He followed the stairs past rows of brightly burning torches that stained the stones of the walls with black soot. The stairs ended, and Arutha stood before a large, high-arched doorway. On both sides loomed heroic statues of ancient conDoin kings. To the right, with features dulled with age, stood the statue of Dannis, first conDoin King of Rillanon, some seven hundred fifty years past. To the left stood the statue of Delong, the only King called “the Great,” the King who first brought the banner of Rillanon to the mainland with the conquest of Bas-Tyra, two hundred fifty years after Dannis.
Arutha passed between his ancestors’ likenesses and entered the burial vault. He walked between the ancient forebears of his line, entombed in the walls and upon great catafalques Kings and queens, princes and princesses, scoundrels and rogues, saints and scholars lined his way. At the far end of the huge chamber he found Lyam sitting next to the catafalque that supported his father’s stone coffin. A likeness of Borric had been carved in the coffin’s surface, and it looked as if the late Duke of Crydee lay sleeping.
Arutha approached slowly, for Lyam seemed deep in thought. Lyam looked up and said, “I feared you might come late.”
“As did I. We had wretched weather and slow progress, but we are all here. Now, what is this strange business? Anita told me you’ve been here all night, and there is some mystery. What is it?”
“I have given great thought to this matter, Arutha. The whole of the Kingdom will know within a few hours’ time, but I wanted you to see what I have done and hear what I must say before any others.”
“Anita said Martin was here with you this morning. What is this, Lyam?”
Lyam stepped away from his father’s catafalque and pointed. Inscribed upon the stones of the burial place were the words:
HERE LIES BORRIC, THIRD DUKE OF CRYDEE,
HUSBAND OF CATHERINE,
FATHER OF
MARTIN,
LYAM,
> ARUTHA,
AND CARLINE
Arutha’s lips moved, but no words came forth. He shook his head, then said, “What madness is this?”
Lyam came between Arutha and the likeness of their father. “No madness, Arutha. Father acknowledged Martin on his deathbed. He is our brother. He is the eldest.”
Arutha’s face became contorted with rage. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was tormented. “What right had you to hide this from me?”
Liam raised his own voice. “All who knew were sworn to secrecy. I could not risk anyone knowing until the peace was made. There was too much to lose.”
Arutha shoved past his brother, looking in disbelief at the inscription. “It all makes an evil sense. Martin’s exclusion from the Choosing. The way Father always kept an eye on his whereabouts. His freedom to come and go as he pleased.” Bitterness rang in Arutha’s words. “But why now? Why did Father acknowledge Martin after so many years of denial?”
Lyam tried to comfort Arutha. “I’ve pieced together what I could from Kulgan and Tully. Besides them, no one knew, not even Fannon. Father was a guest of Brucal’s when he was in his first year of office, after Grandfather’s death. He tumbled a pretty serving girl and conceived Martin. It was five years before Father knew of him. Father had come to court, met Mother, and married. When he learned of Martin, he had already been abandoned by his mother to the monks of Silban’s Abbey. Father chose to let Martin remain in their care.
“When I was born, Father began to feel remorse over having a son unknown to him, and when I was six, Martin was ready for Choosing. Father arranged to have him brought to Crydee. But he wouldn’t acknowledge him, for fear of shaming Mother.”
“Then why now?”
Lyam looked at the likeness of their father. “Who knows what passes through a man’s mind in the moments before death? Perhaps more guilt, or some sense of honor. Whatever the reason, he acknowledged Martin, and Brucal bore witness.”
Anger still sounded in Arutha’s voice. “Now we must deal with this madness, regardless of Father’s reasons for creating it.” He fixed Lyam with a harsh stare. “What did he say when you brought him down to see this?”
Lyam looked away, as if pained by what he now said “He stood silently, then I saw him weep. Finally he said, ‘I am pleased he told you.’ Arutha, he knew.” Lyam gripped his brother’s arm. “All those years Father thought him ignorant of his birthright, and he knew. And never once did he seek to turn that knowledge to his own gain.”
Arutha’s anger subsided. “Did he say anything more?”
“Only ‘Thank you, Lyam,’ and then he left.”
Arutha paced away for a moment, then faced Lyam. “Martin is a good man, as good a man as I’ve ever known. I’ll be the first to say so. But this acknowledgment! My gods, do you know what you’ve done?”
“I’m aware of my actions.”
“You’ve placed all we’ve won over the last nine years in the balance, Lyam. Shall we fight ambitious eastern lords who might rally in Martin’s name? Do we end one war simply to begin an even more bitter one?”
“There will be no contestation.”
Arutha stopped his pacing. His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Has Martin promised to voice no claim?”
“No. I have decided not to oppose Martin should he choose the crown.”