoed, the Deryni Duke of Corwyn grew hauntingly serious. Here was a political difficulty that could stir up trouble for Corwyn in the future.
During the winter the year before, in the lull of the war with Torenth, King Jasher had approached Duke Jernian with an offer of alliance between his independent Duchy of Corwyn and the Kingdom of Gwynedd. Imer II, Pretender of Gwynedd, had fortified his defenses in his stronghold at Rengarth just north of the duchy's border. King Jasher was preparing to route the enemy from his lands and he wanted to be sure the Pretender would not escape into Corwyn. Duke Jernian was thusly forced into a bad position: either he must openly invite Imer into his land, become besieged by the Pretender's greater army as it raced south, or ally himself with Gwynedd to assault the Pretender in his palace hideaway ending Imer's reign of destruction, but forever aligning himself against Toronth. King Jasher had forced the issue; choose Torenth or choose Gwynedd, Corwyn could no longer stand independent between the two greater warring kingdoms. Corwyn allied itself with Gwynedd and together on the thirtieth day of May, the two armies united to besiege Imer at Rengarth.
Both Muir and Wash were well aware that if the treaty had failed, Gwynedd would still be at war and Torenth might just have gained Corwyn for its own, leaving Lendour hard pressed to hold Gwynedd's eastern borders. But the alliance was a success. On the second of June, the gates of Rengarth had been breached. The futures of two kingdoms teetered back and forth during the onslaught of the day's battle: Jasher, Gwynedd's King, lost his life in the early hours: an earl's squire and his knight captain discovered and destroyed the enemies hidden northern flank saving the life of the crown prince, the man who did not even know yet that he was King: the new king survived to rejoin his main army at noon. In the lull in the battle, it was Lord Muir who presented King Cluim with the Ring of Fire and the Eye of Rom and in private with Washburn attending performed the Deryni Ritual that was King Jasher's dying decree. Even as the ritual was taking place, Duke Jernian, loyal to his new kingdom, had trapped the Pretender in his palace and had sent word back of his eminent capture. King Cluim, still dazed and uncertain of the rituals success for the right to hold the powers of his kingship, allowed Lord Muir to lead him to the duke. In short time all three men were pressed into a private battle with Imer and his Deryni aides, who'd they'd cornered on the Palace's roof-line. Few would know of the battle that commenced; a battle of powers with three men on each side. The powers of the west overwhelmed the abilities of the east. As a last ditch effort, Imer stole the life force of his aides and infused it with his own to defeat Gwynedd's new King. His effort failed. The three of the west turned his energy back onto him and pushed him to the precipice of the tower wall. Rather than be destroyed by his enemy, Imer lept from the great height, his body shattering on the cobblestones before the King's army at the tower's feet.
Two bloody years and the war was at an end. The price of victory had not been cheap. Gwynedd had lost two kings, and Corwyn had lost its autonomy. The last independent half of the ancient Kingdom of Mooryn, had become annexed into the greatest of the Eleven Kingdoms. The beneficial alliance forged during a time of war, was proving to be far more complicated for Corwyn's policies now that peace had crossed the land. Much of the problem stemmed from the House of Corwyn being openly Deryni, and how this Deryni Duchy was to handle its daily business with the prejudices of the human population of Gwynedd.
"So, now I have to get permission from the King to sell my goods?" The dinner had ended and the men had retired to the withdrawing room at the back of the main hall. The musicians could be heard playing a lively tune beyond the door.
"I can assure you, King Cluim does not hold to the Statutes of Ramos," Sir Washburn proclaimed, although his words failed to ease the duke's temper. Nonetheless, he continued to try. "He does not see the necessity of it. The few known Deryni under his rule are faithful and loyal to him." With regret, his voice turned harsh. "It is, however, the Church which has pushed the issue, with its narrow minded point of view and its historical antipathy toward our kind. If my men had stayed clear of the town and stuck to the road, as I had requested, I am sure the matter would have been avoided altogether."
