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The ride to Formacaster was long enough that Morwen had time to consider exactly how to break the news. She had no doubt at all that the Sigors’ escape would help the abbey in their war against Sir Halvor, but she was equally sure that it would be best if someone else took the news to the castle first. Someone who knew her and was sympathetic.
For that reason, her first stop was at the cathedral, where she borrowed some paper and a pen from the Dean and wrote a quick letter. Lillian peered over her shoulder, trying to read it.
“Who are you writing to?” demanded Lillian. “And what’s all that about translations of Claudius? I thought we were here to see the king.”
“All in good time,” said Morwen.
She paid one of the Dean’s clerks a silver penny to run with the note up to the castle. The boy looked a bit dubious when she told him who it was for, but she gave him an extra farthing and assured him he wouldn’t get a beating for insolence. He ran off, and she led Lillian out to the western steps of the cathedral.
“Why are we just sitting here?” asked the girl.
“It’s good to enjoy the sunshine,” said Morwen. “Let’s say our morning prayers, shall we?”
Half an hour later, Prince Broderick trotted into the square on his palfrey. He laughed when he saw them sitting on the steps. “I never would have believed it was you without that stuff about the Immani translations at school,” he said. “I would have failed that test for sure if you hadn’t helped me.”
It had been, without a doubt, the high point of their brief teenage friendship, and it pained Morwen to presume on so slight a connection. But this was an emergency. She curtsied to him when he dismounted and asked him to walk around the square with her. Lillian tagged along, too, naturally.
Broderick looked delighted when he heard that Elwyn and Edwin had escaped. “You probably won’t believe it, but I was the one who helped them out of Wealdan Castle the day my father took over. I’m not saying I want Edwin to rule the country, but he’s always struck me as a very decent sort of fellow. As for Elwyn...,” he sighed, “let’s just say she and I are friends, and I think we’re both happy that we’ll never be more than that.”
“Good for you,” said Morwen. “I’m awfully glad about their escape, too.” And she explained about Sir Halvor and his plans for confiscating the abbey lands. “But of course,” she concluded, “I wouldn’t want it to seem that we were being entirely self-serving in bringing this important news to the king.”
The prince saw her plan at once, and approved. “Let me go break it to my father and mother. I can say it’s from a ‘confidential source.’ Father will send off a messenger to Uncle Lukas immediately, and I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when he can’t produce his captives.”
Broderick left, and Morwen led Lillian back inside the cathedral, where she borrowed another sheet of paper from the Dean and wrote a very formal letter requesting an audience with the queen at noon. Once she had sent off the same clerk again, she chose one of the side chapels and knelt for prayer.
“Aren’t we going up to the castle now?” demanded Lillian.
“Not yet. Why don’t we perform the Second Festal Service of Lady Ovida? I know you particularly like that one.”
It was a truly lovely service, with poetry woven from passages of the Epistles, and four rather nice old hymns that some people said had been written by Leofe the Blessed. Lillian liked it because the hymns were written for an alto voice, and she didn’t have to “stretch” herself, as she put it, to sing them.
It was also rather long, and it kept Lillian busy and stopped her from fidgeting or asking awkward questions around the Dean and the preosts right up until nearly noon, when Morwen got their cart from the cathedral stables and drove them up to Wealdan Castle.
The chamberlain was waiting for them on the steps. He looked impressed in spite of himself. “Her majesty said you were to be brought straight up the moment you arrived.”
Queen Muriel received them in her huge white drawing room. She lay on a settee, wearing a robe of sheer silk, in a pose of studied elegance. A very handsome young knight sat in front of an easel nearby, trying and failing to capture her peculiar, severe beauty. Mainly he seemed to have concentrated on sketching her breasts.
She noticed that Morwen and Lillian had arrived and sat up, snapping her fingers at the knight. “That’s enough for now, Alan. Go work on your watercolors or something.” He left, and she rose from the couch. She wrapped herself up in a thick wool robe and went to look at his sketch, shaking her head. “Honestly, it’s a good thing he has other skills, or he’d never earn his commission.” She turned to smile at Morwen. “Why don’t you join me out on the balcony for tea?”
There was an astonishing view from the outer balconies of the royal apartments. Morwen had been at the palace as a lady-in-waiting, so she had seen it many times before. But on this lovely bright May morning it looked particularly fine. There was the confluence of the great Rivers Trahern and Colwinn, and beyond it the village of Abertref and Gleade Hill, where King Broderick had won a famous victory. Past that stretched miles upon miles of peaceful little hills and dales and thousands upon thousands of acres of cozy farms and neat orchards. These were the Crown Lands of Myrcia; when the king went out on his balcony in the morning, virtually everything he could see was his.
