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Strength, power, flexibility, balance, core stability and even endurance are all physical traits of a consistence golfer. This program is guaranteed to add distance to your game. We will combine the best of both worlds with PGA Professional Doug Brazeau and NASM Certified Professional Trainer Ron Keck. Together we will monitor swing fundaments and increase performance. The importance of strength training is equally as important to playing and practicing.
All of these topics will be crucial in your daily life to prevent injury, add energy to your performance and increase health. If you want to hit the ball further or play free of pain then you must try this program. | {
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Habenaria corydophora är en orkidéart som beskrevs av Heinrich Gustav Reichenbach. Habenaria corydophora ingår i släktet Habenaria och familjen orkidéer.
Artens utbredningsområde är Peru. Inga underarter finns listade i Catalogue of Life.
Källor
Externa länkar
Orkidéer
corydophora | {
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Inculcating the sense of bravery and adventure in the young hearts of Jaffna, soldiers of the Sri Lanka Army taking part in ARMY SEARCHLIGHT TATTOO 2012 exhibited their skills and valour to thousands of people of all ages gathered to Durayappah stadium, Jaffna on Friday (23) afternoon.
Signifying peace and good civil-military relations in the peninsula, schoolchildren, youths and adults at the crowded stadium cheered in response as the events took place one by one on the ground.
The three-day long Army Searchlight Tattoo 2012 ceremonially inaugurated with the arrival of the Chief Guest Commander of the Army Lieutenant General Jagath Jayasuriya and the Guest of Honour Mrs. Emelda Sukumar, Government Agent Jaffna. As the gesture of goodwill and honour towards the good civil-military relations prevailing in Jaffna, Army decided to have the show open for the public free of charge.
All cheered in high glee and amazement when the Army Commandos and Special Forces parachutists skydived through clouds and landed on the middle of the Durayappah ground. Parachute Jumps, stunt motorbike riding and the Dogs show which added a novel experience to majority of Jaffna populace were the events that grabbed spectators� attention mostly. Drill display, physical exercise display, band display, simulation of a rescue operation, dismounting and mounting artillery guns within a few seconds and the talents of disable War Heroes were among the other events. Army had made arrangements to display the whole TATTOO on two mega screens throughout.
Chief of Staff of the Sri Lanka Army Major General R.M.D. Ratnayake, Commander SF-J Major General Mahinda Hathurusinghe, Senior military and Police officers, senior government and private sector officials and community leaders were also among the large crowd present.
The show open from 2.30 p.m. to 5.30 p.m. will end on Sunday 25th. | {
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**EARLY BIRD BOOKS**
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_Also by Katherine Kurtz_
The Deryni Novels
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High Deryni
The Legends of Camber of Culdi
Camber of Culdi
Saint Camber
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The Histories of King Kelson
The Bishop's Heir
The King's Justice
The Quest for Saint Camber
The Heirs of Saint Camber
The Harrowing of Gwynedd
King Javan's Year
The Bastard Prince
The Childe Morgan Trilogy
In the King's Service
Childe Morgan
The King's Deryni
Other novels
King Kelson's Bride
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The Heirs of Saint Camber, Volume Three
Katherine Kurtz
For
my very dear friend,
DENIS O'CONOR DON,
Prince of Connacht.
If Ireland were still a monarchy,
he would be High King.
Contents
Prologue He hath put forth his hands against such as be at peace with him; he hath broken his covenant.
— _Psalms 55:20_
I Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.
— _Psalms 73:6_
II Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners.
— _I Corinthians 15:34_
III And if it be meet that I go also, they shall go with me.
— _I Corinthians 16:4_
IV Miss not the discourse of the elders: for they also learned of their fathers, and of them thou shalt learn understanding, and to give answer as need requireth.
— _Ecclesiasticus 8:9_
V There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.
— _I John 4:18_
VI Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice.
— _Job 4:15–16_
VII Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift.
— _II Corinthians 9:15_
VIII Who causeth the righteous to go astray in an evil way, he shall fall himself into his own pit.
— _Proverbs 28:10_
IX Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me.
— _Micah 7:8_
X Look to yourselves, that we lose not those things which we have wrought, but that we receive a full reward.
— _II John 1:8_
XI Keep thee far from the man who hath power to kill... lest he take away thy life presently.
— _Ecclesiasticus 9:13_
XII Whereas thy servant worketh truly, entreat him not evil, nor the hireling that bestoweth himself wholly for thee.
— _Ecclesiasticus 7:20_
XIII Rejoice not over thy greatest enemy being dead, but remember that we die all.
— _Ecclesiasticus 8:7_
XIV I have seen the foolish taking root.
— _Job 5:3_
XV And that we may be delivered from unreasonable men.
— _II Thessalonians 3:2_
XVI With arrows and with bows shall men come thither.
— _Isaiah 7:24_
XVII Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.
— _Psalms 144:1_
XVIII For gold is tried in the fire, and acceptable men in the furnace of adversity.
— _Ecclesiasticus 2:5_
XIX Who will bring me into the strong city?
— _Psalms 60:9_
XX Righteous lips are the delight of kings; and they love him that speaketh right.
— _Proverbs 16:13_
XXI And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie.
— _II Thessalonians 2:11_
XXII They gather themselves together against the soul of the righteous, and condemn the innocent blood.
— _Psalms 94:21_
XXIII Keep thee far from the man that hath power to kill... lest he take away thy life presently.
— _Ecclesiasticus 9:13_
XXIV Traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God.
— _II Timothy 3:4_
XXV And as troops of robbers wait for a man, so the company of priests murder in the way by consent.
— _Hosea 6:9_
XXVI For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
— _II Timothy 4:6_
XXVII I have seen the wicked in great power.
— _Psalms 37:35_
XXVIII A wicked messenger falleth into mischief; but a faithful ambassador is health.
— _Proverbs 13:17_
XXIX For she is privy to the mysteries of the knowledge of God, and a lover of his works.
— _Wisdom of Solomon 8:4_
XXX And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you.
— _II Peter 2:3_
XXXI His sons come to honour, and he knoweth it not.
— _Job 14:21_
XXXII Then the chief captain came near, and took him, and commanded him to be bound with two chains.
— _Acts 21:33_
XXXIII I speak of the things which I have made touching the king.
— _Psalms 45:1_
XXXIV Their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth for evermore.
— _Ecclesiasticus 44:14_
XXXV But if ye bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be not consumed one of another.
— _Galatians 5:15_
XXXVI And those which remain shall hear, and fear, and shall henceforth commit no more any such evil among you.
— _Deuteronomy 19:20_
Appendix I: Index of Characters
Appendix II: Index of Places
Appendix III: Partial Lineage of the Haldane Kings
Appendix IV: The Festillic Kings of Gwynedd and Their Descendants
Appendix V: Partial Lineage of the MacRories
About the Author
PROLOGUE
He hath put forth his hands against such as be at peace with him; he hath broken his covenant.
—Psalms 55:20
The nagging drizzle of the night before had yielded to clearing skies at dawn, but a persistent overcast remained even at noontime on this chill day in early June of the Year of Our Lord 928, now seventh in the reign of Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, King of Gwynedd. Climbing to the castle's highest rooftop walk, two women had braved a cutting wind to seek out a sheltered angle between cap-house and rampart wall, a natural sun trap that was warm enough to shrug off fur-lined cloaks and begin to thaw chilled bones while they resumed their watch of the day before.
It was a better place than most to await the return of their men, now several days overdue. To the south they could see for miles across the vast plain of Iomaire—and a lesser distance eastward, to where the mists of the Rhelljan foothills obscured the approach to the vital Coldoire Pass. It was toward this pass that their men had ridden, more than a week ago, and it was toward Coldoire that the elder of the pair now turned her gaze yet again, shading her dark eyes against the glare of sunlight on persisting tatters of fog.
She had kept this kind of vigil all too many times before. Sudrey of Eastmarch had been chatelaine of this castle for fully twenty years. She was hardly more than a child herself when she first came to Lochalyn as a bride and, within the year, bore the daughter who would become the taller, redheaded young woman fretting at her side. Apart from the death of a beloved brother, a decade ago, the intervening years had been mostly kind, though she and Hrorik had never been blessed with any more children. Stacia was their only child and sole heir, herself now a mother, suckling an infant son but hours old when his father and grandfather had spurred urgently toward the Coldoire Pass to investigate reports of Torenthi troop incursions.
"D'ye think it's only yesterday's storm that's delayed them?" Stacia suddenly blurted, startling one of the wolfhounds basking at her feet as she rose to peer out over the rampart again, clasping her son closer. "Dear God, what if sommat's happened to Corban? They should hae been back days ago. Oh, sommat's happened—I know it has!"
"Hush, child. We don't _know_ anything yet."
But as Sudrey of Eastmarch gazed out at the Coldoire mists, her lips compressing in a tight, expectant line, she very much feared that she did know more than she cared to admit. Not of Stacia's beloved Corban, but of her own dear Hrorik.
The dread confirmation would come soon; she could feel it. She carried but little of the blood of the magical race that once had ruled this land, and she had denied what she had for more than half her life, but it was enough to give her sudden, blinding flashes of unsought knowledge when she least expected or wanted it. Nor had she ever received but rudimentary training in the use of the powers that might have been hers to command, for she and her brother had been orphaned young and brought up by their uncle, a Deryni lordling whose abuse of _his_ power and privilege eventually had led his tenants to turn on him and kill him.
That had been just on the eve of the overthrow of King Imre of Festil and the Haldane Restoration. After that had come the turmoil and wars that left her and her brother hostages of Hrorik's father, the fierce but kindhearted Duke Sighere of Claibourne, for she and Kennet were both of them distant kin to the royal House of Torenth. In those days, she had deemed it the better part of prudence to pretend that she had no powers at all; and after a time, she had almost forgotten that she ever did. She had never expected to fall in love with one of her jailer's sons...
Her wistful recollections had distracted her from her watch across the castle ramparts, so that it was Stacia who first saw the riders, first only a handful and then dozens of them, picking their way slowly and painfully along the muddy, winding track that led down from the mist of the Rhelljans to approach the castle gates.
"They're comin'!" Stacia breathed, pressing hard against the rampart edge as she squinted against the glare. "Look ye, there's Da's banner!"
Sudrey's breath caught in her throat as she, too, began to make out the battle standard borne by one of the lead riders—a silver saltire and two golden suns against an azure field.
"Mother—I dinnae see Corban's banner," Stacia cried. "Mother, where is't? Corban—"
She was turning to careen down the turnpike stair before Sudrey could stop her, moaning and clutching her son fearfully to her shoulder, the wolfhounds lumbering after. Behind her, Sudrey cast her own anxious gaze over the approaching riders again, now seeing what her daughter had failed to notice: the dark, irregular shape bound across the saddle of one of the horses nearer the banner, wrapped round in a greeny tweed cloak that she herself had mended before her husband rode out, what seemed like an eternity ago.
Later, she would not remember her own numbed descent of the narrow, winding stair; only that, all at once, she was down in the castle yard with men and horses churning all around her, the din and the stench of blood and death almost beyond imagining. Across the yard, her son-in-law all but tumbled from his spent mount to stagger toward her, one bandaged and bloodstained arm braced around the shoulders of his weeping but relieved young wife.
He was grimy and exhausted, young Corban, his helmet gone, his sweat-matted black hair mostly pulled free of its border clout, his leather brigandine showing the signs of heavy battle survived. As he reached Sudrey, he collapsed to armored knees at her feet, his broad, leather-clad shoulders heaving with a dry sob as he crushed her to him with his free hand, burying his bearded face against her skirts.
"Forgive me, I couldnae save him!" he gasped. "They've ta'en Culliecairn—God knows why! We lost dozens, an' most of those returnin' carry wounds. They lured us wi' a flag o' truce, then o'erran us. We must get word tae Sighere an' Graham an' beg reinforcements—an' from the king!"
"Is it invasion?" Sudrey heard herself calmly asking.
"I cannae say." Corban raised his head and drew back a little, dark eyes as bleak and empty as her heart. "They wore the livery o' Prince Miklos of Torenth. It _could_ be one prong of an all-out invasion. We must see if Sighere's outposts hae seen activity in the Arranal region or along the coast."
Her mind flicked back at once to a private meeting several months before at Lochalyn: herself, Hrorik, and the strikingly handsome Prince Miklos—who was technically a distant cousin—and another, slightly younger man, as dark as Miklos was fair, then presumed merely to be the prince's aide. Hrorik had reluctantly encouraged the meeting, not out of any love for Torenth but in hopes of putting to rest nearly seven years' worth of letters sent periodically from the Court at Beldour, the Torenthi capital, badgering his wife about her hostage status.
She had answered _that_ question quite firmly: that she was no longer hostage or Torenthi, but gave her loyalty to her husband's liege lord in Rhemuth. The Torenthi prince had been quietly furious. Hence, this present conflict probably was not really about border disputes; it was Miklos' response to her refusal to espouse the cause of his companion, finally revealed as Prince Marek of Festil, Pretender to the Crown of Gwynedd. And now Sudrey's refusal had cost her her beloved Hrorik and the lives of many other loyal Eastmarch men.
"I do not think there will be activity farther north," she whispered, raising her gaze above Corban's head to where Eastmarch squires and men-at-arms were loosing the lashings that held a sad, tweed-wrapped shape across the saddle of a spent bay mare. "This is not the true invasion—though eventually, that will come. Hrorik and I had feared that such might happen, but not so soon. Prince Miklos tried to win me to his cause some months ago, appealing to my Torenthi blood. I refused, and this is the result. It has to do with the Festillic Pretender."
"A feint, then, for testin' the waters?" Corban asked, leaning heavily on Stacia to get to his feet.
"Aye—and perhaps a deliberate provocation, to lure the young king out of Rhemuth. They will know, or at least suspect, that he is not a free agent. I pray that, in meeting this new threat, he is also able to come into his own."
"God grant it!" Corban said fervently. "But meanwhile, I must see that Eastmarch doesnae become the Pretender's own." He bent to press his lips to his son's forehead, then thrust his bewildered wife from him as he called to several of the Eastmarch captains.
"Attend me, men of Eastmarch. We must ride for Marley, to seek Sighere's aid. Elgin, I need those fresh horses _now_. Nicholas, have ye seen to those provisions? Murray, I give ye command o' the garrison here at Lochalyn. I'm takin' half a dozen men, in addition to Elgin. Will that leave ye enou' tae hold the castle?"
Stacia looked thunderstruck, though Sudrey knew that Corban was only doing what he must, under the circumstances. He was a good commander, the son she had never borne. Behind him, some of the fittest-looking men were already mounting up again, others shouting answers to his questions.
"But, ye cannae just leave!" Stacia wailed. "What about my da? What about our bairn? What about _me_?"
" _Mo rùn_ , my heart, your da is dead. I share yer grief, but I cannae change fate." He turned aside to nod gruff thanks as a man brought up a fresh horse, setting foot to stirrup and springing up into the saddle. The animal was fractious, and nearly unseated him as another man offered him the flapping Eastmarch banner.
"But—that's my father's banner!" Stacia gasped, clutching her son closer and barely avoiding the horse's hooves as her husband fought his mount and deftly footed the banner's staff at his stirrup.
"Stacia, my daurlin', have ye no been listenin'?" Corban said. "This is _your_ banner, now that yer father is dead. 'Tis you who are Countess of Eastmarch. An' that makes me _Earl_ of Eastmarch, so 'tis also _my_ banner. An' one day, if we all live through this, it will be _his_ banner." He jerked his bearded chin toward their now squalling son, then cast a beseeching look at his wife's mother.
"My lady, I beg ye to make her understand. I cannae delay more. See to the wounded. Bury Hrorik. Hold this castle, howe'er best ye can. I'll bring ye help as soon as I may. Murray's sendin' messengers on to Rhemuth to inform the king. God keep ye."
He was spurring back out the castle gates at the head of his tiny escort before either woman could gainsay him, the bright blue and gold and silver of the Eastmarch banner fluttering boldly above his head. Watching him go, Sudrey of Eastmarch, née of Rhorau, found herself already shifting into that calm, passionless efficiency that must be her bulwark for the next little while, setting aside the grief that would render her useless if she let it take over.
"Jervis, please start bringing the wounded into the great hall," she said to her household steward, turning her back on the men now carrying the long, tweed-wrapped bundle toward the castle's chapel. "That will serve the best as infirmary, until we can get everyone taken care of. Have the kitchen start boiling water and tell the women to gather bandages. And summon Father Collumcille and Father Derfel and that midwife from down in the village. She may be some help. And Murray—"
"Aye, my lady?"
"Did my husband's battle surgeon come back from Culliecairn?"
"He did, my lady." Murray was instructing the two messengers about to leave for Rhemuth, and looked like he, too, could use the surgeon's services—or at least a woman's hands—to clean and bind his wounds. "He's already working on some men o'er in the stable entrance."
"Well, have him move everything and everybody into the great hall as soon as he can. I want some order to this."
"Right away, my lady."
As she turned to deal with her daughter, she saw that Stacia, too, had rallied to necessity and training and was tearfully entrusting her baby to Murray's eldest daughter, with instructions to take the bairn upstairs to her bower and stay out of the way.
"I have to be strong now, for my da," Stacia told her mother tremulously, lifting her chin and wiping away her tears on the edge of a sleeve. "He raised me tae be his heir. He'd be shamed if he thought I couldnae take care o' his men—of _my_ men."
In the din of milling horses and clanking armor and shouting and moaning men, the two made a tiny island of calm as, arms around one another's waists, they began to head purposefully toward the great hall. Behind them, the messengers chosen to carry word to Rhemuth swung up on fresh mounts and galloped out the castle gates.
CHAPTER ONE
Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.
—Psalms 73:6
The Eastmarch messengers exhausted a succession of mounts in the days that followed, galloping into Gwynedd's capital less than a week after the taking of Culliecairn. Almost incoherent with exhaustion, the pair made their initial report to a hastily gathered handful of Gwynedd's royal ministers, then were whisked away for further interrogation in private by Lord Albertus, the Earl Marshal, and certain members of his staff. The king was told of their news, but was not invited to join the impromptu meeting now in progress in Gwynedd's council chamber.
"Aside from the military implications, this is going to raise certain practical complications," Rhun of Sheele said, sour and suspicious as he sat back in his chair. "For one thing, the king is going to want to go."
Lord Tammaron Fitz-Arthur nodded patiently. As Chancellor of Gwynedd, it was his duty to preside over meetings of the king's council when the king was not present—and in fact, he presided even when the king _was_ present—but formalities hardly seemed necessary with only four of them seated around the long table.
"Of course he'll want to go," Tammaron said. "It's only natural that he should wish to do so—and were the decision up to him, there would be no question. There's a risk involved, of course. Not only might he be killed, but he might be tempted to assert his independence. However, I believe that both possibilities pale beside the very real prospect that this is the challenge we've been hoping to postpone."
At Tammaron's right, quietly imposing in his robes of episcopal purple, Archbishop Hubert MacInnis nodded his agreement, one pudgy hand caressing the jeweled cross on his ample breast. Those who did not know him well saw what he wanted them to see: an affable if oversized cherub, ostensibly godly and devout, rosy face framed by fine blond hair cut short and tonsured in the clerical manner, tiny rosebud lips pursed in a languid pout.
But the apparent innocence of the wide blue eyes was deceptive, and the cunning mind behind them had contrived the death of more than one person who stood in his way. In the last decade, the Primate of All Gwynedd had become the single most powerful man in the kingdom.
"This is damnably inconvenient, if it _is_ the challenge," Hubert muttered sullenly. " _Damn_ , why couldn't they have waited even another year? A second son would make all the difference."
"You're assuming that the queen carries another son and not a daughter," said the archbishop's elder brother, Lord Manfred MacInnis, seated across from Hubert. He was a beefy, red-faced man in his mid-fifties, muscled where Hubert was merely fat, his sunburned hands scarred and callused from years of wielding a sword. "I wouldn't worry so much about potential heirs as I would about the man who wears the crown right now. If this _is_ the challenge we've been dreading, 'tis we and the present king who will have to meet it. And if he can't do that, not even another prince will be enough to ensure the continuance of the Haldane line in power—and us as the power behind the throne."
It was no more than a simple statement of fact. The men seated around the table, the core of the Royal Council of Gwynedd, had been virtual rulers of Gwynedd for six years now, since plotting the slaying of the sixteen-year-old King Javan Haldane in an "ambush" far to the north—blamed on Deryni dissidents—and simultaneously masterminding the coup that put his brother, Rhys Michael, on Gwynedd's throne, though king only in name.
The cost had come high, for the hollow crown this youngest Haldane prince had never sought. Not alone had he lost a beloved brother and king, but the shock of the sudden and brutal slayings surrounding the coup at Rhemuth had caused his young wife to miscarry of their first child—a supreme irony, for eventual control of an underage Haldane heir had been a large part of the ultimate purpose behind the coup.
The new king had not truly comprehended the scope of his captors' ambitions in the beginning. It was horror enough that _he_ must fall under their control. Drugged nearly to senselessness during the coup itself, he had been kept drug-blurred for some months thereafter, all through the public spectacle of his brother's burial and then the sham of his own coronation.
Only when he had been safely crowned did they make their intentions clear—and underlined their demands with threats of the most abhorrent nature concerning the fate of his queen if he did not comply. He had been spared to be a puppet king and to breed Haldane princes who, in due course, would fall totally under the sway of the great lords—and under the sway of regents, if their father made himself sufficiently troublesome that he must be eliminated before a tame heir came of age.
Fortunately for all concerned, especially the king, the prospect of another regicide became less and less likely as the first few months passed. Though dispirited at first, the new king gradually seemed to become reconciled to the inevitability of his situation, allowing himself to be shaped as the docile and biddable figurehead they required.
Compliance slowly bought small indulgences. Once the king ceased to be argumentative or to display stubborn flashes of independent thinking, permission was granted for him to attend routine meetings of the council. A satisfactory history of behavior at council meetings earned him the privilege of presiding over formal courts, though always closely attended and working from a carefully rehearsed script. Very occasionally, the queen and later their young son were allowed to appear at his side on state occasions. After the first year or so, when it appeared that he had accepted the restrictions placed upon him and decided to make the most of royal privilege, they had even allowed him to resume his training in arms, against just such a threat as now seemed to be materializing. The queen's new pregnancy seemed to confirm Rhys Michael's capitulation, though there were some seated around this table who still had reservations.
"Let's get down to specifics," Tammaron said. "This hardly comes as any great surprise, after all. We've been aware of increased Torenthi troop movements up along the Eastmarch border since last fall."
Several of the others nodded their agreement, and Rhun muttered something about having warned them long before that.
"It's just the sort of beginning we might have expected," Tammaron went on. "A test incursion into—"
The door to the council chamber slammed back without preamble to admit Paulin of Ramos, black-clad and predatory looking as he stalked into the room. The mere presence of the Vicar-General of the _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ produced no dismay, for he was as heavily involved in intrigue as the rest of them, and one of the architects of their rise to power, but he had been expected to remain with his brother Albertus, questioning the messengers.
"A Torenthi herald has just arrived under a flag of truce," Paulin announced, flouncing angrily into his usual place to Hubert's right. "The man demands an immediate audience of the king and declines to reveal his business except in the king's presence."
"Do you think he comes from King Arion?" Manfred asked.
"No, I do not. I thought so at first, but the Torenthi arms on his tabard are differenced. The black hart is gorged of a coronet. That's Arion's brother."
" _Miklos!_ " Rhun muttered.
"And the Eastmarch messengers claim that Miklos was behind the taking of Culliecairn," Tammaron said, enlightenment dawning on the angular face.
"Precisely," Paulin agreed. "I'd say that the timely arrival of Miklos' herald tends to confirm their story. The question now becomes, is Miklos acting alone, or for King Arion, or for Marek of Festil, as he has in the past?"
Uneasiness murmured around the table at that, for the prospect of an eventual Festillic bid to take back the throne of Gwynedd had loomed with increasing probability since 904, when Cinhil Haldane, the present king's father, had ended a Festillic Interregnum of more than eighty years by ousting and killing the unmarried King Imre. There it might have ended, except that Imre's sister, the Princess Ariella, had been carrying his child when she fled. Later legalists had tried to claim that the royal pregnancy derived from a dalliance with one of her brother's courtiers, by then conveniently dead, for mere illegitimacy was not necessarily a bar to inheritance in Torenth, but everyone knew that Imre was the father.
The child born of this incestuous union the following year had been christened Mark Imre of Festil, though he now went by Marek, the Torenthi form of his name, and was accorded the title of prince among his Torenthi kinsmen. The House of Festil was descended from a cadet branch of the Torenthi royal line—Deryni, all—and Torenth had provided troops for Ariella's unsuccessful attempt to take back the throne lost by her brother. Following her death in that endeavor, her son and heir had been brought up among the Deryni princes of Torenth, biding his time until conditions were right to make his own try for his parents' throne. Prince Marek now was twenty-three, a year older than his Haldane rival in Rhemuth, recently married to a sister of the King of Torenth and lately the father of a son by her.
"I would think it very likely that Marek is, indeed, behind this," Tammaron said thoughtfully. "Having said that, however, I am not altogether certain we can assume that this is a serious bid to take back the crown. Marek is yet unblooded. He has an heir, but just the one; and many's the infant that dies young."
"Yet Culliecairn _has_ been taken," Manfred pointed out.
"Yes, but I suspect Miklos has done it on Marek's behalf," Tammaron countered. "And I seriously doubt that King Arion supports it. _He_ certainly doesn't want a war with us right now, because he hasn't got adult heirs yet either.
"No, I would guess this to be a drawing action, almost a field exercise, to see what we'll do. Marek hasn't the support to make a full-scale invasion and won't until his heir is of age. I think he wants to flex his muscles and size up his enemy—and perhaps test to see whether it's true, that the King of Gwynedd is not his own man."
"Which means," Hubert said, "that the king must be seen to be his own man, and a competent one, by riding with an expeditionary force to free Culliecairn. I'll grant that there is some small risk, if he should take it in his head to actually try to lead," he added, at the looks of objection forming on several faces. "On the other hand, he knows full well that if he should meet his death in such a campaign— _for whatever reason_ —young Owain would become the next king, with the certainty of an actual and open regency until the boy reaches his majority."
"I can't say I'd mind a ten-year regency," Manfred said, grinning as he leaned back in his chair.
"No, but the queen would," Tammaron said. "And she'd sit on the regency council by right. Would her brother sit as well, Hubert? He's the boy's uncle; it's customary."
"The king, ah, has been persuaded _not_ to name his brother-in-law to the regency council," Hubert said, pretending to study a well-manicured thumbnail. "Something about concern for the young man's health, I believe—the strain of the office, and so forth."
"And it won't be a strain to keep him on at court?" Rhun said archly. "If I'd had my way, he would have been killed six years ago."
Hubert favored the younger man with a droll smile. "Fortunately for him, dear Rhun, you were away supervising another killing at the time. But rest assured that Sir Cathan understands the precarious nature of his position and will do nothing to jeopardize his access to his sister. Nor will she do anything that might endanger his life—or even worse, from her perspective, force us to forbid her access to her son. So long as both of them maintain the utmost discretion and circumspection, I am content that Cathan Drummond should remain in the royal household, if only for the sake of appearances. Besides that, his presence reassures the queen, who will bear stronger princes if her mind is at ease. 'Tis a small enough inconvenience, I think—and one that is open to immediate reassessment, if either of them should abuse the privilege."
Rhun snorted and shook his head. "I'd still rather he were dead."
"That's as may be, but at very least, nothing must happen to him during the queen's pregnancy. Do I make myself quite clear?"
"You do."
"Good. Because whatever else happens, she carries the second Haldane heir, our backup for Prince Owain. Worry about that, if you insist upon worrying about something. Whether or not the king survives this current crisis, Michaela could die in childbed—or worse, the child might die. And if the king should die, whether on a campaign into Eastmarch or as a result of his own folly, the shock could cause her to miscarry again; it happened before."
"Aye," Tammaron breathed. "So all Haldane hopes ultimately hang on one small four-year-old."
"Precisely. For that reason, and to prevent the boy being brought untimely to the crown, I rather think that the king, his lady wife, and her brother will continue to do whatever we require of them."
Hubert's words brought nods of agreement. That the king was a devoted father was hardly any secret, but of the five men seated around the council table, the archbishop perhaps knew the king best of any of them. Though Tammaron and Rhun had been among the original regents appointed to rule Gwynedd during the minority of King Alroy, Rhys Michael's sickly eldest brother, it was Hubert who, because of his office, had been in a unique position both to interact with the three Haldane princes himself and to require detailed reporting from the priests who were the princes' teachers and confessors.
Nor had his influence ended with the end of the regency. For it was also Hubert who, with Paulin of Ramos, had been responsible for the plot that eventually put Rhys Michael on the throne. Accordingly, Hubert's opinion held weight in proportion to his physical size, among these men who shared with him the governing of Gwynedd.
"Well, then," Manfred said, "I suppose we'd better let the king receive Prince Miklos' herald."
"Indeed, yes," Hubert replied. "I'd already informed him of the news from Eastmarch. Before court is convened, I shall be certain that he understands both the political and personal implications of any independent action he might contemplate and that he knows precisely what is expected of him."
CHAPTER TWO
Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners.
—I Corinthians 15:34
Following Hubert's second briefing, the king could harbour no illusions regarding what was expected of him. As he dressed for Court, however, he reflected that he probably understood the implications of the coming audience far better than any of his great lords supposed.
Still a little stunned, nonetheless, he considered his situation as he crossed the fronts of a clean white shirt his body squire had just put on him, stuffing the tails into the waist of close-fitting black breeches and then holding out his arms for the sleeves to be fastened at the wrists.
At least the afternoon was mild, not at all like that other June, when his brother Alroy lay dying and his brother Javan had come back to Court, forever changing the destiny of the fourteen-year-old Prince Rhys Michael Alister Haldane. Seven years had passed since then, and Rhys Michael had been king for six of them—king in name, at least.
For now he knew, though he had not wanted to believe it at the time, that Javan's own great lords had conspired to be rid of him, the king they could not control, and to set Rhys Michael in his place. It had cost the youngest of the Haldane princes his innocence and the lives of his brother and the child who would have been his own firstborn son. It had also cost him his freedom for the future and sentenced whatever further progeny he might engender to a life dictated by the great lords. As King Rhys, he now came and went at their behest, all but worn down by the intervening years of subjugation, both physical and mental, with even the thought of further resistance almost battered into resignation and acceptance of what they required, if he wished to survive.
This latest development might not set too well with their long-range plans, though. Already, a faint pang of hope had flared in his breast, where he had thought all chance of deliverance nearly stifled.
He had a fair idea what the waiting Torenthi herald would say, based on Hubert's briefing and the news brought earlier by the Eastmarch messengers. The seizure of Culliecairn, with its castle and garrison and town, could not be tolerated. Culliecairn guarded the Torenth-side entrance to the Coldoire Pass, the most direct route through the northern Rhelljan Mountains between Eastmarch and the Torenthi Duchy of Tolan. Hubert had already mentioned the likelihood of an immediate campaign to free Culliecairn, even conceding that it probably would be necessary for Rhys Michael to go along. The king had been forbidden to make any official commitment without first clearing it with his advisors—which rankled, as such constraints always did; but the developing scenario also reminded Rhys Michael most pointedly that he was still an anointed king.
At least they had never forbidden him to _look_ like a king. Indeed, they demanded it, whenever they trotted him out for some state occasion that required his official presence. The great lords approved of keeping up appearances. The body squire kneeling at his feet had given his boots a final buff with a soft cloth and now was buckling golden spurs to his heels.
"Beg pardon, Sire," his senior aide murmured, easing past the squire with a plain white belt in his hands.
Faintly bemused, the king lifted both arms away from his sides to allow it. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, Sir Fulk Fitz-Arthur was several years his junior, obliging and loyal enough in most things, but loyal first to his father, Lord Tammaron, if pushed to a choice. Rhys Michael tried to avoid forcing that choice whenever possible, for he honestly liked Fulk and sensed that the liking was mutual; but not for an instant did he believe that mere fondness might make Fulk overlook forbidden deviations from what the great lords permitted.
Far more certain was the loyalty of his other aide, who was shaking out a scarlet over-robe over in the better light of an open window. A year younger than Fulk, and brother to Rhys Michael's beloved Michaela, Sir Cathan Drummond had been a towheaded squire of twelve on that awful day of the coup, witness to much of the slaughter, nearly a victim himself, and as helpless as Rhys Michael to prevent any of it.
Fortunately, the great lords had stopped short of killing the queen's brother the way they had so many others of those loyal to the Haldanes. After several months' confinement following the coup, upon giving his solemn oath never to speak of what he had witnessed that day, Cathan had been permitted to return to the royal household, the token member actually to be chosen by the new king and queen and the only person, other than themselves, on whom they could always and utterly rely.
It had not taken Cathan long to discover what he must do in order to stay alive, even if he _was_ the queen's brother. Grudgingly permitted to resume his training in arms, as well as the gentler accomplishments expected of noble young men headed toward knighthood, he had quickly learned not to do _too_ well at anything that might suggest a threat to those who were the true masters at Rhemuth Castle. His eventual knighting, the previous Twelfth Night, had been one of the few acts as king that Rhys Michael had performed gladly, of his own volition. Permission to appoint Cathan as a second aide had been an unexpected dividend of the evening, though the king suspected expediency rather than charity to have been Hubert's motive. Now a belted knight as well as brother to the queen, Cathan was least apt to cause trouble if he continued directly in the royal household, where he could be watched. It kept Cathan himself under scrutiny, but at least it allowed Rhys Michael an adult confidant and ally besides his wife.
As if sensing the king's fond gaze upon him, Cathan came smiling now to lay the scarlet over-robe around his sovereign's shoulders. The fronts were stiff with gold embroidery, as were the wide cuffs of the sleeves, and the broad clasp Cathan snapped closed across the chest resembled the morse of a bishop's cope. He had pinned to the robe's left shoulder a large, fist-sized brooch with the golden lion of Gwynedd embossed upon it, the background inlaid in crimson enamel—Michaela's gift to the king on the birth of little Prince Owain. For the three of them, it had come to symbolize their hopes of a House of Haldane no longer fettered by the great lords.
Blessing Cathan for having thought of it, especially today, Rhys Michael let his fingertips brash the brooch in passing as he adjusted the hang of a flowing sleeve, knowing Cathan would catch the significance. Fulk had turned away briefly to fetch a burnished metal mirror, so missed the gesture entirely.
"A good choice, Sire," Fulk declared, as he angled the mirror to reflect the royal image.
"Yes, I thought so."
Critically the king studied the overall effect, nervously ruffling one hand through the short-cropped black cap of his hair as he turned to view himself from several angles. He would have preferred to wear his hair longer, perhaps pulled back in a queue or braid, but for some reason the great lords insisted that he keep it short—almost clerical in its severity, though without the shaved tonsure. He had often wondered why—further assertion of their control over every aspect of his life, he suspected. But it sometimes had occurred to him to wonder whether they thought that, as with Samson, they could keep him from gaining strength by cutting his hair.
At least the stark barbering let the Eye of Rom be seen. The great ruby glowering in his right earlobe had belonged to his father and both his brothers before him and was regarded as part of the official regalia of Gwynedd. King Cinhil had been the first Haldane to wear the stone, but the men who eventually became the great lords of Gwynedd remained unaware that it had been given to Cinhil by the Deryni mage later to be known as Saint Camber. Ancient tradition, likewise unknown to the great lords, identified the stone as one of the gifts of the Magi to the Christ Child, later sold to finance the flight to Egypt. Whether or not that was true, Rhys Michael regarded it as one of his few true links with the kingship he feared he might never wield in fact.
"This will do nicely," he said, turning back to Cathan. "Let's have the crown, then."
From a handsome wooden casket studded with brass nail heads, Cathan carefully lifted out the gold and silver State Crown of Gwynedd, with its leaves and crosses intertwined. Cabochon rubies the size of a man's thumbnail had been added to the crown since the coronation six years before, with lesser gems also gleaming among the crown's interstices. Against the sable Haldane hair, as Rhys Michael ducked his head to receive it, the effect was truly majestic.
"Yes, indeed," Fulk murmured approvingly, as he surveyed the king over the top of the mirror, and Cathan also grinned his agreement. "That should make the Torenthi herald sit up and take notice."
"Let's see, shall we?" the king replied, smiling.
Before that question could be answered, though, he must first submit to a final briefing, back in the little withdrawing room behind the dais of the great hall. Afterward, he was told to delay his entrance while the great lords took their own places and the hall had a chance to settle—which also gave him opportunity to survey his audience before he went out. He reviewed his instructions and prayed for courage as he cautiously twitched aside a fold of the heavy velvet that curtained the opening through the screens to the dais beyond.
The high-beamed hall was not as crowded as it might have been—which was just as well, since he expected this would be a rather less congenial court than most, based on the news from Eastmarch and that assumed to be borne by the Torenthi herald. Accordingly, he was a little surprised to see a fair number of ladies present—mostly the wives and daughters of the great lords or ladies from the queen's household, twittering anxiously among themselves as they settled on benches in the window embrasures that overlooked the castle gardens. A few were even carrying baskets of embroidery.
He supposed this did concern them, if Gwynedd went to war. Michaela had wanted to attend, but Hubert had forbidden it. He and Paulin were standing along the right side of the dais, Paulin apparently briefing the seated Archbishop Oriss, who had been specially summoned from his sickbed for the occasion and who looked as if he might not make it through the court Behind them, Tammaron was instructing a captain of archers, surreptitiously indicating the long gallery that overlooked the right side of the hall. Farther to the left, just off the dais, Rhun and Manfred appeared to be lecturing an angry looking Lord Richard Murdoch. Albertus was not in evidence. Out in the hall itself, scores of knights and lesser courtiers were also drifting toward the dais where the king shortly would emerge.
And far at the back of the hall, carefully watched by guards in Haldane livery, the legation from Torenth was waiting: half a dozen men-at-arms in eastern-style armor, cloaked in the tawny orange of the Torenthi House of Furstan. One of them bore a flagstaff trailing a banner of white silk. Beneath that banner stood a short, dark man who must be the Torenthi herald. As expected, his tabard bore the springing black hart of Furstan on a silver roundel, differenced of a golden coronet around its proud neck.
"I think they're about ready for us, Sire," Fulk murmured close by his right ear.
With a grunt for answer, Rhys Michael let fall the curtain and held out his hand to Cathan for the sheathed Haldane sword, laying it in the cradle of his left arm with the hilt like a cross at his elbow. At his nod, Fulk grasped an edge of the heavy curtain and drew it aside, following when the king and then Cathan had gone through.
Those first to notice his entrance stirred and then grew silent as he crossed the dais, turning to follow his progress and bowing when he passed, but not giving his arrival the formality of a state entry, lest too much ceremony acknowledge the importance of the men waiting. Rhys Michael acknowledged their bows with an air of preoccupation, settling stiffly into the throne-chair set under the Haldane canopy, and then handing off the Haldane sword to Cathan again. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing it were Javan still alive to sit here in his place, but he made himself dismiss the thought as futile. Javan was dead, and he was alive; and if he hoped to stay alive, he must be very, very careful how he handled this.
And as Constable Udaut came forward to inquire about the visitors seeking audience at the back of the hall, another reason for caution suddenly became clear. Lord Albertus was entering through the screen entrance at the other side of the dais, accompanied by the two haggard-looking Eastmarch messengers and a handful of his staff, mostly black-robed _Custodes_ knights. Among the latter, similarly garbed in black, was a small, dark man known only as Dimitri, said to be Deryni, though few at court were aware of that. Though ostensibly employed by Paulin and the _Custodes Fidei_ , his exact allegiance was unknown, the last time Rhys Michael heard—and it had been Javan who had told him that, in one of their last conversations before Javan rode off to what was to be his death. In the back of his mind, Rhys Michael had always wondered whether the mysterious Dimitri was at least partially responsible for the treachery.
It was certain that Javan's Deryni allies had not counted Dimitri an ally; and whether he was working _only_ for Paulin and his _Custodes_ remained an unanswered question. Not for the first time, Rhys Michael lamented the fact that not one of Javan's Deryni allies had managed to make contact with him since Javan's death, though reason reminded him of their small numbers even then; and the few that he knew of personally had died by the same treachery that took Javan.
The one ray of hope that made him keep believing that there had ever been Deryni backing for the House of Haldane was the fact that, as Javan had predicted, Rhys Michael gradually had learned to discern whether a man was telling the truth. This usually was a Deryni talent, he knew, and ordinary humans could not detect or prevent its use against them—a decided advantage in his present circumstances, except that even if Dimitri had not been present, the Torenthi herald and at least some of his escort undoubtedly were Deryni.
This rather canceled out any advantage his meager talent might have given him; for Deryni, though they could not prevent being Truth-Read, sometimes could detect it. It would not do for the Torenthi herald to know what Rhys Michael could do, even if he could keep it from Dimitri.
He dared not Truth-Read during court today, then—and he must guard his own words, for both the herald and Dimitri undoubtedly would seek to Truth-Read _him_. As Albertus and his party came to stand just behind Rhun and Manfred and Richard, the king shifted his attention back to Udaut, who had started purposefully toward the back of the hall.
Udaut did not announce the visitors waiting there; merely gave them leave with a gesture to approach, turning then to proceed back up the hall in the assumption that they would follow. They did, but the men-at-arms made their own statement of their presence, drawing to attention with much stamping and clashing of arms in martial drill, then pacing behind Udaut with heavy tread, the banner bearer and a bemused herald following almost indolently behind.
