The Singer's Crown (12 page)

“Several of your dogs were of my breeding stock, and I was curious what manner of princess would want such animals. Also, I love to dance. It is not considered proper for a bachelor-earl to host balls, so I must find a wife who would delight in doing so.”

“Have you a fitting hall for such affairs? I was given to understand the keep at Gamel's Grove was rather modest.”

“I had one built, Your Highness, with tall alabaster windows. The light is magnificent.”

She grinned. “I would like to see it.”

“Then you shall. I was not certain of my welcome here—”

“How not?” the princess protested, taking his other hand.

“If you are willing, I would ask your father for the privilege of the Goddess Moon.”

“Would you?” She turned away for a moment, her eyes meeting Kattanan's with a look of near panic, but she returned with a smile. “I would have to think on it.”

“Of course. Perhaps while I am visiting the king? I do not mean to rush you, nor would I presume on your goodwill. If you choose the Goddess Moon, I would like to have you accompany me back to my home.”

“Let me take you to his chamber.” The princess rose and preceded them down the stairs.

They had not gone far when they heard a strange song to one side. Turning, the trio saw the ancient priestess weaving among the trees, crooning and bobbing. Before Melisande was able to hurry the earl away, she dashed up to fling herself at Kattanan's feet. “Sire! The boon!”

“What's all this?” Orie asked. “Have we been in company with a king?”

“No, Excellency. This lady is mad,” Kattanan stammered.

At that, the woman howled.

“Will you leave me alone?” Kattanan begged. “If I do this thing, will you let me be?”

“Aye, Your Majesty, as alone as I am able, never as alone as you think.” She thrust a finger toward his face, making the singer step back.

“What is your boon?” His arms were crossed, gloved hands pressed to his sides.

“A dance, Your Majesty. A circle you will dance with me.”

“I can't.” He shook his head roughly. “I do not dance.”

“The last night before you go, that night, you will dance with me, and with them.”

“Who?” the earl inquired. “I see no one.”

She flicked a glance at him. “Nor I.” Returning to Kattanan, she went on, “They will come, you will dance, I will see—”

Earl Orie grasped her shoulder. “What mean you by that? That you see no one?”

“One eye sees the now, the other sees the later. Now, a man of two halves a heart, soon of a whole kingdom. Reaching, reaching, never holding what you have!” She waved her arms before him, then snatched the princess's hand from his. “Here, here is the future!” She flung Melisande away and spat on the ground. “I dance with kings!” the old woman shouted, prancing a little circle around them as Orie gathered a livid Melisande into his arms. Then the priestess was off down the path, still laughing and flailing her hands.

“If she had a hair on her head, I'd tear it out!” Melisande shouted.

“Insults, yes, but nonsense,” Orie said. “What does that hag's spit mean in the eyes of the Goddess? It is she who is worthless, Your Highness.”

Hearing this, Melisande looked down at herself, and at him, and pulled gently away to smooth her skirts. “Forgive my lapse, my lord. It's just she is so outrageous. She has no blessing for any of us, only curses.”

“Not quite true, Highness,” Orie pointed out, glancing at Kattanan.

The singer had not moved, but his shoulders quivered, and his eyes were shut. “I hear curses, too, Excellency. Unlike yourselves, I am no dancer, nor would I care to step with her.”

“It's true, you wouldn't even dance with me.” Melisande watched him closely, the earl standing firm behind her.

“That ball was the first time I have tried in years.” He thought a moment. “Perhaps the first time I have ever tried, Your Highness.”

She put out a tentative hand. “Oh, if I'd known, I would not have made you. Forgive me?” Her eyes were soft upon him, any anger forgotten.

He made a small bow. “How could I not?”

“Well,” Orie broke in, eyes blacker than ever, “shall we be on?” One arm invited the princess, and he stared hard at the singer as she accepted, then turned away toward the king's chamber.

AFTER ORIE
entered the king's chamber, Melisande looked at the singer. “Walk with me?”

“Where to, Highness?”

“Oh, anywhere.” She folded her arms. “I feared the earl would not be a comfort. That witch spouts nonsense, but there is more to her than that. Why did she ask you to dance?”

