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

“As for being your squire,” Charlan went on, tossing the breeches onto the bed, “I shall always count those months in your service as my honor and privilege. I-hope you’ll be gracious enough to accept my continued service, when you are king.”
“When I am king-”
Javan had been in the process of stripping the hated Custodes cincture from around his waist, and he stiffened and then swallowed before deliberately dropping it onto the bed like a limp snake-the braided cincture of crimson and gold intertwined, whose colors the Custodes Fidei had usurped from the Haldane royal house to lend credibility to their mission against Deryni.
“I hope I needn’t tell you that being king is the last thing I would have wished, if it meant that harm would come to my brother,” Javan said quietly. He shrugged out of the heavy soutane and let it fall in a pool of wool around his feet, stepping free awkwardly to sit on the edge of the bed, now clad only in the baggy underdrawers the monks were allowed.
“I have to face realities, though,” he continued as Charlan knelt at his feet and began unbuckling the special boot. “I hope that doesn’t sound disloyal. But if he’s to die before he gets an heir-”
Charlan shot him an appraising look before returning his attention to the buckles.
“Better you than Rhys Michael,” he said shortly, not looking up. “Oh, I have no quarrel with your younger brother, Sire, but you’re the heir. And you have the backbone to stand up to the lords of state-which I don’t think your brother does. The king certainly doesn’t.”
Anger flared in the grey Haldane eyes, and Javan kicked his good foot free of its sandal.
“It isn’t Alroy’s fault that he’s been under their thumb,” he said sharply. “He’s always been frail. And once the regents had driven Lord Rhys and Bishop Alister from Court, the court physicians had orders to keep him just slightly sedated all the time, even when he was healthy otherwise. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but I saw it for myself, the last few times I had a chance to be alone with him.”
Charlan freed the last buckle, glancing up as he eased the boot from Javan’s crippled foot and rocked back on his heels. “Did Master Oriel tell you that, Sire?”
The question could be taken many ways. That Charlan was even here bespoke a loyalty to all three Haldane brothers that went beyond whatever duty he might feel he owed the former regents; but Javan was not certain he liked having Charlan link him with the Deryni Oriel. It skirted too close to the truth about Javan’s own growing talents.
Of course, Javan could use those talents to make sure of Charlan, here and now. Kneeling there at Javan’s feet, the young knight could never get out of range in time to prevent Javan touching him and triggering old controls. But if Javan was about to be king and must use those talents to keep his throne, he would rather not force loyalty that appeared to be freely offered.
Careful not to show his concern, Javan pulled the breeches to him and thrust his feet into the legs, standing long enough to pull them up and do up the fastenings. He stepped back into the special boot before sitting back down again, so that Charlan could do up the buckles while he pulled the mate onto his good left foot.
“As a matter of fact, Master Oriel did tell me about it,” he said, taking the slight gamble-for he could always seize control later, if Charlan proved treacherous. “He didn’t approve, and he thought I should know-as Alroy’s brother as well as heir presumptive. As you’ll recall, the terms of his service don’t permit open disagreement with his employers,’ regardless of his professional opinion.” He cocked his head at Charlan, who was doing up the last buckles.
“What about you, Charlan? You were open enough, when you first entered my service, to confess that you were obliged to report to the regents concerning me. I’d like to think that you told me that out of a personal loyalty that went beyond official duty. But all of that changed when I left Court. You became the king’s squire-which means that any oaths you swore to him were essentially to the regents and then the great lords, as well.” He drew a deep breath.
“So I guess what I’m trying to ask is, where are your personal loyalties now? I need to know, before I leave here with you.”
He was extending his Truth-Reading talents as he asked the question, and to his relief, Charlan’s reply was open and guileless.
“Sire, I am your man,” he said, dark eyes locking fearlessly with Javan’s grey ones. “I think I always have been. I suppose I began to realize that oaths were more than mere words at about the time you left Court, and it’s become increasingly clear since I was knighted.
“You have other loyal men, as well, that you don’t even know about-others of the younger knights, mostly, who served you and your brothers as squires and such, but there are a few of the older men at Court whom you can trust. The ones waiting for you in the abbey yard would all die for you, if need be.”
“Indeed,” Javan murmured, wide-eyed, for while he had been reasonably confident of Charlan’s ultimate loyalty, he had not expected the rest of the young knight’s revelation. “Will they live for me, though, Charlan? That may be far harder, in these next weeks and months. The great lords have been in power long enough to entrench themselves into the next generation. Some of their sons hold high office. If I’m not extremely careful how I ease them out, I could find myself in the middle of a civil war-if I don’t find myself dead first!”
Charlan tucked the last strap into place on Javan’s boots and gave the left boot a slap in signal that he had finished, but he did not get to his feet.
“There are those ready to do what they can to prevent both options, Sire,” he said, looking up at Javan. “We’ve-taken the liberty, in these past few weeks, of sounding out some of the other knights about specific recommendations in a number of areas that will need your attention fairly quickly, once you’re on the throne. There are documents waiting for you, back at Rhemuth, and men to explain them. None of us would presume to tell you what to do, but there’s information you’d have no other way of knowing.” He swallowed, looking suddenly apprehensive. “You’re-not angry, are you, Sire? We only did it to help you.”
Javan could only stare at Charlan in disbelief for several seconds, though he knew that every word the man had spoken was the truth. But as the implications began to sink in, he clapped Charlan on the shoulder and rose, shaking his head as a faint smile played on his lips.
“How could I be angry, Charlan?” he said quietly. “You’ve given me real hope, where it all was theory and wishful thinking before.”
Forcing himself to turn to other practicalities-for if they did not get out of there, all the young knight’s efforts would be for nought, as well as Javan’s own-he moved to the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out the riding tunic he had worn for his last trip, to Rhemuth, the month before. It was black, like every other garment he owned there at the abbey, cut high-collared like a cassock but reaching only to the knee, and slit fore and aft for riding. It would be stifling in the summer heat, for it was a heavier wool than the soutane he had discarded, but that couldn’t be helped. He had to look the part of a prince, and this was all he had.
He did not speak as he dressed, and Charlan respected his silence. When he had buttoned the tunic, all but the top three buttons, he pulled a plain black leather belt out of the trunk and buckled it around his waist, then retrieved a small leather pouch from under his mattress.
Inside were his own signet ring, bearing the Haldane arms differenced with the label of a second son, and the mate to Rhys Michael’s earring. After slipping the signet onto his left little finger, he gave his hair a few swipes with a comb made of horn, then let Charlan help him thread the twisted wire of the earring through the hole in his right earlobe. He had no mirror to check the overall impression, but he gathered, by Charlan’s expression, that he passed muster.
“We’d better ride now,” he murmured, glancing around the cell for the last time. "You can brief me more on the way. We’ll hope that matters haven’t gotten out of hand down in the yard while we tarried here.”
As Charlan opened the door, Javan bent down and blew out the rushlight, serene but eager as he followed the young knight back along the dim-lit corridor toward the night stair. He had what he wanted from this place, and he did not look back.