When the six guardsmen reached the dais before the throne, they came to a halt with another stamping of steel-shod feet and clashing of mailed fists on ornate breastplates, then parted to make an aisle through which their leader might proceed. The man with the banner footed his staff with a clash of metal against the wooden floor, dipping the white silk in salute as the herald gave a restrained, formal bow.
"Rhys Haldane of Gwynedd," the herald said, the clear voice lightly accented as he drew himself erect from his bow. The man's dark hair was cut short around his long face, the severity emphasizing high cheekbones and slightly canted dark eyes above a thin moustache and a small, close-clipped beard. "Hear the words of my master, the Prince Miklos of Torenth, who acts in behalf of his kinsman, the royal Marek of Festil, rightful king of this realm."
"Sir, you stand before the rightful king of this realm!" Richard Murdoch said, hotheaded and belligerent as he took a step forward, one gloved hand wrapped taut over the pommel of his sword. "You will observe appropriate courtesy."
The herald inclined his head indulgently toward the younger man. "My master has not sent me to debate titles, my lord. His message is for the Haldane."
"Then, speak," Rhys Michael said, before Richard could reply. "The Haldane is listening."
"My lord." The herald inclined his head again. "My gracious prince bids me instruct this court on the antiquity of the noble House of Festil, which sprang from the royal line of Torenth and ruled in Gwynedd for nearly a century. Prince Marek of Festil is the current representer of that noble house. Through his marriage last year to the Princess Charis, Duchess of Tolan and sister to my lord Prince Miklos and King Arion of Torenth, Prince Marek has confirmed, ratified, and strengthened his royal heritage. Already, the royal and ducal line is renewed and secured in the person of his firstborn son, the future Duke of Tolan, who also will rule one day in Gwynedd as King Imre the Second."
A low mutter escaped Rhun's lips, but Hubert slightly raised a pudgy hand in forbearance. Rhys Michael felt a cold chill of dread churning in his gut, spiced by anger, but the herald was not yet finished.
"To that end," the man went on, "and in celebration of the birth of the young prince, my lord Prince Miklos would invite the Haldane court to attend his nephew's christening at Culliecairn, which castle and town my lord Miklos means to present to the royal child as a christening gift."
A murmur of outrage began to ruffle through the hall, but the herald's voice rose above it as he continued.
"If the Haldane would dispute the giving of Culliecairn to this heir of Prince Marek, let him present himself before the city gates within ten days, no later than Saint John's Eve, prepared to show legal proofs why Culliecairn should not become the birthright of Prince Imre of Festil."
"By God, he goes too far!" Manfred muttered dangerously.
"He has some cheek!" Tammaron declared.
"This is an outrage not to be borne!" Rhun roared.
Though in total agreement for once, Rhys Michael kept his anger in check, staying further uproar of his great lords with an upraised hand which, somewhat to his surprise, was heeded.
"Peace, gentlemen. We must not confuse the messenger with the message. What is your name, sir herald?"
"Eugen von Rostov, my lord," the man replied, with a curt inclination of his head.
"Eugen von Rostov." Rhys Michael repeated the name, giving its pronunciation the same accent as its owner did. "Pray, forgive me if I appear to have missed something, but is it Prince Miklos or Prince Marek who affronts my sovereignty by laying claim to my property?"
Smiling faintly, the herald favored Rhys Michael with a graceful inclination of his dark head. "Why, 'tis not intended to affront Gwynedd's sovereignty, my lord, but to ameliorate a slight, no doubt unintentional, incurred when Gwynedd neglected to invite a representative of Torenth to your Highness' coronation. No doubt the precipitous timing of that event contributed to the oversight, following hardly a year after your predecessor's coronation. Nonetheless, my lord's advisors felt certain that your Highness would wish to make amends by attending a similarly auspicious royal event in Torenth."
"The christening of my rival's heir in Culliecairn, sir herald?" Rhys Michael replied. "Surely you jest. Not only that, your geography is faulty. Culliecairn is in Gwynedd."
The herald spread his hands in a dismissive gesture. "No longer, my lord. Furthermore, its giving to my Lord Marek's heir satisfies the social obligation of presenting suitable gifts at the christening of a royal heir. Having designated the castle and town of Culliecairn as a sufficiently princely endowment for his royal nephew, my lord Prince Miklos took possession last week, thus sparing you the effort of bringing a gift along."
"I prefer to make my own decisions regarding the giving of gifts," Rhys Michael said quietly, "and while I understand a father's pride in the birth of a son, you will excuse me, I hope, if I do not share your enthusiasm regarding a further pretender to my throne.
"Furthermore"—he gestured toward the messengers—"I am informed by these good gentlemen that your master's seizure of my property has cost the lives of many good men, including my loyal Earl of Eastmarch, to whom Culliecairn's security had been entrusted."
"No loss of life was intended," the herald said smoothly, "but alas, some men did die."
"Indeed, the death of the Earl of Eastmarch is the only thing that would have permitted your master's entry into Culliecairn," Rhys Michael retorted. He drew a deep breath before going on.
"I therefore must regard the action of your master as an act of unwarranted hostility on the part of a foreign prince. If Miklos does this as a private individual, then I shall appeal to his brother the King of Torenth, who is his overlord, for King Arion surely will not wish his vassal to threaten the borders of a neighbor with whom Arion himself is at peace. If it is done as a prince of Torenth, with King Arion's knowledge, then Miklos risks war between our two kingdoms. And if he does it in behalf of Marek of Festil, then he supports a rebellious and illegitimate claimant against my throne—which, again, could be construed as a formal declaration of hostilities between our two kingdoms. Pray, what is his intention, sir herald?"
The herald inclined his head. "My master has not confided his deeper motivations regarding such matters, my lord. I am instructed merely to convey his intentions regarding Culliecairn."
So saying, he reached casually to the small of his back, up under his tabard, and slowly withdrew a brown leather gauntlet, which he tossed almost offhandedly on the carpet at Rhys Michael's feet.
"If you wish a more formal declaration," the herald went on, "there is a gage in token of my master's claim. You may take it up or not, as pleases you, but to take back Culliecairn, you will have to discuss the terms with my master."
The gage lay a handspan from Rhys Michael's left boot. The challenge was not unexpected, and he had in mind what he must say, once he picked it up, but he knew he must confirm the terms with the great lords before he acted. He must also make himself calm down.
"Let my ministers attend me," he said, getting smoothly to his feet and glancing at Hubert, who nodded minutely. "The Lord Constable will see to our guests while we confer. Let refreshment be brought if they desire it. My lords, attend."
Within minutes, he was facing the agitated handful of them in the little withdrawing room behind the dais, one forefinger punching the air for emphasis as he argued his point.
"This news changes the entire focus of what was told me before court," he was saying. "It's a direct challenge to the sovereignty of this kingdom. You must let me answer it. If I don't, I lose all credibility; _Gwynedd_ loses all credibility."
"Sire, we aren't prepared to go to war with Torenth," Tammaron began.
"That's fine, since this isn't about a war with Torenth. Arion isn't behind this. It's Miklos, on behalf of Marek of Festil, and it isn't even a war with Marek. Do you really think _he'd_ make a true bid to take back the throne? Not now. Not with only one infant son between him and the obliteration of his house."
"Has it occurred to you," Paulin said, "that this could be a ruse to lure _you_ from safety? You aren't that much more secure than Marek, with only one heir living and hope of another. The man is Deryni, Sire. So is Miklos. So is Arion. What if they mean to use their accursed magic against you?"
Rhys Michael turned away with a faintly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, for he had no answer for that argument.
"I can't worry about that just now," he said softly. "As an anointed king, I believe and hope that divine grace will be granted me to withstand even their magic. It may also be that, against an army, magic is not so effective as it is against an individual man. 'Tis said that an arrow or a sword can be faster and more deadly than a spell—I don't know.
"But this I do know: If you allow any foreign prince to take and keep Culliecairn, which belongs to Gwynedd, then the very sovereignty of the Crown of Gwynedd is a sham, never mind the man who wears that crown. I've learned to accept my own impotence as a man, but I beg you not to further hollow away the crown you hope someday to put upon my son's head. What kind of a kingdom would you leave to _your_ sons?"
The question took Richard sufficiently off guard to silence him. Rhun and Tammaron were also at a loss for words, for all three had sons who stood to inherit the power wielded by their fathers. Manfred exchanged a glance with Hubert, for his sons, too—Hubert's nephews—had also benefited from the power wielded by their kin at court. Even Albertus became more subdued, for in order to become Grand Master of the _Custodes_ knights, he had resigned his title early to a son already at court—Bonner Sinclair, the young Earl of Tarleton, who was also nephew to Paulin.
Of all the men in that room, only Robert Oriss had attained his position of influence without the connivance of the former regents and had been uninvolved in the coup. Unlike Hubert, Rhemuth's archbishop had no relatives who stood to benefit from his high office; but seeing the royal house purified of its Deryni taints was an aspiration all of them shared.
"No one wishes to impugn the sovereignty of the crown, Sire," the old archbishop said slowly. "But perhaps Culliecairn does not represent an erosion of royal authority so much as an erosion of royal loyalties—in this case, loyalties _to_ the Crown. What of the Earl of Eastmarch, who should have protected and held Culliecairn for you? He has a Torenthi wife. It is even said she comes of Deryni stock. Who is to say that it was not Eastmarch's connivance that helped betray Culliecairn to its captors?"
"If so, he has already paid with his life," Rhys Michael said quietly. "But Hrorik would never betray me. I trust my northern vassals, and especially the Earl of Eastmarch and his kin. However, I betray _him_ , if I do not ride to the aid of his widow."
"Perhaps we ought to send a viceroy," Manfred said, clearly with himself in mind for such an appointment. "I like not the thought of putting your Highness at risk."
"If it were Culdi taken," the king replied, "and a taunting challenge came, would _you_ send a mere deputy? No, you would go. And this is the theft of a fortress at the northern gateway to my kingdom, to be handed over to the heir of my arch-rival, a man who would seize my throne. I will abide by your guidance, gentlemen, as needs I must, but surely you see why I must go."
They disputed the prospect for several minutes more, Tammaron and then Hubert sketching out the details of what he might say in his reply. Before they went back in, he slid the Haldane sword into its holders on his belt, setting his hand on its pommel as he returned through the curtained doorway that Fulk and Cathan parted for him. Up in the gallery, the watching archers lowered their bows and stepped back from sight, though their arrows remained nocked.
"I trust you will pardon the brief interruption," Rhys Michael said mildly, remaining standing as he faced the Torenthi herald once more. "I further note that the gage of your master's challenge yet lies before my throne. I find his belligerence most distressing, for I have never wished him ill, but I am prepared to respond in the way that I must, if he persists in this folly. Is he determined to press this futile attempt to give my castle of Culliecairn to the pretender's heir?"
"Not futile, my lord, since he does possess it," the herald replied. "What answer shall I give him?"
"Why, that I refute his claim and have taken up his gage," Rhys Michael said quietly, "for it is certain that neither your master, the Festillic Pretender, nor any other person outside Gwynedd shall keep Culliecairn." He bent and scooped up the gauntlet almost before anyone could react, hefting it briefly in one hand before tossing it deftly back to the herald, who caught it against his chest.
"Tell your master that I shall meet him at Culliecairn no later than the Eve of Saint John, at which time he shall render up my property," Rhys Michael said. "Tell him that I regret he has forced us to meet under arms, for I remember him kindly from my brother's coronation and would rather have counted him as a friend."
"When friendship would diminish a king's crown, he needs must discount it, my lord," the herald replied.
"Aye, that is true. I cannot count as friends those who befriend my enemies. If your royal master would assist the Festillic Pretender, who seeks to wrest back the crown my father restored after seventy years of usurpation, then he declares himself my enemy as well. Tell him what I have said and warn Marek of Festil that I shall ask and give no quarter where he and his are concerned. You may go in safety."
Without further comment, he turned on his heel and strode from the dais to disappear through the curtained doorway in the screen behind. Cathan and Fulk followed, nearly colliding with the king, who had stopped just inside to draw a deep breath, shivering in after-reaction.
"Well said, Sire!" Fulk whispered fiercely, as Cathan urged the king farther from the screen so other of the great lords could come through. Glancing back a little dazedly, Rhys Michael saw the Torenthi contingent making an uncertain withdrawal, for their audience had suddenly evaporated.
"You handled that very well, your Highness," Hubert said, suddenly beside him, his touch bringing back the king's focus in a flash. "Why don't you rest for half an hour or so? Be assured that Lord Albertus will see our visitors safely out of Rhemuth. Meanwhile, I'll have Lord Tammaron convene the council. You'll be called when we're ready for you again. Having made our decision, I would hope that the royal party could leave first thing in the morning. You'd best advise the queen. Fulk, Cathan, would you please accompany his Royal Highness back to his quarters?"
If the king objected to this cavalier treatment, he gave no outward sign of it, merely drawing deep breath and setting his hand resolutely on the hilt of the Haldane sword before mounting the turnpike stair that led back to the royal apartments. Hubert watched him go, joined a moment later by his brother, who also had been watching the exchange.
"He did that far better than I expected," Manfred said.
"Aye, there's a great deal to be said for Haldane blood," Hubert replied, "even when it's been suppressed. Imagine what the sons will be like, who will never have been exposed to corruption from outside."
Manfred nodded thoughtfully. "It's just possible that we may have gotten to him in time. I wouldn't have predicted it, after our rocky beginning." He snorted, with an ironic little smile. "Not that he has any choice but to follow our guidance, does he? Still, it's for his own good."
"And ours," Hubert reminded him.
"And ours, granted," Manfred agreed. "But it's for the good of Gwynedd, too, if we're to keep the Deryni taint out of Court. And isn't that what keeping the Festils at bay is all about?—besides preserving the Haldane line, of course."
Hubert nodded grimly. "Never the Festils again, no matter _what_ else we have to do to ensure it," he said emphatically. "But, go ahead and help Tammaron begin summoning the council. Take Archbishop Oriss with you. I want to have a word with Paulin. I'll join you directly."
Paulin was waiting for him in the little withdrawing room behind the dais screen, with several of his _Custodes_ brethren and the wiry little man known to them as Dimitri. The latter was cloaked and cowled in black, so that he looked almost like one of them, but he was not—not of their Order, not strictly of their faith, and not even fully human, by their reckoning, for he was Deryni.
Especially for this last reason, Paulin's _Custodes_ companions were giving him wide berth, bunched a little uneasily to one side of the fireplace while Dimitri stood before it, hands folded in the sleeves of his robe, gazing into the flames. He glanced around slowly, almost as if awakened from a sleep, as Paulin pulled two chairs closer for himself and Hubert and they sat.
"Tell us about the herald and his party," Paulin said without preamble. "All Deryni?"
"Aye, my lord, but very well behaved." Dimitri made them a profound bow, then folded to his knees before them to sink back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs. "It was almost as if they—sensed another Deryni presence in the hall besides themselves. Not I, my lord," he added, before Paulin could ask. "I kept my shields damped; they cannot have known. This meant that I dared not essay beyond the simplest Truth-Reading—but nor did they. That is what I meant by 'well behaved.' In fact, none but the herald even sought to Truth-Read. I would have expected more—some attempt to Read beyond the mere words of the king's responses, to catch any hint of bravado or bluff."
"Is it possible _he_ was bluffing?" one of the black-clad monks asked. "The herald, I mean."
Dimitri slowly shook his head. "I think not," he said thoughtfully. "The herald at least _believes_ that Prince Miklos holds Culliecairn for the Pretender's son and that the challenge has only to do with the future ownership of the castle."
"Then, could this be an excuse to draw our strength up to Coldoire while Torenthi forces make more serious encroachments elsewhere?" The speaker was a dark-haired _Custodes_ knight called Cloyce, who was one of Albertus' aides.
Dimitri inclined his head.
"I cannot rule out such motivations, my lord, based on what I perceived," he allowed. "You must rely upon more conventional information to confirm or deny such possibilities. All I can say for certain is that the herald spoke no direct lie in what he told the king—and that, beyond confirming that the king also did not lie, he did not press whatever advantage his blood might have given him, by attempting to probe beyond simple truth."
Hubert grimaced. "What about the king, then? Is it possible," he asked slowly, "that something in the king himself deterred closer scrutiny? You did mention another possibly Deryni presence in the hall. We've always believed Rhys Michael was untainted in that regard, but Javan or someone close to him was skilled enough to manipulate me briefly, all those years ago."
Looking almost perplexed, Dimitri shook his head. "Why do you persist in this questioning, my lord? You have never permitted me to examine his Highness—and I accept that it is because you fear I might somehow seize control and then manipulate him for my own ends, whatever you can think those might be, after so many years of loyal service—but some ability to shield is not that uncommon in humans, especially if the subject has been exposed to Deryni. Since all three Haldane brothers were in the care of Deryni tutors and Healers in their early childhood, it may be that the king retained some residual benefit from that time."
"I would hardly call it a benefit," Paulin muttered.
Dimitri shrugged. "If the herald was deterred from employing advantages he _might_ have utilized, then I should count it as a benefit, my lord," he replied. "But be advised that such shielding ability as is sometimes encountered in humans usually yields readily to physical contact. Had the herald had occasion to touch the king, the outcome might have been quite different—though, of course, any serious encroachment would take time, especially if one wished one's efforts to go undetected."
The Deryni agent's attempt to defuse any threat that might be perceived from himself did little to reassure most of the men listening, though Hubert, at least, did not seem alarmed.
"The king knows better than to let a Deryni touch him," the archbishop said flatly. "He fears those of Torenth far more than he fears us."
"So long as he fears us both," Paulin murmured, casting Hubert a sour look. "Shall we adjourn to the council chamber? They'll be mostly gathered by now, and we should agree on a plan of action before we summon the king to join us."
"Quite true," Hubert agreed, lumbering to his feet with difficulty. "Dimitri, you will hold yourself in readiness for the afternoon, but for now, you may go."
As he and Paulin headed out of the room, the two _Custodes_ men falling in behind them, Dimitri bowed low to touch his forehead to the floor, remaining thus until they had gone.
CHAPTER THREE
And if it be meet that I go also, they shall go with me.
—I Corinthians 16:4
In the royal apartments, meanwhile, the king was stealing a few minutes with his wife before duty called him back to the great lords' business. When he came striding into the solar that linked their respective sections of the royal apartments, he found her sitting in a pool of sunshine near the window while the youngest and prettiest of her maids combed out her freshly washed hair.
"My lord!" she cried, her face alight with the joy of him as she sprang to her feet. The royal blue of her overgown was a shade darker than her eyes, and the damp mane of her hair fell like a wheaten curtain nearly to her hips, shifting heavily as she handed off a towel to the maid.
Beyond her in the wide bay of the window, interrupted in their needlework and gossip, three of her ladies-in-waiting also rose—all of them chosen by the great lords, wives and daughters mostly, and also their agents and spies, not really friends. They fell silent and dipped in formal curtsies as he entered, civil enough after six years, and the little maid also bowed and backed away from the queen, her comb clutched to her breast and eyes downcast.
"Ladies," the king murmured.
He allowed himself a slight smile, but he ventured no further comment as he crossed the room and led Michaela into the privacy of their bedchamber. He had left the State Crown with Cathan when he came through his own quarters, but he still wore the crimson over-robe with the Haldane brooch.
"I'm to go," he said, the words falling with the threat of unknown peril as he drew her to sit beside him on the edge of the great state bed.
Like all the Court, she had known of the Eastmarch messengers who arrived earlier that morning, and her troubled gaze never left his face as he related the gist of what had just transpired in the great hall and the room beyond. She said nothing as he spoke, but he could sense her growing fear.
"So that's as much as I know, for now," he concluded, when he had outlined his intentions. "I don't _think_ this is the full-blown challenge we've been fearing—Marek of Festil wouldn't chance it, with only the one heir—but on the faint chance that it is, it's essential that I go in person. Not even the great lords could disagree. Shall you be very brave while I'm gone? If—anything should happen, you must be a strong regent for Owain and—"
His voice broke off as his gaze and one suddenly trembling hand dropped to caress the gently rounded curve of her abdomen. Shuddering, she stifled a sob and drew him to her, pulling him down on the bed atop her, seeking reassurance in his embrace. The faint perfume of her damp hair invited him to bury his face and hands in it, to drown his own apprehensions in loving her, but the knowledge that a summons from the great lords was imminent made him push such temptations to the back of his mind and draw apart a little. Raising up on his elbows, he took one pale hand to press a tender kiss to its palm.
"God, how I adore you, Mika," he whispered, searching her blue eyes. "I can hardly breathe for wanting you, but Cathan or Fulk will be knocking on the door any second. It's what I've been longing for—a council meeting where they may actually credit what I have to say—but it also means parting from you. Maybe forever, when I go tomorrow."
She summoned a brave smile and brushed trembling fingertips along the line of his jaw, letting them linger then on the Haldane brooch pinned to his shoulder.
"Have we not prayed for this day to come, my lord?" she whispered. "Not the parting, but the chance to assert your kingship. 'Tis so sudden, though—but a night away. Must you really leave so soon?"
He closed his eyes briefly, desperate fear churning at his gut, then sighed and sat up, turning slightly from her gaze.
"If I let them delay, they may find some new reason not to let me go," he said bleakly. "Besides that, if Culliecairn really is taken, as seems certain, then best to resolve the situation before Torenthi forces get too strongly entrenched there."
"I know you must go," she whispered, brushing her hand down his arm. "I would ride with you if I could. You know I would."
"Aye, my love, and I would take you with me," he replied. He dropped his gaze briefly, then held her close again.
"Oh, God, Mika, what if I don't come back?" he whispered. "What will become of you? What will become of our sons?"
"I will—try to be strong for them and for you," she said softly, tears welling in her eyes. "I will give my life, if need be, to see that they survive—and that they do not forget their Haldane legacy. The crown _will_ be free again, someday, my love—I swear it!"
"Ah, my fierce, proud queen," he murmured. "Now I _really_ don't want to go. And I especially don't want to go tomorrow, even though I've lived for this day for six long years now—the chance to actually be a king. I wish you could have seen me at court, Mika."
"I wish I could have been there," she countered softly. "Would that I could be at your side now—and tomorrow. We must—make tonight suffice for all our tomorrows."
She would have said more, but an enormous yawn caught her by surprise. After indulging it, she stretched and drew him to her for a quick, hard kiss, then flashed him a sheepish and apologetic smile.
"I must be certain to have a nap this afternoon," she said. "'Tis no reflection on the company, I assure you, but growing this baby seems to take such a great deal more energy than Owain—"
A knock at the door made them both freeze, and Rhys Michael reluctantly turned his gaze in that direction, though he kept his arms around her.
"Come."
Cathan poked his head into the doorway, tentative and immediately apologetic as he saw them. One of his hands clutched the sheathed Haldane sword, the other a thin gold circlet chased with Celtic interlace.
"Sorry, Mika," he said, glancing at his sister. "Rhysem, they're ready for us."
Closing his eyes briefly, the king heaved a heavy sigh and got to his feet, drawing Michaela with him.
"I don't want to go," he whispered.
"You must, my love," she replied, lifting her face to his. "Go with my love and my prayers."
With only her brother as witness, Rhys Michael felt no need to forgo a proper kiss of leave-taking. Pressing his lips to hers, he let himself drown for a few seconds in the bliss of their joining, more than usually aware that any parting might be their last, if that proved most expedient for the men who held their fate. When, at length, he finally raised his head from hers, his body ached from wanting her. He held her close a moment more, feeling her heart pounding beneath his, then resolutely kissed first the tip of her nose, then her forehead.
"Right, then. I'm off." His voice was a little hoarse. "We'll dine privately, I think. Cathan can join us for supper, because I know you'll want to say good-bye, but he goes to bed early." He grinned. "Make sure you get that nap. I should be back in a few hours."
Bravely blinking back her tears, Michaela followed him into the solar and watched him continue on into his own apartments with Cathan, ruffling one hand through his hair with a familiar gesture that made her throat constrict with the loving of him. She caught a sob as she turned away from the closing door, determined not to let her ladies see her distress.
Over in the window bay, her ladies had risen as the king passed through the room, but they settled back to their needlework at a gesture from the queen. As one of them held a hank of silk to the light, drawing out another long strand, the queen's young maid emerged from among them. After casting a questioning look at her mistress, she picked up an ivory-backed brush and came back to the sunlit stool where the queen had been sitting, testing a damp strand of hair as the queen sat down again.
"It's very nearly dry, my lady," she said. "Shall I brush it a little?"
"Yes, thank you, Liesel," the queen replied. And as the girl began to brush, her mistress closed her eyes and gave a contented sigh.
"That feels wonderful," she murmured after a few seconds, eyes still closed. "I could sit here and let you do that all afternoon."
A faint smile tugged at the rosy lips of the girl addressed as Liesel. Pert and pretty, she was a little younger than the queen and shorter by a head, with hair a slightly paler shade of gold braided and pinned close under the white kerchief that bound it. The pale oatmeal color of her close-sleeved gown was not flattering to most women—which was precisely the intention of the great lords, in choosing it for the castle's female servants—but Liesel's high color made it a perfect foil for beauty yet to ripen fully. Her eyes went golden in the sunlight, lit against the pale raiment—eyes that shone with genuine affection for the woman whose hair she continued to brush.
"My lady has beautiful hair," she said quietly. "Caring for it gives me pleasure as well."
"Does it?" Michaela smiled dreamily but did not open her eyes. "Aye, it must be something like stroking a cat. It pleasures the cat, but the stroking is also pleasing to the one who does it."
"'Tis like heavy silk that catches the shimmer of the sunlight, my lady," Liesel replied. "Small wonder that the king prefers it unbound."
"Aye, he does."
Michaela's smile evaporated as she opened her eyes to glance sidelong at her maid, a haunted look flashing briefly in her gaze.
"Liesel, you must help me do something special with it tonight," she murmured. "The king dines with me, and tomorrow he rides for Eastmarch. God alone knows if I shall see him again in this life."
Liesel had stopped brushing and stared at her mistress with pity in her golden eyes.
"Oh, my lady," she breathed.
Reaching back to pat the girl's hand, Michaela conjured up a brave smile, suddenly very weary.
"Now, don't _you_ get weepy, or you'll make me cry as well," she whispered. "He must not know how much I fear for him." She looked about to say more, but then she sighed heavily and felt at her hair again. "I think I'm dry enough now. I really do need a nap."
"Yes, my lady," Liesel murmured, eyes downcast.
Covering a yawn with one graceful hand, Miehaela bestirred herself to glance over at the women in the window bay as she rose.
"Dear Lady Estellan, why don't you and Lirin and Adelicia enjoy the gardens for an hour or two? I'm going to have a nap, so I shan't need you for a while. Liesel will help me undress."
She did not linger to see that they went. She did not much care for them anyway, but she had to maintain a facade of geniality. As she made her way back into the bedchamber and watched Liesel turn back the coverlet on the high, canopied bed, with its hangings of crimson damask and gold-shot yellow silk, another heavy yawn claimed her.
"I don't know why I get so sleepy carrying this baby," she murmured, as the maid helped her shed the blue over-robe. "Owain didn't make me this tired."
"Perhaps this time my lady is more preoccupied," the maid replied, as her mistress climbed up onto the bed. "But lay you down and rest awhile, your Grace. Sleep is a remedy for many ills."
Yawning again, Michaela did as she was bade, her eyes closing even as she lay down in her undergown. A deep sigh soon told of her shift into sleep, and the maid, after laying the blue over-robe across the back of a chair, came treading softly back to the bed to lean close to her sleeping mistress.
"Sleep deeper now," she whispered, as she laid one hand lightly across the royal forehead.
Her own eyes closed briefly, and after a moment a faint gasp escaped her lips. She was shaking her head as she gazed at her mistress once more, concern in her golden gaze.
"God give you gentle rest now, sweet queen," she whispered, as she withdrew her hand. "Sleep well and wake refreshed. You gave me leave to go and fetch a book of poetry from the library. If you should wake before I return, you also bade me fetch fresh flowers for your hair tonight."
The ladies in the solar had gone when Liesel came quietly out of the royal bedchamber, though another maid called Elspeth lay napping in the sunshine of the deserted bay, not stirring as Liesel passed through. The usual guards were at their posts in the corridor outside.
"Merry greetings, Mistress Liesel," their captain said, sauntering over to smile down at her.
She had to tip her head back to look up at him, for she came only to his shoulder, but she had the measure of the man and knew this one could be manipulated.
"God give you grace, Captain," she said boldly. "My lady is sleeping. Pray you, see she is not disturbed."
He stepped aside with a courteous salute and let her pass without a word. He had been one of the more brutish of the regular guards when first she came to royal service a few months earlier, but now he was as tame as a fireside tabby in the presence of this bold-eyed slip of a girl.
For the name of the queen's favorite maid was not Liesel at all, nor was she only a maid. Just now, this golden-eyed daughter of the Healer Rhys Thuryn and Evaine MacRorie was also the sole interface between the royal couple and certain Deryni working behind the scenes to extricate them from their indenture to the lords of state.
Not that either Rhys Michael or his queen were yet aware of "Liesel" 's true identity or her mission—though she knew, as she headed briskly down the corridor toward a turnpike stair, that this would have to change, and soon.
The eventual plan had been to gain access to the king and awaken his Haldane powers—a task for which Rhysel Thuryn was one of the pivotal players—then stage a sudden coup such as put the king's father on the throne nearly a quarter century before, spearheaded by Deryni-backed pro-Haldane forces who even now were beginning to gather in remote parts of Gwynedd. The target date had been some five or six months hence, when the queen's new pregnancy would have progressed to the point that safe delivery of a second heir was likely—as was the increased danger that the king would be eliminated by his captors, once his dynastic duty had been done. That danger was dire enough to hazard making their move despite its attendant perils—for the king could perish in any attempted coup—but his impending departure for Eastmarch on the morrow suddenly placed him in far more immediate danger, if he must face Torenthi magic without a way to counter it.
Fighting down a wave of sick fear, Rhysel gained the welcome dimness of the turnpike stair and started down, left hand trailing along the newel post for balance. Not for the first time, she found herself regretting the circumstances that had kept her mentors from moving in the king's behalf long ago.
But it simply had not been possible to establish contact with the new king during those precarious days and months immediately following the death of King Javan. Not only was Rhys Michael closely guarded, but no one was sure what reception a Deryni contact might receive, for no one knew how much Javan had confided to his brother before riding out on his final journey north.
Furthermore, the reshuffling of power that had put Rhys Michael on his brother's throne had also cost his would-be supporters dearly. Though several well-placed Deryni had established a precarious foothold in Javan's court, keeping their true identities secret and slowly beginning to erode the great lords' influence, Javan's fall had brought their deaths as well. It was believed that the great lords had not suspected the Deryni presence; and, indeed, they must never learn of it, else Rhys Michael himself must fall under closer scrutiny—if that were possible.
It also had become clear, once those critical first months were past, that the new king probably was relatively safe where he was, for the time being—at least until he produced an heir or two, and so long as he did not take too long about it. Even the great lords did not desire the extinction of the Haldane line. They wanted another long regency, heralding a succession of grateful and biddable monarchs who would support the dispersal of royal power among the great lords who had engineered their very existence.
But here, theory and expediency might well diverge. Preserving the legitimate succession was most desirable; but if Rhys Michael had declined to cooperate, the great lords had decided very early that it was sufficient for their purposes merely to keep the king alive until some willing surrogate ensured that the queen did, indeed, bear offspring that would be taken for Haldane. What the great lords most desired was a puppet Haldane king; but a puppet bastard carrying the Haldane name would suit them well enough, if it came to that.
Rhysel guessed that the king would have come to understand this all too well, as the months spun on into years. From clandestine probes of Queen Michaela, she knew that the royal couple had delayed conceiving an heir as long as they dared, but the birth of a son in the second year of the king's reign had made Rhys Michael's continued survival that much more precarious. He now was no longer the only Haldane. The birth of a second heir, especially another prince, might well push the great lords to a second regicide, once they were certain the second child thrived; for a regency for a four-year-old heir, with a spare in the royal nursery, would require far less effort than maintaining the illusion that a grown king actually ruled his kingdom. Whenever it suited the great lords, whether sparked by actual transgression or mere pique, Rhysel had no doubt that the king would meet a convenient "accident," as many had done before him.
Thus had it become urgent that the king be brought to his full Haldane powers before the birth of his next child—and now it became essential that he be awakened before he left for Eastmarch, lest he perish at the hands of a Deryni enemy before he had a chance to clean his own house. The prospect would have been daunting enough with time for preparation, months from now, as they had planned. But if they were even to try, on such short notice, the king must be willing to cooperate without reservation, to give himself totally into the guidance of his Deryni allies with little time for wariness or explanations, for there _was_ no time except for trust and the doing of what must be done.
From what Rhysel had learned of the king by her own meager observations, securing that trust would be no easy thing. He had little reason to trust anyone besides his wife and her brother, and certainly not the Deryni who seemed to have abandoned him these past years. What Rhysel thought might swing the balance was a factor she did not believe even her mentors had considered. Both Queen Michaela and her brother possessed Deryni blood of their own; it was diluted and had been rendered impotent in early childhood, but what potential they once had possessed could be restored— _if_ the blocking process could be reversed.
So far as Rhysel knew, only one person now alive could do that—her own brother Tieg, not yet fourteen. She did not want to think about the danger of bringing him here to Rhemuth—for Michaela and Cathan certainly could not go to him—but she and Tieg had already discussed the possibility. She found herself wondering whether Tieg's unique powers could also catalyze a Haldane's powers. She knew from reading Michaela that the king had shields and perhaps could Truth-Read—which had kept Rhysel herself from probing more directly—but he would need far greater skills than those to keep him safe from a trained Festillic adversary.
Pale skirts gathered close about her ankles, Rhysel glanced left and right as she emerged from the spiral stair that led down to the library floor. The corridor was deserted, as she had hoped it would be at this time of day, and her slippered feet made no sound as she moved quickly along the expanse of diagonally set black and white tiles. Her true destination was a disused chamber just beyond the library, but to be seen entering it might arouse unwelcome curiosity. So she would go into the library first, fulfilling the errand she had set herself from the queen and also disarming whatever potential betrayal might be lurking there.
The precaution proved to be well taken, for she sensed a presence in the room even before her hand touched the door latch. Forewarned, she opened it boldly and entered. Over at the far left end of the room, glaringly lit by a wash of sunlight from one of the bay windows, a black-clad back was hunched anonymously over one of the writing desks, intent on his scribing. He glanced back over his shoulder as he heard the door, then scrambled awkwardly to his feet, the sunlight casting rusty highlights on a familiar black scholar's robe, worn and much-patched.
Thank God. She had been expecting one of the sour _Custodes_ scribes. She could deal with this young man.
"Why, Master Donal. God give you grace," she said lightly, as she closed the library door behind her. "Hard at work, I see."
He bobbed his head and blushed to the roots of his short-cropped dark hair. The gangly lay scholar adored her and usually became tongue-tied in her presence—a reaction that Rhysel did not try too hard to discourage, since a smitten suitor was far more malleable than a rejected one. Simple courtesy cost nothing, and she did not _dis_ like Donal, for all that he seemed to work willingly for those who were her enemies.
"M-mistress Liesel," Donal stammered. "Your unexpected p-presence fulfills the promised fairness of a glorious day."
She favored him with an inclination of her head and an appreciative smile that made him blush even more, then turned her attention to a casual inspection of the room, her gaze brushing lovingly over the manuscripts and bound volumes scattered across another library table. There were more stored in the ceiling-high range of shelves and pigeonholes that occupied the right-hand wall of the room, and the familiar scent of leather and ink was like a heady perfume.
Masking her pleasure, she moved a little closer to the table stacked with books and ran a finger along a spine stamped with gold. Donal knew she could read and write, but he had no notion that her passion for learning probably surpassed his own—one of the many legacies of her beloved parents. That she had put it aside in a greater cause, he probably would never know. All her recent years had been spent trying to absorb the practical knowledge and training to enable her to function as she did now.
"Pretty words, Master Donal," she said softly, a smile still playing at her lips as she glanced up at him. "But if you think to deter me from my errand with compliments, I must warn you that I will not be swayed. I come at the queen's behest. My lady bids me bring her the book of Lady Kyla's poetry, whose binding was to be repaired. Is it ready?"
Ducking his head in happy affirmation, Donal scurried over to the wide library table and sorted quickly through several stacks, finally selecting a vermilion-bound volume from among the rich jewel-tones of leather bindings.
"Aye, here it is." He burnished the book's spine against a sleeve, then held it out for her inspection as she came nearer. "Brother Lorenzo brought it back only yesterday."
As she took the book from him, it was no difficult thing to brush his hand with hers. The instant of contact reinstated controls used several times before, sufficient to forestall any possible interference.
"Thank you, Donal," she whispered. "The queen will be pleased. Now go back to work and have a lovely dream." She briefly closed her hand around his slack one, still poised from having given over the book. "Remember only that I came to fetch this. Go now."
He turned without a word and went back to his desk, settling on his stool to gaze dreamily out the window, his chin propped on one hand, a grey-mottled quill slack in his other. As she opened the library door to slip back out, he was already sinking into the pleasant memory of an old daydream—a gentle fantasy just wishful enough to ensure that the fastidious Donal would never dream of mentioning it to anyone, even a prying _Custodes_ confessor. Pleasant enough for Donal, harmless enough for both of them, and far less intrusive than other measures she might have employed to divert his notice of whatever he might hear from the room next door.
The corridor outside was still deserted as she closed the door quietly behind her. She cast with her powers in both directions, but no one was about. Hugging close the volume of poetry that was her ostensible reason for being in this part of the castle at all, she moved silently to the next door to the left. She already knew the room beyond was unoccupied, but as she gently turned the latch and slipped inside, she wondered what she would do if someone were assigned permanent quarters here. The location would be ideal for some avid scholar.
As she always did, she breathed a faint sigh when she had eased the door closed behind her, her visual inspection confirming that the small, lime-washed chamber remained disused. A sheen of dust blurred the surfaces of the table and chairs set before the cold hearth in one corner, and the mattress on the simple bed remained folded up against the head, hard against the wall to the right of the door. Despite the austerity of the room thus stripped, she could almost imagine the man who briefly had occupied this room and guarded what it contained, even though she had never met him.
His name had been Etienne de Courcy, and only a handful of men and women knew, or would ever know, how he had aided the Haldane cause. Because he had been loyal to King Javan, the great lords had executed him following the coup that put Rhys Michael on the throne, but they had never guessed that he was Deryni; never guessed that it was he who had spirited away the Deryni wife and daughter of a slain Healer during those first hours of confusion.
And though he might have stayed with them in safety, it had been Etienne's own choice to return, his powers and memories blocked, to let himself be captured, tortured, and eventually killed rather than risk that the great lords might discover how Deryni had been inserted into the midst of Javan's court. For that, and to keep this avenue open, Etienne de Courcy had given his life. Guiscard, his elder son, had also died in the Haldane cause, fighting at the side of King Javan.
Breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving for the lives of both de Courcys, two more martyrs for the survival of her race, Rhysel moved quietly into the center of the room, trying to disturb the dust as little as possible. Stepping onto the only square flagstone for a full arm's length all around, she braced her feet and bowed her head over the book clasped against her breast. As she let fall her shields, she felt the powerful tingle of a Transfer Portal under her feet, and she drew on the Portal's power as she warped the energies.
CHAPTER FOUR
Miss not the discourse of the elders: for they also learned of their fathers, and of them thou shalt learn understanding, and to give answer as need requireth.
—Ecclesiasticus 8:9
Many miles north and east, a fair-haired youth assigned to keep watch beside another Portal leaned back in his chair and chewed thoughtfully at the feathered end of his quill. As he glanced casually in the direction of the Portal, briefly probing, the hazel eyes went a little unfocused. Though baptized Camber Allin MacLean, he had been known as Camlin since childhood, to distinguish him from the illustrious and now sainted MacRorie kinsman in whose honor he had been named. At twenty-two, exactly the age of the king, he somewhat resembled Camber's son Joram, in whose exile household he now resided—except for the tough white scars scribing both wrists, front and back.
He could remember a time before the scars, half a lifetime ago. Memory of the scarring itself was mercifully blurred, though he knew, from later conversations with those who found him, that he had been nailed to the timber portcullis of his father's burning castle. Within the range of atrocities committed that day at Trurill, crucifixion had been one of the milder examples; at least Camlin had survived.
Most at Trurill had not, including his father. Appallingly tortured and maimed by his captors, the dying Lord Adrian MacLean had even been compelled to watch while they impaled the boy they had mistaken for his son and heir—young Aidan Thuryn, cousin and fosterling of his house, beloved elder brother of the same Rhysel whose arrival was expected later today.
Dazed with shock and disbelief, the eleven-year-old Camlin had been witness to all of it, shivering with terror in a pitifully inadequate hiding place beneath the kitchen stairs. The raiders, when they finally found him, had assumed him to be a mere squire, and had settled for stripping and scourging him before dragging him out to the castle gate to crucify him, just before they set fire to the castle and rode away. A snowstorm had saved him from the fire; and the slain Aidan's mother and younger brother had arrived in time to save Camlin his life and at least the limited use of his hands.
He grimaced as he laid down his pen and massaged gently at the knotted scars on his right wrist, gazing unseeing at the empty Portal square as he fondly remembered "Aunt" Evaine and little Tieg. He still wondered how they had done it, for a Healer's gifts normally did not begin to manifest until age ten or so. Tieg had been only three at the time and totally untrained; and his mother, though a powerful Deryni, had been no Healer at all. How had _she_ managed to harness and channel her young son's healing potential and effect even a clumsy healing of injuries that should have left Camlin crippled, if he survived them at all?
Of course, she had been Saint Camber's daughter. And perhaps her years of working with her Healer husband, the unsurpassed Rhys Thuryn, had given her some special insight; though so far as Camlin knew, no other Deryni had ever duplicated her feat—or Tieg's.