"The turning of the weather is not the fault of your men, Sir Washburn, and neither is the acceptance of shelter where it is offered. It is a customary law to offer hospitality with the promise of safety for both the traveler and the host. If this basic Christian ethic is being abused…?" The duke smacked the corner of his desk and walked across to the map tapestry of old Mooryn which hung along the wall. He ran his finger along the line that had until recently separated his duchy from his western neighboring kingdom. "I tied myself to Gwynedd because I had been led to believe that the tide of hate was ebbing, and that men like us could prove our worth for the greater good of all mankind. That if we showed ourselves to be loyal, strong, and faithful, we could change the devastation of the past seventy years. Now, what you tell me, proves that we are sticking our necks out only to get our heads lopped off."
"Your grace, it is nowhere near that! I promise you. Muir and I are on a positive standing with the King. He is only newly crowned and may not have the authority— yet— to stamp down the aggressiveness of the Church, but I assure you, he has the capability of becoming a great King. With the backing of Lendour and now Corwyn, we will see changes in our lifetime."
The duke turned and nodded in agreement with the knight from Lendour. "If it weren't for Lendour's steadfastness in both its loyalties to our kind and to our king, I might not have been so inclined to join the west rather than the east. I value the Cynfyn name and admire your family for neither losing to, nor hiding from, the prejudices of men. Would that other families had survived and held out as Cynfyn has. There are so few of us left in the west. I can count on my hands the number that I know to be of the blood."
"There are more of us than you may be aware of, your grace. Lendour is a wilderness of many hidden secrets."
Baron Jathurn looked into the goblet he'd brought with him from the dinner table which was now empty. They were alone in the withdrawing room, without a page to refill it. "Lendour is not the only place with secrets. There are others as well. May I?" he asked, as he stepped toward the table with a fresh decanter of red wine. He held the attention of both men as he poured himself half a glass and sampled a taste of the wine. "This is an exceptional vintage of Fianna. My compliments."
"My ship captains know how to trade for the best," the duke commented. "You mention secrets, my dear baron. For a bottle of my best wine, what secrets would you be willing to trade?"
"Do not tempt me," the baron laughed. "Your wine is of the very best. But even for that, I am not able to share most secrets. There is one, however, that I am willingly to divulge. I do so, not for your wine, but because you, Lord Washburn are family, and you, Lord Jernian are in a position to lend support to those who could use it. Not all my relatives fled Gwynedd. A few have stayed behind. Some changed their names and their identities, and some married into good families."
"Human families?" the duke said with some disdain. "Half-breeds don't interest me."
"Some of them should!" the baron shot back fiercely. Jathurn waved the two other men closer, feeling the need for discretion in what he would say next. "The Duchy of Cassan is changing its perception do to the efforts of a few "half-breeds". Cousins of mine, actually, who are fighting the battle from the inside."
Wash considered what he knew of Cassan. Indeed, Deryni blood had been added into the family line. Squire Roger was proof, but he did not know how far back the talent led.
Duke Jernian, on the other hand, was offended by even the name of that highland duchy, which was as large as his own, but on the opposite corners of the kingdom. "Cassan?" Jernian queried in the midst of grimacing with disgust. "Why would Cassan open its line to Deryni? Are they not the bane of half our troubles?"
"Let me preface this by saying that the Duchy of Cassan is no longer swayed by men such as the duke's grandfather, that Earl of Sheele, Rhun the Ruthless!" Jathurn practically spat the name. "Certainly, you've heard of him. Lord save us from men like that. He was one reason my father was forced from Gwynedd in his youth. That man's teachings were what brought down my father's house just a few years after his return to Rhemuth. Horrible fire! So much lost!" Jathurn shook his head at the memories. "My father had other family, aunts mostly, who settled in the northern highlands. I doubt it was by design, but their children of the next two generations have succeeded in bringing a subtle change to a house that was known for hunting Deryni to our near extinction."
"Change? What kind of change?" Wash inquired. "Are we talking about Muir's squire, Roger McLain? He may earn Keirney by a good marriage, but unless there is a great upset, he will never inherit Cassan."
