"Kurtz, Katherine - Heirs of Saint Camber 02 - King Javan's Year" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

“Come to his aid, O Saints of God; come forth to meet him, Angels of the Lord, receiving his soul, presenting it to the Most High. . .”
Blinking, Hubert picked up the versicle, his tone more reverent than Javan had expected, even under control. "May Christ, Who has called you, now receive you, and may the angels bring you to Abraham’s bosom.”
“Receiving his soul,” Javan murmured the response, knowing that it already was so, “presenting it unto the Most High.”
“Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.”
“And let perpetual light shine upon him,” Javan responded, now joined by Rhys Michael and Oriel.
“From the gates of hell-”
“Save his soul, O Lord,” Javan said strongly.
“May he rest in peace.”
“Amen.”
“Let us pray,” Hubert went on, bowing his head over his folded hands. “O Lord, we commend to Thee the soul of Thy servant Alroy, that when he departs from this world, he may live with Thee. By the grace of Thy merciful love wash away the sins that in human frailty he has committed in the conduct of his life. Through Christ our Lord-”
“Amen,” the others responded.
Javan, trusting that Alroy was indeed now in the hands of God, slowly got to his feet and, as Hubert looked at him sharply, took the ring once again from his dead brother’s hand and slid it onto his own finger beside his silver signet. Before he could do more, Rhys Michael reached across and took the hand, murmuring “My liege” as he bent pointedly to kiss it in fealty. Ducking his head and throwing caution to the winds, Oriel did the same.
Hubert simply looked on in amazement for several seconds- Javan with no idea what he was going to do, for he was no longer controlled-then ducked his head to Javan in what might be interpreted as a bow.
“You have made your decision then,” the archbishop said, his blue eyes hard and cold. “You will have an earthly crown rather than a heavenly one.”
“I hope that eventually I shall have both,” Javan replied quietly. “But in conscience, I could not refuse my duty to my House.”
As Oriel quietly drew the sheet over Alroy’s face, trying to be invisible, Hubert heaved a heavy sigh and gestured toward the door.
“Very well, then,” he said, resignation in his voice. “Come with me, and I shall-announce your accession to the lords assembled outside-Sire. And may God have mercy on us all.”

