The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(88)
Colvin went back to the Apse Veil and reached through to pull another man into the room. He was older as well, but more youthful than Lia and Colvin.
“Ah, Jouvent Evnissyen,” Lia said with a smile. “Welcome. Send a group to block the roads leading from the abbey. None of the king’s men must escape. Bring everyone to the green with the maypole when they are captured. Today is Whitsunday!”
Fog swirled around the ground, thick and ghostly. Maia stood before the gates of the abbey, facing the village of Muirwood. A crowd had assembled on the other side as well, soldiers as well as most of the villagers, come to witness the confrontation of the High Seer and Aldermaston with the King of Comoros. Collier stood by Maia’s side, his expression hard and grim. One hand clenched the pommel of his blade. The other hand grasped hers possessively. They stood in a line with the Aldermaston and his wife and steward, Maia’s grandmother, and Lia and Colvin. The Evnissyen slipped in and out of view in the fog as they hurried to fulfill the orders they had been given. Knights of the Order of Winterrowd were clustered nearby, faces grim and fierce, wearing chain hauberks and gauntlets, each with a hand resting on the pommel of their knight-maston swords. Jon Tayt stood just behind Sabine, his copper beard wet with dew, his hands clenched around two throwing axes, his gaze full of menace. Dodd Price was beside him, dressed in a hauberk and gripping a battle-axe.
Maia quelled the feeling of nervousness that thrummed through her. She blinked away tears, amazed at the sudden change in events. A raven cawed somewhere in the mist and then a series of roosters crowed. It was dawn, but the sun could not be seen through the dense fog.
There was a commotion in the crowd outside the gates and the jangle of spurs and armor. The crowd parted, giving way to the soldiers. There was her father, wearing a puffed tunic that glittered with gems, furs, and ribbed pleats. A ceremonial sword was belted across his waist, the hilt polished and gleaming. He wore a wide felt hat with several enormous plumed feathers. Ornate necklaces and rings, fashionable boots and cuffs, ruffled shirt. There was a stark contrast between his dress and the simple garb of Lia and her hunters and those within the gates.
Walking next to the king, clinging to his arm with white fingers, was Lady Deorwynn. Her headdress was also ornate to the point of gaudiness, and her gown more extravagant than any Maia had ever seen. The dress was fringed with gold and inlaid with pearls and ivy-patterns stitched in gold thread. The necklace around her throat had rubies the size of cherries, and the girdle was cinched in so tightly Maia did not know how she could breathe in it. Her lips were painted; her cheeks were rouged to provide some color to her pallid skin. Her eyes, despite the smears of color, looked bleached and troubled. In them, Maia saw an odd mixture of pride, defiance, and—strangely—guilt. Murer stood next to her, also dressed in the finery befitting a princess of Comoros. Jolecia was also there. The entire Privy Council was assembled around the king, and though each wore a plumed hat, Maia recognized their faces: the Earl of Forshee, the Earl of Caspur, the Earl of Norris-York, the Earl of Passey, Chancellor Crabwell, Captain Carew and his retinue. Each had tried to outdo the others with an exaggerated demonstration of wealth and power.
As her father approached the gate, the Aldermaston motioned for the gatekeeper to open it. It was unusually quiet considering the size of the assemblage, and the groaning of the iron bars filled the air.
Standing near Lady Deorwynn was Aldermaston Kranmir, his black hat standing out vividly in the fog. His mouth quirked into a frown as he observed those who had assembled to meet them, and a flicker of worry crossed his face.
“Well met, Aldermaston!” the king shouted as his group entered the grounds. His boots squished in the damp ground, and he paused on the threshold. He winced, staring up as if the sun were bothering him, but there was no sunlight to be seen. “I am a little surprised you abdicated willingly, but it was a wise choice. Who are your friends?” he asked, as if suddenly seeing Lia and Colvin and the knights and Evnissyen for the first time. The sight of their grim, defiant expressions caused the king’s brow to wrinkle with uncertainty.
“You misunderstand my demonstration of hospitality,” Aldermaston Syon said. “I bid you welcome as the ruler of Comoros to the domains of Muirwood as a guest.”
“What is this nonsense, Richard?” the Earl of Forshee snarled derisively. “Are you daft?”
The Aldermaston stared at him patiently.
“We discussed this yesterday, what would happen if you defied me,” the king said through gritted teeth. “Who are these people?” He glanced at Lia and Colvin suspiciously.
“Allow me to introduce them,” Sabine said, stepping forward. “My lord king, the Apse Veil has been opened. These are the first visitors. This is Lia Demont, Princess of Pry-Ree, and her husband, Lord Colvin Price, the true Earl of Forshee.”
Maia’s father snorted in disbelief. “Is it now?” he said, stifling an incredulous chuckle. “Kranmir, you misjudged the High Seer’s desperation. Sabine, I truly did not believe you would to stoop to such base trickery. Shall I applaud the performance? Is that what you wish?” His voice was slurred with contempt.
Maia stared at him, implored him with her eyes. He would not look at her. He cast his gaze across the others instead. “If you wish me to shame you in front of the villagers, so be it. I did not wish for this to happen. I hoped you would all be persuaded by reason. The truth is, the maston traditions are a myth. You expect me to believe that you have summoned our dead ancestors through the Apse Veil to secure your right to rule in Comoros? What kind of fool do you think I am?”