He couldn't even bring himself to resent that the result had, not been perfect; it should not have been possible at all. Because of the scarring, he would never again possess sufficient wrist strength to wield the sword that should have been his birthright; but since his father's murderers believed him dead as well, and one of the great lords now possessed the lands that should have passed to Camlin, that question was moot at best.
What he _could_ still wield with fair panache was a pen—so long as he did not wax too wordy. Even here, in the underground sameness of the sanctuary, changes of weather outside made his wrists ache, and writing for too long almost always had its price. Some days, even the effort of lifting a cup to his lips produced such excruciating pain that he must seek a Healer's easing.
Such physical limitations encouraged an economy of words that, of necessity, must cut to the heart of any question. His growing proficiency in this regard had impressed even the most demanding of his very exacting teachers here in the haven. In a rare flash of old rivalries among the Deryni religious orders, the Gabrilite-trained Dom Rickart and Dom Queron avowed that Camlin was acquiring an almost Michaeline militancy in his sharpness of reasoning; Joram and Bishop Niallan, who had been Michaelines, professed that this was no bad thing. Whatever the middle ground might be, Camlin was building a useful niche for himself, here in the close-knit environment of the sanctuary, at last able to begin giving back something to those who had given him so much.
Smiling wistfully, he picked up his pen again and returned to his work. For something to do while he took his turn at monitoring the Portal, he had been annotating Bishop Niallan's history of the Haldanes since the Restoration, begun shortly after the death of King Alroy.
The piece in progress dated from just after King Javan's death—Tieg Thuryn's transcription of the eyewitness memories he had read from Etienne de Courcy before blurring other memories and blocking Etienne's powers. It was one of the few inside accounts they had of the events surrounding the great lords' seizure of power and the person of the then-Prince Rhys Michael Haldane, and it still chilled Camlin to read it: the cold-blooded treason, masterminded by trusted ministers and so-called men of God, that had seen the prince's aide brutally murdered before his eyes, another loyal lord slain while trying to escape, and a third so gravely wounded that he later would die of his wounds, though it took him several pain-racked months.
Etienne himself would never know that, of course. Not for the first time, Camlin found himself wondering what kind of loyalty would make a man like Etienne choose to go back to certain capture, probable torture, and almost inevitable death. Camlin was sworn to the Haldane cause, and to a prince he had never met, but he doubted he would have had the courage to do what Etienne had done...
Shaking his head, Camlin made a note to inquire further on a reference to a particular _Custodes_ knight, then skipped over Etienne's rationale for returning. An indecipherable word jumped out at him, and he bent closer to puzzle it out. Tieg's handwriting was clear enough, but his spelling sometimes bordered on the whimsical. Camlin put it down to laziness; Tieg maintained that a Healer had better things to do with his time than worry about exact spellings, so long as his meaning was clear. Camlin countered that proper spelling helped convey proper meaning, and so the debate continued. It was an ongoing but good-natured dispute that had occupied the pair of them increasingly as Tieg grew into young manhood. Camlin had just set his pen to another correction when the door to the outer corridor eased open.
"'Lo, Camlin," came a low-voiced greeting, as Tieg himself slipped inside. "Uncle Joram said I should relieve you, if you're ready for a break."
Camlin smiled and laid his pen aside as he turned around. Tieg's voice had broken only a few months ago, and though the change had not been unexpected, Camlin still found himself listening for a familiar boyish treble, not this deep-voiced young man.
Tieg seemed to grow visibly from week to week. Yet a few months short of his fourteenth birthday, he already stood half a head taller than Camlin, who was not short, and his hands looked to belong to a far larger individual. A spattering of freckles across his nose still reinforced a first impression of boyish innocence, but the hazel eyes were wise far beyond his years.
His attire likewise proclaimed his emerging adult standing. Though Healers usually did not qualify until about the age of eighteen, Tieg had already earned the right to wear full Healer's green—at least here in sanctuary. Recently, in imitation of Dom Queron and Dom Rickart, he had also begun pulling back his wavy reddish hair in a four-stranded Gabrilite braid—a capital offense outside these walls, if the wearer was Deryni, and even humans sporting such a braid risked having their heads shaved. The law also allowed for human transgressors to be flogged to unconsciousness, if circumstances suggested that the offense had been meant to show support for Deryni. Fortunately Tieg rarely ventured outside the sanctuary, and never in green or wearing a braid.
"Well, you're looking very official today," Camlin said, restraining a grin. "Did Joram really send you, or did you just get bored?"
Tieg chuckled and shook his head, looking down sheepishly. "He didn't exactly _send_ me—but I guess I did get bored. They're busy talking about levies and supply lines and the strategic weaknesses of Rhemuth Castle. I don't mind relieving you, though."
"Well, it's very kind of you to offer, but I think I'd just as soon stay a while longer and finish what I'm doing. I'm not that tired."
"No, but your hands are," Tieg replied. Looking faintly smug, he came over to catch up Camlin's two wrists in his big Healer's hands. "When are you going to stop trying to mask your pain, when you know I can do something about it?"
Camlin caught his breath as Tieg probed gently at the scarring on one of his wrists, then exhaled softly and closed his eyes, almost going boneless as blessed healing poured into swollen tissues and dissolved away his discomfort. He had never felt a Healer's touch like Tieg's, and he wondered whether it had anything to do with his blocking talent.
"I don't think so," Tieg said aloud, answering the unasked question. "Dom Rickart told me one time that, back when he first started his training, one of the oldest brothers at Saint Neot's had something of the same feel, but Dom Queron says he detects a little of my father's flavor."
He shrugged as he shifted his attention to the other wrist. "I haven't had contact with that many other Healers, so I really couldn't say. And unfortunately, I'm afraid I don't remember very much about my father."
Only half listening, Camlin let the bliss of Tieg's healing wash all around him as the second wrist was eased. He wondered how Tieg did it. He could only compare it to the feeling he sometimes got when meditating, when he thought he had made a better than usual connection with the rhythm of the Spheres. Bishop Niallan had suggested that perhaps Camlin was tapping into the energies that sometimes called one to a life of contemplation and prayer. Camlin was not certain he had such a calling, but many aspects of such a life were definitely appealing—and suited to his physical limitations.
"I remember your father fairly well," he said, reluctantly dragging his focus back to the here and now. "Of course, I was only eleven when he died." He sat back in his chair and let his healed hands rest easily in his lap. "I really liked Lord Rhys; everyone did. I wish I'd had the chance to know him as a man."
"So do I," Tieg said softly.
The very tone of his words conveyed several shades of meaning, but before their conversation could digress into useless conjecture on what might have been, a faintly discordant surge in the local energies rippled at the edges of consciousness.
"Rhysel's coming," Tieg said, instantly refocused as he turned away to move closer to the Portal.
Catching a little of Tieg's sudden tension, Camlin also got to his feet. The permanent Wards built into the sanctuary Portal were supposed to prevent unauthorized access, but solo Portal duty always put him a little on edge, on the chance that magical protections must be augmented with physical force. It was not likely—the Portal's defenses probably would hold against any psychic trickery most intruders might try, at least until help could be summoned—but Camlin's Deryni abilities were not particularly strong, never mind that his hands would be all but useless in any physical altercation. Still, that first instant of temporary disorientation upon arrival would render any newcomer vulnerable as well.
She was there even as he thought it, not looking vulnerable at all, the sheer psychic impact of her sudden presence making Camlin recoil a step even as he drew a startled breath. For all that both he and Tieg towered over her, she was cool and self-possessed, golden eyes scanning and assessing over the book she clasped to her breast. Even in the drab, colorless gown worn by the queen's maids, with her spun-gold hair mostly covered by a white kerchief, Camlin thought her quite one of the loveliest creatures he had ever seen—though here, in the cloistered seclusion of the sanctuary, he had to admit that his experience was somewhat limited.
"What's happened?" Tieg demanded, as her look of concentration shifted to a worried smile. "You weren't expected for hours. Does this mean there's news?"
Sighing, she stepped from the Portal niche to deposit her book on the table where Camlin had been working.
"More like intimations of disaster, I'm afraid. Hello, Camlin. I don't know whether we can move fast enough or not Messengers from Eastmarch arrived at Court this morning with news that Torenthi forces have taken Culliecairn, up by the Eastmarch-Tolan border. Then a Torenthi herald arrived. It seems that Miklos of Torenth intends Culliecairn as a christening present for Marek of Festil's new son. The king leaves for Eastmarch in the morning. This could be Marek's bid for the throne."
Camlin could only stare at her, openmouthed. Tieg had gone a little pale beneath his freckles, obviously fathoming far better than his elder cousin what the news meant in more immediate terms.
"It's too soon," Tieg muttered. "Dear God, we'd better tell Uncle Joram. He's with Ansel and Jesse. They've only just begun compiling troop commitments for six months from now."
"Well, I think it's going to take more than that and far sooner than six months from now," Rhysel replied. "Are they in the staff room? I need to get back as soon as possible, but if we're to salvage anything from this, we'll need to move quickly."
"I'll take you," Tieg agreed. "Camlin, I'll have to back out on that offer to relieve you."
Rhysel gave her brother the gist of her plan en route, in quick rapport that spared nothing of the dangers inherent in what she proposed. She and Tieg had always been close, and they had discussed a similar scenario before, unbeknownst to their elders.
A few minutes later, she had conveyed just her news to her uncle and the other four men gathered with him around a table strewn with maps and papers. She had not expected Niallan and Queron, but she knew them all very well, and the arguments they were likely to raise—and that any argument could come to only one conclusion, once she told them what she proposed. But she still had to convince them.
Her Uncle Joram would have the final say, of course, even though Bishop Niallan was his senior in years and ecclesiastical rank. Joram was the only one of them to have been there from the beginning, back when his father, the sainted Camber, had orchestrated the Haldane Restoration. Only Joram had firsthand knowledge of how it had been done, and only Joram could shoulder that ultimate responsibility for deciding what must follow.
He had paid a price for the weight of such authority. The silver-gilt hair grew a little more tarnished with each passing year, even receding a little at the temples of late, cool silver now against the plain black cassock that was his usual working attire instead of the Michaeline blue he once had worn. The planes of the handsome face, once merely lean, had been honed to something more akin to ascetic.
But the Michaeline knight remained. Though the distinctive blue cassock of his former order had been abandoned some years ago, save for ceremonial occasions, he had taken to wearing the white sash of his knighthood at all times, in unspoken declaration of his self-assumed role as inheritor of the trust his order had borne before their suppression. Had the Order still existed in Gwynedd, he might have been their vicar-general by now. At forty-three, though no longer battle-fit because of the forced exile of the last decade, he was only now approaching his intellectual prime.
Nor were his companions any less formidable. Close by Joram's right hand sat Niallan Trey, the exiled former Bishop of Dhassa. Before his elevation to the episcopate, Niallan had been a Michaeline like Joram. Even now, though in his early sixties, something of the former warrior remained in the way he carried himself, in the cant of the proud grey head, in the military precision of the close-clipped grey beard. He, too, wore the white sash of Michaeline knighthood.
Dom Queron was one of their two resident Healers besides Tieg, steel-slender and intense, his wiry hair gone nearly white and once again grown long enough to display the four-stranded braid of his original religious order, though he had been a Servant of Saint Camber and a disciple of the preacher Revan since. A priest and Healer he remained, and always at heart a Gabrilite, though he wore the grey robe of the Camberians under a green Healer's mantle rather than the white of the Gabrilites; either would have meant his death outside these walls.
Then there were Ansel and Jesse, only in their mid-twenties, Ansel looking much as his famous uncle must have looked at that age, light-eyed like Joram, but fairer than Joram had ever been. He wore his hair close-cropped to make it less memorable, for the sun had bleached it almost to white. His riding leathers were well cut, but plain and patched in several places, molded to his lean frame by years of wear in all kinds of weather. His homespun shirt could have done with a wash.
Jesse, shorter and stockier than Ansel, was dressed much the same, with brassy highlights streaking the brown hair queued back with a rawhide thong. Both men had unbuckled their swords and laid them across one end of the trestle table—serviceable-enough weapons by mere appearance, unremarkable by their mountings and well-worn scabbards, but bladed with the finest R'Kassan steel. The pair had spent most of the last six years looking like what they were not, ferreting out the information and contacts that would eventually enable them to assist a Haldane coup in Rhemuth.
When Rhysel had finished her initial report, Ansel scowled and moved around to the far end of the table to consult one of the lists he had brought to Joram, glancing at his uncle in speculation. Jesse was silently turning a map marker in suntanned, callused fingers, emotion stirring golden flecks in the depths of his brown eyes.
"I wonder why they're letting the king go to Eastmarch," Jesse said quietly. "They've never even let him go on a progress before, much less a military campaign. It's too dangerous—aside from the question of his physical safety. What if he tried to take the bit in his teeth and break free, in front of witnesses?"
"Maybe they don't mean for him to come back," Ansel retorted. "With another heir in the offing, maybe they'd just as soon he died in glorious combat with the enemy, the way his brother did. They might even find a way to blame it on us again."
"It doesn't matter _why_ they're letting him go, don't you see?" Rhysel said, leaning both hands on the table in front of where she stood. "The point is, he's going—and he's going to be in grave danger. Now, what are we going to do about it?"
"A bit more warning would have been useful," Niallan said quietly, bestirring himself to turn one of the maps for a better look at the area of Eastmarch. "But whatever the great lords' long-term plans may be, we'd better have a presence there secretly, at least. If we're lucky, maybe we can help counter dirty tricks, if Marek decides to try any arcane unpleasantness."
Ansel swept aside a stack of papers and flounced into his chair. "A lot of good that's going to do," he muttered. "Uncle Joram, are you going to say something?"
Sighing, Joram tossed aside the remains of the quill pen he had been shredding while the others argued, avoiding Queron's gaze.
"Our original scenario is impossible," he said. "It would mean moving our timetable forward a full six months. It can't be done."
"Not all of it—no," Rhysel said.
To the man, other than Tieg, those present turned to stare at her aghast.
"I hope you aren't suggesting what I think you're suggesting," Queron murmured.
Rhysel pursed her lips, bracing for their objections. "There's only one option open to us, if we hope to have a king six months from now," she said quietly. "We must try to bring the king's powers through. Tonight."
Joram closed his eyes, drawing a slow, deep breath. Queron was shaking his head. Ansel and Jesse glanced at one another uneasily. Tieg sat forward eagerly in his chair on Joram's other side. Niallan watched and said nothing, only his nervous turning of his bishop's ring betraying his tension.
"It's out of the question," Joram finally said, not looking at her.
"No, that _is_ the question. Hear me out. We know that he can Truth-Read; we also know he has shields. That's as much as Javan had, when you brought him to power. He's got to have access to his powers before he heads off for a war in which his enemy might use magic against him. Whether it's Marek himself or only Miklos he has to face, neither of them will stop at anything to kill him, if they get the chance. Aside from the fact that we don't want it known that he has Deryni backing, he may need more protection than Ansel and Jesse are able to provide."
"The need is not at issue!" Joram replied. "The means is another matter entirely. Just whom did you have in mind to accomplish what you're asking?"
"You. Me. Tieg. Michaela."
" _Michaela?_ " Joram said.
"What _about_ Michaela?" Ansel asked, almost simultaneously.
"Oh, Ansel, she's your half sister; you needn't sound so shocked," Rhysel replied. "We've all tended to forget, because she's been blocked, but she _is_ Deryni. Not a very powerful one, even if she weren't blocked, and without any training—but that could be remedied."
"By Tieg," Ansel said disbelievingly. "You'd have him unblock her, and she's suddenly the equivalent of a fully trained, experienced Deryni."
"Of course not. But the king trusts her more than any other living person. She might be able to help us catalyze him."
"I can't even consider such a notion," Joram said, not looking at Tieg, whose expression had a hopeful look. "We daren't risk Tieg on something so uncertain."
"You'll need a Healer," Rhysel countered.
"Queron. Rickart," Joram replied.
"But they can't unblock Michaela."
"But they _are_ trained Deryni and experienced ritualists," Joram pointed out. "Besides, what makes you think Michaela could be useful, if she did have her powers?"
"I know that she'd do anything to help her husband," Rhysel said simply. "Incidentally, she's carrying another boy; Tieg showed me what to look for, and I finally was able to read it."
Queron groaned, and Joram merely shook his head.
"That gives the great lords their 'heir and a spare,'" Ansel murmured, looking stricken.
"True enough," Jesse agreed, "but they don't know that yet—and won't, until the child is born. A lot could happen between now and then."
Niallan turned him a droll look. "I don't think we can count on another miscarriage to save us this time, Jesse."
"It won't matter much anyway, if Marek launches magic at the king and he has no protection," Ansel said.
"Which is why he must have power," Rhysel replied. "Surely you see that. Joram, I haven't got time to argue with you. We've got to try. It's his only hope."
Joram only closed his eyes for a long moment, turning his head aside to bury his face in one pale hand briefly.
"I confess to being very nearly daunted," he said quietly, as he raised his head and forced himself to draw a deep breath. "All our planning has been geared to a schedule six months away—first an attempt to bring the king's power through, and then the follow-up with loyal troops shifted into the castle by Portal, the way we did for Cinhil. There's no way we can move our men that fast even if the first could be done. I'd be throwing away lives for nothing."
"Then, we won't worry about that part until _after_ Eastmarch is resolved," Rhysel replied. "I agree that there's no way we can move the full operation forward so quickly. But meanwhile, we do what we can to bring the king's power through _tonight_. If it isn't tonight, it may not happen at all. And if it doesn't and Marek of Festil brings magic to the meeting in Eastmarch, we may lose another Haldane. I thought that's what all our sacrifices have been for—to keep the rightful Haldane kings on the throne of Gwynedd and give them every possible chance to reign independent of great lords or regents. If Rhys Michael is killed, it's _ten years_ before his son is of age."
"I _have_ dealt with a regency before, you know!" Joram snapped. "I do have some idea what would be involved."
"Then give the king the best possible chance to survive this," she replied. "We can't let him ride off to Eastmarch without at least _trying_ to bring through his powers. We've discussed the theory often enough, and you've personally helped bring other Haldane kings to power."
"With _preparation_ ," Joram agreed. "With an experienced team who knew precisely what they were doing. And it didn't work for Alroy."
"Only because you never got a chance to finish what Cinhil started," Rhysel retorted. "It worked for Cinhil, and it worked for Javan. As for an experienced team—well, none of you were experienced when Cinhil came to power. You learned as you went along. This time, at least _you_ have experience."
Joram sighed heavily and looked away from her, shaking his head, clearly preparing another objection, but she set a hand on his wrist and drew his gaze back.
"Joram, we can't hope to succeed without you," she said. "Tieg and I are as ready as we _can_ be, under the circumstances, but we need you to direct us. And Michaela can be drafted to help, once Tieg reinstates her powers—and Cathan, too."
Ansel snorted, a short bark of mirthless laughter. "Rhysel, they were only children when they lost what scant powers they had; it was I who had it done, to protect them. And before that, they'd had no training. My dear mother forbade it."
"I know that," Rhysel replied. "But I've taken the liberty of laying some groundwork, at least with the queen. I've blocked all memory of what I've done, but she has the full background of what she is and was, and what she must let be done to help her husband survive. I can release that in an instant. Cathan is less certain, because I haven't had opportunity to probe him or work with him, but I know that he's utterly devoted to his sister and the king. There's absolutely no question of that. I'm sure he'd cooperate as best he's able."
"And what about the king?" Joram asked.
Rhysel glanced down at her hands, surprised to find them nervously pleating a section of her skirt.
"I haven't dared to try touching him yet, for obvious reasons. The shields are going to be his biggest obstacle—and ours. He'll be suspicious, as well he should be. That's why I think that Michaela will be the key to gaining his cooperation, especially with so little time to prepare and explain. I know there are excruciating risks, just to confront him with the possibility, but it can work, Joram. It _has_ to work."
"And if it doesn't?" he asked.
She drew a deep, fortifying breath and met his gaze unflinchingly.
"If it doesn't work," she said softly, "you and I and whoever else is involved probably will not survive to worry. We've waited for my generation to be ready for this day; perhaps it will be for the next generation to try again."
"If we do it right," Tieg said, speaking for the first time, "it won't be necessary for the next generation to try again. I know we can do it, Uncle Joram."
"Ah, the optimism of youth," Joram murmured. He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded.
"Very well. We're left with no choice. Queron, the rest of you, am I going to have your full support in this? We'll have a lot to do in the next few hours."
The two younger men nodded, wide-eyed, and Niallan sighed and whispered, "Aye," as Queron lifted a hand in reluctant agreement.
"All right, then. Rhysel, go back to the queen and make the basic preparations you outlined. You daren't tarry here any longer, or you'll be missed. I'll work out a format with Tieg and Queron in the meantime. Be alert for a contact late in the evening. And be very, very careful."
CHAPTER FIVE
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.
—I John 4:18
Rhysel returned to the royal apartments to find the queen in the solar, reading to young Prince Owain, while the boy's nurse visited with some of the queen's ladies in the window bay. Mother and son were cozily ensconced in a large wooden chair well cushioned by embroidered pillows, and both looked up as Rhysel came in. Grey-eyed Owain was the image of his Haldane father, with a shining cap of jet-black hair cut close around his face.
"Ah, there you are, Liesel," the queen said, closing her book. "What have you brought?"
The sweet fragrance of the garden accompanied Rhysel as she came to let the queen see into the flat basket over her arm.
"Fresh-cut blossoms to grace the Queen's Grace," Rhysel said, smiling, as she held a golden jonquil close to the queen's wheaten hair. "Your Highness asked if I could do something special with your hair for tonight. I thought I might pull the sides back into a loose braid down the back and weave in a cascade of flowers."
"Hmmm, the king would like that, I think," Michaela replied, selecting a pale yellow rose and inhaling deeply of its perfume. "Owain, do you think your papa would like some of these braided into Mummy's hair?"
The four-year-old sniffed critically at the bloom, then shook his head and pushed it away.
"Papa likes red ones best," he declared, reaching for a smaller, more delicate tea rose of vibrant crimson. "Put red ones in Mummy's hair, Liesel." He gave it an appreciative sniff and smiled wide. "Mmmm, smells nice."
Both Michaela and Rhysel grinned at that, and the queen gave an accommodating shrug as she took the flower from her son.
"Well, that would appear to settle the question," she said. "Apparently the men in my life prefer red roses to any other color. Perhaps it comes of being Haldanes." She allowed herself a resigned sigh. "Ah, well. I prefer pastels, but have Agatha choose something suitable to go with _red_ roses, would you? Come back when Owain's had his supper and gone to bed."
Later, while Rhysel dressed the queen's hair, she had ample time to set her instructions in place for later in the evening. It would hardly be the leisurely and romantic leave-taking that Michaela was anticipating, but Rhysel saw no remedy for that—not if they continued to hold any hope that the king might be brought to full access of his Haldane powers on such short notice. She wished there had been opportunity to prepare Cathan as well, but he and Fulk had been closeted with the king all afternoon, down in the council chamber. At least Fulk was dining with his parents this evening, since he, too, would be riding out with the king on the morrow.
She made a last adjustment to the queen's coiffure, teasing loose two wispy tendrils at the temples, then laid aside her comb and picked up a mirror to hold for Michaela's inspection. The queen had dressed with care, in a loose-fitting night shift of ivory silk with a rose damask over-robe. She had clasped it at the throat with the Haldane brooch, borrowed back from Rhys Michael when he returned from his meetings to bathe and change. The color complemented the claret-colored roses twined in her hair and gave her a rosy glow of her own.
"It's perfect," she said softly, smiling as she glanced at Rhysel above the mirror. "Thank you, Liesel. Now hand me those pearl drops for my ears, and I'll be ready."
A little later, having overseen arrangements for dining in the solar, Michaela welcomed husband and brother to the rare experience of a truly private meal. Ample candlelight made of their table an island of cozy reassurance, set apart from the uncertainties of the morrow. During a simple and leisurely meal that Cathan both served and shared, the three of them were able to discuss the day's implications with far more candor than was usually possible, none of them yet aware of the measures set in motion by the queen's maid.
"Oh, my dearest darlings, this is almost like being a real family," Michaela said softly, setting one hand on her husband's hand and the other on her brother's. "Do you know how I treasure nights like this? I can hardly remember the last time when just the three of us were able to sit down to a meal together, without Fulk or somebody else lurking about, hanging on our every word."
Cathan snorted softly, permitting himself a wan smile. "Fulk isn't _that_ bad. We could do far worse."
Sighing, Michaela squeezed his hand and managed a brave smile. "Aye, we could—and have done, in the past, haven't we? I wish him well on the campaign. The potential replacements are all far worse."
"Well, I'm still glad he had somewhere else to go tonight," Rhys Michael replied, idly picking up a wine bottle and rejecting it when he saw that it was empty. "He would have wanted to serve table, if he'd been here."
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Cathan leaned back in his chair and indulged in a heavy sigh, briefly affecting the jaded court drawl becoming common among his peers.
"The man can be _so_ tiresome. But it's mainly his father's fault, of course. You'd think the council would have given up by now. We're not about to discuss plans for an insurrection when Fulk is around, even if there were any hope of _staging_ an insurrection."
"And we're not about to plot an insurrection tonight, in any case," Rhys Michael agreed, turning his gaze on Michaela and quirking a wicked smile at her. "Actually, my dear, my intentions for this evening were of a more—personal nature."
As he lifted her hand to nibble on her fingertips, Michaela broke into delighted giggles of mock scandal.
"What, with my brother present, sir?"
"Well, you _did_ say it was a family evening," Cathan retorted, grinning roguishly as he brought her other hand to his lips.
Where this might have led, Michaela was never to know, for any further development was curtailed by a knock at the door. As she burst into giggles anew, Rhys Michael rolled his eyes and glanced toward the door.
"Please go away," he called.
"Sire, 'tis Liesel," a low female voice came. "Her Grace did bid me bring her a book of poetry. Shall I simply leave it?"
Smothering a laugh, Michaela pulled her hands away and shook her head, getting to her feet.
"You two are incorrigible!" she whispered sotto voce as she headed for the door. "I _did_ want to show you this book, though. The binding is a work of art. Don't worry, though. I'll send her away."
She smoothed her skirts in an automatic gesture as she made her way across the room, glancing back at her husband and brother to blow them a kiss just before she set her hand on the latch. Liesel was waiting a little anxiously outside the door, arms clasped around a large leather-bound volume.
"Pardon the intrusion, my lady," the girl murmured, eyes averted as she dipped in a nervous curtsey.
"Nonsense. I asked you to come."
Neither Cathan nor the king could see how the girl brushed her mistress' hand as she straightened from her curtsey, but the touch seemed to freeze Michaela's thoughts in her head.
_You cannot resist me, but you have nothing to fear_ , came a voice in her mind, though Liesel's lips did not move.
Michaela blinked, a part of her aware that this was familiar, that Liesel was a friend, an even more deeply buried part of her remembering what was about to be set in motion.
"I've been waiting a long time for this," she whispered, closing her eyes briefly. "But, come in and show the king and my brother. Cathan, I want you to see how beautifully Brother Lorenzo replaced this binding."
Cathan looked at her a little oddly, but Liesel was already heading across the room to show off the book, diverting the men's attention from the fact that Michaela locked the door before following. The queen reached her chair between husband and brother just as Liesel proffered the book for Cathan's inspection—and took control of him as her hand touched his.
"Rhysem, Liesel is a friend," Michaela found herself whispering urgently, as Cathan breathed out with a faint sigh and his eyelids fluttered closed. "She's come to help us. Please don't raise an alarm until you've heard what she has to say."
"Hear me, Sire," Rhysel joined in urgently, not breaking gaze with the king, keeping one hand on Cathan's wrist as she set her book aside. "Read the truth of what I say. I promise you that I am not an enemy. What I am, I think you know."
The stunned Rhys Michael had half risen from his chair, instantly on guard, but at Michaela's nod of reassurance, sitting calmly in her chair between them, he partially subsided. Still watching him, Rhysel came around to stand between Cathan and Michaela, relaxing their controls. Cathan blinked, then turned to look up at her in awe. Michaela swallowed nervously, but could not seem to summon up any fear.
"I apologize to all of you," Rhysel said softly. "It isn't usually done, to take control of friends without their permission. But I had to be certain you wouldn't raise an alarm before you realized I wasn't a threat. And I am _not_ a threat—not to the three of you, at any rate. The great lords are another matter, entirely."
"You're Deryni," Rhys Michael breathed, wide-eyed. "Someone's come at last. Javan promised me you would, but it's been so long—"
Rhysel let herself relax just a little, briefly turning away to pull a stool closer.
"They hurt us badly when they killed your brother, Sire," she said quietly, sinking down on the stool. "Those few Deryni who had successfully infiltrated the Court were killed—though at least no one ever knew for certain what they were. After that—well, we have never been very many, Sire, who could work at the levels necessary to do you any serious good—which is partially why we had to wait for my generation to grow up a bit. My mother was Evaine MacRorie, and my father was the Healer Rhys Thuryn, for whom you are partially named."
"Rhys and Evaine's daughter," Rhys Michael murmured, taking it all in. "I remember both of them. That makes you—some kind of a distant cousin to Mika and Cathan." He looked at her uncertainly. "Are you a—a Healer, then?"
Rhysel smiled and shook her head. "Alas, no, though my brother and sister both have that gift."
"And what gift do _you_ have, Mistress Liesel?" Michaela found herself asking, not by compulsion this time, but out of genuine curiosity.
Their fair captor smiled. "Actually, my name is Rhysel—though I've made, ah, certain 'adjustments' to ensure that you and your brother won't slip and call me that. That's part of my gift." She shifted her gaze back to the king. "I must ask that you guard your own tongue in that regard, Sire."
"Then, you—haven't tried to influence me," Rhys Michael whispered.
She shook her head. "Almost certainly, you would have felt my touch. But if you hope to survive what may wait for you in Eastmarch, you must allow my touch tonight. Do you know of the power that your brother bore?"
"What good did it do _him_?" the king replied, looking down at his clasped hands. "The great lords still killed him, in the end."
"King Javan had some appalling luck and made some unfortunate decisions that had nothing to do with whether or not he had that power," Rhysel retorted. "But if you aren't prepared to meet Prince Miklos or Marek of Festil on their own terms, it's quite possible that your son will never even get to be a puppet king!"
Rhys Michael looked up sharply at that, and Michaela gasped and set a hand of entreaty on Rhysel's forearm.
"Can you really help us?"
"I can try." Rhysel turned her golden gaze directly on the king's. "But everything hinges on your willingness not to resist what is asked of you tonight, Sire—and even that may not be sufficient."
Rhys Michael breathed out a heavy sigh.
"If you're asking me to open my mind to you, I don't think I can," he whispered. "I have shields. Javan tried to get past them, but he couldn't."
"Because you were trying to prevent it," Rhysel breathed. "But you _can_ learn to lower them. We'll show you how."
" _We!_ "
Rhysel nodded. "Joram and my brother Tieg. There's a way to smuggle them into the castle in disguise. If they should be caught and found out, it's death for both of them—and probably death for the rest of us as well, if anyone draws the correct conclusions—but we're willing to take the risk, if you agree to do your part."
"And what—what would I have to do?" Rhys Michael whispered.
"Whatever they ask you to do— _whatever_ they ask, no matter how strange it may sound or how much it might frighten you. That goes for all three of you," she added, including Michaela and Cathan in her glance.
Michaela swallowed, not taking her eyes from Rhysel's. "I'll do it," she whispered. "You have my word."
"And mine," Cathan agreed.
"And what about you, Sire?" Rhysel murmured.
Hardly even breathing for a few seconds, Rhys Michael stared at her searchingly—he had been Truth-Reading her for some thro—then turned his gaze neutrally to his wife.
"Mika, give me the Haldane brooch, please," he said.
As she slowly unclasped the brooch with trembling hands, the king got to his feet, the grey Haldane gaze meeting Rhysel's unflinchingly.
"You shall have my word as well," he said, as Michaela handed him the brooch. "But for a pledge as important as this, I wish to make it on something more important than even a holy relic." He cupped his two hands around it and held it slightly toward Rhysel, who also stood.
"My lady, are you aware what this means to us?" he asked softly.
Rhysel nodded. "Your aspirations for a Haldane throne that's free."
"Then, believe me when I say to you that this is my most sacred oath," the king said, shifting his right hand to cup over the top of it. "By the life of my son who is and the child who shall be"—his glance darted briefly to Michaela—"I pledge you my word as an anointed king that I shall do everything in my power to assist you and those who shall come."
"I swear it also," Michaela whispered, laying her hand atop his.
Cathan also had risen as he saw what his brother-in-law intended, and as the brooch was extended to him in turn, he kissed the fingertips of his right hand, then laid them over the brooch now cupped again in the king's hands.
"My faith as well," he said, glancing aside at Rhysel. "There is no holier oath I can swear to my liege and king."
Tears were glittering in Rhysel's eyes as Cathan's hand fell away, and she nodded tentatively toward the brooch.
"May I, Sire?" she whispered.
Nodding, he held it out to her, still cupped in the hollow of his hands, locking his gaze with hers as she laid both her hands lightly atop it, one overlapping the other.
"I pledge you my word that I am your true servant, Sire," she said, "and that I and mine shall never play you false. What we shall do, we shall do only for good and for the good of this kingdom. So help me God." She swallowed at his nod and withdrew her hands.
"I'll go now, to bring the others. Cathan, if Fulk should return before I do, be certain to leave the door ajar to warn me."
"That I will, my lady," Cathan murmured. "But, is there anything else we should do while you're gone? Any preparations we should make?"
She quirked him a wry smile and picked up her book. "Your prayers would not be amiss."
The bored guards outside the royal apartments did not question her departure and would not cause problems when she returned. Soon, a torch in one hand and book hugged close in the other, she was cautiously exiting the turnpike stair on the library floor—sent by the queen to exchange the book for another, should anyone inquire.
The Haldane man-at-arms and gangly squire waiting in the room adjacent to the library wore the faces of Joram and Tieg, though no one in the castle was likely to recognize either. Joram had never spent much time at Court, and he had covered his distinctive silver-gilt hair with a quilted arming cap and mail coif. In addition, the Haldane crimson of the surcoat over his leather jazerant was very different from the Michaeline blue that had always been associated with him.
As for Tieg, he had been a child of two or three on his last visit to the castle, a far cry from this lean, long-limbed youngster kitted out in the livery of a Haldane squire. Since midafternoon, someone had barbered his reddish hair in the stark pudding-bowl style expected of young gentlemen in squire's training, reinforcing a disguise that would enable him to move about the castle almost invisibly. As a final touch, Tieg was cradling two dusty, grey-glazed bottles of wine, ostensibly brought up from the royal cellars, and the thoroughly bored-looking Joram raised a laconic eyebrow as he held up a third.
It was a scenario not likely to be questioned, for one of the illusions that Rhys Michael had taken pains to maintain during the years of his incarceration was that of a prodigious capacity for alcohol. In fact, far more wine had gone down the royal garderobes than had passed the royal lips, but he had quickly learned that when the great lords thought him less than sober, they sometimes tended to talk more freely in front of him. Sending down to the royal cellars on the eve of separation from his wife and son was not at all out of character.
Nodding silent approval, Rhysel sent both of them a quick assessment of her progress with her royal charges. Then, after scanning the corridor outside, she scurried back the way she had come, so that she might arrive back at the royal apartments before them. The guards took only bored note of her return, and a brief word with each ensured that the two men soon to arrive would not be challenged. She left her torch in a wall cresset before going inside.
She found the door ajar between the outer anteroom and the solar, as she had feared—though at least that meant that Fulk had returned now instead of later, to interrupt important work. As she slipped into the solar and saw Fulk sitting with Cathan at the table, Fulk in the chair the king had occupied, she reflected that she had been looking forward to what she was about to do for nearly as long as she had been resident at the castle.
"Oh, good evening, Sir Fulk. The queen bade me fetch her a book."
Fulk came to his feet and bowed, casual and smiling, and Cathan glanced around with a silly grin. The table had been mostly cleared in her absence, but a silver goblet stood before Fulk, and another was in Cathan's hand. The latter had his feet propped up on the near arm of the queen's empty chair.
"Too late," Cathan said cheerily, raising his cup in salute. "The King's Grace has already changed his plans for the evening. I don't suppose you'd care to change yours as well?"
Rhysel smiled and arched an eyebrow as she came closer, a little surprised—and flattered—at his choice of a ruse, but playing along. Despite his slightly slurred speech, Cathan was not drunk.
"Indeed," she replied, "the thought _is_ tempting—and 'tis a passing fine book of love poetry that's set to go to waste. But with _two_ handsome gentlemen to choose from—"
Chuckling good-naturedly, Fulk came over to pluck the book from her hands.
"Here, now. Let's see what—"
One of her hands closed over one of his, and she had him. As his eyes fluttered closed, and he started to sway, she steadied him and glanced at Cathan, indicating the outer door with her chin. At the same time she tightened her controls and guided the oblivious Fulk to a seat back at the table—but _not_ the king's chair.
In a matter of seconds, while Cathan went into the outer chamber to await the others' arrival, she had made the necessary adjustments to ensure that Fulk Fitz-Arthur henceforth would be the king's man first, and not his father's. Other than that, he was no worse than most young men of his class, and far better than most. And now that he would be unable to remember or tell of anything unusual that he might see or hear...
She got him back on his feet just as the connecting door from the outer chamber gently opened, and Cathan glanced in, standing aside then to admit Joram and Tieg. Rhysel shot them a relieved smile as she ushered Fulk past them, and Cathan came in and closed the door behind them.
"Come and sit down, Cathan," Joram said quietly, sweeping off his mail coif and arming cap and tossing them onto the table.
Cathan looked around at the sound of his name, his breath catching in his throat as Joram's grey eyes caught and held his.
"Sit, please," Joram repeated.
A little stiffly, Cathan came to sit in the chair that Joram pulled out from the table. Behind him, the door to the royal bedchamber slowly opened to reveal the king and queen. Rhys Michael had changed from his more relaxed attire of supper and now wore a scarlet Haldane tunic, secured at the throat with the Haldane brooch. And of course he wore the Eye of Rom.
"Come in, please," Joram said softly. "I hope you won't mind if we don't stand on ceremony, but we have a great deal of work to do in a very short time, if we're to minimize the danger of interruption. Cathan, Michaela, I don't know whether you remember that you were born Deryni."
Cathan could react but little, still caught in Joram's control, but Michaela paled and gave a faint gasp.
"I see that Tavis was very efficient," Joram said, flicking a glance at her, then back to Cathan as he sat easily on the edge of the table. "It's going to be a bit tricky putting _back_ the memories that were taken away, so we'll do Cathan first, since there's less to do; he was younger when it happened. The two of you may come closer and watch, if you wish. I'll try to explain as I go, so it won't seem so frightening. Cathan, look at me, please. There's nothing to fear."
Cathan obeyed without hesitation.
"Now. We haven't the time to go into great detail, but believe me when I tell you that both you and your sister used to have some Deryni powers, or at least the potential to be developed. To protect you both, when you were still very young, it became necessary to block those powers and to bury the memory that you ever had them. I apologize for that, because it cut you off from your heritage, but it also made you immune to the Deryni-specific effects of _merasha_ , which probably saved your lives. We would have restored you sooner, but not just anyone can do it. Tavis had the ability, and another man you never knew, but they're both dead. Tieg is the only one left that we know of.
"He's going to unblock those powers now. You needn't be anxious. I think you'll have shields and a bit more, but Tieg is going to turn control over to me after he's put things back. Then I'll come in with a deep briefing to catch you up on what you need to know now, as an adult."
As he glanced at Tieg and gave a slight nod, the young Healer moved into place behind Cathan's chair, big Healer's hands cupping gently atop Cathan's sandy head. Cathan's eyes closed of their own weight, and Tieg's went dreamy and unfocused.
"Good natural shields," Tieg said softly, after a moment, "a bit more that can be developed, though not instantly. No training at all, though. Over to you, Uncle Joram."
As he lifted his hands, flexing his fingers several times, Joram bestirred himself from his perch on the table edge and moved in. Cathan had not moved under Tieg's touch, but the closed eyelids flickered as Joram set his hands to the younger man's head. After a moment, as Joram drew back, Cathan gave a long sigh and opened his eyes.
"C-Cathan?" Michaela asked, flinching as he raised his eyes to hers.
"I'm all right," he said softly, searching first her face and then Rhys Michael's with his blue gaze. "It's as if—as if someone has lit a lamp inside my mind."
He got to his feet as, with a sob, she came to him, burying her face against his chest while he made awkward little stroking motions on her hair, dislodging several of the roses. Apart, Rhys Michael watched helplessly, not daring to move closer or to say a word as Joram came to take her from her brother. She looked up at the Deryni as he put his hands on her shoulders to draw her away, not taking her eyes from his as he urged her to sit where Cathan had sat.
"I promise, there's nothing to fear," he whispered. "Your husband will need your help. Just close your eyes now, and relax."
Her eyes seemed to close of their own accord. She felt Joram's hands fall away, and then the hands she knew must be the boy's were resting gently on her head, the fingertips pressing lightly against her temples. She could feel all resistance draining out of her, and then a deep, throbbing silence punctuated by a single, crystalline resonance and the flare of warmth and light behind her eyelids.
"Good shields here, too," she heard the boy's voice say, as if through layers of cotton wool, as his hands lifted and others took their place. "See what you can do."
The next thing she knew, she simply _knew_ a great deal about them and what they planned. As she opened her eyes, she found herself already considering how best to help Rhysem. Her first thought was to reach out her hand to him, smiling as she bade him come to her. There were tears in the grey Haldane eyes as he knelt at her side, taking her hand to cradle it to his lips.