Chapter Five


For thou hast maintained my right and cause.
-Psalms 9:4


The close oppressiveness of the summer morning was all around Javan as he and Rhys Michael followed Hubert toward the door. Beyond that door lay the first of the great lords who, henceforth, would demand all Javan’s attention. His palms were sweating, his pulse pounding in his ears. He made himself take a deep breath as Hubert swung the door wide.
Conversation ceased. The room beyond now held more than a score of black-clad figures, half again the number who had been there before. Robert Oriss, the Archbishop of Rhemuth, had joined the secular lords, along with Constable Udaut and several other officers of the royal household. They stood back as Hubert moved into the room, but their eyes were for the two Haldane princes, one of them now surely their king.
Javan had his hands clasped behind him as he and a very shaken-looking Rhys Michael followed Hubert in, so no one could see that Javan now wore the Ring of Fire-or that his hands were clasped to keep them from trembling-but Charlan noticed the Eye of Rom right away. He would have gone to his knees then and there, but Javan caught his eye and gave him a minute shake of his head, deeming it better to let Hubert make the announcement.
“My lords,” Hubert said quietly, folding his hands across his ample waist, “I ask you, of your charity, to pray for the soul of our late sovereign lord, King Alroy.” He crossed himself heavily as he said, “Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine.”
“Et lux perpetua luceat ei,” the others murmured brokenly, dropping to their knees in twos and threes to follow the lead of Javan and Rhys Michael.
“Offerentes eam in conspectu Altissimi. Kyrie eleison. “
“Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison. “
Hubert led them in a Pater Noster then, followed by another exchange invoking eternal rest and perpetual light upon the soul of the departed king.
“Requiescat in pace,” he concluded. May he rest in peace.
To which all of them answered, “Amen.”
As they all got to their feet again, all attention returned to the two princes-and then shifted to a dark, hook-nosed man in burgundy, wearing a baron’s coronet and a chain of minor office, who moved suddenly forward several steps, thumbs hooked in his sword belt, looking predatory.
“Does my Lord Archbishop have a statement regarding the succession?” he said bluntly.
Hubert looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat nervously several times. “Regarding the passing of our late sovereign lord, the High and Mighty Prince Alroy Bearand Brion Haldane, lately our king. It-was his will, and that of his father before him, that if he died without issue, his brother should succeed him.”
“That his brother Javan should succeed him,” the baron corrected, turning to Tammaron. “Is that not so, my Lord Chancellor? Or do the laws of primogeniture no longer prevail within this realm?”
“Now, see here!” Iver MacInnis objected. “Rhys Michael was to be the next king!”
“I do not recall asking your opinion, my lord!” the baron said, rounding briefly on Iver, hand moving to the hilt of his sword. “I have asked the Lord Chancellor, whose place it is to know the laws of this land. I pray you answer, my Lord Tammaron. Do the laws of primogeniture still apply in Gwynedd or do they not?”
Tammaron, obviously wishing anyone else would have dealt with the question, stepped forward and cleared his throat. “It is-true that, by primogeniture, Prince Javan unquestionably is the heir. However, I was given to understand that there was some question of- stepping aside, in light of a religious vocation?”
As he looked hopefully, almost pleadingly, at Javan, the new king made a point of folding his arms on his chest so that the Ring of Fire was clearly visible beside his Haldane signet.
“Let us lay that fantasy aside from the outset, my Lord Chancellor,” he said. “As his Grace the Archbishop will surely attest, my trial of a religious vocation has entailed only simple vows, which are temporary. Even were they permanent, such vows can be dispensed, as was done for my father. I am ready to take up my crown.”
“And I, to support him!” Rhys Michael cried, seizing Javan’s hand and dropping to one knee to kiss it. “The king is dead. Long live King Javan!”
“Long live King Javan!” Charlan responded, echoed by the other young knights, who drew their swords in salute and brandished them as Javan’s name became a chant, daring anyone to gainsay them. The baron who had come to Javan’s support was among the first to kneel with them, a grim look of satisfaction on his face, followed by the household officers and gradually the great lords who were present, until every knee in the room had bent except Hubert’s, who bowed to kiss the royal hand as the chanting died away.
In the silence that followed, Javan inclined his head to the archbishop, raised up his brother, then gestured a little selfconsciously for the rest to rise. The Ring of Fire glinted on his left hand, and its sparkle reminded him of what he was trying to take on, even if not all his audience were entirely convinced. As they got to their feet, a few of them exchanging dubious glances, he hooked his thumbs in the front of his belt to keep the ring in their sight-and to keep his hands from shaking.
“I thank you, my lords,” he said. “In the interests of the heat, and the long night most of us have spent, I shall be brief for now.” He drew a deep breath, heartened when no one seemed disposed to interrupt-though he knew it was not over yet.
“First of all, regarding the final disposition of the late king, my brother.” He had forced himself to think about this moment on the ride from Arx Fidei and had made inquiries of Charlan and some of the other knights when they stopped to change horses.
“I have decided that my brother shall lie at Saint Hilary’s until his funeral. The Chapel Royal is too small,” he added, to quell the objections several started to raise. “Saint Hilary’s possesses sufficient size and dignity for a royal lying-in-state, and was often my brother’s favored place of worship. In addition, Saint Hilary’s being within the outer wards of the castle, it is accessible both to the Court and to those good folk of Rhemuth city who may wish to come and pay their respects. I shall ask Sir Gavin, who was his squire, to organize a guard of honor to escort his body thence at noon, at which time and place I should like a Solemn Requiem sung for him.”