Kurtz, Katherine - Deryni Chronology 09 - The King's Deryni by Kurtz Katherine

Author:Kurtz, Katherine [Kurtz, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-11-12T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

“The memory of the just is blessed . . .”

—PROVERBS 10:7

THE king was as good as his word, and brought both Alaric and Bronwyn to visit their father early the next morning. Llion accompanied them. Bronwyn held back with him at first; but then, at the urging of the king, who crouched down to her level, she let him pick her up and carry her over to gaze into the coffin. She was wide-eyed and curious, a little timid, but not at all frightened, for it was, after all, her father, lying next to all she knew of her mother.

She gazed silently at his veiled face for several minutes, saying nothing, then turned away to bury her face against the king’s shoulder. Alaric had stood stonily on the other side of his mother’s effigy, not really looking, but when the king made to carry Bronwyn from the chapel, the boy tarried, resting his hands lightly on his mother’s effigy.

“Alaric, are you coming?”

“In a few minutes, Sire,” the boy murmured. “Will they close the coffin before it’s taken over to the church?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I’d like a few minutes in private,” came the reply. “Could Llion stay?”

“Of course.”

With a speaking glance at Llion, the king carried Bronwyn from the little chapel and closed the door behind them. Llion, with a nod to his young master, took up a position with his back against the door, hands clasped behind him and head bowed.

It was deathly quiet in the little chapel, as was fitting in this place of death. The vigil lights of the previous night had burned out, other than the Presence lamp above the little altar, but the soft morning light streamed through the open window above, bathing Kenneth’s body and his wife’s effigy in a golden haze.

Bracing himself, Alaric trailed one hand along the cool alabaster of his mother’s effigy and moved around to the prie-dieu set beside his father’s open coffin. Kneeling there, he awkwardly signed himself with the cross as he bowed his head in wordless prayer, because he knew he should. The king had said that Halloran’s spell would last until Morganhall, but it might not. Delays sometimes happened. Alaric knew that this might be his last chance to say a proper good-bye to the man who had given him life and the love of a precious father.

He crossed himself again, then leaned forward to fold back the veil covering his father’s face. Again, especially in the soft glow of morning, it was easy to imagine that some semblance of life lingered, that his father only slept beside the silent effigy of the mother who also had died all too untimely.

“Oh, Papa,” he breathed, tears welling in his eyes. “Why did you have to leave? I needed you here, with me!”

He briefly closed his eyes at that, fighting back the tears, which he knew would change nothing. Then, vision still blurry, he slipped a hand into the neck of his tunic and pulled out his father’s silver locket, now hanging from a leather thong around his neck.

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