"Mika?" he managed to murmur.
"I'm fine," she whispered, fighting back her own tears. "Rhysem, what do you see, when you look at me now?"
"I see—a sort of brightness. It's shields, isn't it?" His face fell. "But, if _I_ can see them, what about other Deryni? What if Dimitri sees them?"
Smiling, she damped the shields, watching the look of awe come over his face.
"I know how to do that much, at least," she said. "I'm not sure what else, but—I'll figure that out some other time. Maybe while you're gone. As for Dimitri, I suspect he'll be going along with you, so we'd better see about getting _you_ some protection. Father Joram?"
Joram had drawn Cathan with him to the door to confer with Rhysel as the royal couple spoke, and now he motioned them toward the royal bedchamber.
"We'll move in there now, where there's a better chance of privacy," he said. "I've pared the formalities to the bone, but the rest of our work will require a bit more intensity. An interruption could be literally fatal. Cathan will keep Fulk occupied and make certain no one else gets past them."
As Cathan passed on into the anteroom, Tieg was already moving into the bedchamber, taking something out of the small pouch at his belt. Rhysel fetched a ball of white wool from one of the sewing baskets in the solar window and followed as Rhys Michael got up from his knees and helped his wife to her feet. Joram briefly withdrew to confirm that Cathan knew his part. When he shortly joined the four of them, Rhysel was unwinding the ball of white wool, laying it down to mark out the circumference of a large circle centered on the Kheldish carpet at the foot of the royal bed.
"Sire, could you come over here, please?" Tieg called softly, from where he was pouring water into a cup on the little table beside the bed.
Though the king complied, he cast a wary glance at the small blue glass vial in one of Tieg's hands. It seemed almost to glow in the light of the single candle lit there.
"What's that?"
"Just something to relax you a little, to take the edge off your nervousness. It's perfectly harmless. You aren't going to lose consciousness or anything like that."
Rhys Michael swallowed with an audible gulp, looking at Joram in appeal as the older man came to join them.
"Joram, I don't think I can do this," he whispered, watching as Tieg unstoppered the little blue vial and began counting drops into the cup.
"I don't think you can _not_ do it," Joram said quietly. "You've got very rigid shields and very little control, and we haven't a great deal of time to take things gently. This should make our work a lot easier—and yours."
Rhys Michael had gone a little pale as Joram spoke, and he glanced with growing horror at the cup Tieg now extended.
"Joram, I can't," he whispered. "You don't understand. You don't know what it's been like. They kept me drugged for months after Javan was killed."
"This won't be like that," Joram replied, taking the cup from Tieg and holding it out to the king. "We want to enhance your perceptions, not dull them. This is similar to what was given to you and your brothers the night your father died. I assure you, there's nothing to fear."
As the king turned away, trembling, Michaela came to him, gently laying a hand on one taut shoulder.
"Rhysem, you must trust them," she said softly. "Joram is right; we haven't a great deal of time. If he says this will help, we have to believe him. Drink it, my love. Do it for me, for Owain—"
He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Please, don't ask this of me. I can do it without."
"I _am_ asking, Rhysem," she went on. "I'm asking the same way _you_ asked, many years ago, when Cathan and I had to do something similar. Do you remember?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her in question.
"I know _I'd_ forgotten, until Joram gave me back my memories," she went on. "I was ten. It was the morning after Cousin Giesele died in her sleep, and the regents wanted to find out if Cathan and I knew anything. We didn't, of course. But then Archbishop Hubert said we couldn't see our parents until after we'd drunk a sleeping potion. We didn't want to; we were afraid. But then you came over and took the cups from Hubert, and you said, 'Mika, don't be silly. It's for your own good. It will only make you sleep for a while.'"
She could see by his expression that he remembered, and she quietly took the cup from Joram, to hold near her husband's hand.
"I have to say the same sort of thing to you now, Rhysem," she whispered. "Don't be silly. It's for your own good. And it won't even make you sleep; it will only help you relax a little. Isn't that right, Tieg?"
As the young Healer nodded, Rhys Michael glanced at him, at the cup, then back at Michaela. He said nothing as he took the cup from her, and his hand was trembling, but he drained it in one long draught, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand before setting the cup back on the little table.
"Good man," Joram murmured, as Tieg grinned and touched the king's hand in thanks and reassurance, then moved past him to join Rhysel in the circle. "Now, try to relax for a few minutes, until we're ready for you. Try gazing into the candle flame—or lie down, if you wish."
As Joram likewise led Michaela to join Tieg and Rhysel in the circle, Rhys Michael drew a deep, shuddering breath and did his best to follow Joram's instructions. He knew he had made a fuss over something that should have been very minor, but he could not summon up any guilt about it. Even though he believed he trusted these Deryni who had risked so much to come to him, the incident had smacked far too much of the sort of treatment he had had at the hands of the great lords in those early days, and the threat of more such treatment if he ever crossed them.
He sat himself down on the edge of the great bed and made himself draw another deep breath, gazing into the candle flame. He thought he could begin to feel Tieg's drug working in him, but he wasn't sure. He did seem to feel a bit less anxious now, and he found his heart rate had slowed when he pressed his fingers to the pulse in his neck.
He closed his eyes, letting the slow, steady pulse beat take him deeper, trying to put his fear aside, and gradually became aware that the edge of his hand was touching the Haldane brooch at his throat. Covering it with his hand, he bowed his head and dared to breathe a prayer that what they were planning would work.
After a while, the prayer drifted into stillness, and remaining upright seemed to require too much effort. It was pleasant and floaty behind his closed eyelids, so he drew another deep breath and let himself lie back on the bed, legs still dangling off the edge. As he outflung his arms to either side to stretch, a more fearful and cynical part of him marked the symbolism as acknowledgment that he, like his brothers, was very likely to become another sacrifice for the great lords' ambitions, just as the Christ had stretched out His arms upon the Cross; but a sterner part of him rejected such defeatist notions and brought his hand back to the brooch, like a talisman against the great lords' power over him—the Haldane lion, bold and fierce and proud. He could feel the cool of the metal and enamel under his hand as he made his resolve, and he hardly even flinched when someone lightly touched his other wrist.
"Sire, we're ready for you," Joram said quietly.
CHAPTER SIX
Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice.
—Job 4:15–16
Rhys Michael felt a momentary rush of light-headedness as he sat up a bit too quickly, and he gratefully accepted Joram's steadying hand as he stood down beside the bed. It took a few seconds for his vision to settle. He was not exactly dizzy, but he surmised that Tieg's drug probably was responsible for the faint distancing he seemed to be experiencing as he glanced around the room.
The very silence was imbued with a clarity, a sense of expectation, that he had never experienced before. Beyond the foot of the bed, he could just make out the others gathered in the circle marked out by Rhysel's wool—Rhysel closest, Mika to her right, between him and the door, and Tieg opposite Rhysel, with his back to the curtained window bay. The arrangement seemed to strike a familiar chord in Rhys Michael's memory, but he could not quite remember why. It occurred to him that the window faced east, and that this was significant.
The light seemed odd, too, not so much bright as—different. Only two other candles were burning in the room besides the one on the bedside table: one by the door and one on the floor in the center of the circle, next to what looked like a small glazed cup. The latter was hard to make out, as were the occupants, but if Rhys Michael squinted his eyes just so, he thought he seemed to detect a faint silvery sheen wrapping itself over and around the circle, like a huge, almost invisible bowl upturned over it. The hazy glow obscured his vision almost like looking through a fine veil, cobweb-fragile, and he shook his head slightly to try to clear it as Joram led him forward, heading them between the circle and the foot of the bed.
Instinct warned him not to try to touch it. Even passing close to it, he felt his skin seem to crawl. Just past the bed, he noted that the circle was incomplete. The two ends of white wool that should have closed it had been folded back to either side to leave a gap wide enough for a person to pass. The Haldane sword lay on the floor just outside, with its point just touching the more easterly side of the gap and angled to suggest an open door. Peering more closely at the opening, Rhys Michael thought the air seemed slightly clearer there, as if there really was a door through something just beyond his ability to see.
"Go into the circle and wait in the center, Sire," Joram said quietly, as he indicated the opening. "I'll join you when I've let Cathan know we're starting."
Rhys Michael could feel the hackles rising at the back of his neck as he passed uneasily into the circle. Mika came to him as he entered, gathering him to the center in a silent embrace that needed no words. He kissed her gently, and as they drew apart, she kissed her fingertips and pressed them lightly to the Haldane brooch at his throat, tears in her eyes. Smiling, he did the same, the wonder of her loyalty and love lending him courage and determination as Joram returned, passing again between the circle and the foot of the bed. As Joram bent to pick up the Haldane sword, Rhys Michael noticed a small silver cross now hanging outside his crimson surcoat, a tangible reminder of the Deryni's priestly calling.
Somehow reassured by that, the king let his wife withdraw to her former place and turned back to the opening. As soon as Joram had entered, Tieg crouched down briefly to bring the ends of white wool together and loosely knot them, symbolically completing the circle.
But it was Joram's action that actually completed it, Rhys Michael knew. Setting the point of the sword to the floor at the left side of where the doorway had been, Joram drew the blade smartly across the former threshold three times. Each stroke seemed to make the fog intensify in the opening, so that when he finished, bending briefly to lay the sword just along that part of the circle's arc, only the weapon's position remained to indicate where the opening had been.
"You stand now in a warded circle, Sire," Joram said softly, coming to turn him toward Tieg now, but well back from the candle. "I believe you sensed something of its power when you passed through its gate, which now is closed. The circle is guarded by the holy archangels, upon whom we shall call again shortly. A few small preparations are required first, however. Give me your right thumb, please."
Heartbeat quickening despite his determination not to be afraid, Rhys Michael gave Joram his right hand. As he did so, young Tieg produced a small piece of parchment from his belt pouch and, surprisingly, the Haldane Ring of Fire. Joram, meanwhile, had drawn a small silver dagger from a sheath at his belt. Somehow, Rhys Michael had the feeling he had seen it before, but he could not quite remember where.
"You've gone through part of this before," Joram said, compressing Rhys Michael's thumb beside the dagger's blade. "The sacrifice of blood and at least a token test of courage have been elements of all the empowering rituals in which I've assisted. The form we have used has differed, according to the circumstances, but the blood baptism of the Ring of Fire seems to be a constant, as is the formal naming of the king. The words you are about to hear were chosen by your father. Tieg?"
With a casual gesture of one Healer's hand, Tieg conjured a fist-sized sphere of greenish handfire and set it hanging in the air slightly above their heads. The suddenness of it startled Rhys Michael, especially so close, but he knew what it was; he had seen Javan conjure handfire once. But even had he wished it, he could not have pulled back, for Joram's hand held him fast, his thumb imprisoned close by the shining blade. He forced himself to lower his eyes from the handfire as Tieg tilted the square of parchment toward its light and read.
" _I will declare the decree. The Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son: This day have I begotten thee. Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession._ "
Rhys Michael blinked at the words. He had heard them before, he was sure, at a time just beyond the range of recall. He was still trying to remember where, when Joram drew his captive thumb sharply across the dagger's razor edge, to the accompaniment of other words that struck a chord somewhere deep inside him.
"Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, King of Gwynedd, be thou consecrated to the service of thy people."
He could not move. He seemed frozen in this instant of time: Into the thrumming silence that followed came the faintly rasping sound of Joram twice drawing the flat of the blade across the thigh of his breeches to clean it, then the cool, metallic snick of it being sheathed. The blade had been sharp enough to cause no immediate pain or much bleeding, but Rhys Michael's jaws clenched as Joram compressed the cut from the ends and it gaped open, welling with blood in which Tieg carefully rolled the dark red stones of the Ring of Fire. The touch of the stones against raw flesh made the king bite back a gasp of real pain, all his body tensing, but then the wounded thumb was being pressed to the parchment Tieg handed to the elder Deryni, mere pressure that allowed the cut to close.
The action gave the young Healer brief respite to pull a bit of clean linen from his pouch and wipe the thumb clean, then clasp it in one hand for a few blurred seconds. The pain ceased; and when Tieg opened his hand a moment later, releasing the king's thumb, the wound was completely healed.
Joram, meanwhile, had bent briefly to retrieve the cup at their feet. Rhys Michael guessed that the liquid half filling it was water, but by the greenish light of the handfire above, he could not be sure. Joram looked very focused as he slightly lifted the cup between them in his left hand, the parchment held over it on his open right palm. He did not even blink as the parchment burst into flames and, within a few heartbeats, was reduced to a mere snippet of ash. This he tipped into the cup, watching the ash disintegrate as he spoke again.
" _Give the king Thy judgments, O God, and Thy righteousness unto the king's son._ "
Rhys Michael breathed a fervent "Amen," and let the words sink into his soul as Joram held the cup closer to Tieg. The Healer carefully slipped the bloodstained Ring of Fire into the cup, then summoned the handfire down beside the cup while Joram gently swirled the ring around the bottom to stir the contents. When it was done to both their satisfaction, Tieg drew the handfire back into his hand and quenched it, leaving the circle lit only by the candle near their feet and the two elsewhere in the room.
"You drank of a similar cup once before, Sire," Joram said quietly. "As we proceed, I expect you'll begin to remember. We shall now reiterate the blessings that made it potent by more than blood, calling upon our archangelic guardians to witness our intent. Stand where you are and attend. It's customary to turn as we invoke the various Quarters, beginning in the East."
So saying, he passed the cup to Tieg, then stepped back to the edge of the circle closest to the foot of the bed as Tieg likewise retreated to the easternmost limit of the circle. Clasping the cup between his Healer's hands, Tieg briefly bowed his head over it, then lifted his face heavenward, eyes closed. His deep voice was low and musical, almost singing words Rhys Michael had heard before—he could almost remember when.
"O Lord, Thou art holy indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In trembling and humility we come before Thee with our supplications, asking Thy blessing and protection on what we must do this night."
Slightly elevating the cup, he shifted his right hand to extend the palm flat above it, lifting his eyes to a Presence that only he seemed able to see.
"Send now Thy holy Archangel Raphael, O Lord, to breathe upon this water and make it holy, that he who shall drink it may justly command the element of Air. Amen."
Shifting the summoning hand to support the foot of the cup, he raised it just above eye level and threw back his head, eyes closing as a faint breeze stirred his reddish hair, swirling once around the circle's confines and then subsiding. Rhys Michael, standing at the circle's center, felt the ghost-breath of the stirring as a crawling of the fine hairs on his forearms and a chill along his spine. As Tieg lowered the cup, the king found himself joining his hands in an attitude of prayer, fingers pressed to his lips, only now beginning to realize the magnitude of what they Called.
The young Healer smiled faintly, bowing slightly to the king before moving slightly to his left to hand the cup to Michaela. Rhys Michael turned to face her, but she did not seem really to see him, so intent was she upon young Tieg. She received the cup as if it bore the Blessed Sacrament, reverently bowing her head over it before lifting it as he had, with palm extended flat above it, drawing upon the knowledge they had given her of her heritage.
"O Lord, Thou art holy indeed: the fountain of all holiness. We pray Thee now to send Thy holy Archangel of Fire, the Blessed Michael, to instill this water with the fire of Thy love and make it holy. So may he who drinks of it justly command the element of Fire. Amen."
Rhys Michael fancied he could see blue flames flickering above the rim as she lifted it in further offering, though he could not imagine that she had the power to craft such fire herself. Whatever its source, her face seemed aglow as she carefully passed the cup to Rhysel. Only reluctantly did he take his eyes from her as she backed into her place and the younger woman bowed briefly over the cup, then lifted it in supplication.
"O Lord, Thou art holy indeed: the fountain of all holiness. Let now Thine Archangel Gabriel, who rules the stormy waters, instill this cup with the rain of Thy wisdom, that he who shall drink hereof may justly command the element of Water. Amen."
Rhys Michael flinched as thunder seemed to rumble softly all around him, glancing instinctively at the door beyond Michaela, for surely they must be able to hear it in the next room. A glittering mist seemed to gather above the cup as Rhysel spread her hand higher above the cup, almost-lightnings crackling and spitting from hand to contents.
A whiff of the sharp, clean scent of summer thundershowers prickled briefly at his nostrils, and when she lowered the cup, beads of moisture were streaming down the outside, dripping on the carpet as she took it to Joram. The priest appeared nonplussed, as did Rhysel, only wiping his right hand against the tail of his surcoat before extending it over the cup he raised. Despite their apparent nonchalance, the king felt a shudder of fear tighten along his spine, and he had to clasp his hands tightly together to stop their trembling as Joram spoke.
"O Lord, Thou art holy indeed: the fountain of all holiness. Let Uriel, Thy messenger of darkness and of death, instill this cup with all the strength and secrets of the earth, that he who shall drink hereof may justly command the element of Earth. Amen."
Very suddenly, in an instant of unexpected vertigo, Rhys Michael seemed to feel the floor lurch under his feet. Though it ended almost as soon as begun, he had to scramble to regain his balance, arms briefly outflung in mindless dismay until the room stabilized. He could hear the hollow, tinkling sound of the Ring of Fire rattling against the inside of the cup as Joram lowered it, and his heart was still pounding as the Deryni bade him turn to face Tieg again.
The young Healer had come forward to take up the candle, remaining deeper in the circle as Joram moved in beside him with the cup, and Rhys Michael found himself sinking to his knees before them. The candlelight lit their faces eerily from below, also lighting the cup with merciless clarity, and he knew he was trembling again.
"I can't tell you exactly what to expect next," Joram said quietly, studying the taut, upturned face of the young man kneeling before him. "I think you realize that this cup is now potent with far more than water and Haldane blood. Drinking it should be sufficient to take you past whatever has prevented your assumption of your father's power—but if it isn't, I'll step in. Possibly Tieg, as well. Try not to resist whatever happens. You probably _can_ , if you're determined not to let anything past your shields, but it won't be in your best interests."
Rhys Michael nodded dimly. He was very much aware of the power in the cup Joram now held out to him, a power whose promise he knew he had tasted before, at his father's hands. But as his own hands clasped around it and brought it to his heart, a flash of the futility of it all nearly made him drop it.
"Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, you are the true King of Gwynedd, God's anointed," he heard Joram saying softly, as if through a fog. "Drink. By this mystery shall you come to the power that is your Divine Right, as king of this realm; and even so shall you instruct your own sons, in due time."
Rhys Michael raised the cup in shaking hands and drank it to the dregs, wanting it to be true, praying that it _was_ true. The draught was bitter with ash and despair, flat with the faint salt-taste of his blood and his mortality. All too briefly, he thought he sensed _something_ vaguely stirring deep within him, the ghost flickers of unfamiliar images teasing behind his closed eyelids, but he could not seem to bring it to focus.
Choking back a sob of frustration, frantic to catch and hold the Sight, he sank back on his hunkers and blindly scrabbled the Ring of Fire out of the bottom of the empty cup, shoving the ash-smeared band of it hard onto his left hand. The momentary discomfort as it grazed across his knuckles flared as a fleeting glimpse of psychic clarity that made him gasp, came and was gone almost before it could register.
_No! Come back!_ a forlorn part of him pleaded, sightless eyes straining at the darkness.
Hands huddled to his breast half in prayer, he found himself rubbing at the knuckle he had scraped in donning the ring. In that instant he became acutely aware of another presence in the circle, both familiar and strange—not Joram or Tieg or either of the women—One who had the power to give him his Sight, if only he could focus, could bring the vision through. But how?
"Please, help me," he whispered, slowly collapsing over his clasped hands. "Help me, whoever you are. Help me to See, for the sake of my Crown and my kingdom!"
As he huddled there in a miserable ball of hopelessness, shaking his head in denial at his seeming impotence, he felt the cool sleekness of the Haldane brooch hard at his throat. Suddenly something Joram had said earlier came clear as crystal in his mind: _The sacrifice of blood... the test of courage..._
In that instant he knew what he must do. Reason shrank from the performing of it, but his fingers were already fumbling at the clasp of the brooch, easing the sleek length of shining metal pin from the throat of his tunic, testing the sharpness of it against a questing thumb.
"Sire?" came Joram's tentative query from somewhere far away.
He shook his head emphatically, shrinking away from the other's touch, opening the clasp wide so he could get a firm grip around the brooch itself as he poised the point of the sharp metal pin against the palm of his left hand.
"Don't touch me!" he whispered. " _I have to do this!_ "
He felt the pulse pounding in his ears and the surge of hopefulness welling up within him. Merely mortal flesh shrank from the certainty of the pain to come, but he offered up his fear in a heartfelt entreaty to Those who watched, of whose presence he had no doubt; to that Other who he prayed would be his salvation; and to Him in Whose service he had been anointed as king. Unlike his father or his brother Javan, he had never considered himself particularly religious, but he sensed the fitness of some formal seal on what he now did.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," he whispered, pouring all his will and longing into the invocation. "Not my will but Thine be— _done_!"
He jammed the clasp home on the final word, a part of him detached and almost surprised at how hard it was to force such a slender sliver of metal between bones and sinews.
And the pain of it—a blinding, burning agony centered in his palm but racing up his arm to lance into his brain in an explosion of white-hot light. The mass of the brooch itself was like molten metal in his hand, but far worse was the raging inferno that kindled in his head.
The fire illuminated old, long-buried memories—standing fearlessly before his father and draining another cup, his father's hands laid upon his head as power came surging through in a fountaining of light and heat, stirring the power and setting its access in place, then reimposing Blindness, setting constraints that should have loosed six years ago and more, when Javan died...
But besides his father's hands in memory, other hands suddenly were on his head here and now, and they were not Joram's hands, or Tieg's. He could feel the presence behind the hands pushing, probing, insisting, entreating, but his own defenses surged up in rebellion. He sensed the benign intent of that Other and knew he must not resist, but he could not seem to summon up the will to yield. In desperation, he jammed the brooch harder against his palm and gave a twist, shifting the impaling shaft of gold between the bones of his hand.
The new pain brought his intention abruptly and sharply to a focus, blossoming out like a flower of light, pushing back his shields, baring his soul to that Other who waited. As he felt the weight of ghost-hands upon his head, light exploded behind his eyelids with a white-hot brilliance, and his brief awareness of illumination faded smoothly into oblivion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift.
—II Corinthians 9:15
Joram briefly had glimpsed that other presence in their circle and knew that Tieg had seen it, too, by the startled look on his face. But as the king gave a little moan and collapsed onto his side, twitching alarmingly, Joram relegated any personal dismay to that deeply guarded inner place reserved for things he did not understand or entirely approve of. He doubted whether Tieg had recognized the figure as his Grandfather Camber, Joram's father, but the boy would surely ask about it later. Much to Joram's dismay, "Saint" Camber had acquired a disconcerting tendency to make unexpected appearances during magical workings, at least for Haldanes. Whether this betokened merely an ongoing interest in that royal House's well-being or was sign of more far-reaching intent, Joram had no idea; but with the king's life hanging in the balance, this was not the time or place to debate the issue, even with himself.
"Don't touch him!" he ordered, as Tieg started to go to the stricken king. "Let it run its course!"
Tieg drew back, though obedience clearly was at odds with the Healer's instincts urging him forward. Rhysel had gone to the queen as Rhys Michael collapsed, preventing her intervention, and glanced at her uncle in query as the king's movement ceased and Joram finally dropped to his knees beside him.
"All right, it's done," he murmured, darting a glance of summons at Tieg as he rolled the king onto his back. "I think he'll be all right. This follows the same pattern as other Haldane empowerings. Rhysel, please close down the circle while we see how he is. Your Highness, you'll help most if you don't interfere."
White-faced, Michaela nodded and sank to her knees where she stood, treeing Rhysel to take up the sword and set about closing the circle. Tieg had already come to crouch at the king's head, setting his candle aside to lay both hands across the pale forehead.
After a moment, he turned his attention to Rhys Michael's left hand, grimacing as the length of gold protruding from its back briefly snagged against a fold of scarlet tunic. Turning the hand palm-up, he gently unbent the fingers still clasped around the heavy enameled brooch, then carefully drew it free. Two small, almost bloodless puncture wounds remained, in the palm and on the back of the hand.
"That can't have been easy, on several counts," Tieg said as he handed off the brooch to Joram. "Hands are tough, and very sensitive to pain. At least what he did seems to have accomplished what was necessary. Were you expecting this?"
Joram shook his head. "Not this, precisely," he said, "but it was clear very quickly that something more was going to be necessary to focus him. He obviously figured out what it was."
Shaking his head, Tieg clasped the wounded hand in one of his own, fingers covering the two small punctures. When he released it, after a few seconds of concentration, both wounds had disappeared.
"How long will he be unconscious?" Joram asked, as the young Healer shifted his attention back to the king's head.
"Hard to tell. And when he does come around, all he's going to want to do is sleep. We'd better get him into bed. I do want to see him stirring before we leave, though."
"But he does have full powers?" Joram asked, as Tieg slid an arm under the royal shoulders to hit him to a sitting position.
"Well, I don't know how full is full, in the case of a Haldane, but there's certainly a lot more there than there was before."
"And could you block it, if you had to?" Joram persisted.
Tieg shot him an incredulous look. "If you're asking whether he feels like one of us, the answer is yes. And I can sense the triggerpoint. You don't really want me to touch it, though, do you?"
"Good God, no. I'm just trying to figure out how this all works. Let me give you a hand with him."
Together they pulled the unconscious king to his feet, an anxious Michaela also rising, though she did not try to interfere. Behind them, Rhysel had closed the circle and was briskly winding up the length of white wool that had delineated its boundaries. Rhys Michael began to revive as they manhandled him toward the bed, legs moving jerkily at first, then starting to support a little of his weight as he tried to lift his head and look around.
"You're going to be fine, Sire," Tieg reassured him. "Don't try to exert yourself. We're going to put you to bed now."
They braced him against the edge of the bed so they could begin undressing him, letting Michaela help. He was an almost dead-weight at first, but he seemed to be aware of his surroundings by the time they drew the sleeping furs up around his chest. Michaela had crawled up onto the other side of the bed and was sitting cross-legged beside him, watching fearfully as her husband's eyes scanned around him and gradually began to register reason.
"I know you must be very tired, Sire," Joram said, as the king's bleary gaze met his. "That's completely to be expected. The best thing you can do now is sleep. There will be a lot of demands on you tomorrow and in the days to come, and you'll want to tread slowly and cautiously as you explore the limits of your power."
Rhys Michael managed a weak nod and reached out to take Michaela's hand. She was smiling and crying, both at the same time.
"Mika, it worked," he whispered.
"Yes, my darling."
"Why did I fight this? How could anyone _not_ want it?"
"What you do _not_ want," Joram said grimly, "is any extra scrutiny. Unfortunately, I can't stay around to help you ease into wisdom on how to use your powers. I can only beg you to go slowly and be very, very careful, until you can find ways to shift the balance safely. The great lords did not achieve their positions of influence overnight, and you aren't going to get rid of them instantly, either. If all of them were to disappear right now, you wouldn't have the experienced support you'll need to reign effectively—especially if Eastmarch should turn into a full-blown war, God forbid. That support can be gathered, but not all at once.
"For now, your primary concern is to meet the challenge of Miklos of Torenth and stay alive. Remember that you're still mortal. Magic you may have, but swords and arrows, poison—they can all still kill you, if you aren't careful."
"I'll remember," Rhys Michael murmured, earnest resolution in his eyes. "Thank you, Father Joram—and Tieg. And please—thank that other man who was in the circle with us, there at the end. I'm not sure I could have done it, if it hadn't been for him."
Joram closed his eyes briefly, knowing he had not heard the last of this, then nodded. "We'd better go," he murmured, glancing at Tieg. "We don't want to press our luck—or yours. I wish there were time to establish a contact link for future communication, but you're in no condition right now. Later, perhaps, after you've returned. Meanwhile, Rhysel will continue to be your go-between. God keep you, Sire—and your Highness. You'd both best sleep now."
As he and Tieg slipped out of the room, Rhysel following, Michaela snuggled down to lay her head against her husband's shoulder. He smiled as he let his arm encircle her, reaching out drowsily with a tendril of thought to gently brush her mind. To his pleased surprise, he felt the feather-brush of her response in kind, fragile but exquisite. It was thus that he allowed himself to drift into sleep, enwrapped in her love and secure in the expectation that, at last, he had a weapon to use against his enemies.
One of those enemies even then was prowling the darkness not far away, bound on an errand for other masters besides those to whom he answered in the castle. Unseen, the Deryni Dimitri made his way along a dim-lit range of vaulted cellars, silent as a wisp of fog. Torches burned here and there along the stone-flagged corridor, but the pools of light they cast were far apart, leaving wide areas of darkness between.
The alcove Dimitri sought was well screened by one of these patches of darkness, and here he hid himself to wait. Very shortly his intended victim came sauntering along the corridor as expected—a bored and gullible young guard named Iosif, who had served Dimitri's purposes before.
He was bigger than Dimitri, and much younger, full-featured and powerfully built, with a mop of curly black hair above the scarlet surcoat that covered body armor of boiled leather. He was armed with short sword and dagger. One big hand bore a torch aloft, and the other swung a large ring of keys. Though his mere size would have made him a formidable opponent, Dimitri had no intention of ever letting their relationship become adversarial on any level.
Poised to make his move, he waited until the young man had come just abreast of the alcove, then reached out one hand to seize the man's nearer wrist, at once securing control and drawing him into the alcove, his free hand catching up the ring of keys before they could fall. His victim's eyes had closed at Dimitri's touch, and he offered no resistance as his torch hand slowly sank.
"Good evening, Iosif," Dimitri whispered, smiling slightly as he rescued the torch and snuffed it against the wall. "You do not remember me, but I promise you shall remember your reward, if you survive this night's work. Sit and be at ease now. I must reach very far tonight."
Oblivious to his mortal danger, the younger man sank at once to a sitting position against the wall, booted legs splayed wide to brace himself, head lolling against the rough stone at his back, big hands lying open and motionless beside his leather-clad thighs. His captor bent to set keys and torch within easy reach to either side, then folded to sit cross-legged between the younger man's knees. Drawing a deep breath then, Dimitri leaned slightly forward and reached up to lay hands on either side of the curly head, fingers slipping through the thick hair and thumbs coming to rest on the temples.
"You cannot resist me," he whispered, dark gaze fixing on the blur of his victim's closed eyes. "I regret that it may be necessary to hurt you, but I shall try to be brief. Look at me, Iosif. Open your eyes... and now open your soul..."
The young man's breath caught in a little gasp, but he obeyed. The Deryni's thumbs tightened. Ignoring the brief flash of dread in his subject's eyes, Dimitri at once breached the puny human defenses, quelling the stifled moan that passed the other's lips as he forced the pathways open wide and pushed deep into the other's mind, to the very core of life-force. He could taste the pain he caused as he began to pull the power to drive his intent, but he balanced his speed to a level that was safe enough, if less than comfortable. If he had to draw too deeply or for too long, true damage would be done, but that was a calculated part of the risk—Iosif's risk.
Steely-willed, Dimitri drove his call outward then, tight-focused toward the mind that should be waiting for his contact. Finding the connection he sought took longer than he would have liked—Iosif was tiring quickly—but once the link was secured, the communication itself was quick and smooth, briefly giddying as the other probed deep and then withdrew enough to pass on further instructions before dismantling the contact.
In the space of a heartbeat, Dimitri was alone in his subject's mind once again, blinking dazedly back to normal awareness. The pounding of his own heart indicated that the operation just completed had taken far more out of him than it usually did, so he drew a long, slow breath and pulled a bit more energy from Iosif to stabilize himself, breathing out men with a relieved sigh. The young guard looked pasty-faced and almost feverish as Dimitri assessed the cost, and the pulse in the side of Iosif's neck fluttered weak and thready under his captor's fingers.
"A near-run thing, eh, my hapless young friend?" Dimitri whispered, shifting a little energy back to better balance the younger man. "Now you shall have what you desire, but consider carefully what dream you shall wish for in the future. Succubi are passing fickle, and sometimes cruel. Pleasure they may give, but not always do they reckon well a mortal mount's endurance."
A sly smile curved at his lips as he set the old scenario in motion, for well he knew what men like Iosif desired, in the loneliness of the long night watch. The erotic fantasy starting to stir at the edges of the younger man's awareness was tailored to fuel the most profound of carnal longings.
The dream would be brief but vivid, after which a shaken and exhausted Iosif would be off on his rounds again. If he did not actually ascribe his condition to a literal visitation by the delectable succubus of nocturnal memory, he certainly would be convinced that his exhaustion came of an exquisitely satisfying dream—clandestine bliss stolen while he sought a catnap in one of the several hiding places he had discovered were safe from his sergeant's prying. And it was something he would never report to his superiors or even a confessor.
So Iosif would keep his secret—and Dimitri's—and the odd partnership would continue as long as Dimitri had need of him—or until the night came, as it could at any time, when Dimitri must drain his subject past recovery. A less skilled mage might simply have killed his subjects after each night's work—supplying such an illusion as Dimitri's required extra effort and a bit of imagination—but Dimitri was savvy enough to realize that a series of mysterious deaths would have aroused suspicion.
No, far better to use the same subject again and again, and give the workman generous compensation for his labors. As Dimitri got to his feet, the younger man already was beginning to breathe more heavily, face flushing with anticipated ecstasy.
Smiling slightly as he shook his head, Dimitri put the man from his mind and glanced out into the main corridor, scanning left and right. He had his orders; time enough to begin implementing them tomorrow, as opportunities presented themselves. Several ideas had occurred to him already...
His master, meanwhile, had also paid a price for the night's work. Far away, in the cool darkness of a sparsely furnished tower room of a castle called Culliecairn, Prince Miklos of Torenth lay still as death and set himself the welcome discipline of running slowly through a spell to banish fatigue. These far contacts necessary to maintain input from his agent in Rhemuth always left him drained, even when he augmented his energies, and it was hard on the subjects from whom he borrowed those energies. The sturdy captain sprawled unconscious in the chair beside the camp bed was accustomed to serving his prince in this wise, but even with a Healer's ministrations, he was apt to require a day abed to fully recover. But the extra power had to come from somewhere, and a subordinate could spare it far more easily than Miklos.
Stirring a little stiffly, the prince opened his eyes and carefully stretched each long limb before sitting up with a sigh. Long blond hair tumbled loose around his shoulders as he bent his head to press the heels of both hands hard against his forehead. At this sign of life, a shorter, darker young man of a similar age came over to pour wine into a pair of silver goblets, handing one to the man just awakened before flouncing down in another chair beside the narrow camp bed.
"Well?"
"It proceeds according to plan," the fairer man replied, lifting his cup in salute and then drinking it down. "The Haldane has taken the bait and will be here within a fortnight."
The younger man laughed aloud and lifted his own cup in answer. "Well done, Dimitri! I really didn't think they'd let him come out. I thought they'd simply send an army."
"They are sending that, too," Miklos said mildly. "And it remains to be seen whether he can be lured into a confrontation of the sort you seek, once he arrives."
Marek of Festil snorted and set his cup beside his chair.
"I don't see why not. If he thinks he can get Culliecairn back by negotiation, why should he wish to risk men's lives in battle?"
"True enough. However, he seems rightly to have deduced that we have not my brother's support in this venture, and that you are as yet in no position to make him a serious military challenge. These insights show a far keener understanding of political realities than we had been led to expect. We may have been mistaken in assuming that he is controlled by his great lords."
"Dimitri swears that he is," Marek said.
"I prefer to judge that for myself, I think. We can afford to go slowly."
"Miklos, I've been going slowly for twenty-three years," Marek said, exasperation in his voice. "I'm the same age my father was when the Haldane's father killed him. It's time I found out whether the Haldane magic that killed my father passed to his son. I don't think it did, or he would have used it by now to free himself from his great lords."
"I am inclined to agree; and if you are correct, I shall kill him for you."
"I can kill him myself."
"You probably could. However, if we both are wrong, and the Haldane magic is his, it is best that I be the one to find this out. The House of Festil can ill afford the loss of its head at this time. Your heir is less than a year old, Marek."
"And you _have_ no heir," Marek pointed out.
Miklos shrugged and smiled. "The gamble of a younger son, cousin. I have yet to establish _my_ dynasty, but if it's to be done, better on the basis of lands won than lands merely given, however generous one's benefactor."
"When I am king," Marek murmured, reaching across to clasp his cousin's arm, "when we have won back my lands, I shall make you Duke of Mooryn, holding all of southern Gwynedd. And it will be because you have won it, not because anyone deigned to give it."
"Which is precisely why I am willing to be a little reckless in your cause," Miklos replied with a sly smile. "Now, here is what I have asked Dimitri to do."
At that moment, what Dimitri had been asked to do was of far less concern to him than making his way back to the privacy of his own quarters for some much-needed sleep. Soul-weary from his work of the past hour, and grown at once arrogant and complacent through several years' supposition that he was the only Deryni at large in Rhemuth Castle, he hardly noticed or cared that his shields were sloppy as he began to climb a turnpike stair leading upward. What mere human would notice his vulnerability, should he chance to meet anyone?
But others noticed. Nor were they merely human. En route back to the Portal room beside the library, just emerging from the turnpike stair that had led them down from the level of the royal apartments, Joram and Tieg paused to glance quickly along the corridor and then back down the stairwell as they sensed the flare of undisciplined shields somewhere nearby. Simultaneously came the faint, padding whisper of soft-shod footsteps ascending the turnpike stair from farther below, confirming the source of the flare. But there should be no other Deryni here!
Hardly breathing, Joram set a hand on Tieg's forearm, tight-shuttered communication passing between them. By keeping their own shields locked down, they should be able to avoid betraying their identity as Deryni; but they stood little chance of going unnoticed, for Tieg carried a torch. Nor dared they risk being seen entering the little room beside the library.
But their mere appearance should arouse no suspicion, dressed as man-at-arms and squire. As such, they had every right to be about the castle at this hour. Could the intruder say as much? Who was he?
The only way to find out was to brazen it out. Shields pulled close, they turned back onto the landing to await whoever was coming, Tieg holding his torch aloft in simple courtesy. The footsteps continued up the stairwell, torchlight now breaking around the newel post, preceding the one who bore it.
Against the glare of the other man's torch, Joram could make out but little of his features, but his raiment was black and monkish. Joram felt the other's flare of interest as he became aware of them, but no suspicion. And before simple interest could shift to suspicion, Tieg boldly reached out to grasp the hand holding the torch, at the same time plunging deep for the triggerpoint, stripping the other's powers bare and plummeting him into oblivion.
The man had no time to cry out, even in his mind. Consciousness simply ceased. He went rigid rather than buckling at the knees, for Tieg's controls held him immobile. After a taut instant to confirm his work, the young Healer handed off first one torch and then the other to Joram, shifting his hands then to either side of the man's head to Read him. Within seconds he glanced back at Joram in consternation.
"Good God, Joram, this is Dimitri!"
Joram moved in beside him immediately, glancing around surreptitiously as he stubbed out one torch against the wall and then conducted his own quick probe of their captive's mind. The breadth and depth of Dimitri's ongoing deception was so vast as to be almost unbelievable, except that Joram had seen the results all too clearly. That the Deryni double agent was no longer capable of any deception or subterfuge hardly mattered, for his work for the great lords had cost the lives of scores of innocent men and women, over the years. His work for Prince Miklos of Torenth and the Festillic Pretender, Prince Marek, bespoke even more convoluted plots and betrayals.
_We'll take him back to the haven_ , Joram said in Tieg's mind. _I plan to strip him dry before I kill him_.
_That's risky_ , Tieg returned. _If he just disappears, awkward questions are likely to be asked, maybe even of the king_.
_If no body is ever found, his disappearance will remain a mystery_ , Joram replied. _They have no other Deryni to investigate it, and Fulk will verify that Dimitri never came near the royal apartments and the king never left them_ — _which is all quite true. Help me get him up_.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Who causeth the righteous to go astray in an evil way, he shall fall himself into his own pit.
—Proverbs 28:10
With but a few hours remaining before dawn, Joram finally decided _not_ to kill Dimitri.
"The temptation is almost irresistible," he said to his closest advisors. "God knows he deserves to die. But considering what we've learned, I think he can serve our purposes far better if we return him precisely where Paulin and Hubert think he ought to be—with his orders suitably redirected, of course."
Bishop Niallan sat back wearily in his chair, absently rubbing one hand over his short-clipped grey beard.
"I just don't know, Joram. Granted, he'd be in a position to do us several very large favors, but this does complicate an already precarious situation."
The subject of their discussion still lay where he had been deposited some hours before, oblivious even to their presence, stretched out motionless on the long table previously taken up by maps and strategy papers. Still stripped of his powers and, therefore, quite humanly vulnerable, Dimitri had been subjected to the most thorough and rigorous examination of which the very proficient Deryni ranged around this table were capable. The full extent of his service to the great lords now was known, as well as the superior allegiance he owed to Miklos of Torenth—and had owed, from long before he allowed himself to be recruited by Paulin of Ramos.
"Well, it was an incredible double deception," Dom Rickart said, glancing toward the head of the table, where Jesse MacGregor was still immersed in trance, fine-tuning Dimitri's new orders while Queron and Tieg observed. "And what incredible luck, that he should just walk into your hands like that."
"What incredible luck, that one of _our_ people hasn't just walked into _his_ hands, over the last few years," Joram countered. "And if he'd ever gotten his hands on the king, it would have been the end of him. We've all seen what suspicions he already had."
"Which is all the more reason to simply kill him and be done with it," Ansel said. "The very thought of letting him go back alive, even controlled—"
"Ansel, the idea doesn't exactly thrill me either," Joram said sharply. He was still wearing his Haldane harness and looked taut and irritated. "I'm quite aware of the risks. But his disappearance just now, on the eve of departure for a major military expedition, would raise far too many questions—as would his death by 'natural causes.'"