“I do not know.”

“Forgive my mentioning it—I know how she upsets you.” The princess shook herself. “But we ought to be discussing the Goddess Moon. He expects me to decide now.”

“Do not let him rush you, Highness, if you are not ready.”

“Many ladies my age are already wed, and it would get me out of the castle.”

“If I may, Highness, what is the Goddess Moon?”

“It means that, rather than wait a long time for the wedding, I would go to live with the earl as a friend or sister. At the end of one month we would return and say whether we consider ourselves married. My eldest sister had a Goddess Moon with a minor lord and turned him down to marry the prince she has now.”

“It seems a reasonable idea,” Kattanan remarked.

“What do you think of the earl, though?” she asked, a smile returning to her lips.

“He—” the singer began, but could not look at her. Orie is friends with a brutal man, he wanted to say. And he knows things about wizards. But both points seemed too vague to mention. “The two of you have much in common.”

“But I don't like to leave Father, sick as he is. He does not have the strength to see me most days, but I want to be here when he gets well.”

“Gamel's Grove is not far away and your brother would send for you if there is a change.”

“Yes, yes, I suppose so. Wolfram doesn't like Orie. Did you watch him at supper? No interest at all; he acted like he was talking to himself.” Melisande frowned, then met Kattanan's eyes. “No questions! Wolfram did not ask Orie any questions.” She let out a cry of rage. “Why is he treating him like the enemy? By the Goddess, what's gotten into my brother? He must be mad! Do you suppose Orie noticed?”

“He still asked for the Goddess Moon, Highness,” Kattanan pointed out.

“Then I'm going to do it. Wolfram will have to apologize for the way he's treated him.” She nodded smugly. “He'll have to be good to my lord, or I'll never set foot in this castle again. Imagine if I didn't come to my brother's own wedding.”

“I doubt Wolfram would let that happen, Highness. He does care for you.” Kattanan stared at his palm, the slight bulge where the prince's token was concealed, then looked to the princess. “He found out about the puppy.”

“What? How?”

“One of the guards reported it. Your brother knows you need that puppy, but I think he was hurt that you did not tell him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How did you find out that he knew?”

“He questioned me, Your Highness. He wanted to know how you were feeling after the baron's death. It was while you were so angry at him, and he could not ask you himself. He said he would not deny you the pleasure of having the dog, even though he did not want to see another.” This was near enough the truth, and gave a good reason for his suspicion of the earl, but Kattanan's heart was racing.

Melisande leaned back against the low wall of the outside gallery they had entered. Sun shone against her hair and fine features, and she sighed heavily. “Maybe I have been too hard on him. He has been simply awful about the earl being my suitor, though.” She pushed quickly off from the wall. “He shall have to learn to like him.” Melisande stopped with a grin. “And Orie does make me happy! Oh, Kat, I know we have not had much time, but it was wonderful. And the way he looks at me. Maybe it is love. Could it be?”

The singer only shrugged. “Closer than that of many couples I have seen wed.” He heard Melisande describing all of her suitor's virtues—strength, bravery, kindness, she went on—and suddenly saw him through the princess's eyes, a man as strong and heroic as Kattanan himself could never be. The princess before him glowed so brightly he wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes forever.

“Princess! Your Highness, your father asks for you,” the chamberlain said breathlessly.

“Coming.” She gathered her skirts and sprang back the way they had come.

The guards on duty glowered down at him as he stood there, so he backed off across the hall and looked down the stairwell. The clouds had burned off, and sunlight streamed in the clerestory windows two floors above. A pair of maids washed their way down the stairs, scrubbing at stone rails and the worn-down centers of the ancient steps. Down at the bottom was a smooth plane of checked marble, with a statue placed to one side. Kattanan leaned over the rail and stared; he could almost feel the breeze of flight upon his face. His hands ached. In just a couple of steps, he could end the question of his position once and for all.

“Kattanan! It is done!” Melisande held aloft the earl's hand, beaming. “We leave the day after tomorrow, and there is so much to do. Go to Laura and tell her to start the preparations! No, wait—first go tell Wolfram the news.” Her grin took on a fierce edge.