Chapter Three


These things hast thou done, and I kept silence; them thoughtest that I was altogether such a one as thyself.
-Psalms 50:21


Down in the abbey yard, things had not gotten precisely out of hand, but the half-dozen Custodes monks and priests initially drawn to the yard by the arrival of Charlan and his men had now been joined by nearly a score of Custodes knights. The royal knights sat their horses in a quiet but uneasy knot near the gate, most of them with torches in their hands, two of the men holding extra mounts. The Custodes men were drawn up in two precise lines across the front of the abbey steps, many of them also holding torches.
Javan assessed the situation at a glance as he came out the postern door, Charlan at his elbow and the abbot and his two monks at his heels. If it came to an armed confrontation, he did not like the odds. The Custodes men outnumbered Charlan’s knights by nearly two to one and were better armored as well, with steel greaves and vambraces protecting legs and arms and the gleam of steel at the throats of black brigantines. The royal knights were well mounted and armed, but they wore no real armor-only leather jacks and light steel caps, in deference to the heat. Up on the cloister wall, though Javan could not see them against the torches’ glare, he knew there would be at least half a dozen Custodes archers, only awaiting the order to let fly.
“Lord Joshua,” he called, seizing the initiative by heading directly for the captain of the Custodes force. “My thanks for the honor you do me by turning out an additional escort. However, these good knights who accompanied Sir Charlan on his royal errand are well qualified to accompany me back to Rhemuth.”
The Custodes captain glanced uncertainly at the abbot, but at least he made no move toward the sword at his belt.
“Father Abbot was concerned that these men might attempt to take you from the abbey against your will, Brother Javan,” the man said.
Javan allowed the man a forbearing hint of a smile. “My will is not a factor in this discussion, Captain,” he said easily. “It is the king’s will that I accompany these gentlemen back to Rhemuth. Do you intend to question him?”
The captain’s jaw tightened, but before he could reply, the abbot set his hand on the man’s steel-clad arm and moved a step closer. "My information is that the king is too ill to issue orders, Brother Javan. Now I beg you to return to your cell and await further official word from Rhemuth.”
“How official must it be?” Javan retorted, thrusting Rhys Michael’s ring under the abbot’s nose. “My brother, Prince Rhys Michael Haldane, commands me to come, in the name of my brother the king, who is dying. If some have their way, then that same Rhys Michael shall be the next king-in which case, he will not look kindly upon those who have defied his commands. And if the proper succession is allowed to occur, then I shall be king-and I assure you, I shall not forget those who obstruct me.
“Now, will you stand your men down, or must blood be shed in these hallowed grounds?”
“You would not dare to raise steel here,” the abbot muttered.
“Not I, my lord, for I am unarmed, as you see,” Javan replied, raising his hands away from the empty belt around his waist. “But the king’s men have their orders, as have I. If, by defying the king’s wishes, you compel them to draw steel to enforce the royal command, then be it upon your head, not mine.” He drew deep breath, praying that he could pull this off.
“With respect, then, I bid you good morrow, my Lord Abbot, and take my leave of you.”
So saying, he gathered Charlan to his side with a glance and turned to press past the Custodes captain and down the abbey steps, heading both of them toward the waiting knights. The men holding the two extra horses came forward into the center of the yard, several more moving their mounts behind Javan and Charlan to shield them, turning their backs on the Custodes knights with utter disdain-for any show of weakness now could prove fatal.