"Didn't we eliminate some _Custodes_ priest just before Javan's coronation and make it look like natural causes?" Dom Rickart said thoughtfully.
"Yes, and Paulin was suspicious at the time, even though he was never able to put a finger on anything," Joram replied. "I don't think we dare use that ruse again, at least not in this instance. A convenient and fatal 'accident' would be useful, but that's far more difficult to arrange so that it's convincing, especially on short notice. And needless to say, we daren't even consider any form of killing that would be recognizable as murder."
Niallan gave a resigned sigh and bowed his head on one hand, rubbing at his eyes.
"So, if we do send him back controlled, how effective do you think he'll be?"
"Not very, and not for long, but he might have time and opportunity to eliminate at least a few of the opposition," Joram said. "Miklos will be the biggest limiting factor in that regard. The nature of the contact link he's forged with Dimitri ensures that he'll spot our tampering, if Dimitri makes the expected contact. So we can't allow that. And if Dimitri _doesn't_ make the contact, Miklos eventually will become suspicious and try to force it—which he's quite capable of doing. Either way, Dimitri's a dead man."
"What if the great lords get suspicious first?" Ansel asked.
Joram shrugged. "A lot depends on the circumstances, but the end result is pretty much the same. Since they know what he is, they're sure to dose him with _merasha_ before the questioning goes very far. Given the zeal of _Custodes_ inquisitors, they'll probably employ torture if he doesn't break fairly quickly—which he won't. His final defense is set beyond a very high pain threshold. I don't much care whether he tells about working for Torenth, so long as he dies before revealing that he's also become a triple agent."
"I gather he has a death-trigger set," Dom Rickart said.
Joram nodded. "Quite a powerful one. It's a mark of his devotion to Miklos that he willingly allowed it to be set, so there could be no possibility of him betraying Miklos under pressure. Fortunately, with his powers temporarily suspended, it's possible for Jesse to—adjust it."
"Just like that?" Ansel said indignantly. "A nice, clean death-trigger? You mean that after all the deaths he's caused, he just gets to suicide out?"
"He'll still be dead," Dom Rickart pointed out, faintly disapproving. "And suicide is hardly a clean way out, if you accept the teachings of the Church on taking one's own life."
Bishop Niallan waggled a hand in a yes-and-no gesture. "Actually, we may be saving him from that, Rickart. It can be argued that since he didn't agree to the changed terms we're imposing, his death won't technically be suicide anymore. Call it an indirect execution, if you prefer. Personally, I would as soon send his unrepentant soul straight to hell, but my office as a priest forbids indulgence in vengeance. I salve my conscience with the knowledge that at least he's going to have a chance to make some restitution before he dies—even if he's forced to do it."
A little taken aback at the vehemence of Niallan's response, Ansel sat back in his chair as Rickart raised an eyebrow and asked Joram, "How long are we talking about, then? How long do you think he'll have?"
Joram folded his arms across his chest with weary resignation.
"He's to contact Miklos again when the Haldane levies are about two days' ride out of Culliecairn—say, in about a week. That's assuming, of course, that Miklos doesn't decide he needs to initiate a contact sooner, for some reason. Keep in mind, though, that it takes a great deal more energy if the contact isn't expected and assisted, especially across such a distance. Naturally, such a contact becomes increasingly feasible, the closer together they get."
"Having said that," Queron interjected, speaking up for the first time, "the chances are that Miklos _won't_ attempt a contact for the first four or five days. With the kind of power outlay that's required, why bother, when the royal forces can't have done anything to threaten Miklos anyway? And if Dimitri tries to carry out his orders from Miklos and fails, what could Miklos do about it? Meanwhile, Dimitri can do a lot for _us._ "
Niallan nodded reluctantly. "I agree with your logic. You may well be right. But I'm still not happy about turning him loose totally without supervision and without the king knowing. So much could go wrong."
"Nothing can be done about the lack of supervision, if we're going to try this," Joram said, "but we'll see what we can do about alerting the king. It will have to be through Rhysel, and she may not have an opportunity to pass on the information, but it's worth a try."
"I'll see to it," Tieg said, rising.
Joram nodded. "Be as quick as you can, then. The longer we keep Dimitri here, the greater the danger that he'll have been missed."
The dawning light that morning was fitful, for rain had moved in over Rhemuth during the night. The steady drumming of it against the leaded window glass woke Rhys Michael just as Cathan was pushing back the heavy curtains covering the window bay, but the absence of proper daylight made him burrow back under the sleeping furs for a few seconds, seeking warmth nearer Michaela, before he remembered what had happened the night before.
He sat up with a start, causing Cathan to turn to him in question and Michaela to sigh sleepily in protest. Instinctively he reached out a tendril of thought to brush her mind, though he kept his shields close. Her startled query shifted almost immediately to a tender feather-brush of response that felt almost like butterflies in his mind, so intimate as to be almost physical, echoed by her hands as she snuggled closer under the sleeping furs. Glancing back at Cathan, Rhys Michael could only manage a sheepish grin.
"Oh, it's you," he murmured, affecting nonchalance as he partially reclined back onto the pillows. "Aren't you a bit early?"
"The rain makes it darker than it should be," Cathan said cheerily, coming closer to lay a robe across the foot of the royal bed. "Your squires are drawing a bath in your dressing room—and I'll remind you that you aren't likely to get another while we're on the march—but I think I can stall them for a little while, if you—ah—aren't quite ready to get up yet. I should point out, however, that you're both expected at Mass in about an hour, and Archbishop Hubert will be very cross if you're late."
He grinned as he handed over a cup of morning ale, deliberately touching his hand to the king's, and the brief contact enabled Rhys Michael to confirm from Cathan that, indeed, he had not dreamed the night before.
Laughing delightedly, Rhys Michael waved Cathan out of the room with a shooing motion and set the ale aside, then turned to take Michaela in his arms, soon losing himself in the sweet bliss of their joining. Almost from the beginning, there had been an urgency to their lovemaking that went beyond the mere physical, knowing that each time might be the last.
Now that urgency was heightened by the knowledge that he soon would be riding into a much more tangible and immediate danger than had been their constant companion for the last six years. Though they pleasured one another gently this morning, lest her pregnancy be endangered, their passion carried a new poignancy that left Michaela softly weeping in his arms when they were spent. Only a determination not to let him leave with this impression enabled her to summon up a tremulous smile as he drew apart from her at last, in response to Fulk's knock at the door, to shrug into the robe Cathan had left him and pad off to his bath.
Somehow, Michaela managed to keep further tears at bay as she set about her own ablutions and allowed her ladies to help her dress. She found their fussing and endless chatter even more irritating than usual, although Lirin, the youngest of them, was also a trifle subdued this morning, perhaps because her Richard also was set to ride out with the king. Lady Estellan's husband was going, too, but they had been married for more than thirty years and had not shared a bed for decades.
"Your Highness, you're very pale this morning," Estellan said, holding first one gown, then another near her face, though trying to judge color by the grey morning light and candles was difficult. "I thought you were through with the morning sickness."
"I'm fine, Estellan. Just a little tired."
"And missing the king already, I'll warrant. Well, you just concentrate on bringing that bairn to term. The king will do what he must, and God willing, they'll all come home safe."
To counter the grey of the morning and offset her pallor, Estellan brought her a loose-fitting gown of deep rose silk, with a wide border of interlaced golden lions chasing one another around the hem and trailing sleeves. It pleased Michaela well enough as she pulled it on over her shift—the gown was one of her favorites, and Rhysem's—but not until Rhysel came to do her hair could she begin to feel the grey lethargy lift from her mood.
"Oh, _there_ you are," Estellan said, as Rhysel approached with her basket of combs and brushes and pins and bobbed a quick curtsey. "She's looking a little peaked this morning, but the hair must be formal. The right veil will give her some color, I think. She's to wear her State Gown."
"Yes, my lady."
Making a deeper reverence to the queen, Rhysel set her basket on the dressing table and began brushing the tangles from the long, wheaten hair. After seeing Joram and Tieg safely on their way the night before, she had come back to Michaela to check on the king. Dead asleep, the newly empowered Rhys Michael had not stirred, but Michaela had greeted her like a sister, clinging to her for a long moment while she simply shook in after-reaction.
After, Rhysel had helped the queen ready for bed, then soothed her into dreamless sleep before returning to the sparse garret chamber she shared with another maid. She, too, had slept for a while after that—until Tieg's message roused her out of sleep and left her staring at the ceiling for what remained of the night.
"Pretend to be preoccupied while I braid up your hair," Rhysel whispered, as she divided off three thick sections with an ivory comb. "Whatever you do, don't react."
The officious Lady Estellan had disappeared momentarily, presumably to fetch the crown and a suitable veil, and Lirin and Lady Nieve were out of earshot, brushing up a drab-colored cloak by the wan light of day, over in the window bay, but Rhysel still shifted to mind-speech.
_There's been a new development—potentially, a very good one. You must pass this on to the king, if you possibly can_.
As her nimble fingers quickly plaited a thick braid to pin at the back of the queen's head, she silently imparted what portion of the news Tieg had instructed her to pass on. Rhysel had the whole of it, but too many details could only alarm Michaela and make her role that much more difficult to play, at least until she settled into her newly regained powers, such as they were. Michaela received the news of Dimitri's capture with amazement and a growing flare of hope, a little of it lending a new light to her eyes, though no sign of it showed in her expression.
_Now make some critical comment about the way I've done your hair_ , Rhysel sent silently, as Estellan returned with the crown and a rosy handful of gossamer veil. _We don't want the dragon lady wondering why you suddenly look much perkier than when I first came in_.
Michaela sighed and picked up a hand mirror to inspect Rhysel's work.
"I wish we could leave at least part of it down," she said, smoothing a side strand for Rhysel to pin. "The king likes to see it loose."
"Queens do _not_ wear their hair loose in public," Estellan said, handing Rhysel the veil with a sniff of disapproval. "Here, cover her Grace's hair with this before we put on the crown. It will give her some decent color."
"Yes, my lady," Rhysel murmured dutifully. The veil was a rose silk shot with gold, and actually did suit Michaela's coloring very well, but as Estellan momentarily turned her back to check on progress in the window bay, the queen stuck out her tongue, in a rare show of pent-up exasperation.
_The old cow!_ came her spirited expletive, fortunately only caught by Rhysel.
Biting back a smile, Rhysel arranged the veil close around Michaela's face, with part of it cascading back from the crown of her head, then set the crown in place—leaves and crosses intertwined and set with rubies like the king's. As Rhysel held up the mirror so the queen could get a better view, Estellan returned with Lady Nieve, bearing a grey wool cloak lined and hooded with grey rabbit.
"I'm afraid it's still raining, your Highness," Nieve said, as the queen rose and let herself be helped on with the cloak. "A pity to cover that lovely gown, but on a day like this—Never mind, though. You look beautiful. We'd best go now. Mustn't keep the archbishop waiting."
"Thank you, Liesel," Michaela murmured, as she turned to go, knowing Rhysel would understand that her thanks were not only for the service just performed with the royal tresses. She wished she could send her thanks directly into Rhysel's mind, but she seemed to require physical contact for that. Perhaps, in time, she would learn how to extend her strength.
But meanwhile, what she _could_ do had enabled Rhysel to pass on the news about Dimitri in safety, and she knew that she could pass it on to Rhysem in the same way, without anyone else being aware. That knowledge gave her hope that her husband's plight might not be nearly as desperate as they both had feared, for Dimitri's intended presence on the expedition to Eastmarch had been a source of some anxiety the previous afternoon. She hoped he would be greatly relieved to learn that Dimitri had been neutralized.
The bells were ringing for Terce as she went into the solar, where Rhys Michael also had just emerged. He was accoutred for his journey, in supple scarlet riding leathers under a tough, metal-studded scarlet jazerant, with scarlet gauntlets stuck into his white belt and the Haldane sword hanging at his side. The State Crown was on his head, and golden spurs were on his heels. He had left the Ring of Fire in Michaela's keeping earlier, for it was state regalia not suitable for the field, but the Eye of Rom was in his ear and his Haldane signet on his hand. He came to kiss her when she came out, then led her from the solar preceded by Cathan and Fulk, both clad in grey but armored much the same as he, with the badge of his service bold on their sleeves.
A squire bore a torch before them as they carefully descended the dim newel stair, and Michaela's ladies followed with another torch. The sounds of voices drifted up on the damp air to meet them as they approached the screens passage, whence they would enter the dais end of the great hall. Just as they reached the landing, little Owain broke away from an indulgent nurse and came running to join them, crimson-clad and joyous, miniature Haldane lions emblazoned bold across breast and back, though differenced by a label of the eldest son. He shrieked with delight as his father scooped him up to ride on his shoulders.
Thus did King Rhys Michael Alister Haldane make his way through the great hall and on to the Chapel Royal, with his queen on one arm and his laughing young son overseeing all from his superior height. Those gathered in the hall gave them reverence as they passed—courtiers and officers and a few of their ladies, some of the latter sniffing back tears to see the young prince thus. Those set to accompany the king on his expedition fell in behind, to join him for the Mass of Dedication that would send them blessed on their way.
Not until Mass was well in progress did Michaela find the opportunity to pass on Rhysel's news. Owain had gotten fidgety very quickly, once the Mass began, so Lirin had taken him out to be handed back to his nurse. Hubert was intoning a seemingly endless Gospel.
"... The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into his harvest. Go your ways: behold, I send you forth as lambs among wolves..."
_Close your eyes and don't react to this_ , Michaela sent to Rhysem, as they stood with hands clasped between them in the folds of her cloak, and Hubert's voice droned on and on. She wanted to bow her head, to retreat further into the hood of her cloak, but one could not incline one's head too far forward while wearing a crown.
_Rhysel had more news this morning_ , she went on, hoping her concentration would be taken for attention to the reading. _Joram and Tieg ran into Dimitri after they left us last night. They took him prisoner and_ — _did things to him. It wasn't only the great lords he was working for—but he serves our purposes now. Rhysel says he won't be useful for very long_ — _his conflicting loyalties are going to catch up with him, probably before you reach Eastmarch_ — _but meanwhile, don't be surprised if things happen_.
He had managed not to react as she passed the message, but he did dare a glance at her before averting his eyes again and pretending to be caught up in the service.
_What do you mean, if things happen?_
She squeezed his hand more tightly and swallowed.
_He was supposed to kill people. He still will. Except that Joram has changed some of the targets_.
_Who chose the original targets?_ Rhys Michael demanded.
_Miklos of Torenth, acting for Marek. That's all I know_.
He withdrew from her then. He still kept hold of her hand, but she sensed he had retreated to some intensely private place deep inside his mind where, at least for now, she was not welcome. He remained tightly shuttered until, at the offertory, he squeezed her hand, with a whisper bade her stay in her place, and went forward to remove his crown and lay it on the altar before the startled Archbishop Hubert.
"Your Grace, as I prepare to embark upon this journey, I offer up this endeavor to the greater glory of God and for the continued freedom of this kingdom from those who would usurp her sovereignty," he said quietly, hoping Hubert would not guess the double meaning in his words. "May Culliecairn be freed, and may God give us victory."
With that he retreated to the lowest altar step and knelt there for the remainder of the Mass, head humbly bowed over clasped hands. Later, he could not have said he exactly spent the time in prayer, but he certainly found much food for contemplation in the news Michaela had brought him. To his surprise, when the time came for Communion, Hubert gave him the Cup as well as the Host.
It was meant as an honor and sign of approval from Hubert, he knew, but for some reason he found it profoundly disturbing. It had nothing to do with religion. Drinking of the Sacred Blood brought more personal images of blood flashing through his mind—his own blood of the night before, shed by Joram and then by his own hand; the blood of friends slain on the day of the coup, six years before; Javan's bloodless body when they had brought it home, _his_ royal blood soaking a field Rhys Michael had never seen, by a river ford north of Valoret, where his slayers had cut him down untimely; and more blood on Rhys Michael's hands—a great deal of it—whether his own or that of others, he could not tell. At one point, the sensation of wetness was so intense that he even wiped his palms surreptitiously on his thighs. Then he had to clasp his hands again to keep from shaking.
Hubert must have taken his trembling for fervor, for after the Mass was concluded, with Michaela called to kneel beside him, he blessed Rhys Michael with a special benediction and put the crown back on his head, leaving them then for a final moment alone before they must make a public parting. Speaking briefly with Paulin afterward, while they waited for the king and queen to appear on the great hall steps, Hubert remarked that he thought it boded well for the expedition that the king voluntarily should offer up his crown upon the altar of God.
"It bespeaks a dedication I had not expected," Hubert said. "I am also forced to wonder whether receiving the Cup sparked some sort of religious conversion. Hitherto, I would have described the king's attitude toward religion as indifferent. Oh, he goes through the motions readily enough—but you know what I mean."
Paulin was noncommittal, but assured Hubert of his ongoing concern for the king's spiritual welfare—so long as that did not compromise the great lords' intentions for Gwynedd.
"A tame king is an altogether useful thing," Paulin said, "but this particular one occasionally shows disturbing flashes of independence. I begin to think that he may well become expendable, once the new heir is born."
"Has something happened to make you more wary?" Hubert asked.
Paulin shook his head. "Nothing specific that I can point out to you. But guard the young prince well, Hubert, and pray that his mother is granted safe delivery of another healthy son. I do not trust his father. I shall have Dimitri keep a close watch on him."
CHAPTER NINE
Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me.
—Micah 7:8
Rhys Michael had not expected even the ragged cheer that went up as he and Michaela came out onto the great hall steps. The castle yard was packed with rows of bright-clad men on horses, from heavy cavalry and lancers to mounted archers and scouts—but no infantry, for the great lords had decided that men on foot would slow the army's pace too much. For like reason, only a modest baggage train waited outside the open gates to accompany the campaign; provisioning and additional men would come from the estates through which they passed en route north.
The cheer receded into the general din as king and queen slowly descended the steps. Cathan was waiting to lay a thick woolen cloak around the king's shoulders—Haldane crimson, with the Haldane brooch to clasp it at the throat. Rhys Michael drew it gratefully around him, for a fine mist still hung on the air and a pewter-colored sky promised more rain to come. As Michaela fastened the clasp, Rhys Michael cast his gaze over the waiting men, trying to read their mood.
His commanders were waiting for him at the foot of the steps, mounted and ready. He had chosen none of them. Albertus, the earl marshal, had several of his _Custodes_ officers around him, and Rhun sat his horse beside Fulk Fitz-Arthur, who had the Haldane battle standard footed in his stirrup. Fulk's younger brother Quiric held the reins of the reliable grey destrier Rhys Michael was to ride, and other squires tended Cathan's bay and an ill-tempered roan that belonged to Earl Udaut, the castle's constable, who was consulting with Earl Tammaron off to one side.
Others of the great lords who would be going along were also gathered in the yard behind Albertus and Rhun: Hubert's brother Manfred, instructing the captain of a smart-looking contingent of lancers in Culdi livery; Richard Murdoch, husband to Michaela's Lady Lirin, with a company of archers in the colors of Carthane, perhaps a score of them.
Farther back, Paulin had joined a handful of black-clad men whose red-and-gold cinctures marked them as _Custodes Fidei_. Rhys Michael recognized a few of the faces, but he did not spot Dimitri—though he had no time to really look for him. Behind Paulin were ranged at least thirty black-clad _Custodes_ knights in their red-fringed white sashes. Other lesser lords also sat beneath their banners at the head of more modest contingents—Lord Ainslie, Richard's brother Cashel, and others Rhys Michael did not recognize. He guessed their total number at about a hundred, not counting servants and support personnel—not many, to defy a Torenthi prince and a bastard pretender. But several hundred more would join them as they passed close to Valoret and Caerrorie and Sheele, in addition to whatever men were already massing from Eastmarch and points north.
Quiet began settling on the company as old Archbishop Oriss tottered out onto the great hall steps in cope and mitre, supported by Hubert and leaning on his crozier, for as Archbishop of Rhemuth, it was he who had the honor of blessing the troops. Tammaron approached Rhys Michael, ready to summon him before Oriss, but the king was already removing his crown, giving it into Michaela's keeping. Owain's nurse had brought the boy back to rejoin his parents, bundled in a miniature scarlet cloak against the damp, and Rhys Michael bent to pick up the boy and kiss him.
He turned to face the archbishops then, kneeling with the boy in his arms. A hush fell over the assembled men as they realized he intended so to receive Oriss' benediction.
Into the settling silence came the rustle of pennoned lances being lowered in salute, the mounted archers saluting with their unstrung bows, cased in oilskin to keep away the damp. Helmeted heads bowed as Oriss lifted a palsied right hand, and the Haldane standard dipped.
" _Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus: Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus._ "
" _Amen_ ," Rhys Michael responded, with a hundred other voices, as he crossed himself in blessing, repeating the sign over his young son, then got slowly to his feet. Out of the silence behind him arose a cheer from a hundred throats, as lances again were lifted and bows were brandished. After kissing his son on both cheeks, Rhys Michael gave the boy back into his mother's care, then chastely took her hand and kissed it, meeting her eyes only briefly in final, wordless farewell.
Then he was turning to descend the steps, pulling on his gauntlets, and mounting up on the big grey stallion that Cathan now held for him. He dared not look back at the pair standing on the steps. Quiric handed up the open-faced helm circled by its coronet of gold, and as Rhys Michael settled it on his head, he became suddenly aware of the Haldane standard close by in Fulk's hand—and that only once before had he ridden under that banner in his own right, as king, on that murky and best-forgotten day of his coronation, with his brain dulled by the great lords' drugs and his heart still aching for his slain brother, who should have been king instead of him.
The old grief caught at his throat, and he longed to take the standard in his own hand, the way he often had seen Javan do, but he knew such an act of independence would only earn him a sharp dressing-down when they camped for the night—if Albertus could restrain himself from making a public reprimand for that long. Still, the banner that symbolized Gwynedd's sovereignty now was his to guard and defend, and now, at last, perhaps Rhys Michael would have a chance to assert the freedom for which Javan had died.
Not immediately, of course; but soon. At least in the field, a king might win by valor what caution and timidity had not been able to secure under the close confinement he had endured these six years. There was much to lose, not least of which was the grey-cloaked woman clutching the hand of a very small boy cloaked in crimson, the pair of them watching him from the great hall steps—but there was also much to win, including their freedom as well as his own.
Behind him, Cathan and Udaut were both mounting up, Udaut fighting his mount for a moment before he could force it ahead to join the eight castle guards detailed to escort the royal party as far as the city gates. Balanced between excitement and melancholy, Rhys Michael lifted a gauntleted hand in farewell to those waiting on the great hall steps, imprinting his final glimpse of them in memory, then turned his steed's head toward the castle gate to follow Albertus and Rhun, not looking back.
The cavalcade moved out at a smart pace, for the mist had turned to drizzle, and the horses were eager to be off. Several ranks ahead of him, Udaut's roan was still being fractious, even crow-hopping a few times until Udaut slugged it hard in the neck and forced its obedience. Fulk commented airily that had the animal been his, he would have put the horse down long ago, or at least turned him out to stud. Cathan avowed that this would only perpetuate a bad bloodline.
Leaving the two to debate the issue, Rhys Michael gigged his own mount a few paces ahead of them, then settled in half a length before, happily putting Udaut and his misbegotten horse out of mind. Despite the desperate prospects he might face in the days to come, he already felt freer. He had ridden regularly for years, to keep fit, but not in all that time had he been allowed more than a few leagues from the city. Despite the rain, cheering crowds lined the streets, cheering for _him_ , the way they had done in the old days even before Javan, when Alroy had been king.
He was rejoicing in his growing freedom as they approached the city gates, beginning to relax a little, refusing to think too much about what might lie ahead in Eastmarch—for that was nearly a week away. He had even begun tentatively casting about with his powers to start getting a feel for what he might perceive with them, somehow knowing that the crowd was large enough to hide him, if some other Deryni chanced to catch a psychic glimpse of a probe.
Afterward, he realized that the odd shimmer around Udaut's stallion should have warned him; he had thought it a fluke of errant sunbeam on raindrops at the time. But when it first began, he doubted anyone had considered the animal's behavior that surprising. The big roan had an evil reputation and had been acting up from the moment its groom led it into the yard.
Now, spooking at God knew what, the animal suddenly exploded in a screaming, spine-wrenching series of bucks that hurled the startled Udaut over its shoulder to slam into one of the gate pylons with bone-breaking force. Apparently not satisfied with merely ridding itself of its rider, the squealing beast then proceeded to trample the unfortunate Udaut and several screaming bystanders who could not retreat fast enough, biting and kicking in a killing frenzy, until a crusty guardsman with more courage than good sense managed to force his own mount close enough to fling himself across, wrench the stallion's head around by an ear, and cut its throat.
The animal screamed once more and collapsed. Blood sprayed wide in its death-throes, spattering onlookers and running red on the rain-slick cobblestones, and the guard sustained a bone-bruising kick before the thrashing subsided. The sharp smell of the blood sent several more horses into momentary fits of nervous jigging and snorting until their riders could regain control; but by the time anyone could get near the now motionless Udaut, nothing could be done.
Rhun and Cathan were the first to reach the constable's side besides the now limping guardsman, but Cathan's grim glance back told of the futility of it, even as Rhys Michael calmed his own wild-eyed steed. Around Udaut, his men were moving the crowd back with practiced ease, making room for Albertus to dismount and run to Udaut's side as Paulin and a grey-haired battle surgeon called Stevanus began pushing their way forward from behind the king.
"Let the surgeon through!" Paulin ordered, as Stevanus elbowed his way past several more riders and dashed ahead to crouch beside the victim.
But Stevanus' brisk examination could only confirm that death had been a mercy for Rhemuth's hapless constable, for Udaut's back was broken, one arm was mangled almost beyond recognition, and one leg lay twisted under him at a sickening angle. The head was mostly unmarked, other than for a small trickle of blood that ran from the gaping mouth. The staring eyes looked almost more surprised than pained. Paulin caught up with his surgeon as Stevanus was closing the dead man's eyes and crossed himself with every evidence of genuine sorrow as the battle surgeon gently straightened out the twisted leg, then moved on to see to the injured spectators.
"I've never seen a horse go berserk like that," Paulin muttered, almost a little awed.
"I have," Albertus said, going back to prod the stallion's steaming carcass with a booted toe. "Never quite like this, though."
As he bent down to begin uncinching the animal's saddle, motioning one of the guardsmen to help him, Paulin remembered himself and crouched down beside the dead man's head to trace the sign of the Cross on his forehead. Cathan had come back to stand beside Rhys Michael's grey, catching hold of the reins and stroking the animal's neck to gentle it, and though they pretended attention to Paulin's prayers, both watched surreptitiously as Albertus pulled the saddle free.
" _In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti_ ," Paulin murmured. " _Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei._ "
" _Offerentes earn in conspectu Altissimi_ ," came scattered responses from around him, though most everyone else within sight was watching Albertus curiously. The earl marshal was running his hands along the sheepskin lining of the saddle, sniffing at his fingers, his assistant removing the stallion's bridle to inspect the bit, shaking his head, mystified.
" _Kyrie, eleison_ ," Paulin intoned.
" _Kyrie, eleison. Christe, eleison_ ," the response came.
As Albertus finally ran his hands across the sweat-matted hide on the stallion's back, tight-lipped as he, too, shook his head, Paulin again signed Udaut's forehead with the sign of the Cross.
" _Tibi, Domine, commendamus animam famuli tuae, Udauti, ut defunctus saeculo tibi vivat._ " To Thee, Lord, we commend the soul of this Thy servant, Udaut, that when he departs from this world he may live with Thee. By the grace of Thy merciful love, wash away the sins that in human frailty he has committed in the conduct of his life. "... _Per Christum, Dominum nostrum._ "
" _Amen_ ," came the murmured reply.
Paulin sighed then, and gestured for one of the guardsmen to cover the body with his cloak as he and the others got to their feet. As the man obeyed, a slight commotion from farther back in the now stalled cavalcade heralded the agitated approach of Richard Murdoch, who was married to Udaut's daughter. Recognizing the big roan sprawled with legs akimbo at Albertus' feet, and not immediately seeing Udaut, Richard hastily dismounted and started forward, concern writ large on his handsome face. Albertus now was inspecting the roan's bloodied hooves, using one of the quillons of his dagger to pick out the mud from around each vulnerable frog.
"It's too late, Richard," Rhun said, catching him by the shoulders to stay him. "His horse threw him and then he was trampled. He's there." He indicated the cloak-shrouded form with his chin. "There's nothing you can do."
Richard sagged against Rhun's hand for just an instant, catching up a moan, then pulled away, shaking his head slowly as he came to lift an edge of the cloak. Stevanus had seen him approaching and came to crouch beside him.
"I'm sorry, my lord," Stevanus said quietly. "I—believe he felt very little after the first impact. And had he survived, any one of his injuries would have left him a hopeless cripple."
Richard swallowed and let fall the edge of the cloak, then glanced back dully at Albertus, who was wiping his hands on the corner of his cloak.
"Do you know what caused it?" he said. "What were you looking for?"
Albertus shook his head and shrugged. "A burr, some trace of an irritant—I don't know. But there's nothing. It just—happened."
He came to stand awkwardly beside the younger man as another guardsman joined the first and, together, they wrapped the cloak more closely around the body and picked it up. One of the _Custodes_ clerics had brought up another horse, and the two laid the cloak-wrapped body across its saddle and began tying it in place.
"This, ah, does leave us with an awkward logistic problem," Albertus said to Paulin in a low voice, almost as if he hated even to mention it. "Rhemuth now has no constable."
"Well, we can't delay our departure, and we can't leave Rhemuth undefended," Rhun said.
His gaze flicked appraisingly to the still dazed-looking Richard, then back at Albertus and Paulin, both of whom gave slight nods of assent. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Rhys Michael realized what they were about to do.
"So I suppose it's fitting that we appoint a new constable and get on with things," Rhun went on quietly, setting a hand on Richard's forearm, which made the younger man look up with a start. "Do you think you're ready for this, Richard? It isn't a hasty offer. We've been watching you for some time—since your own father's death, in fact. We need someone loyal and reliable to hold Rhemuth in our absence and to guard the safety of the queen and the king's heir. Also," he added, in a milder tone, "your wife will need you to help bury her father. We could hardly ask you to come with us as planned, under the circumstances. If you wish, I'll take personal command of your archers."
Richard swallowed, then nodded tentatively. "Yes, I—thank you. You do me great honor. I shall try to prove worthy of your trust. But—dear God, what am I going to say to Lirin?"
Gravely Paulin came to lay a sympathetic arm around Richard's shoulders. "I am so sorry, Richard. If it will give your dear wife comfort, remind her that her father will have gone straight to Heaven. He came from Holy Communion not an hour ago."
As Richard gave a choked nod, turning to take the reins of his horse and remount, Rhys Michael thought the remark might have been one of the more hypocritical ones he had ever heard. Nor had he even been consulted about Udaut's replacement—not that they had ever consulted him before.
Cathan must have sensed his resentment, or at least shared it, for he cast the king a wry glance before catching up his bay and remounting. Watching him, Rhys Michael paid scant attention to the mounted _Custodes_ man who was leading up Paulin's mount and the dun gelding that Master Stevanus rode. But as the two came back to claim their steeds, Rhys Michael could not miss recognizing the man. Dressed like Stevanus in the red and black tunic of a battle surgeon, the dark, slightly built man with downcast eyes looked like any of a number of others riding among the _Custodes Fidei_ , but the king had no doubt that it was Dimitri. He had not expected that the Deryni would be riding so close.
The little man apparently sensed the royal scrutiny, for when he had handed over his charges, he turned slightly in the saddle, made what might have been a slight bow in the king's direction, then turned deliberately to go back to his place.
In that instant, Rhys Michael knew that the first "thing" had happened through Dimitri's instigation. It had looked entirely like an accident, and he could not regret the death of Udaut, who had turned on him so traitorously the day of the coup. But to replace Udaut with Richard Murdoch, whose betrayal had been at least as treacherous—
Then he saw the logic of the move, which surely had been orchestrated by Joram. If anything, Richard was an even less acceptable constable than Udaut, but appointing him to that post just now would keep him from accompanying the army to Eastmarch. And that meant one less powerful enemy for Rhys Michael to worry about in his immediate vicinity.
"My condolences to your lady," the king murmured, as a tight-jawed Richard took his leave of Albertus and Rhun and passed nearby, starting to lead the squires back toward the castle with their grim burden.
As the cavalcade began to move out again, Rhys Michael reflected that this was likely to prove an even more interesting journey than he had anticipated.
CHAPTER TEN
Look to yourselves, that we lose not those things which we have wrought, but that we receive a full reward.
—II John 1:8
In the days immediately following the king's departure for Eastmarch, Joram and his colleagues in sanctuary began setting in place such measures as might give their fledgling Haldane additional support when he reached his destination. From Joram's own agents in Torenth and the Forcinn came repeated opinions that Marek himself was not capable of a serious incursion into Gwynedd this season and that Miklos had fewer than three hundred men backing him. If the taking of Culliecairn was but a feint to draw the king out of Rhemuth, as it appeared to be, it was not to test his military strength.
Logic and the agents' past reliability suggested that their assessments were correct. Though a full-scale armed encounter seemed increasingly unlikely, when viewed in light of the reports, it was Bishop Niallan who pointed out that Miklos could have offered few greater provocations than to have the Festillic Pretender's heir christened on Gwynedd soil. That he had informed Gwynedd's king of his intentions in advance only served to reinforce suspicions that the true object of the exercise was to lure the king onto ground of Miklos' choosing where, presumably, he would have no protection from more subtle testing that Deryni might employ against an enemy.
Against that possibility, as well as to augment the physical force available to the king when he confronted the intruders, Ansel and Jesse quickly gathered a troop of nearly forty former Michaelines and other loyal men, some of them Deryni. Though none dared flaunt that lineage these days, many of the men had built themselves admirable reputations in the last decade for helping keep the peace in the borders and were somewhat known in Eastmarch as men to be trusted. With these men in the forefront, and Ansel and Jesse disguised among them—and Tieg riding as squire, for they must have a Healer among them—the troop set out for Lochalyn to offer their services to Sudrey of Eastmarch, who was herself of Deryni lineage.
Not that shared blood was any guarantee of a warm reception. Though Sudrey might have been born Deryni, distant kin both to Miklos and Marek, she had never been known to evidence the slightest hint of possessing any powers—whether because they were minuscule or because she simply declined to use them, out of respect for the human sensibilities of her husband and his people, no one knew. But the killing of her husband by forces under a prince of her own Deryni kindred could have done nothing to revive her Torenthi connections in any positive way. It was hoped she would turn a blind eye to the fact that some of the benefactors come to help avenge her husband's death might be Deryni like herself.
In fact, the composition of Ansel's band never became an issue, for he and Jesse were able to present themselves and their men to one of Sudrey's captains, who was happy to accept the offer of an extra forty mounted men with no questions asked Casual inquiry around the camp that night disclosed that with the slain Earl Hrorik now in his grave, the Lady Sudrey had called her husband's captains to her and personally taken there vows of allegiance, never mind that Corban, her daughter's husband, now was technically Earl of Eastmarch.
Nor was she solely dependent upon the men remaining from her husband's disastrous foray up to Culliecairn, where Miklos' forces showed no signs of withdrawing. Hrorik's nephew, the twenty-year-old Duke Graham of Claibourne, had rushed to her assistance as soon as he heard the news, with two hundred men now encamped round about Castle Lochalyn. Sighere, Hrorik's brother, had brought another hundred from Marley to add to the scores who were continuing to pour in from the farther reaches of Eastmarch itself. Rumor had it that the king was bringing another two to three hundred and would arrive within a few days—news brought by fast messengers from along the line of the king's march, not by magic.
In Rhemuth, meanwhile, Queen Michaela could gain little news of what went on beyond the walls of the royal apartments. The sparse reports she had from Rhysel from time to time assured her of Joram's ongoing efforts to place agents among the forces massing in Eastmarch; but as she had no real knowledge of military thinking and what was appropriate preparation for war, such reports meant little. She received the odd, brief letter from the king as he made his way north and east by stages, but she knew the letters were read before they left his encampments, and again before being placed in her hands. Accordingly, the letters spoke only of missing her and Owain and concerns for her health and that of the child she carried.
Nor did her domestic situation alter much, other than to accommodate the brief upheaval of Court routine caused by Udaut's death. Because it was expected, she made herself put on mourning and attend Udaut's semi-state funeral in Saint Hilary's Basilica, at the foot of the castle, but she hardened her heart to the prayers offered for the dead man's repose. Let God forgive the man who had been part of the conspiracy that murdered King Javan and put her husband on the throne; she would not. Kindness toward the grieving Lirin came more easily, for she well remembered grieving her own father, and she readily granted Udaut's only daughter leave from royal service to mourn.
Other than this brief deviation from normal court routine, the days that followed passed with little variation, each one much like the one before. Especially with the king absent, Michaela chafed increasingly under the emptiness of the life imposed on a captive queen. Only at day's end did joy touch her heart, when a bathed and fed but inevitably sleepy little Prince Owain was brought by his nurse for an all too brief visit.
But never in private. The nurse had orders to remain always in attendance, and usually at least a few of her ladies-in-waiting also remained. Nor were visits to the nursery permitted, being thought disruptive to the young prince's routine. Even discussion of her unhappiness with the situation could result in the loss of any visiting privileges at all.
Thus denied even the pretense of mothering her child, Michaela was expected to join her ladies in "suitable" pastimes during the remainder of the daylight hours—listening to one or another of them read or sing, plying her hand at needlework, which she was growing to detest, and pretending to find diversion in the idle gossip that passed for intellectual stimulation in this stifling environment. Occasionally, when the weather was fine, she was allowed to escape to the gardens for an hour's stroll, for walking was deemed beneficial for an expectant mother, but usually the incessant chatter followed her even there.
At least one of her ladies must accompany her to Mass, as well—though at least they must keep silent during the service. With concentration, Michaela could use the murmur of the Latin to foster an illusion of silence, provided she put from mind that most of the celebrants were priests of the detested _Custodes Fidei_ —and if not a _Custodes_ man, Hubert himself was apt to be presiding. Michaela had no idea whether she derived any spiritual benefit from so shifting the focus of the Mass, using the silence to dream dire fates for her oppressors, but at least it offered respite from mindless chatter; and in that semi-privacy, when she did turn her thoughts to prayers for Rhysem's safety and deliverance, she sometimes thought she caught a glimmer of what might have driven Javan to seek out refuge in the monastery, when it was he who was plotting how to free Gwynedd's crown.
Rhysel was able to provide more active encouragement in this regard. Though her place as maid within the royal household did not permit her unlimited access to the queen, at least it was regular, morning and night. The queen's increasing propensity for afternoon naps gave added excuse for Rhysel to be much about the royal apartments, there to take down the queen's hair and brush it after lunch, in preparation for the royal nap, and then to arrange it again for the evening, especially if the queen was expected to preside at table in the great hall.
Michaela came to treasure the time when Rhysel was working on her hair, for the physical contact permitted the two of them to hold silent converse under the very noses of Estellan and the others who vied for the honor of serving in the queen's entourage. In more private moments, when Rhysel helped the queen retire for her naps, occasional instruction could be imparted in further refinement of such powers as she had.
"We must be very, very careful in this," Rhysel whispered, one afternoon when the other ladies all happened to be out of the room momentarily. "I know this is heady business, but just remember that if we're ever discovered, it can mean both our deaths."
Michaela tossed her tawny mane. "Do you think I haven't been living with that threat for the last six years?" she said. "Not yours, of course, but Rhysem and I have always been that close to the edge."
As she indicated a hair's breadth between thumb and forefinger, Rhysel nodded.
"I know that, and you're both incredibly brave. Just remember that even Deryni are vulnerable. You can't help anyone if you're dead."
Lady Estellan returned at that with a cup of cool wine, ending their verbal exchange, but the stark truth of Rhysel's warning tempered Michaela's enthusiasm thereafter, though at least this turn of events had given her a new glimmering of hope.
En route to Eastmarch, meanwhile, Rhys Michael was concerned with his own stark truths. Udaut's death had left a breath of uneasy speculation within the royal entourage that never really died down. Though not even Albertus could point to foul play, some whispered that such a freakish accident was a portent of ill luck to come. Cathan noted that the chaplains seemed to be doing a brisk business in confessions and the blessing of arms and steeds and holy medals, and at least for the first few days, Fulk reported that the men talked of little else around the campfires at night.
Rhys Michael's own observations tended to confirm the sense of ill ease. In the sparse leisure time that remained to the great lords between the end of each day's march and finally seeking out their beds—the ongoing chores of regular inspection of the men and dealing with the dispatches that caught up with them daily, both from behind and ahead of march—the king knew that Rhun and Manfred, at least, continued to expend a fair amount of time and energy rehashing the circumstances of Udaut's death. Dimitri seemed somewhat more in evidence than usual, but he never approached the king; fortunately for him, it did not seem to have occurred to his masters that he could have had any part in the death. Rhys Michael continued warily to test his powers as they rode along, but nothing occurred to necessitate even thinking about action that might uncloak his newfound abilities prematurely.
Thus did the first few days pass uneventfully, as the expedition sped north and eastward, skirting the southerly bank of the Eirian, overnighting under the stars or sometimes at establishments of the _Custodes Fidei_ , where the king and at least his great lords found proper lodging and the troops encamped in the fields round about. They made good time, and only one other incident marred their progress, again having to do with horses. What made it stand out particularly in Rhys Michael's mind was that it involved another of the great lords.