"Not McLain, exactly. Although, he appears to be a bright young man. One which I thank you for introducing to me. Did you know, we are cousins, he and I, after a fashion? Did you ever question him about where those shields of his came from?"
"I did, and the answer was from a lady who was full Deryni a few generations back, but he would say no more on which lady that was. I have not heard of any Deryni in the McLain or Cassan family trees. I am left to wonder at a secret that has been hidden so well."
"It is a secret known to my family, but not to outsiders. Cynfyn as well as Corwyn have been too prominent as known Deryni families for those who wish to remain hidden to be associated with. Just being seen with you, leads to suspicion. Your young Roger has had to walk a fine line to keep from being discovered, especially now that he is under the service of your King. I hope he knows that and treads with care."
"I am certain he will manage," Washburn said confidently. "So an aunt of yours married into Cassan? That is commendable and very dangerous. I wonder who she is. Surely, you don't mean Duke Tammaron's mother, and her old family claim to the name von Horthy? It would be impossible for her to be Deryni, not with a father like Rhun the Ruthless."
"Lady Adelicia of Horthness!" Jathurn said the name with disdain, "She was in no way related to my uncle, the Hort of Orsal. No matter how many generations removed they claim! That story is a crock of…! Never mind that story."
Washburn raised a brow, taken back by what was obviously an old family wound. "Indeed? On that score, I had wondered."
Jernian lifted the decanter of wine and filled his guest's goblets. "Do you intend to tell us how this McLain has shields and why change has come to Cassan, or do we have to continue to guess." The Duke filled his own goblet, swirled the wine within, and then took in a deep sniff. "970, a very fine year for Fianna. I do have a few bottles of it in my cellar," he proclaimed as a bribe.
"You drive a hard bargain," the baron said with his own sip of the precious wine. "For one bottle of wine, I will give you one name. However, I expect you to honor the person I name and to help protect her and her children and her children's children in the years to come."
"The queen is a daughter of the Duke of Cassan, is she not?" Jernian interjected.
"Aye, she is," was all Baron Jathurn would say.
Jernian whistled at the ramifications of such a highly placed human family having hidden Deryni blood lines. "Sir Washburn, you are looking thoughtful. You have an idea who the lady is?"
"My recent marriage has caused me to do some sleuthing into her family line. That information has overlapped with some of what I know of the courtiers of Rhemuth. Yes, I believe I have figured it out. But it is not my secret to tell."
"Your grace," Jathurn said, gaining both men's attention. "Until this year, you have had little reason to closely examine the human nobility of Gwynedd. I would not expect you to know the family history of the current Duchess of Cassan. There are only a handful of people who know the truth. The Duchess Tiphane is a daughter of the honorable Lady Rhysel Ainselle, who was the sister of my father's father?"
The duke gave a surprised look. "Wait! I know for a fact that old Lord Ainselle was human. Are you saying that the current lord of Old Argoed, I cannot recall his name, has Deryni blood?"
The baron smiled, but his eyes were intently watching the duke. "Lord Javyl, is the current Lord of Old Argeod. He inherited the title from his grandfather, Lord Ainselle. Javyl may appear to be human by hiding behind his father's ancestry, but he has a bit of his mother's training inside that head of his. Old Ainselle's son Robert married Rhysel Ainselle Thuryn, a daughter of Lord Rhys Thuryn. Do I have to remind you who Sir Robert and Lady Rhysel's children are? Lord Javyl to be sure, but also he had two daughters. One of those daughters is the current Duchess of Cassan, the Lady Tiphane. Who in turn had a daughter who married a Prince Haldane. A prince how has now become King."
Jernian gave an appreciative whistled. "A granddaughter of the infamous Camber of Culdi hides her heritage by marrying a simple knight and births half-breeds to infiltrate the nobles of Gwynedd. That is a coup, I must say. Although, I don't approve. A waste of pure blood, if you ask me."