The singer bowed low and set out. Behind him, he heard their brief farewell as the earl went to send messages to his own chamberlains. Wolfram was not in his chambers, but a servant directed Kattanan to the library. A few lanterns made pools of light around the high desks of the monks employed there. They glanced up as he passed, some copying manuscripts, some delicately rebinding ancient texts. Wolfram he found by his shadow cast on a tall shelf; the prince's hair was bound back out of his face, distinct from the round-skulled shadows of the busy monks.

“Your Highness—”

Wolfram jumped, but he smiled as he straightened on his feet.

“I am sorry, Highness, I do not mean to disturb you.”

“Why have you come?”

“Melisande sent me to inform you”—Kattanan took a deep breath—“she has chosen to take the Goddess Moon with Earl Orie. The king has given his blessing.”

Wolfram slammed a fist against the table, upsetting a cup of quill pens, not to mention the nearer monks, though they quickly looked away. “Why can't this wait? Must everything happen at once.” He sat down heavily and pulled the crown from his head to run his fingers through his hair. “When?”

“Two days.”

“What? How can she do this?”

“Well,” the singer began, then stopped.

“Tell me, please. It isn't you I'm angry with.”

“She is doing it partly to spite you.”

Wolfram groaned. “By the Goddess.”

“At supper, she noticed that you did not ask Orie any questions. She already thought you disliked him, but she thinks you were unfair in treating him like a wizard.”

“What was I to do? I will not leave myself open to magic to assuage some fear of Melisande's, much as I love her.”

“He seems to love her, too, Highness. He asked what she wanted of a marriage, and told her of the dance hall he has built. They may make a good match. He said nothing all day to make me think he is conspiring against the king.” His voice trailed off a moment as he thought.

“But you do not seem altogether favorable.”

“It is a foolish fear, Highness, and I would not give it over to you.”

Wolfram faced him and spoke low. “If I am to find the truth, I must know all doubts, even foolish ones.”

“The old priestess you allowed to live in the gardens came to us today.”

The prince almost laughed. “I have heard she is prophesying madly out there.”

“She called Orie ‘a man of two halves a heart, soon of a whole kingdom.' She said he was always reaching, but not holding what he had.”

“There is something about her that makes me think she is more than just a crazy old woman.” Wolfram considered for a moment. “So, you will both be leaving in two days.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I am sorry. I think there are some stories of yours you have not told to anyone and am curious enough to want them told.” He held up a calming hand. “But you will keep your secrets after all. This is likely my last chance to talk with you alone. Even should you part ways with my sister, Kattanan, you have a friend here. Three, if I may speak for Thomas and Rolf. I hope my friendship has not cost you with my sister.”

“No, Highness, I do not think she suspects.”

Wolfram studied Kattanan's gloved hands, clasped before him. “I know you have to get ready, but I would like to hear you sing again. Would you come to Evening Prayer tomorrow?”

“I will try, Highness.” The prince gazed at him a little longer, but Kattanan said, “The princess is expecting me.”

“Walk with the Goddess, Kattanan duRhys.”

Kattanan bowed deeply. “And you, Highness.”

 

THE NEXT
day, Melisande's chambers were in an uproar; they had been hoping for a move, but certainly not so soon. The ladies fussed even more until the princess blew up at them and chased them all out, leaving her with the meeker servants.

“There is a bed and wardrobe in my new chamber, but I'll want those chairs along.”

Laura nodded. “You'll want everything before long, Highness. When I left home to come to work here, I was lonely for what little I had had.”

“At least I will get to leave some of those ladies behind. Most of them were posted by Father. Oh!” she said, and sat down on a trunk.

“What is it, Your Highness?” Kattanan asked, still holding the books he was packing.

“When I wed him, I won't be a princess anymore.”

“Of course you will,” Faedre said, emerging from the bedroom. “The blood will never leave you, nor the bearing. You shall be a princess for all of your life. Rather imagine that your husband will be elevated by you.”

“My husband,” the princess echoed.

Faedre laughed. “Yes, he will be. Don't look so stunned; he might change his mind.”