It had happened three days out, while they were riding along an embankment that skirted the Eirian. Albertus had been riding at the front with some of his _Custodes_ knights when a swarm of bees suddenly attacked the lead riders, stinging men and beasts and scattering that end of the march. Though both Albertus and his mount avoided being stung, one of his companion's efforts to escape sent him careening into Albertus' mount, and both animals went sliding and scrambling down the embankment and into fairly deep water.
Albertus managed to keep his seat, sputtering and swearing as he swam his horse toward shallower water, but his companion was not so fortunate. Still swatting at bees, the man flailed for balance but lost it as his horse scrambled for footing, dragged under by his armor and sinking from sight even as Albertus turned to try to aid him. By the time Albertus and others could find him and drag him out, he could not be revived.
This second freak accident of the campaign put a further damper on spirits as the column re-formed and continued on, the body of the dead _Custodes_ man tied across his horse's saddle for delivery to his brethren at the next _Custodes_ House they passed. Quickly supplied with a dry cloak by one of his squires, Albertus seemed shaken but none the worse for wear as he gigged his horse with his spurs and headed farther back along the line of march to bully stragglers, keeping a wary eye out for further swarms of bees, but the oddness of the incident was sufficient to make the king wonder whether Dimitri had attempted to strike again and gotten the wrong man. The accident was totally unlike the one that had claimed Udaut and would have been entirely plausible, had it been Albertus who drowned, but who could say? He certainly was not going to seek out Dimitri to ask.
They passed near Valoret later that day, pausing only long enough to dispatch two men to Ramos with the body of the drowned man and to pick up the troops promised by Hubert from the _Custodes Fidei_ garrison there: eighty _Custodes_ knights and men-at-arms under Lord Joshua Delacroix, Hubert's commander-general. They camped under the stars that night, but very near Rhun's seat at Sheele. When Rhun's levy of twenty knights joined them that evening, they were accompanied by his castellan, Sir Drogo de Palance, who brought several wagonloads of roasted meats, cheeses, fresh bread, and wine for the enjoyment of his lord, the king, and their staff.
A festive mood prevailed in the camp that night, at least among the officers, who were invited to dine in Rhun's command tent, but Rhys Michael was sober as he retired to write his daily letter to Michaela. He dared not voice his suspicions regarding Albertus' mishap, just as he had not dared to commit his suspicions about Udaut's death to writing, but he did relate the incident in as straightforward a manner as he could manage, in a tone that almost applauded the earl marshal's unfortunate luck—a reaction that would arouse no suspicion at all from those who read his correspondence before he sent it or Michaela received it. Perhaps Rhysel would be able to read between the lines and draw more discerning conclusions.
The growing royal cavalcade headed slightly easterly with the dawn, picking up Manfred's levy of fifty lancers at a rendezvous point near Ebor and passing well onto the plain of Iomaire, where they camped under the stars once again. Commanding Manfred's levies was his son Iver, the Earl of Kierney, who had gained his title by marrying well. Now in his thirties, Iver MacInnis had become his father's hand in the north, dividing his time between his wife's estates in Kierney and his father's lands in Culdi, for Iver would own both, once his father died. His addition to the growing royal party only underlined Rhys Michael's despair that he would never break free.
The last day but one saw them pressing north and east at speed across the vast heartland of Iomaire. They were more than two hundred strong by the time they encamped that evening in the fields around Saint Cassian's Abbey, another _Custodes_ House. As was customary, the king and his great lords and officers were given accommodations in the abbey guesthouse. Messengers were awaiting the king's arrival with new maps and dispatches from Lady Sudrey, who promised a full four hundred men when the royal forces joined them on the plain before the Coldoire Pass.
Following a quick perusal of the messages waiting, clerks were set to work drafting responses, and shortly the king and his officers went in to a frugal supper in the abbey refectory, hosted by the abbot and his obedientiaries. Attendance at Compline followed, obligatory in return for the hospitality shown, and thereafter, Rhys Michael retired to the single room assigned him and his aides at one end of the guesthouse.
The accommodations were as sparse as the meal. Two pallets had been added to the usual stark configuration of one narrow bed and a functional washstand with earthen pitcher, wooden bowl, and rough grey towels. Out of deference to the special needs a king might have for dealing with dispatches and the like, a round table and three mismatched chairs had been provided nearer the room's single high window, feebly lit by rushlights in a standing rack beside it. More general illumination came from several iron lanterns hung from metal hooks set into two of the walls. The place smelled faintly of sweet herbs and the new straw that had been strewn on the flag-stoned floor.
"We've slept in far worse," Fulk said good-naturedly, as he slung his saddlebags onto one of the pallets.
"Aye, and eaten far better," Cathan replied. "I can't say I envy the abbot his cook."
"Well, it was better than camp fare," Rhys Michael said.
It was early yet for sleeping, so the king sent Cathan for a bottle of wine while he and Fulk spread out the maps he had brought from their pre-supper briefing, intending to review the terrain of the Coldoire Pass and the fortress of Culliecairn, perched on its rocky crag. A knock at the door summoned Fulk to answer it, expecting Cathan, and he fell back in some dismay as Albertus swept into the room, followed by a second man bearing a torch to light their way.
"Sire, it's Lord Albertus," Fulk announced, though a pinched tone in his voice made Rhys Michael look around and then get slowly to his feet.
"My Lord Marshal," he murmured, his blood running cold, for Albertus' torch-bearer was none other than Dimitri.
Albertus made him a curt bow, hands clasped behind his back, hidden in his scarlet-faced black mantle.
"Your Highness. I wished to inquire whether you had any questions regarding the maps you took away with you. From some of your comments at supper, I was not altogether certain you approved of our plans."
The statement was a blatant lie. Rhys Michael knew it at once, without any benefit of Truth-Reading—which he dared not employ in Dimitri's presence, even though he knew the Deryni supposedly was neutralized. Affecting an expression of wide-eyed mystification, he gestured to one of the other chairs as he took his own seat.
"I can't imagine why you would think that," he said easily. "But please, be seated. Perhaps you would care to go over the plans again and question me on my understanding. I am the first to admit that my knowledge of strategy, alas, is totally theoretical. Pray, be seated, my lord."
"I prefer to stand, thank you," Albertus said coolly. "And do not presume to patronize me. Don't think I am not aware how you mouth the platitudes you know are expected of you, while secretly you plot to overturn the established order. Did you have anything to do with Udaut's death?"
The sudden question stunned him. Carefully setting both hands on the arms of his chair, Rhys Michael sat back and slowly shook his head. He was too new to his powers to know whether Dimitri was Truth-Reading him, but there could be no other reason for the Deryni agent's presence. This question he could answer without danger of being caught in a lie, but what about the next, and the next? Dimitri supposedly had been "neutralized," but what did that really mean? How far could he actually be trusted?
"Of course I had nothing to do with Udaut's death. Why would you even ask such a question?"
"Perhaps because there has always been rumor about the Haldanes," Albertus murmured. "Your father was friendly with Deryni and was said to have borrowed their magic from time to time, in the early days of his reign. Your brother Alroy was free of the taint, but Javan—well, we were never able to prove anything, but I have always had my suspicions. I would like to believe that we intervened in time to spare you such contamination, but recent events make me wonder."
"What recent events?" Rhys Michael said boldly. "Udaut's accident? Your own? I assure you, I had nothing to do with either. How could I? Ask _him_ , if you don't believe _me_."
He gestured toward the impassive Dimitri, taking a big risk if Dimitri had _not_ been neutralized. The Deryni's dark eyes caught the light of the torch in his hand and almost seemed to glow. Rhys Michael all but held his breath as Albertus glanced at Dimitri, who shrugged and shook his head—but whether from knowledge confirmed by Truth-Reading or a shift in his loyalties, Rhys Michael could not tell.
"He speaks the truth, my lord," Dimitri said quietly.
Albertus stared at him for a long moment, considering, glanced at the king, then took the torch from Dimitri's hand and turned partway toward the door, where Fulk was waiting nervously.
"Fulk, bar the door and then come and assist Master Dimitri. I should have had this done long ago."
"Sir Cathan will be returning any moment, my lord," Fulk said in a low voice, not moving. "If you intend what I think, and you wish to keep this private, you'd best wait until he's come back, or an alarm will be raised."
Fulk's logic was inescapable and wholly in keeping with his original obligation of loyalty to the great lords, but it was also a welcome delaying tactic. Quite clearly, Albertus had not sought permission of his fellows to do what he obviously intended, which was to have Dimitri probe him at last; but just as clearly, Rhys Michael himself could not raise the alarm, protesting _too_ much that he did not want to be probed, lest the ensuing commotion convince the other great lords that perhaps the king had good reasons of his own to avoid Dimitri's touch.
"Go and find Sir Cathan and bring him back here," Albertus said, jamming his torch into an empty wall cresset. "And say nothing of this to anyone."
Fulk gave a nod and turned to go, but before he could even get out the door, Cathan returned on his own, a dusty wine bottle tucked in the crook of one arm and several wooden cups balanced atop it. His cheery whistling ceased abruptly as Fulk drew him inside and he saw the king's visitors.
"Sir Cathan, you will remain there by the door and see that we are not interrupted," Albertus said, as Fulk relieved Cathan of his bottle and cups and set them on the floor. "Bar the door. Fulk, come and be ready to assist Master Dimitri."
"I won't be held!" Rhys Michael blurted, half coming to his feet as Fulk headed toward him.
Albertus whirled and stabbed a forefinger at the king. "Sit down!" Rhys Michael sat. "You will do what you are told. Whether or not you are physically restrained depends entirely upon your cooperation."
Rhys Michael swallowed and made himself take a deep breath, trying not to shake. He had almost let pride and bund panic stampede him into open defiance of Albertus, which would never be tolerated. Cathan was standing taut and anxious by the door, poised to move on command, but Rhys Michael shot him a restraining glance. He was going to have to allow Dimitri's touch. Whether that would prove his betrayal remained to be seen. He could only pray that the information he had received about the Deryni was correct.
"I didn't say I wouldn't cooperate," he murmured. He kept his eyes downcast as he clasped his hands in his lap, aware of Fulk moving in to stand behind his chair. "It wasn't my intention to defy you."
"I am very glad to hear that," Albertus said, raising a dark eyebrow. "May I take it, then, that you do not object to letting Master Dimitri resolve the question of your innocence, once and for all?"
"My objections obviously have no bearing," Rhys Michael said quietly. "I think that what you're proposing is extremely ill-advised, but I'll do what's required of me, as I've always done. I know my place, and I know my vulnerability. I don't have to _like_ some of the things I'm obliged to do, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to throw everything away in a childish show of pique."
A smile quirked at a corner of the earl marshal's long, cruel mouth, and he signaled Fulk back from the king's chair with a negligent wave.
"Gracefully spoken—Sire," he said, though disdain tinged the honorific title. "Sir Fulk, I doubt your services will be required. Master Dimitri, I would know whether our brash young king bears any traces of the kind of power you wield. You know the rumors concerning the Haldanes. I would have them confirmed or denied."
Rhys Michael drew a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes.
"Albertus, I beg you not to do this," he whispered, averting his gaze from the compulsion of Dimitri's dark eyes as the Deryni started to move toward him. "You know why he hasn't been permitted to touch me in all these years. What if he works his own mischief? Does Rhun know what you're doing?"
"That is not your concern," Albertus said, and gestured with a curt nod for Dimitri to proceed.
With a slight bow, Dimitri came to perch casually on the right-hand arm of Rhys Michael's chair, flexing his fingers once as he lifted them toward the king's head.
"It will be easier for both of us if you do not resist this, Sire," Dimitri murmured, as he laid his hands across Rhys Michael's eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Keep thee far from the man who hath power to kill... lest he take away thy life presently.
—Ecclesiasticus 9:13
"It will be easier for both of us if you do not resist this. Sire," Dimitri murmured.
At the same instant that his hands covered his subject's eyes, curving around the temples, more specific instruction came slamming against the edges of Rhys Michael's rigid shields.
_Give a human reaction, or I cannot help you, Haldane! Appear to lose consciousness. Read the truth of what I tell you. I am ordered to protect you, regardless of the cost to myself_.
Knowing it to be so, Rhys Michael did his best to convey the desired impression, eyes closing and taut limbs twitching as he made them relax, even allowing himself to slump forward so that the top of his head rested against Dimitri's chest—for it also shielded any telltale expressions from Albertus' view. He could feel the Deryni's hands slipping around to cradle the back of his head and the sly insinuation of the other's thoughts settling into a more stable link, and he focused his intent on a reply.
_How can you help me?_
_That remains to be seen. Albertus has been gathering his suspicions for some time, but something has persuaded him to demand this confrontation just now. I shall know what it was before he leaves this room. We have not time for extensive alterations to his memories, but if his suspicions hang upon only a few points, I may be able to make adjustments that will spare his life for now. I am ordered to kill him, but his death must not be traceable to you_.
So saying, Dimitri pushed Rhys Michael back into an upright position, though he kept a hand set on one shoulder so that his fingers remained curled around the back of the king's neck.
_Slowly begin to show signs of regaining consciousness_ , he sent. _Pretend still to be lightly controlled._
"Well?" Albertus demanded, moving closer as the king stirred and softly moaned, and Dimitri turned his head to glance at the earl marshal.
"I do not know what you expected me to find, my lord, but he is simply—a Haldane. He does not wear the yoke of his submission lightly, but surely you did not expect that he would."
"I know all that," Albertus muttered. "What about Udaut?"
"He was as surprised and mystified as you, my lord."
"Well, what about the bees?"
"Do you truly think he can command bees?"
"But the Haldanes _do_ have—can he Truth-Read?"
"Can a _human_ Truth-Read, my lord?" Dimitri asked, scorn touching his tone of voice.
"Don't provoke me, Deryni!" Albertus snapped. "His father knew how to do it, and so did Javan. Now, _there_ was a _human_ for you! Jesus Christ, _you_ were the one to confirm that someone had managed to tamper with Hubert's memory, and that Javan prob—"
Without warning, Dimitri seized Albertus' wrist and jerked him off balance, surging into the other's mind even as he released Rhys Michael, rising to guide the earl marshal's collapse as his knees buckled. Fulk had started forward in alarm, not certain what was happening, but Cathan was already hurtling across the room to wrestle him away from the king, taking him into control as Rhys Michael scrambled from his chair.
Meanwhile, Albertus swayed on his knees and then toppled onto his side, while Dimitri still maintained dogged contact. As the king crouched down beside the kneeling Dimitri, the Deryni was already forcing his mind deep into that of the unconscious Albertus, less and less mindful whether he ripped it as he searched out what he must know.
"It is as I feared," the Deryni murmured, as he withdrew enough to speak, the black eyes almost glowing as he glanced at Rhys Michael. "He suspects too much, and the threads run too deep. His life was already forfeit, but I had hoped for better cover for the deed. Still, _you_ will not be suspect."
"Wait!" Rhys Michael whispered. "What are you going to do?"
"Merely stop his heart. It will be an easier death than he gave most of his victims. Easier than your brother's death."
Chilled, Rhys Michael grabbed Dimitri's sleeve.
"Did _he_ kill my brother?"
"His was the direct order that permitted it. He watched him die. See for yourself, if you wish, but be brief."
Rhys Michael could not turn away from that invitation. Trembling, he laid his hand on the earl marshal's forehead and let Dimitri guide him to the specific memory that lay bare beneath their scrutiny. With a tiny mental wrench, he was _in_ Albertus' memory, reliving those final moments of treacherous battle lust on a killing field beside a river ford, when a king had fallen to well-planned treason by his own lords of state.
From Albertus' vantage point astride a great black brute of a battle charger, he saw a hail of arrows rain down on the red-clad figure farther across the field. Beyond the king, the Haldane standard faltered as the valiant Guiscard de Courcy went down at last. Though Javan himself appeared to escape unscathed, his horse went down with half a dozen wounds, bright blood blossoming against the animal's creamy coat.
Somehow the king managed to throw himself clear, landing on his feet. Bareheaded, he laid about him with the Haldane sword like a man possessed, but not so nimble afoot as he had been mounted. Sir Charlan, the king's favorite aide, tried to ride alongside and pull the king into the saddle behind him, but more of Albertus' _Custodes_ knights cut down that horse as well. King and aide fought together as a team then, and with Charlan now guarding the king's back and Javan himself maintaining a deadly net of steel before him, no one seemed able to breach their defenses—until more arrows began to find their marks.
"Take him!" Albertus screamed, thrusting his bloody sword toward the distant figure and trying to fight closer.
Another flight of arrows whispered off in the king's direction, and this time the king fell. The arrow he took in the chest probably was fatal, even if lesser wounds had not already delivered enough _merasha_ to kill him within minutes. Sir Charlan caught him as he fell, himself now wounded, and Albertus spurred his horse toward the spot where he had seen them go down, several of his _Custodes_ knights clearing a path.
It was all but accomplished. His sword running with the blood of good Haldane men, Albertus dismounted and strode exultantly through the carnage of dead and dying men. The wounded Charlan was cradling the dying king against his chest and weeping. In that sudden stillness amid the continuing battle around them, Albertus was not even certain they were aware of his presence.
Prolonging the moment served no purpose. As Albertus gazed down at them pitilessly, one of his men moved in behind Charlan with sword poised to finish the young knight. At Albertus' nod, the sword plunged downward to pierce Charlan through the lungs. Blood gushed from his mouth as he collapsed across the king with a mortal gasp, still trying to protect his prince, even in death. But Javan, too, was dead by the time they could shift Charlan's body aside...
_If you desire his life for this, take it_ , Dimitri's thought came. _You are his king. He killed your brother. You have the right_.
_Show me how!_
_I will do it, then. There is no time. Learn by observing, even_ — _so_.
Before Rhys Michael could object, the spell was welling up in Dimitri's mind, spilling over into Rhys Michael's consciousness but forbidding interference. He flinched from the power now uncoiling from reserves deep inside Dimitri, surging down a muscled arm as Dimitri lifted a cupped right hand above Albertus' chest. He could sense the energy filling Dimitri's palm, spreading out to his fingertips; and as that puissant hand turned toward Albertus, he could almost see a ghost-hand of fire plunge downward from the physical one to penetrate the earl marshal's chest, fiery fingers curving around the pulsing heart and squeezing.
Though unconscious, Albertus fought it. Pain contorted the angular face, and his body arched against it, one booted foot agitating the straw as his limbs went into spasms. He seemed to take a long time to die, though when Rhys Michael blinked himself back to normal consciousness, now shaking in after-reaction, he realized that the entire thing, both the killing and the Reading before it, had taken less than a minute.
"I will deal with this now," Dimitri said, glancing up at Cathan, who immediately brought Fulk closer. He reached up and touched Fulk's hand, closing his eyes briefly, then returned his attention to the still form before him.
"Sir Fulk, you had best summon another surgeon," he said quietly, beginning to loosen the neck of Albertus' garments and perform the other tasks one would expect of a physician. "He has suffered a seizure of some kind. I think it was his heart."
As Fulk raced off to obey, Cathan following as far as the doorway, Rhys Michael glanced at the Deryni.
"I know you had no choice in what you did, but I want to thank you," he said in a low voice.
Dimitri shrugged. "I have worked in the cause of my prince; you are struggling to retain your Haldane crown. I cannot resent you for that, and I hope you do not begrudge me my loyalty to _my_ prince. I thought I knew the risks I ran. I still do not comprehend how I was taken, or how I am compelled now to serve your interests above my own. But rest assured that I will not betray you, for I cannot. I will die before I allow you to come to harm."
The pounding of footsteps in the corridor outside forestalled any further discussion, and he set a hand urgently on Rhys Michael's sleeve.
_Stand up. You should not be seen kneeling here beside him or me. Remember that you are meant to fear Deryni. When you are questioned, keep your answers vague but tell as much of the truth as possible_ — _that Albertus brought me here to Truth-Read you regarding Udaut's death; that he bade me probe you as well, which you protested. You remember nothing of that experience, save that only a short time elapsed. Of Albertus' death, you know only that he appeared to suffer a seizure, and I tried to aid him. If pressed, wonder whether I might have had a hand in his death. Go now!_
The instructions were conveyed in the blink of an eye. The approaching footsteps still had not yet reached the door as Rhys Michael lurched to his feet and staggered far enough away to flatten himself against a wall, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He had to keep reminding himself that Dimitri was an enemy, only doing what he did because he had no choice. That did not alter the fact that the Deryni was about to sacrifice himself to divert suspicion from Rhys Michael.
Rhun was the first to arrive, closely followed by Paulin and Master Stevanus, but the second battle surgeon could do no more than Dimitri apparently had been able to do. Manfred brought the abbey's infirmarian as well, but by then the room was getting far too crowded. Paulin confessed himself too shaken to give his brother the Last Rites and had to summon another of his _Custodes_ priests to come and administer that Sacrament.
"How can this have happened?" Paulin murmured, trembling as Rhun drew him into the corridor, where the king and his aides had withdrawn with Manfred. "What was he even doing here, Sire?"
Affecting to be dazed and a little confused himself, Rhys Michael gestured vaguely toward the maps still spread on the table, aware that every word he uttered was likely to make Dimitri's death more certain.
"He—said something about wanting to make sure I understood the strategy planned for Culliecairn," he said. "I suppose he noticed that I brought the maps with me after supper."
"And then he just—collapsed?" Paulin asked, disbelief still mixed with shock.
Rhys Michael let his gaze go a little unfocused, hoping his questioners would read the reaction as uncertainty, something not quite right.
"I—can't quite remember clearly," he murmured. "We'd been talking, and suddenly he—was on the floor, going into convulsions of some kind. He clutched at his chest and—started gasping for breath. Dimitri tried to help him, but—"
"Why was Dimitri here?" Rhun demanded, picking up on the cue.
Rhys Michael swallowed audibly, all too aware how very vulnerable he was. "He—Lord Albertus wanted him to T-Truth-Read me."
"What about?"
"Udaut's death."
Manfred snorted and glanced back into the room, where a priest called Ascelin was bent over Albertus' body, signing the forehead with holy oil.
"He wouldn't let it go," he muttered. "He just didn't want to accept that Udaut's death was an accident."
"So, he had Dimitri Truth-Read you," Paulin said.
Rhys Michael nodded.
"And what else did he have Dimitri do?" Paulin suddenly looked at Rhys Michael in more avid speculation. "Dear God, he's been wanting to have Dimitri probe you for some time. Did he?"
Swallowing, Rhys Michael looked away, knowing that the truth—the only answer that would turn suspicion from himself—would probably seal Dimitri's fate.
"I—think so," he whispered.
"What do you mean, you _think_ so?" Rhun demanded. "Did he touch you?"
"I—don't—I can't—"
"He did, my lord," Fulk offered. "Only for a few seconds, but he definitely touched him."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly and swayed a little on his feet. He had hoped to avoid so direct an accusation, but Fulk had taken the decision out of his hands—perhaps on Dimitri's own orders, he suddenly realized. The Deryni had controlled Fulk briefly before sending him for help and must have set the instructions he knew were needed to carry out his own priority—that of protecting the king at whatever cost.
"Sweet _Jesu_ , Albertus, how could you be so _stupid_?" Paulin murmured, his gaze shifting disbelievingly to the still form of his brother. "On the eve of a confrontation with Torenth, you allow—nay, you _invite_ —a Torenthi Deryni to probe the king, with no way for us to check and see what he's done _besides_ probe—"
"What are you saying?" Rhys Michael whispered. "He can't have done more than that. It was only a few seconds, I'm sure. Wouldn't I know?"
"You weren't even sure he touched you," Rhun said coldly, keeping his voice very low. "We'll hope no serious harm was done in so short a time, but I suggest we try to find out before he realizes we're suspicious. It's even possible he had a hand in Albertus' death. Paulin, have a word with Master Stevanus, would you?"
His subtle gesture with the first two fingers of his right hand sent a chill up Rhys Michael's spine, for he knew Rhun was referring to a Deryni pricker, which would administer a debilitating dose of _merasha_. Though it was intended for Dimitri, not himself, the thought of helping deliver any Deryni to the great lords' ministrations made him almost physically ill.
Back in the deathroom, Dimitri was quietly conversing with Stevanus and the abbey's infirmarian, away from where Father Ascelin was reciting prayers over Albertus' body. As Paulin briefly diverted to kneel with the priest and join in a prayer for his brother, Rhun stepped into the doorway and raised a beckoning hand in Dimitri's direction.
"Master Dimitri, would you come over here, please?"
With a nod to Stevanus, Dimitri came to join Rhun and Manfred and the king, making them a deferential bow. "My lords, Sire."
"Tell me, Master Dimitri, why did Lord Albertus ask you to accompany him tonight?" Rhun asked.
Dimitri's glance flicked to Manfred, then to Rhys Michael, carefully neutral, but the brief thought that brushed the king's mind confirmed that Dimitri was prepared to play out what now appeared to be inevitable.
"Am I to speak freely before Lord Manfred, my lord?" Dimitri asked in a low voice.
"I would not have asked you in front of him if I did not expect you to speak in front of him," Rhun said sharply. "Why did Lord Albertus bring you here?"
"He wished me to be present while he questioned the king concerning Lord Udaut's death."
"To Truth-Read his answers?" Rhun asked.
"Yes, my lord."
"Why should that be necessary?" Manfred interjected. "Did Lord Albertus have any reason to suppose that the king knew something about Udaut's death?"
"Not to my knowledge, my lord."
"Very well," Rhun said. "And did you Truth-Read the king?"
"I did."
"With what result?"
"Why, the king was telling the truth, of course. How could it be otherwise? Lord Udaut's death was an accident."
"Was it?" Rhun asked.
Dimitri did not even blink. "I have said that the king had nothing to do with it, my lord. Why do you question me this way? Have I not served you faithfully these many years and never given you cause to doubt my word?"
"Perhaps we were led to overlook such cause," Paulin said, slipping back into the conversation beside the Deryni. "What else did you do to the king besides Truth-Read him, Dimitri? Did you perhaps probe him, as you've been wanting to do for some time? And what did you do to my brother?"
Dimitri had led the questioning in this direction. It was the only possible scenario that would satisfy the great lords' questioning and totally divert suspicion from the king, and Rhys Michael knew it—and knew that Dimitri knew it.
"To your _brother_?" Dimitri asked, scorn in his tone. "Surely your grief has made you mad."
"Dear God, did you kill him?" Paulin whispered, now convinced that he had stumbled onto the truth. "Brother Serafin died of 'heart failure' a few days before Javan's coronation, and we always wondered about that. You weren't around then, but there were other Deryni who were capable. That's one of the more insidious Deryni spells, isn't it? You can kill a man without even touching him. We'll never know if Udaut actually died of 'heart failure,' but you could have reached out with your mind and done that—and also made his horse go mad and trample him, to cover your tracks. Did you summon up that swarm of bees, too? Was it my brother who was meant to drown?"
Dimitri shook his head disdainfully, turning to Rhun in appeal. "My lord, I am given far more credit than I deserve. If such conjectures seem plausible to you, small wonder that your people fear mine. Regardless of what answers I may give you, I am damned merely for being what I am. For what good it will do, I remind you that my kind have limitations, just as all men do. Physical contact is almost always required. We—"
In that instant, at a nod from Paulin, Master Stevanus made physical contact with Dimitri via a Deryni pricker, jamming its double needles into the taut muscles at the base of the Deryni's neck. Dimitri gasped and clapped a hand to the pain, dislodging the device as he whirled in dismay to throw off the hands already trying to restrain him, but his eyes told Rhys Michael that the Deryni was well aware of his plight.
In the seconds remaining before the _merasha_ rendered him powerless, Dimitri might carry out one more order besides the very last—and over _that_ one, he had no control, for it must wait until the very end. Before the drug could begin to diffuse his powers, even as Rhun and Manfred were grabbing at his arms to take him prisoner, he turned the full strength of his magic on Paulin, twining his hands in a death-grip in the neck of the prelate's black robes to pull him closer and will invisible hands of fire to clutch not at Paulin's heart but at his mind.
Paulin screamed and kept on screaming, a bloodcurdling wail of mortal agony that rose on a higher and ever higher pitch, until Rhys Michael thought that vocal cords of mere human flesh could not sustain such a sound. Yet even that was but a poor reflection of the true anguish of a mind being ripped. Surely Cathan must have felt some of the spillover, but he and Fulk boldly dragged Rhys Michael back from the physical struggle to shield him with their bodies, lest Dimitri attempt some attack on the king.
And all the while, unaware of the true magnitude of Dimitri's attack, the others were wrenching at his arms and shouting conflicting orders, Manfred bellowing for them to kill him, Rhun screaming that, no, they must take him alive. Cringing behind Cathan and Fulk, helpless to prevent any of what was unfolding so rapidly, Rhys Michael sensed a faltering in the energies and guessed that the _merasha_ must be starting to erode Dimitri's control. Just then, Rhun managed to place a precise blow behind Dimitri's left ear with the pommel of his dagger.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Whereas thy servant worketh truly, entreat him not evil, nor the hireling that bestoweth himself wholly for thee.
—Ecclesiasticus 7:20
The flow of power ceased utterly as Dimitri crumpled like an ox felled with a poleax, arms trailing limply down Paulin's chest as he sagged to his knees and was dragged apart by ready hands.
But merely subduing Dimitri did not end Paulin's agony. Though his shrieking choked off in midscream, his body arched in a strangled convulsion, still flailing as it pitched to the floor.
"Stevanus, see to him!" Rhun shouted, as he and Manfred stripped the belt from Dimitri's own waist and began to lash his wrists together.
Stevanus was already scrambling to Paulin's side. The convulsions were weakening, but Paulin's eyes were vacant and staring. His rigid chest kept heaving with the effort to draw breath, but clearly no air was reaching his lungs.
"He's dying! He can't breathe!" Stevanus gasped, rolling Paulin onto his side and prying the rigid jaws apart.
In the corridor, Rhys Michael clung to the door frame and craned his neck to see what was happening. Blood gushed from Paulin's mouth as Stevanus thrust his fingers inside, apparently probing for whatever was obstructing the airway.
"Jesus, he's swallowed his tongue!" the king heard him gasp.
As Stevanus forced his fingers deeper to dislodge the obstruction, the abbey's infirmarian came creeping timidly from under the table where he had taken refuge. Together, the two of them quickly managed to get Paulin breathing again, albeit shallowly, but Paulin had bitten his tongue nearly through as he convulsed. The bloody lump of it lay in the blood-soaked straw beside his head as Stevanus cast his knife aside and shakily shifted a gory hand to the pulse point in his patient's neck. The infirmarian was pressing a wadded edge of his scapular to the stump of Paulin's tongue to staunch the bleeding, keeping the head turned so he would not choke on his own blood.
"Dear God," Rhys Michael murmured, slumping weakly against the door frame. He had not expected anything of this magnitude.
Meanwhile, Paulin's spine-chilling screams had brought men running from either end of the corridor, wide-eyed monks and soldiers with swords in their hands. Crowding anxiously around the doorway, trying to peer in, most hardly noticed how they jostled the shaken king and his aides, pressing them back into the room. The priest Ascelin was cowering in shock beside the body of Albertus, farther toward the shuttered window, and both Stevanus and his erstwhile assistant looked white-faced and shaken.
"Is he still alive?" Rhun demanded, glancing around from the still unconscious Dimitri as Manfred tightened a belt around their captive's ankles.
"Yes." Stevanus grimaced as Paulin's pulse fluttered beneath his bloody fingers.
"Jesus, where did all the blood come from?" Rhun said, rising to come closer.
"His tongue." Stevanus gestured toward the bit of bloody flesh in the straw. "Even if he survives whatever else Dimitri did to him, he'll never speak again."
"God in heaven," Rhun murmured. "Then, he may still die?"
"I don't know. Since I have no idea what the Deryni did to him, I can't even tell you which to hope for."
"Damn the Deryni and their powers!" Rhun said, uneasily glancing back at Dimitri. "I _told_ Paulin something like this would happen one of these days, if he insisted on continuing to use Deryni."
Brother Polidorus, the infirmarian, glanced toward Dimitri and fought down a shudder.
"'Tis black magic," he muttered. "Woe be unto all of us, if the Deryni has summoned evil spirits under this roof."
Rhun rolled his eyes heavenward, though he, too, darted another nervous glance back at Dimitri. Manfred had shifted nearer the Deryni's head, his dagger pressed to the upturned throat. He flinched at the monk's words and blanched even paler, his free hand fumbling at the open neck of his tunic until it could close around a substantial gold crucifix.
"Good God, you don't really think—"
"I think," Rhun said, "that Brother Polidorus ought to see about getting Father Paulin to the infirmary. Stevanus, I need you here with me. Let the priests deal with Paulin and make sure _he_ can't do anything when he comes around." As he prodded Dimitri's bound form roughly with a booted toe, he finally noticed the men crowded into the doorway behind the king and stabbed a forefinger at the soldiers in the front.
"You, you, and the two of you, come and help get Father Paulin to the infirmary. What are the rest of you gawking at? Go back to your quarters, all of you. Everything is under control."
As the four selected edged warily into the room, giving distance to the dark-clad form Manfred guarded, the others reluctantly began to disperse. Directed by Brother Polidorus, the four briskly lifted the unconscious Paulin onto their shoulders and carried him out. Stevanus was bending over Dimitri.
"Now, Fulk," Rhun went on, spotting Fulk beside the king and beckoning him nearer. "Inform the abbot what's happened, then fetch me Father Lior, Father Magan—and Gallard de Breffni. Tell Gallard to bring his tools. Go!"
As Fulk threw a salute and ducked out the door, Rhun turned next to Cathan.
"You, help Father Ascelin see about taking Lord Albertus' body to wherever the mortuary chapel is, then find Lord Joshua Delacroix and tell him what's happened. Tell him he's acting Grand Master of the _Custodes_ knights until the Order can make an official appointment of Albertus' replacement—or is there someone more senior, Stevanus?"
"No, he's suitable," the battle surgeon said. He had come away from Dimitri momentarily to wash the gore from his hands, over at the washstand beside the single bed.
"Right, then. Delacroix is acting Grand Master. Acting vicar-general, too, for that matter, unless it has to be a priest. You _Custodes_ will have to sort that out. Go, Cathan. Meanwhile, as Albertus' designated second-in-command, I take the office of earl marshal to myself and hereby assume command of this campaign—unless you want it back, Manfred. You were earl marshal before Albertus."
"And I resigned," Manfred said. "But I'll serve under you as vice-marshal, if you wish."
"Thank you. I'll welcome your experience. Now, let's get this Deryni secured before he regains consciousness. We've got a long night ahead of us, but I intend to break him before dawn."
Neither Rhun nor Manfred seemed to have any particular instructions for Rhys Michael, as they now proceeded to turn the room into an impromptu interrogation chamber. The king had no desire to stay and watch what was going to happen, but since they had commandeered his room, he really had nowhere else to go. Nor did he think he ought to go very far, at least until one of his aides returned. And the question remained of whether Dimitri would reveal anything that might endanger Rhys Michael, even though the Deryni had _claimed_ that he was ordered to protect him.
Apparently all but forgotten by the two, as men came and went to do Rhun's bidding, the king soon found himself eddied into a dim corner of the room where the torchlight did not really reach—which at least was a vantage point from which he might watch and not himself be noticed. Now, if he could just avoid doing anything that might shift attention back onto himself...
After a few minutes, _Custodes_ monks came to carry Albertus' body away. Soon after they had departed, Fulk returned with Father Lior, the _Custodes_ inquisitor-general, who was accompanied by a younger man in priest's garb and a greying, blondish man wearing the black jazerant and red-fringed white sash of a _Custodes_ knight.
As Fulk came over to join him, Rhys Michael found himself staring at the knight, squinting against the dimness and trying to recall where he had seen the man before. The context had not been good; he was sure of that. Not that he held any _Custodes_ knight in high regard.
"What's happened?" Lior demanded, as his companions came in and set down leather satchels on the table, the knight clearing the maps from it with a sweep of his arm.
At Rhun's direction, Manfred had stripped the bedclothes and thin mattress off the narrow bed and dragged it out from the wall. As he turned it upside down, Rhun said, "It appears the good Dimitri has turned on his masters. Or perhaps he's been serving different masters all along. He killed Albertus, and he's half killed Paulin. I want him broken. I want to know what he did to the king, and I want to know who he's been working for."
Lior was already crouching beside Dimitri, peering under an eyelid, then feeling at the pulse in the captive's neck. Kneeling on Dimitri's other side, Stevanus had a Deryni pricker in his hands again, nervously twisting the cap as he awaited further instructions.
"How much has he already had?" Lior asked.
"Just a single dose, Father. Rhun managed to tap him behind the ear before it could take effect, but I think he's going to need more when he comes around."
"Which is going to be soon," Lior said, wiping his hands on his thighs and glancing around behind him. "Gallard, let's get another of these beds in here. One is too narrow to be effective. Sir Fulk?" He summoned the aide with a beckoning gesture. "Come and help the surgeon strip him."
With Lior standing back to supervise, the men went about their preparations with an efficiency that spoke of ready acquaintance with what the inquisitor-general intended. Very shortly the abbot showed up with one of his subpriors and a _Custodes_ captain-general and briefly drew Rhun aside for an update on the situation. Watching from his shadowed corner, Rhys Michael tried not to think about the tortures they were preparing, glad he could not get a clear look at the instruments and vials the younger priest was taking from one of the leather satchels, laying them out in neat rows on the table.
Fulk and Stevanus had Dimitri stripped by the time the knight named Gallard dragged another wooden bedstead into the room, Manfred helping him upturn it beside the first and lash the inside legs together. Though Dimitri had served an enemy prince, Rhys Michael felt the gorge rise in his throat as he watched them shift the helpless Deryni onto this improvised bed of torture and begin tying him spread-eagled to the bedposts, stretching the flaccid limbs taut.
In that instant, as he watched the knight named Gallard securing one of the bonds, he suddenly remembered where he had seen the man before. He had never learned the man's name, and he had never again seen the man at Court in the six years since, but certain it was that Gallard de Breffni had been the cold-eyed _Custodes_ knight at Hubert's side when the great lords turned on him in council and seized control of the castle, the same day that others of their number had treacherously slain an anointed king. It was Gallard who had murdered the loyal Sir Tomais d'Edergoll before his very eyes, Gallard who had dared to lay traitorous hands on Rhys Michael's own person when they marched him up to see Sir Sorle and the Healer Oriel slain, and to take Michaela into custody.
And that had been but an extension of earlier treason, for the man whose name he only tonight had learned also had been his principal keeper while, months before those other murders, he lay abducted by the great lords' agents. They had been _Custodes_ , all of them, though Rhys Michael had been induced to think them Ansel's men at the time—that it was Deryni who had turned against him and the great lords who had rescued him. And all the while, the great lords had been working toward that moment when Javan must be slain and Rhys Michael set in his place, but as a puppet king; and in his youthful arrogance and blindness, Rhys Michael had never even suspected until it was much, much too late.
Long-banked anger smouldered into flame. In this one man was embodied much of the treachery and betrayal of a lifetime, finally given name and form. Gallard de Breffni's life was forfeit in that instant, just as Albertus' had been. Rhys Michael Haldane was an anointed king, entitled to dispense justice. He had the right and the means to take de Breffni's life. Dimitri had shown him how. He could feel his newfound power starting to stir within him, tendrils of energy uncoiling down his arms as his hands clenched into fists and the spell began to take shape. Even from here, all he had to do was reach out and—
"Sit down and have a front-row seat, Sire," Rhun said in a low voice, suddenly beside Rhys Michael.
Taken totally by surprise, Rhys Michael started back violently and went into a crouch, one hand going instinctively to the dagger at his belt, even as he recognized Rhun's voice. He frantically pushed the power back down. In the concentration of his anger, he had not even noticed Rhun's approach.
Weak-kneed with relief, he made himself stay his hand and straighten up, trembling in after-reaction as he cast a shaken glance at Rhun. What had he been thinking? Tempting though it might be to slay de Breffni, to slay Rhun—to slay everyone in this room, for that matter—he knew he dared not.
Not with _merasha_ in so many hands. Not on the eve of a confrontation with a Deryni pretender. Not without a man to call his own, save Cathan, who was not even here.
"Good reflexes," Rhun commented, totally unaware how close he had come to death. "He must have given you a good scare. Here." He pulled the nearest chair closer and shoved it against the wall. "You're entitled. I suppose you're as anxious as we are, to find out whether he got into your mind. But don't worry; we'll break him. His days of playing both sides have just come to an end."
He did not wait to see whether the king sat, for Dimitri was starting to come around. A moan escaped the Deryni's lips as Manfred tightened down one of the wrist restraints, trailing off as the dark eyes opened and the bleary gaze slowly found focus. Pain was in that gaze, but also resignation. As Stevanus moved the standing rack of rushlights nearer his head, their sickly glow gave Dimitri's dark visage an oddly jaundiced pallor. The torchlight from the walls cast a paler, flickering light over his naked form and on the faces of the hard-eyed men looking down at him. The abbot, a round little man with beady eyes and not a hair on his head, crossed himself and drew back into the corridor with his two attendants.
"Dear, _dear_ Dimitri," Lior said softly. Flanked by the younger priest and Gallant de Breffni, he shook his head and made a soft _tsk_ ing sound with his tongue as he folded his arms across his chest. "I had so hoped never to meet you this way."
Just visible in one of his hands was the cap end of a Deryni pricker—an unusual one, cased in ebony and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. His knuckles showed white upon it as he gazed down at his captive, betraying his tension. Though sick anticipation churned in Rhys Michael's gut, he could not but watch. Every muscle taut, he made himself ease down on the edge of his chair as Fulk came to stand beside him.
"You have broken faith, Dimitri," Lior said more coldly. "In times past, you have _seemed_ to serve, but now I worry that deception drove you from the start. In asking myself what seeds of treachery you might have sown in _my_ mind, I have asked Father Magan to assist me tonight." He fingered the Deryni pricker as he glanced at the younger priest beside him. "You have never met him, so you cannot have tainted him with your foul magic. But rest assured that he knows how to deal with your kind."
