Kerr, Katharine - Deverry 02 by Darkspell

Author:Darkspell [Darkspell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-09-05T16:40:47+00:00

III

In the summer of 797, in his fiftieth year, Glyn, Gwerbret Cerrmor and would-be King of All Deverry,

died of a congestion of the heart. Although Nevyn had been worrying about the King’s health for some

time, the suddenness of it caught him off guard. One morning Glyn rode out at the head of his men; at

noon, they brought him home dead. He’d been stricken while mounting his horse and died within minutes.

While his sobbing wife and her serving women washed and laid out his body, his eldest son, Camlan,

assumed the kingship before his loyal vassals in the great hall, where the head-priest of Bel first blessed

him, then pinned the enormous ring brooch of kingship onto his plaid. As the vassals came forward, one

by one, to kneel to their new liege lord, Nevyn slipped away from the confusion and went to his

chambers. The time had come for him to leave Cerrmor.

Late that night, Nevyn was in the midst of packing when the new King sent for him. Camlan had

already moved into the royal apartments and stood by the hearth where Nevyn had so often watched his

father pace restlessly. At thirty, the new King was heavily built, but he was just as handsome as his father,

and he stood as straight and as tall.

‘I hear you plan to leave us,’ Camlan said. ‘I was hoping that you’d serve me as you served my

father.’

‘My liege is most kind.’ Nevyn sighed at the necessary lies ahead of him. ‘But your father’s death has

dealt a heavy blow to one as old as I. I have no more strength for court duties, my liege. I only wish to

eke out my last few years honoring your father’s memory.’

‘Most nobly put. Then it would please me to settle some land near Cerrmor upon you, as a reward

for your long years of service.’

‘The King is most generous, but he should save such favors for a younger man. I have kin who will

shelter me, and it’s to his kin that an old man’s mind turns.’

When he left Cerrmor, Nevyn rode to Cannobaen to see Mael and Gavra. Although there was open

warfare along the Eldidd border, in his guise of shabby old herbman he easily slipped the lines and made

his way along the Eldidd coast. Late on a golden summer day, when the wild roses bloomed along the

road, he reached the dun. Over the gates the old crest of the princes of Aberwyn had been taken down,

and a new device hung there, a pair of grappling badgers and the motto: We hold on.

When Nevyn led his horse and mule inside, Mael ran to greet him with a shout. He was tanned and

vigorous, grinning as he grabbed Nevyn’s hand and clasped it between both of his.

‘What are you doing here, away from all the important affairs of the kingdom?’ Mael said. ‘It

gladdens my heart to see you.’

‘Well, Glyn’s dead, and I left the court.’

‘Dead? I hadn’t heard the news.’

‘You look sad, my friend.’

‘In a way, I am. Whatever his reasons, Glyn was the most generous patron a scholar ever had.

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