The Lord Son's Travels (68 page)

Chapter 65

Two
days hence, Adrien woke Elenna gently and whispered for her to follow him.
 
Groggily she stumbled after him to
their window, overlooking the front of the inn and beyond.
 
He pointed to the distance where a hill
rose up from the depths of the forest they had entered the day before.
 
He asked if she saw the hill, and she
assented sleepily.

“That
is Allè-dènè,” he said proudly.
 
“Your home.”
 
Elenna stayed
at the window until urged away to dress for the day’s travel.
 

   
A rider approached at noon,
sent by Adrien’s parents to gauge their arrival time at the border.
 
Adrien sent a reply naming that evening.
 
The messenger returned later with a
note requesting a confidential private meeting on the foreign side of the
border that evening.
 
Adrien
agreed.
 
The final message relayed
listed only the name of a family whose discretion they could trust to host their
assemblage.
 
Elenna’s stomach was
in knots the rest of the day, and Adrien could not keep focused on even simple
tasks for longer than a few minutes before wandering off in his distraction.
 

The
caravan stopped a mile short of the rendezvous spot for Elenna and Adrien to
continue on alone to their reunion.
 
The conversation was much as they had expected; certainly not what they
had hoped for.
 
The Lord King and Lady
Queen were barely civil to their son’s companion.
 
They ceased their demands for annulment of the unapproved
marriage only when Elenna held out her hands cupping the glowing stone of
Evenral.
 
Then the older royals
could only stare in wonder, feeling the seismic shift beneath their feet.
 
The arrangements for the following
fortnight were then sketched out; the formal receptions and festivals of the
coronation had been in the planning process since they first had word of
Adrien’s success.
 
The wedding
would be delayed afterwards for an additional two weeks on Alma’s
insistence.
 
She studied her
fiery-haired daughter-in-law and wondered how she would be able to finesse this
situation and prevent the scandals the jealous nobility would surely offer the
lovely young stranger who had enraptured her son.
 
While Adrien and her husband discussed the military campaign
just finished, she pulled aside Elenna for a consultation on the fighting in
their future.
 
As they walked in
the starlight through the gardens behind the borrowed farmhouse, Elenna watched
the elder woman as she listened half-heartedly to her concerns, searching for
any hint of her husband in his mother’s airs.
 
Alma’s hair had lost the last of its sheen, surrendering
finally to the gray that had threatened for some time.
 
Her eyes were still bright, but
brittle, the lines at the corners deeper and more settled.
 
She had hopes of passing on her daily
demands to Ann
ä
e or Isabeau,
but there would be no chance of rest for some time now.
 
Elenna assured the Lady Queen that she
understood the importance of her coming queenly duties, and would obey Alma’s
societal commands.
 
She knew that
while her social graces were not one of her best qualities, she was certainly
stronger than her husband, and one of them had to take on these less
interesting but still vital duties.
 
She tried her best to listen to the string of names of important
personages she would meet over the next weeks, and stop wishing she could be
inside listening to the more interesting conversation.

The
conversation inside had turned to the current Lord Heir.
 
Andrüe
asked his son what role he intended for his older brother to play in the coming
government of Allè-dôn.
 
“Until we
have children, he will remain as Lord Heir and fulfill the same duties.”

“He
will not be pleased with your ascent to power,” the current Lord King
said.
 

Adrien
pursed his lips. “Tis true, I’m sure.
 
But he has no other choice but to accept graciously.
 
He would not contradict the Bearer.”

The
old Lord King sighed deeply; tiredness reflected in the lines of his face.
 
He had ruled for nearly forty-five
years; he would not regret stepping down.
Andrüe
studied his son as he rose to fetch his father a glass of wine from the serving
tray.
 
He had never noticed how
much Adrien resembled him in physical appearance.
 
They had never spent much time together; he had reserved
most of his free time for training his Heir.
 
The thought occurred that Adrien had never been trained for
the duties he was about to accept.
 
But then again, the old Lord King mused, he had apparently taught
himself what he most needed during his journey.
 
From what Andrüe had heard from his own people and from his
son tonight, he had done a magnificent job before and during the Siege of
Roden.
 