Dimitri flicked a glance of utter disdain at both men, then turned his face away, his wrists testing at his bonds.
"No good, Deryni," Lior said sharply. "You have killed one of your masters and probably a second. Before you are paid in kind, as you surely knew must be your fate, we require information regarding your _other_ masters." He smiled without a trace of mirth. "Naturally, you will not wish to give us this information. Just as naturally, we must insist."
Dimitri closed his eyes briefly, a faint grimace twitching at the sensuous mouth as he swallowed with difficulty. Though he still seemed determined to put up a defiant front, Rhys Michael guessed that it was becoming more and more difficult, with the _merasha_ in his blood. Sweat sheened on the lean torso, and muscles corded in his outstretched arms and legs flexed as he continued to test at his bonds.
"A ridiculous game, isn't it?" Lior said. "You are required by your masters to resist unto death, and I am required by mine to press you as hard as I can, your mind addled by my drugs and your body pushed by most exquisite pain to the very brink of death, but not beyond—until you have told me what I want to know."
His expression hardened as his words seemed to have no effect on his prisoner.
"Very well. I know that we are not nearly to that point just yet. While Master Stevanus' sting denied you access to your powers, you still have most of your faculties of reason and the will to resist. Regrettably, Lord Rhun's method of rendering you senseless spared you from what I understand is a unique sensation, as the drug disrupted your control and stripped away access to your powers. Rest assured that such respite will not be granted again. I intend that you should experience the further erosion of your senses to the fullest."
So saying, Lior handed the Deryni pricker to Father Magan, who unscrewed the cap and carefully withdrew the twin needles embedded in its underside. A tawny drop of liquid quivered in the torchlight, suspended between the needles, as Magan raised an eyebrow and calmly bent closer to their captive's lean torso.
Expecting the usual quick jab of the needles, Rhys Michael stifled a gasp and nearly came to his feet as Magan instead touched the needles lightly to the shadowed hollow of Dimitri's navel. In the same instant, as the act registered, Dimitri groaned and threw himself against his bonds in a frenzy, trying to roll away, rocking the wooden bedsteads to which he was bound and nearly breaking free.
"Hold him!" Lior ordered, even as Manfred and Gallard were throwing their weight across the ends to keep him fast, and Rhun was pinning his shoulders back against the wooden slats.
Rhys Michael forced himself to sink back into his chair, though his own heart must be pounding nearly as wildly as Dimitri's was. He could see the hard muscles of the Deryni's belly rippling in spasm as he made another halfhearted attempt to twist free, but clearly the drug so oddly administered was having its effect. He was panting as he ceased struggling, his body now running with sweat, and his eyes were glazing, the pupils wide and dilated as Rhun roughly turned the face toward the rushlights.
"Is that a new way of administering _merasha_ , Lior?" he asked, as he released the captive's head and stepped back, looking at the inquisitor-general.
"Absorption of the drug through the skin is slower but steady," Lior said, drawing a deep breath and exhaling. "The umbilicus provides a handy receptacle, and the skin lining it is very thin. A somewhat limited method of delivery, but it has its uses. Father Magan discovered it. Obviously, it had not occurred to Dimitri." He glanced at the faintly twitching captive, whose eyes had closed.
"I know you're still conscious, Deryni," Lior said, in a slightly louder voice. "Nor need you bother to hope that your ordeal will be cut short by a miscalculation of the drug's dose. We know precisely how much _merasha_ a Deryni can tolerate before the dose becomes lethal, or even before sleep gives temporary respite.
"But before that comes the pain. Just as Father Magan is conversant with the drugs we can use to help break you, so Sir Gallard is well versed in the various methods of causing pain. Do not look for your other masters to save you from either."
Dimitri's other masters even then were debating the numerous possible reasons why their agent had not yet made contact. In the tower chamber at Culliecairn, Prince Miklos of Torenth was sitting on the edge of a narrow camp bed with his head in his hands. In a chair opposite sat Marek of Festil, wide-eyed and impatient-looking.
"But we know they're close," Marek said. "We've had conventional dispatches since they left Rhemuth. Besides the death of Udaut, there's been no hint that anything odd has happened—certainly nothing to indicate that Dimitri's been found out. Believe me, if a Deryni spy had been discovered in the bosom of the _Custodes Fidei_ , we would have heard."
"We _should_ have heard from _him_ ," Miklos said, raising his head. "I like it not. In more than six years of service, he has never been more than a few hours off, if a contact was prearranged. Given the uncertainties attendant upon forced march, I could understand a delay of a day or two. Privacy could be hard to come by. But the scouts predict arrival at Lochalyn tomorrow. That means they shall be _here_ the day after. And we have not the foggiest notion where we stand, what other key men he has been able to eliminate or subvert, what he has found out about the Haldane—"
"Then, let's go ahead and force the contact," Marek said. "If he's that close, it won't take that much more energy to initiate the contact, instead of just standing by to receive. It's late enough now that he's probably asleep. We'll go in tandem, with a human backup. If everything's all right, we can find out what we need to know. If he's captured, or he's turned, we can kill him. And of course, if he's dead, we'll know that, too."
Miklos, Prince of Torenth, rubbed his hands over his face, then nodded with a heavy sigh.
"Very well." He stood. "I shall go and fetch someone for backup. I don't wish to use one of my regular sources; this may kill whomever we use, if the power drain is too heavy."
With that he went out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Marek rose and paced the length of the room a few times, then went to the window and looked out over the valley below the castle.
Beyond the valley lay the Coldoire Pass; and between the pass and the castle, the watchfires of Miklos' Torenthi levies sparkled in the cool night air like jewels flung across a bolt of velvet. It was the gateway to Marek's kingdom, stolen from his parents by the father of the king riding to meet him out there in two days' time. It was close enough that he could almost smell it.
He turned as the door opened behind him and Miklos returned, now accompanied by a short, stocky guard wearing Miklos' livery.
"Sit there," Miklos said, pointing to the floor beside the narrow camp bed. "Lean your back against the bed."
The man obeyed the odd command without hesitation, obviously already controlled. Wearily Miklos went around to the other side of the bed and sat down, drawing a deep breath, then totally emptying his lungs before reclining and swinging his booted legs up onto the thin mattress.
As he briefly laid an arm over his eyes, Marek came to join him, sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the bed from the guard and performing the same deep-breathing exercise that Miklos had done. After a moment Miklos raised his arm to tip the guard's curly head back against the bed, his hand briefly cupping over the eyes. Then he shifted it down to let his wrist lie against the man's shoulder, the V of his thumb and fingers lightly clasped around the man's throat.
"All right, he's ready," Miklos murmured, upturning his other arm along his side. "Whenever you are."
Marek had been disciplining his own trance already and linked in easily with the Torenthi prince, as he clasped his hand around the other's wrist. Marek was powerful and very well trained, perhaps the match of his older cousin, but this was Miklos' working, so he let himself take a subordinate role as Miklos wove the spell. In the background, he could feel the vibrant life-force of the guard pulsing in synch with the power Miklos was coiling to unleash, not even accessible to its owner but now set in potential and ready to be drawn upon.
Powerful and focused, their call went forth, fine-focused only to the mind of the agent they sought, sweeping a far smaller area and lesser distance than Dimitri had spanned, a week before, when last he communicated. It took some time to locate him, because his trace, when they finally picked it up, was odd.
_Merasha!_ came Miklos' stark pronouncement. _Someone has found him out!_
Bracing himself for even the secondhand taste of _merasha_ disruption, Miklos thrust the contact home, seeking no permission and needing none, for Dimitri's shields were in tatters, no impediment at all. Stark on the very surface of his mind lay drug-addled snatches of the event that had precipitated his undoing: Lord Albertus killed, as ordered, but under circumstances that inadvertently had betrayed Dimitri as well... and the despicable Paulin mind-ripped even as Dimitri succumbed to his captors' power.
Dimitri was not unconscious; indeed, he was in a great deal of pain. But not yet near the breaking point; not yet near the trigger Miklos had set against just such a contingency.
Yet something was wrong here—something about the trigger. To Miklos' consternation, other minds had been deep in Dimitri's. Alien traces showed like faintly wrong-colored threads against the subtle, complex pattern Miklos had laid down. He could not quite make out their source, but he could see glimpses of the work—and where at least a few of the threads seemed to lead.
_Trigger alterations_ , Miklos noted. _Let us see if we can discover who has done this. Could it possibly have been the Haldane...?_
He drove his probe closer toward the source of the alteration, himself causing pain; drawing heavily on his backup now, ignoring _his_ pain, starting to catch a glimpse, a glimmering—
In that instant, more powerful and more recent compulsions slammed into force, tripping the death-trigger that Miklos himself had set. Though aware what it would cost to delay the effect, Miklos locked Marek into the link and drove all their considerable power and all the last reserves of their backup into one final, desperate attempt to force the trigger back and keep the channel open just a little longer, relentlessly seeking explanation, _willing_ the linked mind to yield its information.
_Who? Tell me who!_
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rejoice not over thy greatest enemy being dead, but remember that we die all.
—Ecclesiasticus 8:7
Dimitri had yielded nothing to his interrogators, despite a diverse range of tortures applied to shrinking flesh over the space of several hours. Efficient and apparently unaffected by the pain he caused, the inventive Gallard de Breffni had presented nun with varied inducements calculated to push him to the very brink of what he thought he could bear and then beyond—though never to the point that he might escape into unconsciousness. Diverse stimulants kept him alert, periodically reviving sensations pushed to overload and countering the sedative effect of the _merasha_ , but these did nothing to ease the disruption of his mind and powers.
Nor could Dimitri choose either to surrender the information they demanded or to end his agony, for he had given that choice into another's hands when first he offered himself as Miklos' agent. Though the decision of when to activate a death-trigger usually was reserved to the subject, the protection of extremely sensitive information sometimes required that absolute levels be set, over which the subject no longer retained control. With Dimitri's own concurrence, Miklos had set the triggerpoint against an almost unimaginably high pain threshold; for the longer Dimitri could keep from breaking, against the worse coercion, the greater the chance his interrogators would doubt their findings, even if bits of the truth should manage to slip through.
But now new pain probed into the very depths of Dimitri's awareness, totally apart from what Gallard de Breffni was doing to his body. Vaguely he recognized the touch; weakly he strained to reach toward it—or at least toward the triggerpoint, to give him blessed release. As the probe drove ever deeper, either the pain or his yearning finally tripped the long-sought trigger. An instant of relief immediately gave way to a rainbow brightness erupting in his mind, obliterating all else, hurtling him toward oblivion at last.
Dimitri's bloodied torso suddenly arched in spasm, his breath catching in his throat and his whole body going rigid.
"What's happening?" Rhun demanded, as Stevanus laid an ear against the bloody, straining chest and Magan tried to get a look at the prisoner's pupils. The others were throwing themselves across arms and legs to restrain the convulsion. Rhys Michael had retreated as far as the corridor some time before, unable to bear the Deryni's screams and the stench of blood and urine and burnt flesh, but now he anxiously pressed back into the doorway with Cathan and Fulk. The abbot and his two attendants were watching with undisguised horror.
"We may have hit a death-trigger," Magan murmured, hunting in vain for a carotid pulse. "They can make themselves die, you know."
"Give him more _merasha_!" Lior ordered, fumbling to open his Deryni pricker. "If he's doing this himself, it may break his concentration."
"I don't want him killed yet!" Rhun barked.
"It won't kill him. He hasn't had that much. We're nowhere near a lethal dose."
"We're going to lose him if we don't do _something_ ," Magan said, snatching the Deryni pricker from Lior's hands and plunging it into Dimitri's neck.
Whether or not this new outrage was the cause, the fragile balance shifted enough in that instant to let Dimitri's death-trigger snap closed at last. His back arched once more, then relaxed utterly, his limbs going limp as the dark eyes rolled upward until all but the whites disappeared. The final breath sighed gently from between slack lips.
"He's dead," Stevanus whispered, hollow-eyed and grey as he lifted bloody hands from Dimitri's chest to stare at them in the torchlight.
Another was passing into death in a darkened tower room in Culliecairn. In the same instant that the death-trigger released Dimitri, Marek tumbled out of the disintegrating link with a gasp, hands clapped to his temples, and Miklos of Torenth lost the pulse in the throat of the man under his hand.
Unperturbed, Miklos shifted a portion of his focus to deal with the suddenly dwindling flow of backup energy, the while riding out the psychic backlash generated by Dimitri's death-trigger. That the backup was dying was regrettable but not unexpected, for no human could have survived the drain Miklos demanded, once he had determined to seek out the source of the alien threads. While a part of him sealed off the last of the aborted connection, Miklos relentlessly stripped out the final increments of energy the dying man could give, using it like oil to still the last reverberations of psychic storm. He only wished the effort had borne better fruit. Sending men to their deaths was a part of command, but he disliked sacrificing them for so little return.
Meanwhile, the infusion of energy was having the desired effect. With heart rate already slowing to more normal levels, Miklos laid an arm across his eyes and made himself run through the usual set of checklists employed by Deryni after an arduous working. Remaining in another's mind at the time a death-trigger tripped was never pleasant and often profoundly unsettling—far different from easing a soul's passing when death came more gently.
He felt groggy and a little light-headed as he opened his eyes, but at least he knew that a few hours' sleep would finish restoring him. Drawing a deep breath, he shifted his arm to glance aside at where Marek sat, head bowed in his hands and breathing a little shakily.
"Are you all right?"
Marek raised his head and took a deep breath before he turned his face to Miklos.
"I will be. What the devil did they do to Dimitri?"
"Physically? The sorts of things one might expect. He knew the risks."
"That isn't what I meant."
"I know. And I have no answer for you."
Sitting up, Miklos swung his feet to the floor next to Marek, pausing with hands set to the edges of the bed on either side before he pushed himself to his feet and staggered to the table and two chairs set under the window. Wood screeched against stone as he pulled out one of the chairs, and he had to catch his balance against its back before passing a hand over a rack of candles to produce light.
He sat down heavily, pulling a tray nearer to pour himself a cup of wine. He managed not to spill any, but he had to use both hands to lift the cup and drain it. While he drank, Marek came to join him, pouring a cup for himself, then refilling the other's.
"Who do _you_ think got to him?" Marek asked. "Was it the Haldane?"
Miklos shook his head, then took another quaff of his wine. "I cannot say. He should not be capable of such a thing, but if not he, then who? Camber's kin again? Dimitri had seen no evidence of Deryni infiltration at the Court in recent years, but remember that he has never been allowed direct contact with the Haldane himself."
"Who else might have done it, then?" Marek asked.
Shrugging, Miklos set his cup aside. "We know that some of those Deryni who had aided King Cinhil were still in evidence when Javan came to the throne, even though they dared not show their faces in Rhemuth. Paulin and Albertus even had their suspicions about Javan." He raised an eyebrow and shook his head almost regretfully. "I shall almost miss them, I think. They have done us many favors, over the years—they and their _Custodes Fidei_."
Marek suppressed a shiver, then took a deep draught of his wine. "I mistrust religious fanatics, no matter what the religion. I'm just as glad they're gone."
Miklos' pale gaze flicked away momentarily, even as memory shied from the echo of Paulin's anguish he had read from Dimitri. Paulin, at least, was _not_ gone; indeed, he might linger in a living death for many days or weeks or even months. He would know nothing more of pain, but that was small recompense for the unspeakable agony of having his mind ripped while still conscious. After such an experience, what mortal flesh could possibly ever register mere pain again?
"You don't look particularly pleased," Marek noted, breaking in on Miklos' distraction. "They stood in our way."
"So they did," Miklos said, recovering himself. "Still, they have served our purposes, though they knew it not. Not only did they rid us of Javan Haldane, who would have made you a formidable adversary, but now I begin to wonder about his replacement. Perhaps they did us no favor at all."
"What are you saying?"
"Only that we should not underestimate this son of Haldane," Miklos said quietly. "We have believed him to be a puppet in the hands of his great lords, these six years. We have assumed that he is not the man his brother Javan was shaping to be—or his father was."
"You think he has the Haldane power?"
Miklos shrugged. "I know not. But _someone_ exposed Dimitri. _Someone_ guessed his dual loyalties. You saw the traces of their work. I find it a curious coincidence that Dimitri should be unmasked on the very eve of this Haldane's first public venture in nearly six years."
When Marek did not speak, Miklos went on more tentatively.
"Perhaps we should consider whether this may not be a timely warning, a sign that we should draw back somewhat from our original plan and rethink our strategy until we have learned more of this Haldane. It is just possible that he may have come into the same powers his father wielded. If so, and if he reveals them, his own great lords may kill him—nay, _will_ kill him, if he has not supporters to protect him."
"That may take time."
"True enough. But time we have. What we do not have—what _you_ do not have—is a sufficiently secure succession, if we were to take him on now, and you should fall. This is further reason for waiting, for biding our time."
"I'm tired of waiting! We can take him now; I know we can."
"Perhaps. But perhaps not. Consider the risks. My sister Charts has given you a son and heir in whom the blood of Festil is rejoined to Torenth—a magnificent birthright!—but the child is yet young."
"He is strong!" Marek blurted. "He will make a noble king one day."
"He is an infant," Miklos said calmly. "Infants sometimes sicken and die, for no apparent reason. Do you truly wish to risk all just now, with but one puny princeling to carry on the line of Festil, if you should fall?"
Anger flared in Marek's dark eyes as he turned to look at his elder cousin, but then, after a taut pause, he shook his head.
"I thought not," Miklos said. "Nor do I."
"What is it you propose?" Marek asked, after another silence.
"Simply this," Miklos said. "We tread softly. Let us see how this Haldane is minded to respond to our challenge, besides bestirring himself to come to us. We must lure him to a face-to-face meeting. Perhaps the Lady Sudrey may be useful in this matter. I am stricken with remorse over the accidental killing of her husband and desire to make amends. I might even be induced to withdraw from Culliecairn without further loss of life, as a sign of my contrition."
"Pull out of Culliecairn?" Marek began indignantly.
"We shall _talk_ about pulling out of Culliecairn," Miklos amended. "If opportunity presents, and he does not display the defenses we fear, we can still try for the kill, but I think it best we devise several contingency plans. Perhaps the young prince your son has taken cold, and the christening must be postponed. That justification will speak to the Haldane, since he, too, is father of a young son. If he can be induced to bring Sudrey to the meeting, additional possibilities become feasible. _That_ situation has been maturing quite long enough."
Marek nodded, beginning to become caught up in his cousin's reasoning.
"But our ultimate aim must be to assess the Haldane's strength," Miklos went on. "Hence, we must be prepared to negotiate, to back down with at least some grace. Culliecairn was a convenient ruse to get the Haldane to show his face, but I think it is not worth the cost of a kingdom. There will be other days, other battles. If expediency requires, we have lost nothing by giving it back."
"I suppose not," Marek said sullenly. "I want him, though, Miklos. I want him dead. I want my father's throne back."
Miklos grinned and shook his blond head, looking suddenly years younger.
"And you shall have it, cousin—all of it, I promise you—but all in good time. For now, let us merely expect to lay more groundwork—and be ready, if fate should offer some unanticipated opportunity."
Elsewhere, other Deryni were reacting to the implications of Dimitri's passing. Assigned to monitor the death-trigger they had altered, Dom Queron Kinevan stirred groggily from trance and ran through a brief spell to settle his nerves, then turned his gaze to the crystal sphere suspended above the table in the Camberian Council chamber, using it as a focus to amplify his Call to Joram.
There could be no mistaking what he had picked up. They had kept no actual link established with Dimitri since returning him to Rhemuth with his new compulsions, but a constant watch had been set to scan for any major working he might attempt. Niallan had caught the ripples from Udaut's "accident," and Joram himself had intercepted the lesser ripples that should have resulted in Albertus' death. Thereafter, Dimitri apparently had been lying low—until a few hours ago.
Alerted by the deviant burst of energy that had killed Albertus and then the second that had ripped Paulin's mind, Queron had dipped briefly into Dimitri's _merasha_ disruption and then pulled back to a more bearable level to observe, well aware what the final outcome must be, with Dimitri having provoked sufficient mistrust to warrant dosing him with _merasha_.
Only after several hours of physical torture did Dimitri finally escape, released by the death-trigger that Miklos had set and Jesse had adjusted. The reverberations of Dimitri's suffering had been bad enough, especially for a Healer of Queron's sensitivity; but worse by far had been the intimation, shortly before Dimitri died, that Miklos himself somehow had forced a link while the torture was underway, his alarmed query adding to Dimitri's agony—until the death-trigger snapped shut. Queron's one consolation, aside from knowing that Dimitri now was beyond pain, was that he did not think Miklos had been able to identify the traces left behind, to know who had tampered with Dimitri since Miklos had set his initial imperatives.
"What's happened?" Joram's voice asked.
Bestirring himself, Queron turned around in his chair to glance back at the great, ceiling-high bronze doors that Joram was closing. By the light of the single candle burning in the center of the table, Joram looked almost spectral. Obviously rousted from sleep, he had paused only to draw on a mantle over his white nightshirt. His feet were bare; the silver-gilt hair was tousled, sticking up in back where he had slept on it oddly, and the eyes were darkly hollowed.
"You got here quickly," Queron observed.
"You did indicate that it was urgent."
Queron nodded. "Dimitri's dead. So is Albertus, and Paulin's mind-ripped. And Miklos forced a link through, just at the end. That's probably what snapped the death-trigger."
"Is the king safe?"
"He was when the link was severed. Dimitri did everything he could to protect him."
"You'd better give me all the details you have," Joram said, pulling one of the heavy chairs closer to Queron's and sitting.
Not waiting for further invitation, the Healer reached out to lay his hand on the one upturned on Joram's nearer chair arm, closing his eyes then and slipping into rapport with the ease of long practice. The requested information was conveyed within seconds, in a powerful and steady flow of psychic impression. As Queron dismantled the contact, Joram sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"I never thought I'd say this, but I find myself feeling sorry for Paulin," he said.
Queron turned his face toward the hanging crystal. "It isn't one of the more pleasant ways to go," he agreed.
"I suppose that's what's bothering me," Joram replied. "He _isn't_ really gone."
"Isn't he?" Queron said. "When a mind has been ripped the way Paulin's was, what's left? The body could keep on going for quite a while—but is the soul still there?"
"Are you equating soul with mind?" Joram said with a faint smile.
Queron shrugged, returning the smile. "It's a question I've long considered—and never answered." He sighed. "I wonder why Dimitri did it."
"What, attack Paulin? Paulin was on his hit list, just like Albertus."
"Yes, but why rip his mind? He could have stopped his heart, the way he did with Albertus. Mind-ripping is hardly subtle. He must have realized that such an act would only reinforce anti-Deryni feeling—regardless of who ends up on the throne."
Joram raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that ever crossed his mind. When every other power has been taken away from you, or is about to be, I suppose it makes a kind of sense to lash out with as much destruction as you can."
"Then, why just Paulin? Why not Rhun and Manfred, Stevanus? Why not the whole roomful?"
"The king, for one thing," Joram replied. "He was forbidden to harm Rhys Michael or Cathan. The more practical reason probably is that he couldn't be sure of having enough power long enough to wreak destruction on a larger scale. Better to accomplish one definite kill than to attempt several and accomplish none of them."
"I suppose you're right." Queron sighed and rubbed wearily at his eyes. "So, shall I contact Ansel and let him know what's happened, or do you want to do it?"
"I'll do it," Joram replied. "You've been through enough tonight. Send Rickart to relieve me, and then go to bed."
Even an hour later, the king had not yet been given leave to seek out his bed. As soon as Dimitri's body had been taken away, all the principals had been obliged to adjourn to the abbot's lodgings, there to endure the inevitable debriefing that the abbot required. Fortunately, any ambiguity in Rhys Michael's statements before the attack on Paulin seemed to have been lost in the drama of the attack itself, so no question of the king's willing involvement ever arose.
"I've never heard anyone scream like that," Stevanus murmured, still badly shaken as they huddled around the abbot's table and a servant poured wine.
Manfred shuddered, his hand again closing around the crucifix at his throat. "You would have thought demons were rending his soul," he whispered. "God help him."
The comment elicited a flurry of self-conscious signs of the Cross and an order for more light. As servants brought candles for the table and set several torches in wall cressets, Rhun steered the discussion in less hysterical directions.
"I think it's fair to conclude that Dimitri probably has been working for Miklos all along," he said, after he had given the abbot a more objective account of the attack on Paulin. "I can't tell you what made Paulin recruit him. Personally, I've never been comfortable with the idea of using Deryni, even when we had them bound by hostages, and I misliked this arrangement from the first time I heard about it. By then, it was too late. You _Custodes_ were convinced that Dimitri was reliable, and you'd come to depend on him."
"Father Paulin assured us—" Lior began.
"Yes, I know. So did Albertus." Rhun sighed and rubbed both hands across his face, then set both elbows on the table.
"All right, forget about what Dimitri may have done in the past," he said. "Let's consider what he's probably done recently and how that may affect us. Aside from any subtle influence he may have had on those with whom he had direct contact over the years, he'll have been reporting regularly to Miklos, almost certainly by means of a magical link of some kind. That means that Miklos knew precisely what had been said at Court when his herald came, long before the herald could return."
Gallard de Breffni pushed his cup away, a scowl creasing his blond brows. "Conventional spies could have done the same, sending messages by relays. Even so, it doesn't give Miklos any particular edge, just to know that we're on our way."
"Perhaps not. But what new orders did Dimitri receive, once he'd reported?"
"To begin killing off key figures in Gwynedd?" the abbot guessed. "You all seem fairly certain that this Udaut was not the victim of an accident."
"But, why would Miklos of Torenth want Udaut dead?" Stevanus asked. "It isn't as if Udaut was a brilliant commander whose loss would cripple our military strength. He wasn't even coming along on this venture."
"No, but I replaced him with Richard Murdoch," Rhun said, "so we lost _his_ services on this campaign. And now I feel certain that Albertus was meant to drown at that ford."
"Dimitri still got him," Manfred pointed out. "It just took a few more days. He got Paulin, too. I wouldn't necessarily regard those as crippling losses for the campaign—losing _you_ and Albertus would have been far worse—but the _Custodes_ have been badly damaged."
Abbot Kimball nodded dismally. "Father Paulin was our founder and a man of great faith. Replacing him will not be easy."
Thereafter, the discussion digressed to concerns mainly of interest to the _Custodes_ , though the hint of hysteria kept intruding. The king's part in all of it became less and less an issue, and he gradually concluded that he probably had gotten through the incident relatively unscathed. As Lior and Magan launched into a brief but heated philosophical debate on the relative wickedness of merely being Deryni, Rhys Michael found himself starting to drift off and even yawn. The abbot eventually noticed and spoke up as soon as a lull in the conversation allowed.
"I think we might allow the king to retire now," he said, himself covering a yawn. "Our remaining business mainly concerns the Order. Sir Gallard, perhaps you would be so good as to show his Highness and his aides to the guest chamber here in my lodgings. Sire, I doubted you would wish to return to the scene of tonight's—ah—unfortunate occurrence, so I took the liberty of having your things brought up."
Indeed, Rhys Michael had never intended to return to the room where two men had died and a third should have done, and was able to offer the abbot gracious thanks for the courtesy. The choice of escorts was unfortunate, but he firmly squelched his distaste and allowed Sir Gallard de Breffni to escort him and his aides out of the abbot's parlour and down a short corridor to a well-appointed chamber half again the size of the one they had vacated.
"They could have given us this room at the start," Fulk said, when the door had closed behind the retreating Gallard. "That other wasn't proper accommodation for a king."
"Just lead me to the nearest bed," Rhys Michael murmured. "As long as we aren't sleeping in a torture chamber, I don't really much care."
He let Cathan pull his boots and managed to stay on his feet long enough to get out of his riding leathers, but he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillows.
Except that he dreamed, fitful and restless, for all that was left of the night. Vivid images of Dimitri's tortured body intermingled with others older but no less potent: Gallard de Breffni coldly running his sword into the gut of the astonished Sir Tomais, that day of the coup... and Sir Sorle and Master Oriel, cut down by arrows a while later...
And more arrows slamming into his brother's body... and Javan sinking back into the arms of the loyal Sir Charlan, who died at Albertus' order, as one of his _Custodes_ knights stabbed him in the back, and blood gushed from his mouth...
And blood pouring from Paulin's mouth as Stevanus probed deep with his fingers and pulled loose the tongue, bitten almost through... Stevanus' knife flashing as he finished the job, lest Paulin choke... and Paulin screaming, shrieking mindlessly, as Dimitri ripped his mind, and ripped...
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I have seen the foolish taking root.
—Job 5:3
The dawn tolling of a single, deep-throated bell finally intruded enough to drag Rhys Michael from restless sleep. The cheerless cadence would have rendered further sleep impossible, even if memory of the previous night had not come tumbling back into consciousness.
He sat up with a start. At the foot of the bed, Cathan was laying out a clean tunic for him to put on before donning riding leathers and armor, himself already armed and dressed for departure.
"Lord Manfred has been asking for you," Cathan said, as Fulk brought in hot water and a basin and towels. "They're burying Albertus here, this morning, before we leave. Mass will be as soon as they can get everyone organized."
Groaning, Rhys Michael fell back on his pillows and rubbed at his eyes, then blearily rolled over and staggered to his feet, well aware that it was useless to hope for any reprieve.
"What's the word on Paulin?" he asked, as he padded over to the garderobe. "Did he make it through the night?"
"Well, he's still alive," Fulk's terse reply came. "Whether that's a blessing remains to be seen. We'll have to leave him here with the brothers, of course. He hasn't stirred, hasn't regained consciousness. Father Lior says it's by no means certain that he ever will."
Emerging from the garderobe, Rhys Michael stripped off his stale tunic of the day before and tossed it to Cathan on his way to the basin and pitcher. From what had spilled over during Dimitri's attack on Paulin, he suspected that, if anything, Lior was being overly optimistic. His newly acquired Haldane wisdom suggested that those few who survived mind-ripping on the scale he had witnessed the night before sometimes lingered for weeks or even months, but usually as little more than vegetables. He was not certain even Paulin deserved that—though after what had been done to Dimitri, he could not imagine that the scales were much out of balance. Death would be a mercy for Paulin, as it had been for the Deryni.
The funeral bell continued to toll as Rhys Michael quickly washed and dressed and his aides packed up the few personal items that had emerged from saddlebags for morning use. He questioned whether it was necessary to don armor until after they had heard Mass, but Fulk informed him that the new earl marshal wanted to be ready to ride out as soon as they had buried Albertus.
"They _are_ going to let us eat before we go, I hope," Rhys Michael said, letting them help him buckle on the red brigandine over his riding leathers.
"Only travel fare, in the saddle," Cathan replied. "We're already going to be several hours later riding out than was planned."
The king finished arming in silence, belting on the Haldane sword while Cathan knelt to adjust one of his spurs. He pulled on his cloak before following Cathan down the stairs and into the abbot's yard. Fulk brought up the rear, with the saddlebags slung over one shoulder. Waiting in the yard were Lord Joshua Delacroix and six _Custodes_ knights. The new acting Master of the _Custodes_ looked underslept and a trifle uneasy, which probably described the condition of just about everyone at Saint Cassian's this morning. Rhys Michael was certainly on edge.
"Be pleased to come with me, Sire," Lord Joshua said, snapping to brisk attention. "I have orders to escort the three of you to Lord Rhun."
Something in the tone made Rhys Michael wonder briefly whether some new suspicion had surfaced in Rhun's mind after they parted the night before—but then, courtly courtesies had never been a particular attribute of either the _Custodes_ or Rhun. That Cathan and Fulk were included in the bidding suggested that this probably was just a guard of honor to convey them to the abbey church, Rhun flexing his muscles as earl marshal. Still, Rhys Michael set his hand on the hilt of his sword as he gave Joshua a sparse nod of assent and fell in with him and his men, Cathan and Fulk flanking him a half a pace behind.
Passing through a narrow slype passageway, they emerged into bright sunshine and the not unexpected bustle of men and horses beginning to assemble in the open yard before the abbey church, which loomed grey and squat on their left. The tolling of the bell was louder here and damped the usual banter that would have accompanied mere preparations to be off. Alerted to the king's presence by his crimson brigandine amid all the black of his _Custodes_ escort, men gave way with grave deference, a pinch-faced squire coming immediately to relieve Fulk of the saddlebags. Many of them were heading up the steps and into the church, mostly _Custodes_ knights, but to the king's surprise, Lord Joshua continued to lead them straight across the yard.
"I thought we were going to Mass," Rhys Michael said, holding back a little. "Isn't that the church?"
"It is, Sire, but Lord Rhun desires you to join him in the infirmary first."
"To see Father Paulin?"
"So I would assume, sir."
Rhys Michael let himself relax just a little. Joshua Delacroix was a man of maddeningly few words, but it made sense that the king should be brought to pay a courtesy call on Paulin's sickroom, since the expedition would be riding out directly after Mass. Seeing the stricken vicar-general was not a duty Rhys Michael particularly relished, but he supposed it was the least he could do. Paulin was not likely to give him trouble ever again.
They crossed the remainder of the abbey yard without further exchange, accompanied only by the solemn tolling of the bell and the quiet milling of the gathering _Custodes_ men. Above the arched entrance gate to the cellarer's yard, which would admit them through the stores range to the inner cloister, he could see the dense black smoke of something burning in the yard beyond. They had come back this way the night before, from the refectory, and Rhys Michael assumed that the infirmary must he somewhere beyond. Because of the tolling of the bell, he could not hear the crackle of the flames as they passed under the arched gateway, but he caught a whiff of the smoke just as they emerged into the sunlight again.
He stopped dead, left hand clenching tightly around the pommel of the Haldane sword, abruptly thankful he had not yet broken his fast. Over near the yard's outer wall, the source of the greasy black smoke now became all too obvious. The sight sickened him, never mind that Dimitri would have been dead for hours by the time they chained him to the stake and lit the pyre. Kindling and bundles of fagots were mounded waist-high all around, well ablaze, and the body itself was engulfed in flames.
The _Custodes_ were responsible for this, without doubt, exacting the last measure of petty vengeance on an enemy now beyond their reach. Several were standing close by, prodding at the pyre with long poles to encourage the flames. Forcing down the gorge rising in his throat, for he knew this fate also was meted out to living men, Rhys Michael crossed himself and averted his eyes.
"They didn't have to do this," he muttered, well under his breath.
Ahead of him, Lord Joshua suddenly had realized that he no longer had an entourage and turned to glance back at the king. Seeing the king's expression, he returned immediately, hand set on the hilt of his sword.
"Please come along, Sire. They're waiting for you."
"Why are they doing this?" Rhys Michael demanded. As he gestured toward the pyre, Lord Joshua moved a little closer, reluctant to meet the royal gaze.
"Sire, they say he loosed black magic in the abbey last night," he murmured, keeping his voice low so that only Rhys Michael could hear. "The abbot feared contamination, if the body was not burned."
"That's superstitious nonsense," the king retorted. "The man was dead."
"Fortunate for him, Sire. If he'd survived his interrogation, he would have been burned alive."
"I thought spies were hanged, drawn, and quartered."
"Aye, sir, but burning is the penalty for sacrilege. The Deryni killed a professed Christian knight with magic and also used it to attack a mitred abbot. That gives the Order precedence in dealing with the crime."
It was useless to argue with the single-minded Joshua, who was only a tool. Biting back a number of highly satisfying retorts, none of which would endear him to his _Custodes_ keepers, the king glanced reluctantly at the fire again. Though the face was no longer recognizable, for which Rhys Michael was thankful, the limbs were starting to contract in the heat, moving eerily. With a shudder, he turned his back on the blaze.
"We were on our way to see Father Paulin, I believe," he said quietly.
With a smart salute, Lord Joshua turned to lead the way, taking them through the cellarer's stores and on into the cloister garth, along the south range, past kitchens and refectory and thence through another arcaded passage that led to the very steps of the infirmary hall. Still a little numbed by the scene in the cellarer's yard, the king paid no special note to the chanting he could hear as he entered and followed Lord Joshua down a long central corridor.
To his consternation, the scene in Paulin's sickroom was perhaps even more grotesque than what they had just witnessed. They had shed their escort knights at the door, but Cathan and Fulk were at his heels and nearly ran him down when, just at the open doorway, he stopped dead.
Because so many men were crowded inside, the room seemed far smaller than it actually was. Two beds occupied the center of the chamber, on the nearer of which lay the still, deathly pale form of Paulin. To the king's astonishment, Albertus' body lay on the other, decked out in the full ceremonial robes of his former office. Two monks with thuribles were censing the beds from either side, and six more were ranged along the side toward Albertus, chanting the responses to an antiphon being sung by the abbot. Aspergillum in hand, the abbot was punctuating his verses with sprinkles of holy water over the two beds.
" _Pax huic domui_..."
" _Et omnibus habitantibus in ea._ "
" _Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo, et mundabor_..."
" _Lavabis me, et super nivem dealababor._ "
" _Miserere me, Deus_..."
" _Secundum misericordiam tuam._ "
With incense smoke filling the room and the aural onslaught of chanting, Rhys Michael noticed only as afterthought that all the principals of the previous night's debacle also were present, kneeling hard against the wall toward the foot of the beds: the four _Custodes_ men who had conducted the interrogation—Lior, Magan, Stevanus, and Gallard—and Manfred and Rhun, nearest the door. Brother Polidorus, the infirmarian, was huddled against Paulin's bedside with his back to the king, mostly kneeling with his head jammed down over folded hands, but occasionally rising up to check his patient's pulse or peer hopefully under a slack eyelid.
" _Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domine_..."
" _Qui fecit caelum et terram._ "
" _Deus huic domui_..."
" _Et omnibus habitantibus in ea._ "
" _Exorcizo te, immunde spiritus_..."
Rhun noticed the king's arrival just as Rhys Michael started to whisper a horrified comment to Cathan and shot him a sharp look. The abbot had turned to sprinkle holy water on the kneeling observers, but as soon as he turned his chanting back in Paulin's direction, Rhun crossed himself and quietly rose to come over to the doorway, drawing the king and his aides a few steps outside the room.
"I do not wish to hear your opinion of what is being done here," he said very quietly, keeping his eyes on the abbot but with his voice directed to the king. "Please accept that Abbot Kimball and Father Lior believe it prudent and efficacious."
"Are they _exorcising_ Paulin and Albertus?" Rhys Michael whispered, incredulous.
"You will refrain from any comment or expression that might detract from the dignity of this occasion," Rhun murmured. "You heard Brother Polidorus' comment last night—wondering whether Dimitri's black magic had summoned evil spirits under this roof. They decided it was best to be safe, in case he did bring evil into the house."
"And that's why they're burning Dimitri's body," Rhys Michael said. "Just to be safe."
"To be safe, and to keep _us_ safe," Rhun murmured. "That is why you and your aides will also submit yourselves for exorcism before we go to Mass." Rhys Michael looked up at him in quick rebellion. "Defiance in this matter would be most unwise, Sire, regardless of whatever personal distaste you might feel. This gesture costs little and retains the goodwill of the _Custodes_. You might even derive some benefit. We still do not know what the Deryni might have done to _you_ , that you say you cannot remember."
All Rhys Michael's protests died in his throat. Dimitri had done nothing to him, of course—except to save his life—but if he hoped to maintain the illusion that something _might_ have happened, and thereby reinforce his own innocence, then submitting to the abbot's ministrations must be a part of that illusion.
"They've begun the individual exorcisms," Rhun murmured, touching his elbow. "Come in and kneel with me and Manfred. Cathan, Fulk—go on in."
All wide-eyed obedience now, Rhys Michael went where he was bidden, dutifully kneeling beside Manfred and bowing his head over folded hands as the abbot came to stand before Father Magan. He had already done Lior, who was closest to the wall.
" _Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicus nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut discedas ab hoc famulo Dei, Maganus_..." I exorcise you, every unclean spirit, in the name of God the Father almighty, and in the name of His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Judge, and in the strength of the Holy Spirit, that you may depart from this servant of God, Magan...
Rhys Michael had never seen an exorcism before, much less been the object of one. In common with most laymen, who rarely delved beyond the externals of their religion, his performance of the obligations expected of him usually came more from a sense of duty than from devotion. Merely dutiful practice of one's faith generally did not require attendance at the casting out of demons. Certainly, his outward religious fervor in no way approached that of his father or his brother Javan; and in that, Rhun had been entirely correct in assuming that he might view the present circumstances with scepticism.
" _Et hoc signum sanctae Crucis, quod nos fronti ejus damus, tu, maledicte diabole, numquam audeas violare_..."
Cautiously Rhys Michael dared a glance at Abbot Kimball, who was tracing a cross on Magan's forehead with holy oil, forbidding accursed devils to violate that sign. The king's sparse liturgical Latin was not good enough to follow all that the abbot was saying, but to his surprise, he thought he could sense the faint stirrings of power being raised—which was somewhat startling, because he had not thought that religious ritual could do that, at least not when performed by mere humans.
As for casting out evil with it, the only evil possibly present in this room resided in the hearts of some of its occupants and was not likely to yield to any ritual motivated by hatred and fear. He felt certain that whatever taint of evil might linger with Paulin or Albertus had nothing to do with having been touched by Deryni magic.
" _Per eundem Christum, Dominion nostrum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et saeculum per ignem. Amen._ "
As Abbot Kimball moved on to Stevanus, the king could not deny that there was power in the words, even on the lips of a _Custodes_ abbot whose blind intolerance surely prevented any understanding of what he did. Lacking the keener focus a Deryni might have given it, the power was merely brooding sluggishly in the room, as random and diffused as the incense smoke drifting over the heads of the men being exorcised. It did no harm, but Rhys Michael wondered whether Kimball could have put it to effective use even if there _had_ been something evil in the room. Meanwhile, he would have found the present ritual almost ludicrous, were the abbot not so deadly serious in what he did.