“You really think so?”

“No, Melisande, everyone has seen how he looks at you.”

“Oh,” she said with a little smile. “You will come with me, won't you, Fae?”

“I would not miss this for all the world. You will be a grown woman, a lady for all to see. No one shall think you a child ever again.”

“No, they won't.”

“Do you want all of these books, Highness? This one seems to have a library chain.” Kattanan held up a volume with the broken tail of a chain from its binding.

Melisande laughed aloud. “I'd forgotten that. Wolfie and I weren't supposed to be in the library at all, certainly not the locked section, but that book has the silliest pictures in it, so we stole it. He held the chisel to the chain, I struck the blow. It sounded so loud that servants came running. Father was raging, mostly at Wolfram for bringing me there. He did give me a good talking-to, but then let me take the book on the agreement that I would read the whole thing. It must be eight years ago now.”

“I'll pack it, Highness.” He placed the prize in among the others. “I do not envy the wagon that must bear all of these trunks.”

After the feast that evening, Kattanan noticed that the prince had already gone, and slipped away for the chapel. By this time of night, the priestesses had already sung their prayers. The door swung open silently, and he found the place lit only by the moonlight flooding through the opening in the ceiling and a few small candles. Wolfram moved slowly around the outside wall, making the sign of the Goddess to each cardinal point, with a longer pause by the Cave of Death, and longer still by the Cave of Life opposite. Incense drifted in a cinnamon haze through the room. Kattanan began to sing. He started with no words, and brought the prayer up in tiny steps to fill the room with a glorious murmur, reverberating from the pews all around. By the candles lit at the eastern and western caves, Kattanan could see that this was the fifth of the seven circles of blessing. He kept the song steady, and Wolfram paced with it. At last the seven candles were lit, all the prayers whispered, and Kattanan let the song fall back to the silence from which it had come. Wolfram stood at the center, under the starlight, and turned to the singer. “Thank you.”

Kattanan met his gaze. “You are most welcome.”

“Will you pray with me?”

“For what do we pray, Highness?”

“For Orie to be a good husband, for Melisande to be happy, for my father to get well.”

“For yourself ?”

Wolfram laughed soundlessly. “Only what I have always asked, to be a wise man. What for you, Singer? How can I include you in my prayer?”

Caught off guard, Kattanan shut his eyes and whispered, “To be loved.” He was not sure the prince had heard, nor that he wanted him to, but he came forward to the altar and stood beside Wolfram. They turned their faces to the stars for a long while. At last Wolfram made the sign of the Goddess, Kattanan likewise. Silently the prince crossed to the door and left.

Kattanan knew he should sleep, but the stars called to him. He found his way out to the funeral ground, intending to walk on to the garden, but a small fire burned there, and a figure danced around it, casting huge shadows on the wall. The dance was slow, circling, but the rhythm of her feet was strong. At that distance, he saw her first as a girl, playing there, then as a woman, standing tall and proud as he moved closer, but the hand that grasped his was gnarled and mottled with age. And there was no pain, though the grip was strong.

“Dance with me,” she hissed, and he danced.

The steps swayed first forward and on, then back, but it took many times round the fire before he took his eyes from the ground. He let his other hand rise, and found that it was taken. There was no fear, only the music, so he looked to his new companion, a tall, fair lady with a sharp crown upon her head. She, too, looked away at the man beside her, his flowing curls crowned the same as hers. Next danced a pair of boys, younger than he, though he knew they had once been older. Their faces were serene, but they almost smiled. Beside them danced an older man, bearded—the baron. And the lady to his left he had seen in a portrait, opposite the king's in the Great Hall. There were more: a group of men and women mingled who danced well, though their eyes were filled with tears; a line of monks, including the abbot who had once taken him in. A young man danced among them, and Kattanan's relief when he saw that it was not Jordan surprised him. The spiraling dancers made rank after rank around them, raising no dust nor chant, but a steady warmth not made by the fire alone. It was then that he looked to the priestess. Her right hand was raised, but held no partner. Eyes shut, she swayed on. After a time her lips began to move, and he heard the words although she made no sound.