There were a few hints he
should pass on before the coronation,
Andrüe
thought idly, but the majority of the lessons he could teach it seemed had
already been absorbed.
 

He
turned his attention to the biggest surprise, the serious young lady who had
appeared that night at his son’s side.
 
His wife had always worried about her aloof youngest spending the rest
of his life alone or in an unhappy marriage.
 
That at least was no concern any longer; their mutual
affection was charming.
 
If the
Lady of All had chosen her for Lady Queen, he mused, he was a poor man to speak
differently, and she looked to be good for Adrien.
 
A Lady Neda Alia, he shook his head, there could be very
little left in the world to surprise him.

As
the sun rose the next day, the returning parade of Allè-dônians were already
mounted and ready to go; the soldiers impatient to see their families, the
nobles and royals nervous about their reception.
 
Behind a flag bearer waving the standard of Allè-dôn with
patriotic fervor, Adrien and Elenna rode with backs ramrod straight under their
flowing formal robes.
 
A few feet
behind them, Brendan rode alone, his joy to return home buried under the
immense magnitude of the day.
 
A Bard
within the crowds had written a new song about the Siege of Roden, and shared
it with his neighbors as the procession passed.
 
He was rewarded with cheers and was loudly urged to keep
singing his creation.
 
Other Bards
joined in, and soon it was a favorite with all of the audience.

The
procession stopped only an arrowshot from the border.
 
Across the line marked with ribbons had gathered thousands
of exuberant citizens, waiting anxiously for the first sight of the returning
party.
 
Most had arrived the night
before to secure the best seats.
 
A
contingent of nobles had hastily constructed stands near the border where they
could watch their new Lord Heir’s return in comfort.
 
The poor had slept huddled on the ground near the road,
secure under the eyes of the military soldiers encircling the site.
 
In the morning, enterprising farmers
brought milk, bread and fish to sell for the morning meal, as more citizens arrived
from the farms, towns, and the capital.
 
During the dull wait for the procession's arrival, the nobles’ colorful,
stylish costumes provided entertainment for each other and the commoners
strolling about.
 
Even a few of
their Arden neighbors had come to sate their curiosity and see what passed for
Allè-dônian ceremony, though they stayed on their own side of the border.
 
Across the road, at a respectful
distance from the other temporary settlements, a large red tent had been
erected, guarded over by sharply dressed well-armed guards.
 
The Lord King and Lady Queen remained
inside, keeping their own company as they waited.

The
hum of many expectant conversations covered the first echoes of the approaching
marching hoof beats; the procession was in view before anyone caught the sounds
of their arrival.
 
The common
audience burst into a roar, causing their wellborn fellow citizens to wince in
annoyance, but rise to their feet anyway to catch a peek of the arrivals.
 
At a word from Adrien, the procession
stopped precisely one foot from the border.
 
Silence reigned as he paused on the foreign side, waiting
for his parents to be summoned from their pavilion to await him on the other
side.
 
He nodded at both, face
expressionless, then turned and motioned to Elenna to join him.
 
A few murmurs arose from the crowds at
this unexpected development.
 
She
was wearing a green gown, empty scabbard at her side, but had removed her
wedding cloth to keep up the formal deception.
 
Her hair was covered by a golden headpiece, but enough
strands were visible for close observers to determine its extraordinary
color.
 
She slipped down from her
mount, halted for a minute to collect herself, then trying to glide smoothly on
jittery legs continued to his side.
 
She kept her attention away from the crowds and instead gazed directly
at the rising hill ahead of her, on which in the distance lay the capital
city.
 
She felt Adrien’s hand brush
against her shoulder and turned up to focus on
 
his eyes.
 
He
smiled slightly, and reached for her hand.
 
She felt a hardness in his palm and realized what it was.
 
She swallowed deeply and refused to let
her nerves take control.
 
Adrien
felt the warmth of her grasp that allowed him to take the final steps to the
border and face his family waiting on the other side.
 

“What
was lost has been returned,” he said calmly, his voice carrying in the still
morning air over the border and through the waiting throngs.
 
Before the crushing silence of the
waiting crowds could become overwhelming, Adrien crossed the line marked with
ribbons, and the roar of
 
his new
subjects was deafening.