The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (54 page)

 “It is because I care
for her that I must say this. You see, I happen to agree with Relisar that love
is a strange and wonderful thing. This is a truly staggering gift, cousin, take
it with both hands and let the future take care of itself.”

 Celedorn’s resolve was
rapidly being worn down but his conscience was fighting a valiant rearguard
action. “I am trapped by what I am. I cannot change now.”

 “Of course you can! You
have already changed. The bitterness that was so strong in you has already
diminished. The hatred that you bore yourself is fading. I can see it clearly.
Elorin has done that and will do much more if you let her. Do you not have the
faith to believe that love can overcome any obstacle?”

 Celedorn did not reply,
but Andarion sensed his determination faltering. He arose and silently left,
well satisfied with his progress and went in search of Elorin. When he found
her he grasped her shoulder urgently.

 “Go to him, Elorin. Use
all your powers of persuasion upon him and I have a feeling that all will be
well. You will find him in the orchard.”

 Elorin discovered him
just as Andarion had described, and quietly she occupied the Prince’s vacated
place. Her quarry had been leaning forward, his elbows on his knees,
contemplating the ground between his feet and did not look up when she arrived,
instead he remarked in a dry voice: “The Prince wastes no time.”

 Elorin’s eyes twinkled.
“You feel perhaps that you are the victim of a conspiracy?”

 But Celedorn did not
smile. “What would he have me do?” he asked bitterly. “Take you to Ravenshold
to live amongst that rabble? Does he think that my ring on your finger would
ensure they would respect you? The only way I could protect you from them the
last time, was to lock you away in a disused part of the tower, and even so,
there was the incident with Hydar.”

 “We do not have to
return to Ravenshold. Sometimes I think you are more its prisoner that I ever
was. We could travel again. Perhaps find some place where you are not known.”

 “There will always be
the possibility that I will be recognised,” he said despairingly. “Besides,
before I am free, there is something I must do.”

 “The Great-turog?”

 “Yes.”

 She looked at her hands
resting in her lap and said sorrowfully: “You will fight it and it will kill
you, and what will that achieve? Let it go, Celedorn, let the past go. Stop
blaming yourself for what was not your fault. You were only a boy, there was
nothing you could have done, and this obsession with revenge will not bring
your parents back, or right the terrible wrong that was done. All it will do is
destroy you, and now it will also destroy me. You once said that you envied me
for having no past, but the truth is that you will not let your past stay where
it should - as something that is over and done with. We must both look to the
future and try to find what happiness we can. You so much deserve some
happiness in your life after all you have been though. We must think of each
other.”

 He had lifted his head
as she spoke and listened intently to her with a far-away look in his eyes.

 Very quietly he said:
“You are right. Vengeance has planted in me the seed of my own destruction. I
will not destroy you as well.”

 “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I
begin to understand how the Prince feels. You are the most incredibly stubborn
man! Well, you may make a sacrifice of yourself if you wish, but you are not
making a sacrifice of me. If it goes against your sense of honour to ask me to
marry you, then the only thing for it, is for
me
to ask
you
.”

 He began to protest but
she cut him short. “And another thing, please stop deciding what will make me
happy and permit me to tell you that there is only one thing that will make me
happy, and that is to marry a mountain brigand - and as you are the only one
available, you will have to do.”

 Totally incapable of
resisting such blandishments, he began to laugh. Scenting victory, she slid off
the bench onto one knee and took his hands in hers. Then clearing her throat
she said formally: “Dearest Celedorn, would you do me the great honour of
becoming my husband.”

 His shoulders were
shaking. “Elorin......”

 “Don’t laugh, I am
perfectly serious - and please don’t say that you have to think about it,
because these stones are killing me.”

 But suddenly his smile
vanished and he leaned towards her intensely, his fingers tightening their grip
on hers.

 “Elorin, you may live
to regret this day’s work.”

 Realising that he was
deadly serious, the mischief faded from her face and with utter gravity she
asked: “Will you ever love anyone other than me?”

 “Never. I have only
ever loved you, and I will always love only you, as long as I live.”

 “Then I will never
regret today.”

 As they looked into
each other’s eyes in utter silence, some strange power seemed to pass between
them forcing them to finally accept that they were part of something too great,
too immense to be denied.

 He made to kiss her but
she leaned back. “Do you mind if I get up first? This proposing business is
hard on the knees.”

 He laughed and helping
her up onto the bench, promptly carried out his original purpose.

 After some time, she
finally said: “Shall we tell the others? The Prince will be pleased to know
that all his efforts have not been in vain.”

 Celedorn drew her
against him again and said callously: “Let him suffer a while longer.”

 When at last they went
in search of their companions, they found them in the common room. When they
entered, one glance at them was enough to cause a smile of satisfaction to
spread over Andarion’s face. He addressed Celedorn: “I take it from the smug
look on your face and your arm around Elorin’s waist, that you have finally got
round to proposing to her.”

 But Celedorn was
triumphant. “No, you are quite wrong.
She
proposed to
me
.”

 “Ha!” exclaimed the
Prince, hugely pleased. “Typical Elorin! You are well suited!”

 Elorin looked in
puzzlement at her betrothed. “What did he mean by ‘typical Elorin’?”

 “He means you are a
bold piece of work.”

 She seemed relieved.
“Oh, is that all.”

 Everyone burst out
laughing and then began to congratulate them. The common room rang to the sound
of chatter and merriment. Relisar embraced Elorin, and Triana, screwing up her
courage, did the same to Celedorn. The Prince loudly claimed the credit for the
whole affair but suddenly halted when he found himself confronted by Celedorn.

