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Arminger turned to his wife again. "Shall you do the honors, my love?"
Sandra nodded, and took Tiphaine's hands between hers, for the oath of vassalage. The younger woman's voice rang out clearly as she promised arms, life and faith; the voice of the Protector's consort was softer, but carried as well.
"Rise, Tiphaine, Lady of Ath!"
She did, then bowed as she kissed the hands of both rulers. When she spoke, it was in the same formal, quasi-hieratic tones:
"My lord Protector, I would petition you, of your favor, that my comrades on this mission also receive the accolade; Ivo Marks, and Ruffin Velin: and Joris Stein, men-at-arms of the Lady Sandra's Household. Without their courage and skill and good sword arms I could not have accomplished what I did. Also their comrades Raoul Carranza and Herulin Smith fell in battle aiding the rescue of the princess, and I would that you grant their lemans and families aid, for they were poor men."
"A pleasure," Arminger said. "And a hundred rose nobles each to the living; clerk, see to the pensions for those left bereft. You three, approach the Presence!"
The men-at-arms came forward eagerly and knelt in a row, stifling their grins into appropriate solemnity as they laid their swords at the Lord Protector's feet; this was the big step that made them eligible for all further promotion and, most importantly, for a fief. A hundred rose nobles was better than three years' pay for a man-at-arms, as well, or one for a household knight. The Protector drew his blade again and performed the ceremony; he handled the heavy weapon with casual authority, flipping it from the wrist to make a hard smack on each shoulder with blurring speed. None of the men blinked as the knife-edged steel skimmed over their bare heads. The colle was more than a gesture from his calloused hand as well, but they didn't seem to mind the ear-ringing buffet.
Before the men could rise, Tiphaine went on: "My lord Protector, my liege-lady Sandra, I beg leave to enfeoff part of the lands which it has pleased you to grant me to worthy knights, that I may bring a proper menie when the muster is called and the ba
Norman Arminger's eyebrows went up. "You're a tenant-in-chief now," he said. "You don't need permission to assemble your menie, your fighting tail, as long as they're capable. I think we're all agreed that you are, so that leaves you two knights to find, or experienced men-at-arms would do at a pinch."
"My lord Protector, I do need permission if they are vassals of another. My lady, I beg that you release from their oaths Sir Ruffin Velin and Sir Ivo Marks, landless knights of your Household, that they may swear themselves to me."
Even then, Rudi smiled slightly at the way Joris Stein stiffened and glared, pressing his lips together against an outburst that would ruin him. I never liked him. Ruffin and Ivo are sort of rough, but they were OK to me. I think Joris would have hurt me if he could have gotten away with it. He's nasty. Being left out like this was a public slap in the face. Juniper's son knew how much it meant to a northern knight to get a manor of his own; they couldn't really marry or anything until they did, although being in the Lady Sandra's Household meant they must be good fighters.
Sandra Arminger caught the eye of the knight with the pointed yellow beard and shook her head very slightly, warning and promising at the same time. Then she smiled at Tiphaine. "Certainly. They will serve me just as well by serving you, my loyal vassal."
Tiphaine bowed again and backed down the stairs, then jerked her head at the three knights. They followed her into the crowd; Tiphaine received a good many discreet smiles and nods, as someone suddenly necessary to take into account rather than just the bizarre hatchet-woman that the consort's whim had raised up.
The smile on Norman Arminger's face went glacial as he turned to look at Rudi, now standing alone before the dais. Now it looked like the expression a deer beheld on the very last cougar it ever saw. The boy crossed his arms across his chest and smiled defiantly.
I can be afraid of dying, he thought. We're supposed to be. But I can't let anyone see. Liath and Aoife died for me. I've got to do this right. If I have to go to the Summerlands now, Dread Lord, Dark Lady, let my mom not be too sad until we meet again. Let me be brave, please, so the Clan will be proud of me, and Lord Bear too. But I wish I could have grown up, and ridden Epona more: can I tell Matti it's not her fault?
The man's voice had a deadly purr in it now. "There remains the matter of the prisoner," he said, and paused.
His wife's voice fell into it with smooth naturalness, as she set an affectionate hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, there does. Come here, young lord."
Rudi started slightly, shocked out of his concentration. He looked at her doubtfully, then strode up the steps and knelt before her, taking the hat off again as he bowed his head. Her fingers brushed through the red-gold curls of his mane.
"We have heard of how you stood as friend to our daughter while she was held prisoner," Sandra said. "The Lord Protector and I can in honor do no less. Let all at this court know that Rudi Mackenzie is to be treated with the respect due a sovereign's child, until his fate is settled, on pain of Our most severe displeasure."
"Oh, thank you, Daddy!" Mathilda said, and clutched his hand in both of hers. "I knew it, I knew it! Thanks, Mom!"
There was only the slightest instant when it looked as if Norman Arminger would shake her off and draw his sword; Rudi didn't think anyone else would see it, except maybe Mathilda's mother. His smile even looked genuine, if saturnine.
"Such is our will," he said, and the strong voice boomed out over the courtyard. There were more cheers, and he raised a hand for silence. "My lords, my ladies, noble knights, faithful retainers-you are all bidden to our feast of celebration tonight. My daughter is returned! Let meat and wine be given to the commoners in bailey and village that they may celebrate as well, and to all the soldiers and men-at-arms in the camp. Only the fact that we are at war makes me hesitate to declare holiday across the Association's territories. When victory is won, we will mark both triumphs with banquets, tournaments and of course masses of thanksgiving."
With that, the master of Portland bowed himself, towards the man with the crosier. The cleric acknowledged the gesture with an inclination of his head, and then turned his eyes on Rudi. He met them, and a distinct jolt ran through him-almost the way it did when he met his mother's eyes after she'd Called the Lady, but without the warm comfort of it.
Uh-oh, the boy thought. There's Someone there. And that One is no friend to us, or to anyone.
"Our Lord Protector is both just and merciful," the former Bishop Landon Rule said. "Yet there is also the matter of the boy's spiritual welfare. Surely the hand of God is seen here, that he has been delivered from the Satan-worshippers on the same day as our own lord's daughter, and in despite of the evil will of the Queen of Witches. I myself will see to his instruction, and in time his baptism."
Mathilda began to speak. "But-"
Her mother silenced her with a touch on the lips that anyone more than a pace away would have thought a caress. "Of course, Your Holiness," she said. "Eventually, that must be done, as all must be brought to the comfort of Holy Church."
The churchman hesitated, then inclined his head in turn and raised a hand in blessing. The sonorous Latin sounded over the crowd and the thrones before he turned to go.
Oh, Rudi thought, relaxing and noticing sweat under his armpits and on his face. That was scary. More scary than the Protector.