Katherine Kurtz - Heirs of Saint Camber 02 by King Javan's Year

Author:King Javan's Year
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-09-27T22:24:52+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Deliver him that suffereth wrong from the hand of the oppressor; and be not faint-hearted when thou Page 194

sittest in judgment.

-Ecclesiasticus 4:9

It was midafternoon as Javan’s coronation procession wound its way back up the hill to Rhemuth keep, through cheering throngs lining the streets. A faint breeze stirred outside the packed cathedral, but the sun was still blazing down. Javan was soaking wet beneath the thin silks of his coronation robes, and endured the slow ride back to the castle largely by anticipation of stripping everything off and collapsing for an hour or two before going back on display. Having fasted since the night before, he was also ferociously hungry, with a nagging headache pulsing just behind his eyes that owed to the heat as well as the hunger.

He was unhooking the clasp of his mantle even as he rode beneath the gatehouse arch of the inner ward, letting the crimson silk and cloth of gold slip from his shoulders as soon as he had drawn rein before the great hall steps. Waiting squires rescued the garment, to install it at his place in the hall for the festivities to follow, and Javan gathered his intimates to him with a weary gesture and headed directly for his quarters.

Once there, jewelled girdle and tunic of gold and underrobe of linen were likewise discarded before he plopped down on a stool. He guzzled two cups of cool water in quick succession while he let Charlan sponge him down, then just sat quietly in the faint breeze of the open window for a few minutes, eyes closed and thinking of nothing, while Jason and Robear removed the golden spurs and then the white boots.

“I’ve brought you some light refreshments, Sire,” Guiscard said, breaking in on his reverie to set a tray on the trestle table. “You haven’t eaten since last night, and you should have something in you before you start on wine this evening.”

Nodding his agreement with a sigh, Javan moved back into the room to sit at his accustomed place. The time was sufficient for a quick debriefing while he ate. The others were drinking watered wine in the heat, but mostly saving their appetites for the banquet to follow.

“All right, let’s start with the most startling development of the day,” Javan said as he attacked part of a cold joint of chicken. "The Kheldour lords were rather conspicuous by their presence. Does anyone know what they’re planning? Am I going to have any unpleasant surprises at Court this evening?”

Etienne de Courcy leaned back in his chair, affable and easy even in the heat. “The situation, as you know, is very precariously balanced, Sire. It’s encouraging that they didn’t have to be coerced to offer you fealty, but the border attire was a blatant statement of separation, if they choose to make it so.”

“What about young Graham?” Javan asked. “He swore in his own right, so I suppose that confirmed that he’s officially of age now. And while he wasn’t exactly dressed for a coronation, it was a step up from riding leathers and northern tweeds.

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