"I do not think Saint Camber would agree with you." Jathurn said a little sharply. "May I remind you, your grace, that the blessed Camber of Culdi is also my great grandfather. I…" Jathurn let slip to Wash a mental image of the Christmas Mass from just days ago, when the Saint's apparition had appeared before them. His awe of that moment sifted through the link. "We all do what we can to help our people. My father was separated from my aunts at a young age. He fled to Tralia where he meet my mother. My aunts and my great aunts may not have had the luxury of escaping. I know one great aunt married into a powerful, yet hidden Deryni family; how though, were the other's to find Deryni husbands? In Gwynedd there were very few to have survived the harrowing." All three men instinctively said their own little prayer for the mention of the horrors of seventy years ago. "I realize most fathers of good training would rather see their progeny cloistered off within a convent rather than have them married off to humans, but change has to come from somewhere. Where better than in the rearing of children-yes half-breed children- and teaching them at a very young age to understand the culture of both heritages and to learn tolerance instead of fear."
The duke shook his head in disagreement. "It is a commendable effort. But it will backlash on all our kind. One wrong move from these barely trained individuals and we will have in our lifetime what brought down our people during the harrowing. Especially for those living within Gwynedd. Hate and fear are very hard to overcome. If these hidden half-breeds had no training at all, then at least there is little they can do. But to give them some inkling of who they are, with just a pittance of training is like lighting on the verge of striking!"
"That lightning strike may not come just from half breeds, your grace," Washburn said with a repressive sigh. "I knew a man who did not know his heritage, but others discovered it and used him to kill with it. Sir Thomas was full Deryni. In his ignorance he grew fearful of what he felt but did not understand. Ignorance if far more dangerous than knowledge. It is our responsibility to see full and partly-blooded Deryni educated in the responsibilities that their inheritance demands. That is why Roger was squired with Lendour. Muir has been a good influence on that boy."
"Agreed," said Jathurn. "That is also why I am telling you this, your grace. Now that you are a part of Gwynedd, members of Cassan may come to you in secret. If you will in subtle ways lend them your support, I think you will gain solid alliances at Rhemuth Court."
"You offer intrigue. I dare say, Rhemuth court must be writhe with it. And you Sir Washburn, lived upfront in the midst of it and have done well."
"Aye, I have stood at the side of four Haldane King's with pride. However, court has taught me that it is a dangerous place if you take a misstep. Believe me when I say, I have learned to think through every action and its consequences, thoroughly, before I make a move. I am always mindful of my steps. I consider what is best for my blood and for my Kingdom. before I act."
"Which has made you the Commander that you are, and why I trusted you with my army at the gates of Rangath." Duke Jernian acknowledged his respect of the Lendour knight. "On the feast of Easter, I intend to present my family at court. I would very much appreciate it if Lendour were there as well. Perhaps then, you can introduce me to these cousins of your new wife from Cassan?"
"It would be my honor, your grace." The Knight Captain bowed. "With Lendour, Cassan, and the strong backing of Corwyn, I have hope that the future for our people is moving forward."
The look on Duke Jernian's face was measured. He tipped his goblet up, finishing off his wine and proclaimed, "I will trust that the bond between Lendour, Tralia, and Corwyn will hold true and bring us a good future. That gentleman I will count on. We shall see what alliances can be made with Cassan."
"Then, I will look forward to Rhemuth's spring court," Sir Washburn replied. He gave a nod and drank heartily from his glass of fine Fianna wine. The duke had great taste in wine.
With the change of the tide on the first morning of the New Year, Sir Washburn had reason to be proud to be who he was. He gave a warm farewell to his bride's mother and her brother, promising to be the best husband his fair Jessamyn could desire. He stood on the quay until the galley had rowed out beyond the harbor and her sails were set to make the crossing toward Orsalia's winter palace in Var Adony. Before he returned to the road for home, the Duchess of Corwyn had a delightful present for him to give to his beloved new bride, who longingly—he hoped since he could never catch her asleep— waited for him to return.