 “You meddled, cousin,”
Celedorn accused forbiddingly.

 Andarion looked guilty.
“I know. Forgive me.”

 His cousin’s eyebrows
shot up. “Forgive you? On the contrary, I am in your debt.”

 He held out his hand
and after a moment’s astonishment, the Prince warmly grasped it.

 One of the brothers,
looking in to see what all the noise was about, found himself dispatched to
tell Master Galendar that his services were needed to perform a ceremony that
had not been performed in the monastery in a thousand years.

  Celedorn and Elorin
were married the following afternoon in the sunny orchard that sheltered within
the embrace of the monastery walls. All the brothers attended, sitting on the
grass beneath the shade of the apple trees in their white robes, scattered randomly
like fallen apple blossom.

 The ceremony was
performed by Master Galendar, who smiled benignly at them and spoke the ancient
and beautiful words in the old language. Elorin looked more lovely that day
than she had ever looked. She wore the lavender-blue gown that Celedorn had
bought her and nestling at her throat was the little pearl from Skerris-morl. Triana
had woven for her a wreath of pure white roses that crowned her chestnut hair.

 Celedorn, ably
supported by the Prince, stood beside her, tall, and to her eyes, handsome. He
spoke his responses in a firm voice without faltering, Elorin’s hand resting
lightly on his. The only slight hitch in proceedings was when the Master came
to the part of the ceremony for the symbolic placing of the ring, and neither
Elorin nor Celedorn possessed such an item. Acting with great presence of mind,
Andarion came to their rescue and instantly tugged off his signet.

 When the ceremony was
over and the married couple turned from the Master to face the assembled crowd,
a clear voice from amongst the throng called out in ringing tones:

 “Behold the Lord and
Lady of Westrin!”

 Before Celedorn could
protest, the entire company had taken up the cry until the walls of the old
monastery rang to it. Relisar overcome by pride in them, and remembering his
friend who had died in the forest twenty years before, quietly dried his eyes
with the tail of his beard. “The line of Westrin has not ended,” he murmured to
himself. “If you could see your son this day, my old friend, you would be proud
of him.”

 Everyone then repaired
to the great hall, a setting reserved only for state occasions. The monks had
excelled themselves. The long tables groaned under the produce from the
kitchens. Tall silver candlesticks glittered in the light and every pillar was
hung with a garland of flowers.

 “An auspicious
beginning,” said Relisar, who to everyone’s alarm showed every inclination to
make a speech. “There are four people in this world,” he told the assembled
brothers, “who mean more to me than my own life, and it fills me with
inexpressible joy to see two of them so happy.  Their path had not been
easy and seldom smooth but they have found together the love and happiness they
deserve. May it stay with them their entire lives.” He raised his glass and the
assembled company did likewise. “I propose a toast - to the happiness of the
bride and groom.”

 The words, repeated by
two hundred voices, echoed up to the rafters of the great hall.

 Elorin was radiant with
happiness and when she looked at Celedorn, for the first time she saw him
unhaunted by shadows. He smiled back at her, the grey eyes that she had come to
love so much, clear, untroubled, filled with deep joy.

 There were more toasts
and speeches, laughter and gaiety but as the afternoon wore on, and gently as
strands of gossamer twilight began to fall, Elorin grew conscious of a desire
to be alone with Celedorn, away from all the noise and chatter, in a place so
quiet that one could hear a heartbeat.

 Triana sensed her
slight withdrawal and touched her hand. “Come, Elorin, we will leave the men to
their wine.”

 Elorin quietly arose to
leave and as she did so, for a brief moment her eyes met Celedorn’s in a look
that made her catch her breath. He did not speak but she was aware that his
gaze followed her from the hall.

 When they reached the
door leading to Celedorn’s room, Triana halted and said: “I will never forget
that dreadful day when we brought him into this very room, covered in blood and
looking on the verge of death. I spent that entire night on my knees pleading
for his life to be spared and yet if only a few weeks previously, someone had
predicted that I would do such a thing, I would have thought they were mad. I
did not think either that I would be leading you to this very door as his
bride. How strange and unpredictable is fate.”

 “You are no longer
afraid of him, I hope.”

 “No. I have come to
realise that if Celedorn cares for one, then there is nothing to fear. I am so
glad this has happened for him, after all the years he has suffered, after all
his loneliness and pain. You will heal him, Elorin, I know you will. You will
heal the hurt left by that day twenty years ago and set him free.”

 “I will try,” replied
Elorin, deeply moved.

 “I will not come in
with you, but I hope you will like how I have arranged the room.” She reached
up and kissed her tall friend on the cheek. “Good night, Elorin.” Then with a
flash of mischief she added: “I will not say ‘sleep well’.”

 The room was lit by a
single candle standing on the dresser by the door. Its soft light revealed the
extent of Triana’s thoughtfulness. All Elorin’s possessions had been neatly
arranged in the room. Vases of flowers stood not only on the dresser but on the
broad window-ledges, filling the room with fragrance. The two tiny windows on
either side of the bed stood open to the orchard, admitting the occasional
breath of mild night air. The moon, peeping down from its serene height, cast
twin pools of silver-blue light on the floor. The bed where Celedorn had been
so ill, was now clad in fresh, white linen sheets with a deep blue blanket
folded across its foot. Resting on the blanket was a white silk petticoat with
a note pinned to it.

 
Dearest Elorin,

    I know
that we cannot produce a nightdress between the two of us, so I thought this
might do instead. I’ve let it down as far as it will go but it will still be
too short for you - not that Celedorn will notice.