The queen poured the tea and urged Morwen and Lillian to sit and be comfortable. “Now I suppose I should begin by asking why you wished to see me, Sister Morwen, but I think I already know.” She grinned. “My son turned up a few hours ago with shocking news from ‘a confidential source’—news that involved a scandalous dereliction of duty by my brother and his favorite bastard son in the very neighborhood of your abbey.”
“I have heard that same news, your majesty,” said Morwen.
“Indeed. I must confess I was sorely vexed at first. I had been so hoping to see Elwyn again. You must know I’ve always wished to see her married to my son. I really feel as if she and I are kindred spirits. But alas, the wedding is postponed, yet again.”
“I am sorry you have been disappointed, your majesty.”
“H’m, are you now? You can go on and smile, Sister Morwen. You’ve been rather clever, and you deserve a chance to gloat a bit.”
“Thank you, your majesty.”
“Well, as it happens, on reflection I decided there is a silver lining to this cloud. There are certain people who have gotten a little too pleased with themselves and have tried to claim a little too much power and a few too many acres of land. How does that passage go, something about there being ‘no Light but His, and all other lights are but reflections of His glory’?”
“It’s from The Garden of Light by the Blessed Leofe, your majesty.” Morwen cleared her throat.
“It’s...um, referring to Earstien, of course,” Lillian put in.
“Yes, that’s the one. I’ve often thought that Earstien must have some notion of what it’s like to be a king.”
Morwen wasn’t sure how to respond to such a theologically remarkable statement, so she nodded and smiled. Lillian opened her mouth to say something, but Morwen shot her a warning glance, and the girl kept quiet.
“Anyway,” the queen went on, “that’s how it is here at court. There are people in my family—again, I won’t name names—who seem to think they can run their own little kingdoms within Myrcia. They seem to forget where their power comes from, and if it costs me a chance to marry my son to darling, darling Elwyn, then so be it.”
Morwen nodded her head again. “I am pleased you can find a positive side to this disappointing news, your majesty.”
“I bet you are.” Muriel winked over her teacup. “Which brings us to the question of your abbey’s lands, of course. I suspect that if I prevail upon my brother, Bishop Arthur, who happens to be in town, and he prevails upon the king, we should be able to get you a writ that confirms your ownership of all your lands.” She paused and raised a finger warningly. “However, I do have one condition.”
“A...condition?” Morwen swallowed. She had expected some sort of negotiation might be required, but she shuddered to think what the infamous Gramiren queen might ask.
“Yes, my dear girl.” Muriel gave a low chuckle. “A condition. A very vital condition, and I would strongly urge you to grant it. Otherwise, I might ask my husband to look more closely into how Elwyn and Edwin happened to escape while in the vicinity of your abbey, and why you knew about their escape before anyone else did.”
Morwen shrank back, shivering. “I think any reasonable request could be accommodated, your majesty.”
“Good,” said the queen, rising to her feet. “Come with me, please.”
She led them through her bedroom, through the king’s bedroom, around the corner, and through all sorts of parlors and drawing rooms. Finally, they reached a gilded door, and the queen knocked at it.
From somewhere in the room beyond, a small voice called out, “Come in.”
Muriel opened the door, revealing another vast apartment. There were gilded statues in sconces and powder blue walls covered in mirrors and bright paintings. On the far side of it all, near another long balcony, a figure huddled over a huge book—a religious text, if Morwen was any judge.
“You have visitors,” the queen said, in a surprisingly gentle voice.
The figure straightened up and looked around with a flourish of golden hair. It was Penny Ostensen. “Sister Morwen!” the girl said, jumping to her feet. “Sister Lillian! What are you doing here?”
Before Morwen could answer, the queen said, “These sisters have brought me the most remarkable news. They wish to invite you to join their community as a postulate.” She turned and smiled at Morwen. “Isn’t that right?”
Morwen would never have guessed that the queen’s condition was something so genuinely good and decent, though she had a feeling that once again, Muriel was doing this to spite her brother Lukas, and not really out of any genuine support for Penny’s religious convictions. Still, it didn’t matter what the queen’s reasons were for allowing this. She wasn’t the one who would have to take vows before Earstien. All that mattered was if Penny wanted to do it. And judging by the way her face beamed, and by the happy tears she kept brushing away, she really did want this.
“Very well,” said Morwen. “I think I can speak for our abbess when I say that we would be very pleased to accept Lady Penelope. Very pleased, indeed.”