Lest his misgivings show in his expression, Rhys Michael buried his face in his hands and affected to be moved by the ceremony, as Kimball moved on along the line of kneeling men and repeated his words, sprinkling each one with holy water, anointing each with oil. The ambient power level never rose above a certain level and never focused. Nor did anyone else in the room seem to be aware of it, even Cathan.
" _Exorcizo te, immunde spiritus... et decedas ab hoc famulo Dei, Rhys Michaelis_..."
He kept his head bowed as the abbot's words rolled over him, expecting to feel nothing, but he found that the focus of the anointing enabled him to draw a little of the random power to himself—very little, but enough that by the time the abbot moved on to minister to Fulk, he had managed to replenish at least a little of the energy depleted by last night's emotional workout and his lost sleep. He was considering the implications of this achievement as the abbot concluded the ritual with a general blessing.
"... _Per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christum Filium Tuum: Qui Tecum vivit et regnat in unitate Spiritus Sancti Deus, per omnia saecula saeculorum. Amen._ "
Immediately, the solemnity of the ceremony shifted to the bustle of the room clearing, the choir monks filing out, Lord Joshua's _Custodes_ knights entering to convey Albertus' body to the church. Pressing back against the wall with Cathan and Fulk, Rhys Michael did his best to stay out of the way, resolving to pay closer attention to religious ritual in the future. He had no idea whether the others or Paulin or the dead Albertus had benefited, but he had to admit that _he_ had derived something from it. He wondered whether power was raised every time and he simply had not noticed before.
He was feeling somewhat reassured as he fell into the procession to accompany the body back to the abbey church. They returned by a different route, along the east range of the cloister garth and into the church through a processional door in the south transept. He did not look toward the smoke still spiraling upward from the cellarer's yard.
Inside, he took the place reserved for him in choir and did what was expected of him, making all the appropriate responses and paying outward respect to the man laid before the altar, as he must.
But the prayers he offered up in his heart were for another, who went unshriven and unmourned to no grave at all, whose ashes would be scattered on the wind without ceremony or blessing when the flames died down.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
And that we may be delivered from unreasonable men.
—II Thessalonians 3:2
It was nearing noon by the time they rode out of Saint Cassian's, after laying Albertus to rest in the crypt beneath the abbey church. In the absence of any higher-ranking _Custodes_ priest, Father Lior had assumed leadership of the _Custodes_ religious accompanying the royal forces, with Sir Joshua commanding the _Custodes_ knights. Messengers had ridden out at dawn to notify the other _Custodes_ Houses of the incapacitation of their vicar-general, so that an election could be held in due course. Further dispatches went to Rhemuth, to inform Hubert and the remaining great lords there.
Meanwhile Rhun of Horthness took up his duties as the new Earl Marshal of Gwynedd, riding at the king's right hand and directly under the Haldane banner as the cavalcade headed north out of Saint Cassian's at a brisk clip. The pace allowed no leisure for conversation or even serious cogitation, but it was not sufficient to divert Rhys Michael from the rumblings in his stomach. The promised travel fare had turned out to be a chunk of bread and a few sips of ale snatched before mounting up in the abbey yard, though at least the bread was fresh, direct from the abbey's bakehouse. Fulk's saddlebag produced some dubious-looking cheese during a brief rest stop at midafternoon, but Rhys Michael was ravenous by the time they began meeting outriders from Lochalyn Castle.
They approached Lochalyn just as dusk began settling over the foothills. The castle itself glowed golden in the failing light, just catching the last rays of the setting sun. The camps of the investing troops were sprawled tidily all around the base of the bluff on which it perched, slowly coming alight with scattered campfires. As Rhys Michael rode through the outskirts with his officers, under the dour inspection of rough-looking men in border tweeds and leathers, the delectable aroma of food in preparation mingled with the more earthy smells of wood smoke and damp earth and horse manure.
An informal guard of honor rode out to meet the king and his party as they approached the castle gates, bearing torches and led by Sighere of Marley, brother of the slain Hrorik. There was more grey in Sighere's red beard than when Rhys Michael last had seen him, but that had been nearly seven years ago, at Javan's coronation. Rhys Michael had plucked a grey hair from his own head only a few months ago and had remarked to Michaela that he was surprised that all his hair had not turned white, if worry was a cause.
"Well met, King o' Gwynedd," Sighere called, as he and his companions drew rein before the royal standard. "I bid ye welcome, in the name o' Sudrey of Eastmarch an' Stacia, her daughter." He gestured toward the senior of the two men flanking him, a darkly handsome young man with a close-clipped black beard and kind eyes. "This is Corban Howell, m'niece's husband. We pray that ye will acknowledge him as Earl of Eastmarch, alongside our beloved Stacia. This young sprat wi' the outrageous moustaches is m'son, Sean Coris," he added, indicating the redheaded youth at his other knee with a proud jut of his chin and a twinkle in his dark eyes.
Rhys Michael suppressed a smile, for young Sean's moustaches _were_ impressive—as was the lad himself, sturdy as a young oak, though he could not be more than twenty.
"Lord Corban, Sir Sean," he acknowledged, and lifted a gloved hand toward Rhun, sitting beneath the Haldane banner at his right. "I believe the Earl of Marley will remember Lord Rhun, the Earl of Sheele," he went on carefully, for there was no love lost between Sighere and Rhun. "I am obliged to inform you that Lord Albertus has died, and Lord Rhun now serves as earl marshal."
"Albertus dead?" Sighere said, before the king could go on. "When? How?"
Rhun kneed his horse a few paces ahead. "I believe that would best be discussed in greater privacy, my lord," he said coolly. "Lord Manfred serves as my deputy, and Sir Joshua Delacroix has assumed interim command of the _Custodes Fidei_ forces. Perhaps you would be so good as to indicate the billeting arrangements, so our officers may see the men settled. We have ridden from as far as Saint Cassian's since noon, and men and horses are in need of rest and refreshment."
Watching and listening from the sidelines, swathed in border tweeds like most of the men around them, Ansel MacRorie and Jesse MacGregor exchanged glances, melting back from the cavalcade when the immediate royal party of about a score began to follow Sighere on toward the castle gates.
_Well, that confirms the news from Joram_ , Ansel sent to Jesse, as Corban and Sean joined Joshua and several of his captains to confer briefly, and the new arrivals began dispersing to their designated campsites.
Jesse's eyes narrowed as he watched a party of _Custodes_ clergy trot by, several of them following after the king and his officers.
_Interesting, how the command structure seems to have shifted_ , he responded. _Quite a shake-up in the_ Custodes, _that's for sure_.
Ansel glanced around, judged them sufficiently removed not to be overheard, and shifted to whispered speech.
"Not enough of a shake-up to suit me. That older priest who joined the royal party was Lior, the Inquisitor-General; I don't recognize the younger one. I think the battle surgeon with them was Stevanus—the one who patched up Rhys Michael after he was 'kidnapped,' six years ago."
"A thoroughly disreputable lot," Jesse agreed. "Methinks we shall have to make some discreet inquiries, once the camp starts settling down for the night."
"Aye. Meanwhile, this has to be a major topic of gossip among the men, to lose their earl marshal this close to a potential battle. They must know something about it. I'll have our folk see what they can pick up by more conventional means."
Lady Sudrey received the king's party in the castle's great hall, gowned and coifed in black, attended by her daughter, Stacia, and Graham, the twenty-year-old Duke of Claibourne, who was her nephew. Graham had grown from gangling boy to comely young man since Rhys Michael last had seen him—not so burly as Sighere or his cousin Sean; clean-shaven, but sporting a wiry border clout a good deal lighter than the rich shades of auburn that marked all the other male descendants of the first Sighere. Stacia's hair was a much darker red, full and wild where it escaped from the shawl of fine tweed over her head but otherwise confined only by a band of braided gold across the brow. She had her mother's dark eyes.
Sudrey gave the king profound obeisance as he entered the hall, sinking to both knees and kissing both his hands when he came to raise her up and express his condolences. Even in her grief, she was still a handsome woman—and with the air of brisk competence Rhys Michael would have expected of Hrorik's wife. She had several of her dead husband's senior captains ready to brief the king and his officers as soon as they had settled at table. The latest communication from Prince Miklos, received at midday, indicated a willingness to parley the next morning, but only with the king himself.
"That's out of the question," Rhun said, as they tucked into simple but hearty fare spread out on one of the hall's long trestle tables. "We've told you what happened last night. I couldn't possibly allow the king to be exposed to further Deryni treachery."
"How kin ye know what Miklos might be wantin' tae offer if ye dinnae at least receive his emissary?" Sighere wanted to know.
"Why should he be wanting to offer anything?" Manfred countered, around a mouthful of venison. "If your estimates of his strength are correct, we can push him out of Culliecairn in any military encounter. It might take a while, but we have the time. Does _he_ have the time to spend the next months holed up in Culliecairn?"
"We dinnae want him holed up in Culliecairn, m'lord," young Graham replied. "We want him oot. But he certainly willnae go if ye willnae even treat with him."
Rhun scowled. "I thought I made it clear that I am not willing to deal with more Deryni treachery, especially not where the king is involved."
"Do you fear that the messenger might be Deryni?" Sudrey asked. "If so, simply specify that only a human is an acceptable courier. Tell Miklos that you'll test his man with _merasha_ , and then do it."
"'Tis common practice, here in Eastmarch," a captain named Murray volunteered. "Gi'e him a stirrup cup laced wi' _merasha_. It will only mak a human drowsy, but a Deryni cannae possibly hide the effects."
"We hae found it a safe way o' dealing with them," Graham added, "an" far more civil than keepin' archers trained on them, the minute they approach. If ye agree, we can send a messenger tonight an' set up tomorrow's meeting."
"I suppose it does make sense to hear what they've got to say," Rhun agreed reluctantly. "Tell me more of how you go about this."
The discussion digressed into specifics, shifting to map briefings on the area where a meeting might take place, during which Corban and Sean Cons returned from the camp below to report that the royal troops were settled. After a little while, as Rhun and Manfred coordinated their plans with Sighere, Graham, and the others, Sudrey came to stand unobtrusively beside the king, who had joined little in the discussion.
"I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have you here, Sire," she said quietly. "My husband used to speak fondly of your brother Javan. He was a noble and honest liege. We were all shocked to hear of his death."
Rhys Michael glanced at her sidelong, wondering how much she knew of the true circumstances of Javan's death.
"I hope I may prove half so faithful a lord as Lord Hrorik was a subject, my lady," he murmured. "I was greatly saddened to hear of your husband's death."
She ducked her head. "That it came at the hands of my own kin made the anguish double, Sire. I—" She broke off and looked up at him hopefully. "Sire, might I beg a small favor of you this evening, while the others are occupied? I know your mind must be awhirl with weightier matters, but might I presume to ask that you accompany me to the chapel for a few minutes, to offer up a prayer for my husband's soul?"
He started to decline, knowing that Rhun would not approve of a solo foray, but she added, "Please, Sire. It would ease my grief greatly, to have my king come to pay respect to my dear husband. I ask only a few minutes of your time."
Though he could detect no menace in the request, neither did he think it motivated by simple piety. Sudrey had something on her mind that she did not wish to say in front of the others. Curious to see what it might be, he glanced aside at Fulk.
"Tell Cathan, very quietly, that I'm going to the chapel for a few minutes to pay my respects to the late Earl of Eastmarch," he murmured. "I shan't be long. We'll wait for you outside the door."
Not waiting to see the effect, as Fulk passed on the message and then rose to follow, Rhys Michael offered the Lady Sudrey his arm and escorted her from the hall. Since Fulk offered no comment when he shortly joined them, the king gathered that his explanation had been accepted. Bringing Fulk instead of Cathan probably had reassured Rhun as well, for the great lords believed Fulk's loyalty to be more certain than that of the king's brother-in-law. Now, so long as he did not linger too long out of Rhun's sight...
Sudrey said nothing as she led them out across the castle yard and up the chapel steps, but as she held back to let Fulk open the door, she briefly rested her free hand on one of his.
"Good Sir Fulk, please keep watch and see that our prayers are not disturbed," she murmured.
Somewhat to Rhys Michael's surprise, Fulk ducked his head in mute agreement, remaining outside the door as he closed it after them. Sudrey gave him a bleak glance as she led him through the tiny, dim-lit nave, directing his attention forward as they came to a halt before the altar rail.
"My Hrorik lies here, in the holy place before the altar," she murmured, crossing herself ponderously. "He would have scorned the presumption, but his chieftains insisted. When I die, I hope to lie there beside him. 'Tis no claim of sanctity on my part, I assure you, but my place is at his side. He was a bonnie man."
Choking back a sob, she buried her face in her hands and sank to her knees on the tapestried kneeler before the rail. Rhys Michael knelt down beside her a little awkwardly and dutifully crossed himself, intending to offer up at least a token _Pater Noster_ in Hrorik's behalf, but something had struck him as odd about the exchange by the door. He found his gaze wandering across the carved stone of the screen behind the altar, lifting to the crimson gleam of the Presence Lamp suspended to one side. He would have expected some comment from Fulk, but there had been none.
"Do not react, in case we are observed," Sudrey's voice murmured low, close at his left side. "Are you aware that someone has been tampering with Sir Fulk's mind?"
The question startled him, though he managed not to make any physical reaction. He closed his eyes briefly, bowing his head over his folded hands, then dared to glance at her sidelong, ready to Truth-Read.
"What makes you say that?" he whispered. "If it were true, how could you know such a thing?"
She raised her face to the altar, but her glance darted sideways as she folded her hands piously before her.
"Now, that is a reaction I had not expected," she murmured. "You seem surprised that I know of this, but not surprised that the thing was done."
As she glanced at him again, he felt the faint quest of a probe against his shields, and he stiffened them in automatic reflex, brief panic surging up then as he realized she could sense it.
"Oh, my," she whispered. "Forgive me, Sire, but I had no idea. Or rather, I had heard rumors—about the Haldanes, not you in particular—but I paid them little mind. Sire, I swear to you that I would never do you harm. Can you Truth-Read that oath?"
He could only stare at her speechlessly, his mind whirling with the implications, still uncertain whether he dared trust her, even though he knew she spoke the truth.
"You do have the power of the Haldanes, don't you. Sire?" she whispered. "Dear God, this changes everything. I begin to have a little hope. Sire, though I share Miklos' bloodline, I have little power and am little trained. My allegiance I gave to my husband and his people many years ago, and that will always remain. I have not much to offer, but what I have is yours to command. Read me, I beseech you. We have little time, and there is so much I would have you know."
Trembling, she bowed her head and folded her arms along the altar rail, the left arm underneath, and turned that palm upward, her open fingers inviting his contact but hidden from sight from the door behind them.
"Read me, I beg you," she urged, pressing a little closer. "I will make you no resistance. God willing, I may be able to assist you in ways neither of us dreamed."
Her words were truth. He could sense no danger in what she asked. Adopting the mirror image of her pose, he laid the fingers of his right hand atop hers and used the link of flesh to forge a link of mind, extending cautious probes against erratic shields that wavered and rolled back immediately at the pressure. She had neither the strength nor the control of the other Deryni with whom he had had contact—except, perhaps, Mika and Cathan—but such support as she could give was there, and his for the asking.
Quickly he skimmed the bare details, as yet offering nothing of his own confidence. The question of Sudrey's fate had been the spark that reignited the old feud between Murdoch and the Kheldour lords at Javan's coronation festivities. Rhys Michael had been present, but paid less attention than he should have done, being young and never dreaming he would have to deal with the aftermath himself one day. Miklos himself had raised the question, claiming Sudrey of Rhorau as distant kin to the Torenthi Royal House, captured in the taking of Kheldour by Hrorik's father, Duke Sighere, and given as hostage with her brother into the keeping of Ewan, Sighere's eldest son.
The brother, Kennet, had become a squire and then a knight in Ewan's service, eventually dying with his lord at Murdoch's hands; Sudrey had married Hrorik, the middle of Sighere's sons, and set aside her powers and her links with Torenth out of love for him. When Hrorik finally had achieved his vengeance against Murdoch, for the murder of his brother Ewan, Sudrey had rejoiced with her lord and drunk the health of the king who had permitted justice to be done. And now, she was prepared to offer her loyalty and her powers, such as they were, to the brother of the man who had given justice to Eastmarch.
A rattling of the door latch behind brought Rhys Michael partially to awareness, ready to dismantle the contact.
"Nay, my lord, see for yourself," Fulk was saying, as the door creaked open. "He's only praying with the Lady Sudrey. She asked him to pay his respects at her husband's grave. It would have been an insult not to agree. There's no harm in it."
Rhys Michael all but stopped breathing, holding Sudrey passive in the link, straining to hear whether the would-be intruder would overrule Fulk, but then someone muttered a reply and the door closed again. Keeping the link suspended, Rhys Michael glanced back across the rear of the little chapel to confirm that no one had entered, then closed his fingers around Sudrey's and gave her a fuller account of Dimitri's capture and death, saving only such details of his own participation as might give clue to the identity of his other Deryni allies.
"What plan do you suppose Miklos had in mind?" he murmured, again reverting to whispered speech, lest he tire her. "Obviously, Dimitri had orders to eliminate certain individuals—and the ones he got rid of helped me as well. But what was he to have done, once we reached Culliecairn, if he'd still been alive? Given what I've just told you, does anything of Miklos' communications of the past week suggest anything? What do you advise?"
When she had given him her plan, again urging a mental link to speed the process, he let it settle for a few seconds, then slowly disengaged, releasing her hand as he rubbed his hands across his face and then looked up at the carved saints adorning the screen behind the altar. The light from the Presence Lamp was gilding them all with a ruddy, red-gold glow, all too reminiscent of blood.
"I grant that no one will question the motives you offer, but you put yourself at grave risk, if you do this for me," he said. "It will reawaken memories forgotten these twenty years and more. It may turn your own people against you."
"If other than military action is required against Miklos, they must not know it is you who have the powers, my liege," she whispered. "If they do gain some inkling, you must convince them it is a reflection of your sacred anointing as king. If I can divert even a portion of scrutiny, then it is worth being seen for what I am. And a widow can always retire to a convent and adopt a life of penance. Your _Custodes_ would like that."
Rhys Michael snorted. "More likely, they'd think you'd contaminated the place. This morning, before we left Saint Cassian's, the abbot _exorcised_ everyone who'd had contact with Dimitri last night—even Albertus' dead body. And they burned Dimitri's body."
"Sad men, indeed, so to fear us," she murmured. "But we shall try to ensure that they do not fear _you_ for such reasons. Dimitri told you last night that he would die to protect you; well, I make you that same offer."
"I very much hope that it won't be necessary for anyone else to die for me," he said quietly, taking her hand again. "That's aside from a few more of my great lords, who are long overdue to pay for their crimes. But I thank you for your loyalty, more than words can say. Other than Cathan, I have none about me in whom I can place unqualified trust."
He raised her hand to his lips, then kept it in his and tucked it under his arm as he rose and helped her to her feet.
"We'd best go back now. That will have been Lord Rhun or one of my other keepers at the door."
"It's true, then—what they say," she murmured, looking into his eyes.
"And what do they say?" he asked.
"That the king is not wholly his own master, that the great lords rule Gwynedd."
"I intend to change that," he replied. "There's been nothing I could do, up until now; but they've finally made their big mistake, in letting me come here. I'm having my first taste of freedom in my entire life, and I don't intend to give it up again."
"They may kill you," she said, "especially if they find out what you are."
He inclined his head in agreement. "They may. But maybe they won't. And if my own people don't kill me, maybe Miklos will—or Marek. God knows they'll try. At least I'll have had a try at being a real king. And with support like yours, I might even come out of it alive _and_ king."
She smiled and bent to kiss the back of his hand in homage, then turned her face toward the church door as they began walking in that direction.
So disarming was Sudrey's effusiveness over the king's kindness in joining her to pray beside her husband's grave that even Rhun could not take serious exception, at least in front of the lady. But after Manfred had briefed Rhys Michael on what had been discussed in his absence, Rhun drew him into an alcove of the castle hall to confront him. Manfred waited in the opening with his back to them, to ensure that they were not disturbed.
"Sire, I must insist that there be no repeat of tonight's little diversion," Rhun said quietly, though his eyes were blazing with anger. "What can you have been thinking? She's Deryni. I would think, after last night's events, that you would be well aware of the danger of such a contact."
Rhys Michael put on a look of injured innocence. "My lord, the lady is recently widowed, and in my behalf. It seemed a small enough courtesy, to offer up a prayer at her husband's grave."
"The sentiment is admirable, but the danger remains," Rhun said. "What if she had tried to take you over?"
"And why would she want to do that?"
"She is kin to Miklos."
"Rhun, he killed her husband. I hardly think—"
" _I_ will tell you what to think!" Rhun muttered. "Do not presume to test your bonds, simply because you are temporarily free of the strictures at Court. Your heir is in our control, as are you. Must I elaborate on threats to keep you prudent?"
Rhys Michael felt himself blanch and had to remind himself that he was not yet free. "I'm sorry, my lord," he made himself whisper. "I didn't mean to question. It's just that the Lady Sudrey—"
"I don't object to your concern for the lady," Rhun said. "What I do mind is that you went off on your own, without so much as a 'by your leave.'"
"I did have Fulk tell Cathan were I was going," Rhys Michael objected. "It was only to the chapel to pray."
"You're very fortunate that it didn't turn out to be anything else," Rhun said. "But it's done now. I trust that you now understand your error."
Rhys Michael's nod of meek contrition apparently satisfied Rhun at last, for he grunted acknowledgment and glanced out into the hall, where Fulk and Cathan were watching the royal knights bed down for the night alongside Eastmarch men. The castle had already been crowded when they arrived, but Lochalyn was prepared to offer what accommodation was possible—and it was preferable to the camp below.
"Very well, then. You'd best go and get some sleep," Rhun muttered. "We'll want to be out at our field headquarters early."
To Rhys Michael's astonishment, he was permitted to retire to the unexpected luxury of a room all to himself. Tucked into the thickness of the same wall that carried a straight stair behind the great hall, it was too small for more than a narrow bed, a washstand, and a chest at the foot of the bed, boasting neither fireplace nor garderobe, but it was the first true privacy he had been granted since leaving Rhemuth. Able to dismiss Fulk without suspicion, due to the size of the room, he let Cathan assist him out of his armor and took the opportunity to warn his brother-in-law about Rhun's reaction and pass on what he had learned of Sudrey. Cathan was amazed.
_I remember now that there was talk about her being Deryni, years ago, but who would have thought she'd offer you her assistance?_ Cathan sent, as they piled the king's armor across the trunk at the foot of the bed. _I wish there were some way to let Joram and the others know_.
_So do I, but there isn't. But maybe we can do this ourselves. We're just going to have to be alert_.
Able to offer no further comment, Cathan sighed and turned away to unroll a pallet across the door to the little room while Rhys Michael finished shedding his riding leathers and climbed into bed. After pulling off his own armor and leathers, Cathan laid his sword on the floor beside the pallet and stretched out, pulling his cloak over him for cover.
"'Night, Rhysem," he murmured.
When the king did not reply, Cathan turned on his side with a contented sigh and gazed drowsily at the rushlight on the stand beside the bed, until the flame swam before his vision and he drifted into sleep.
Around another rushlight, in a tent in the encampment below Lochalyn Castle, three Deryni huddled together for whispered counsel, having exchanged the detailed results of their night's investigations by more arcane means.
"I'd love to get my hands on Lior or one of the others who was actually present," Ansel muttered. "It's clear that Dimitri was responsible, but it seems to have gone a bit beyond what _we_ had in mind, at least."
Tieg nodded. "I'd rather both kills had been clean, though. From what I've been able to gather of Paulin's condition, it's clear that he managed to survive mind-ripping—which is either a testimony to Paulin's bullheaded stubbornness or an indicator that Dimitri wasn't as good as we thought."
"Or that Dimitri got interrupted before he could finish the job," Jesse replied. "My guess is that they found him out after he killed Albertus, they tried to take him, and Dimitri made a last-ditch attempt to take Paulin with him, knowing he wasn't going to get out of it alive anyway."
"For Paulin's sake, I wish he'd succeeded," Tieg said. "God knows how long he'll linger, with no hope of recovery—though I don't suppose he's aware what's happening to him."
"Well, at least _Custodes_ influence is going to be at an ebb for a while, with both Paulin and Albertus out of the picture," Ansel observed. "More important right now is whether the king managed to come out of it without arousing suspicion. He didn't look particularly uneasy as he rode in this evening. It will be very interesting to see how balances shift, now that Rhun is in command."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With arrows and with bows shall men come thither.
—Isaiah 7:24
A royal messenger was sent to Culliecairn with the dawn, bearing a white flag of truce and the demand that Miklos should send back his proposal with a human envoy prepared to be tested with _merasha_ before he would be admitted to the king's presence. While the messenger was gone, the royal party and their Eastmarch allies moved down to the camp and established their joint headquarters in a command tent.
Two hours later the messenger returned with a second rider at his side: a tough-looking man of middle years clad in riding leathers with Miklos' badge on the shoulder, wearing a steel cap but no weapons of any kind. Archers covered his progress as soon as he and his escort came within bowshot, accompanying him into the heart of the Gwynedd camp and halting him some distance from where Rhun, Sighere, and Lior waited before the command tent with Stevanus and Gallard de Breffni.
The messenger was hurried off into custody, against the chance he might have suffered tampering at the hands of his Deryni hosts in Culliecairn; the envoy was ordered to stand fast and make no sudden moves. Rhys Michael watched from the shaded anonymity of the command tent as Stevanus and Gallard went out to meet the man. Stevanus had a cased Deryni pricker in his hand, but he kept it shielded.
"You are?" Gallard demanded.
The man's gaze flicked from him to Stevanus, noting the badge of a battle surgeon on Stevanus' shoulder.
"Hombard of Tarkent, special envoy of his Serene Highness, Prince Miklos of Torenth," he said. "And this is the surgeon charged to ensure that I am not Deryni?"
"Please remove your glove and give me your hand," Stevanus replied, unlimbering the Deryni pricker.
Hombard looked a little startled, but he complied, not resisting as Gallard seized the hand and held it steady so that Stevanus could jab the twin needles into the back of the wrist. A muscle ticked in one cheek, and he closed his eyes briefly, but he made no sound, only rubbing at the tiny punctures when Gallard released him.
"I had expected a cup," he said almost reproachfully, removing his other glove as well and tucking both into the front of his belt. "That must be one of the Deryni prickers we hear of occasionally."
"Do you not use them in Torenth?" Stevanus replied, closing the instrument but not putting it away, watching the man's eyes.
Hombard smiled without humor. "We know who our Deryni are, Master Surgeon, so _merasha_ is little used. But I am quite human. May I be taken to the Haldane now, before I become too drowsy to convey my message?"
"When we are satisfied, you may be taken to the _king_ ," Gallard said coldly. "Even a human messenger should be careful to observe the courtesies due one prince to another."
The man shrugged and yawned.
"Then, may I be taken before your _lord_?" he amended.
Stevanus noted the dilated pupils and nodded to Gallard.
"Bring him."
Briskly the _Custodes_ knight set a gauntleted hand under Hombard's arm and followed back toward Rhun and Lior, steadying his charge when he stumbled once or twice. Hombard yawned again as Stevanus brought him before Rhun, not objecting as Lior moved in to grasp his wrist, monitoring his pulse as he inspected the wide-dilated eyes.
"Your name, sir?" Rhun asked, while Lior made his own assessment.
"Hombard of Tarkent, special envoy of his Serene Highness, Prince Miklos of Torenth."
At Lior's nod, Rhun jutted his chin in the direction of the command tent.
"Come with me," he said, leaving Hombard to follow as he went inside, hands clasped behind his back.
Inside, they had made the command tent as imposing as possible. Rhys Michael had taken a seat in a camp chair with his shield hung behind it, the Haldane sword across his knees, and his commanders and aides ranged to either side of him, with Kheldish carpets underfoot. Like the rest of them, he wore full war harness, save for helmet and gauntlets and the Haldane lion bold on his scarlet surcoat. Manfred stood at his right hand, with Cathan and Fulk behind the chair. Sighere and Graham represented the Eastmarch alliance on his left. Gallard and Stevanus remained by the entrance with Lior, Gallard pulling the flap closed behind them when all had entered.
"Sire, this is Hombard of Tarkent," Rhun said.
Hombard inclined his head—a careful movement not intended to give offense, Rhys Michael sensed, but also indicative that he did not entirely trust his balance for a proper bow. Gesturing for a stool to be set behind the Torenthi messenger, the king returned the nod.
"Please be seated, my lord."
Hombard fought back a yawn as he settled on the stool, bracing his feet wide for better stability. The eyes that he turned to the king were all pupil.
"My lord, I bring certain propositions from my lord Prince Miklos of Torenth, under terms specified by yourself. Will you hear these propositions?"
"That's why you're here," Rhun said impatiently, coming to stand beside Manfred. "Out with it, man. We didn't bring you here to play games."
"Indeed not," the man agreed, setting his hands on his knees and drawing a steadying breath. "I am quite aware that this is no game. Sir, my lord desires you to know that he is graciously minded to reconsider his earlier plans for the castle and town of Culliecairn. Given certain assurances, he is minded to quit Culliecairn without further danger to lives—those of his men or yours. However, he requires that you treat with him directly, face-to-face, to resolve the terms."
"Prince Miklos expects me to agree to this?" Rhys Michael said, before Rhun could reply.
"Prince Miklos expects that you will wish to prevent further loss of life, my lord," Hombard said. "He deeply regrets the death of Lord Hrorik, for he was husband to the Lady Sudrey, who is distant kin to my lord. He suggests that the two of you approach a central, agreed meeting place under a flag of truce, within sight of both armies, each of you unarmed and accompanied by only one attendant. If you wish, he will stipulate that I shall be his, since you already have verified that I am but human."
As he paused to stifle another yawn, giving his head a slight shake, Sighere said stiffly, "Hrorik agreed tae parley under a flag o' truce, an' it cost him his life an' the lives o' many other braw men. An' the takin' o' Culliecairn was entirely unprovoked."
"An error was made," Hombard conceded. "Lord Hrorik was not to be touched, for the sake of the Lady Sudrey. My lord therefore proposes to quit Culliecairn."
"He was not proposing to quit Culliecairn when his herald delivered his demands in Rhemuth, a fortnight ago," Rhys Michael said. "Nor did he express any particular remorse over the death of the Earl Hrorik. Then, his talk was all bluster over the christening of his nephew, the son of a man who makes claim to my throne."
"It had the desired effect, did it not?" Hombard said.
"And what was that?" Rhun demanded.
"Why, attaining the homage of the Haldane, by his attendance at Culliecairn in honor of Prince Marek's son," Hombard replied, to a rumble of indignation from Rhys Michael's officers. "No further tribute is required at this time."
"No tribute has been given, nor shall be," Manfred said through clenched teeth. "Nor do I think Miklos ever intended that the King of Gwynedd should attend the christening of the Bastard's heir."
Hombard shrugged, not batting an eye at the insult. "It is not for me to speculate on my lord's intentions, sir. I can only tell you that my lord bade me say that his plans have changed. The young prince his nephew has taken ill. He was privately christened last night. He and his parents have already left to take him back to Tolan."
Rhys Michael sat back at that, wondering if it could be true. Hombard believed it to be true, but so would any messenger, repeating what he had been told to say.
"Why should we believe this?" Manfred demanded. "The fact remains that Prince Miklos is Deryni and has long and openly supported a pretender to the throne of Gwynedd. I do not think he would submit to _merasha_ the way you have done, to ensure that we can treat with him without fear of treachery."
"I cannot refute that last, my lord," Hombard conceded. "I would point out, however, that even my lord Miklos can be Truth-Read. My lord suggests that the Lady Sudrey might provide this service to your king, by accompanying him to the parley my lord requests. My lord reminds you that, as kin to the Torenthi Royal House, the lady bears Deryni blood—not sufficient to pose you any threat, but certainly sufficient to verify the truth of my lord's proposals from his own lips, as Gwynedd and Torenth discuss terms of a withdrawal."
"As Gwynedd and _Miklos_ discuss such terms," Rhun said pointedly. "Unless, of course, it's King Arion who authorized this bit of mischief."
Hombard shrugged and yawned again. "I speak for Prince Miklos, my lord. I can tell you nothing more. I am sent only to treat for terms of a meeting."
After an instant's taut consideration, Rhun jerked his chin at Stevanus.
"Take the messenger somewhere and let him lie down while we sort this out," he said. "And stay with him."
When the two had gone out, Gallard accompanying them, Rhun came to sink down on the stool the messenger had vacated. Lior also approached, to stand with Manfred. Sighere looked uneasy, Graham dismayed. As Rhys Michael handed his sword back to Cathan to hold, he found himself wondering whether he could have misjudged Sudrey.
"This makes no sense," Rhun muttered. "Why this sudden change? Why would Miklos offer to withdraw? Unless, of course, he is aware of what happened to Dimitri."
As he cast an appraising look at those who had been present, Manfred glanced uneasily at the king.
"You think he was counting on Dimitri to shift the balance once he had lured the king here?" he asked.
As both he and Rhun looked at Lior, the _Custodes_ priest shrugged. "'Tis possible, my lord. With Deryni, anything is possible."
Rhun drummed his fingers on his knee, then turned his attention back to the king.
"Meeting Miklos under his terms is still out of the question, Sire. I can't allow you to see Miklos alone."
"I wouldn't be alone if Lady Sudrey accompanies me," Rhys Michael pointed out.
Manfred snorted. "That's hardly any more reassuring. If she's as little endowed with Deryni power as everyone has always insisted, then she'd be of little use to you against any tricks Miklos might try to pull. And if she's powerful enough to protect you against _him_ , then she's powerful enough to be dangerous in her own right—especially if she should turn her ultimate loyalties back to her own blood."
Sighere folded his burly arms across his chest, anger smouldering in the dark eyes.
"If, by that, ye mean her Torenthi kin—have ye forgotten that those he calls her 'kin' are responsible for Hrorik's death? I assure ye, _she_ hasnae forgotten."
"And _I_ have not forgotten Hrorik's loyalty," Rhys Michael said, "or that of _his_ kin. I certainly have no reason to doubt the Lady Sudrey's loyalty. It was Miklos who stirred this pot seven years ago, when he first inquired of my brother Javan concerning her fate. Her Torenthi kin don't seem to have cared much about her before that. She declined contact with them then, and I do not believe that recent events are likely to have produced a change of heart."
Manfred scowled. "Perhaps he hopes to change her mind, if he can contrive to meet her in person."
"I have no doubts about Lady Sudrey's loyalty," Rhys Michael repeated, hoping his faith was not misplaced.
"It still could be a trick," Rhun muttered.
"Well, if it is, it's one that's been hatching for about twenty years, which I doubt," the king replied. "Look. I'm not keen on the idea either. It's possible Miklos _will_ try something, but he'll do more than try, if we have to fight it out in the field. Granted, we'd win eventually—but at what cost? And you can bet that Miklos and Marek will slip through our fingers before we can reach them. Marek already has, if you can believe what the messenger said. That only postpones the day of reckoning."
"If we simply let Miklos withdraw, it still postpones the day of reckoning," Rhun said. "And if he plans treachery, and you fall, it brings another day of reckoning immediately. Are you that eager for another regency?"
"Of course not. I'm no more eager to die than the next man. But we'd be gambling possible treachery against the certainty of many lives being lost, if we have to fight this out." Sighere was nodding as the king went on.
"I've been asking myself why Miklos would even offer to parley, much less withdraw," Rhys Michael said. "Up until this morning, he'd given no indication that he planned to make this anything other than a mortal insult, by taking my fortress and giving it to the heir of my chief rival—and a bloody confrontation, if I tried to make him back down."
"But now he's _offerin'_ tae back down," Graham said. "Why?"
"A good question," Rhys Michael replied. "I can only suppose it's come of what happened the other night. Marek's son may well be ill, but I doubt it; I wonder if he was ever even in Culliecairn. No, I think that having Dimitri unmasked took Miklos totally by surprise—as it certainly did us. I don't delude myself by supposing that we came out of it as well as we did by anything other than blind luck—but he doesn't know that. And until he figures out what happened to Dimitri, he doesn't dare push us too far.
"That means at least talking about withdrawing from Culliecairn—and offering to let us bring the only other Deryni we've got is the best he can do to reassure us that he intends to operate in good faith."
"Sire, these are all well-reasoned arguments," Lior said thoughtfully, studying a thumbnail, "but has it occurred to you that we might not have come out of the Dimitri affair as well as we thought, and _that's_ why Miklos wants this meeting?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we've been worrying about whether Lady Sudrey might betray you, if we allowed her to go with you to parley with Miklos. But another, even more insidious possibility is that Dimitri could have gotten to you after all—in which case, you could betray _yourself_ into Miklos' hands."
While consternation whispered among them, Rhys Michael reflected that the possibility of betraying himself was not altogether farfetched—though not at all in the way Lior imagined. It occurred to him, however, that he might confirm that he had not misjudged Sudrey while simultaneously reassuring the great lords that Dimitri had not tampered with his mind.
"There _is_ a way we could find out about that," he said tentatively.
"Find out about what?" Rhun said.
"The prospect is not personally reassuring," Rhys Michael went on, "and I don't even know whether she's capable of doing it, but you could ask Lady Sudrey to probe me, to find out whether or not Dimitri did any tampering."
"You suggest we _let_ a Deryni touch you?" Rhun whispered.
"She isn't just any Deryni," Rhys Michael said carefully, "and I think we could stipulate safeguards to ensure that she didn't go beyond what was asked. Not that she would," he added, with a pleading glance at Sighere and Graham. "She has good reasons for remaining loyal to the House of Haldane, which has upheld her husband's family for many years—and even better reasons for hating Miklos, who killed her husband and whose line abandoned her when she was a young, frightened, forgotten hostage in a suddenly hostile land. Why should she turn against me, when Miklos is the enemy?"
Lior was nodding slowly as Rhys Michael finished. "If she is of such meager power as everyone insists, I would question whether she is capable of what is needed, but the idea does have merits," he said. "Father Magan could help me monitor the procedure. He's familiar with the outward characteristics of different kinds of workings."
Rhun snorted. "Both of you are familiar with what Dimitri wanted you to _think_ were the usual characteristics, over the years."
"I fancy I do have some expertise in this area, my lord," Lior murmured, his pride now affronted. "If she tried anything, a Deryni pricker would put a stop to it very quickly."
"She wouldn't try anything," Rhys Michael said. "And don't drug her, or she can't go along to Truth-Read Miklos for me."
After some further discussion, Rhun sent Lior to fetch Sudrey, instructing him to bring Father Magan as well. Rhys Michael paced and fretted while they waited, sitting back down a little uncertainly as Lior and Magan brought Sudrey in. Both priests had Deryni prickers in their hands, though the instruments were not uncapped. Sudrey looked frightened, pale, almost betrayed.
"I apologize if these trappings cause you alarm, my lady," Rhys Michael said quietly. "I believe you are able to Truth-Read. Please do so, if you wish, and be assured that I bear you nothing but goodwill. You have been brought before me, but it is I who should be kneeling at your feet as a supplicant."
"Sire, I do not understand," she said carefully.
He nodded. "I hope to make everything plain. What was not revealed last night, when we told you of apprehending Prince Miklos' agent in our midst the night before, is that there is some chance he may have—interfered with me in some way. I have no memory of this—and, indeed, would have none, if he was as skilled as we believe. Nor does there seem to have been time for extensive tampering to have occurred—but again, his adjustments could account for my perception of the time involved. He could have had the opportunity for some degree of tampering, whether or not he used it."
Comprehension gradually had lit Sudrey's face as the story unfolded, and now she nodded, speaking up before the king could continue.
"Are you proposing that I probe you, Sire, to ascertain whether tampering occurred?"
"I am," he said. "If it did, it could affect my ability to treat with Miklos, if I agree to this parley he proposes. Father Lior and his colleagues are cognizant that, as a good daughter of the Church, you will have put aside your Deryni powers many years ago, but circumstances are such that we must know whether I have been compromised. Will you help me?"
She glanced aside at Lior, who was making no attempt to conceal the Deryni pricker in his hands.
"The law forbids me to use my powers, Sire, and the Church condemns them. These good fathers seem ready to intervene, in ways not at all pleasant to my kind. I have but little power, but either you wish me to try my meager abilities in your behalf, or you do not. If you do, I cannot help you with the threat of _merasha_ hanging over my head."
"We are here to protect the king," Lior said under his breath. "There has been enough treachery from Deryni, over the years, that you cannot expect total trust on our part, while you lay the king helpless with your powers."
"What would reassure you that I act only in his interests. Father?" she said quietly. "I will swear on any holy relic you like, I will comply with any reasonable condition you wish to impose—but I cannot work with you hovering over me, threatening to stick me with _merasha_ the first time your nervousness gets the better of you. What is it you fear? I have not much power, as such is reckoned among my people. With his consent, I can probe the king to look for alien traces, as you request, but subtle or powerful workings of my own, without my subject's knowledge, are quite beyond me."
"How can we believe that?" Magan asked.
She shrugged and allowed herself a wry smile. "It is for you to discover how you may believe anything, Father. Some folk call it faith. I can only give you my most solemn and sacred word—on the life of my daughter, on the soul of my beloved husband, who is dead because of Miklos of Torenth, on my hopes for my own salvation—that I am the king's loyal vassal and would do nothing to cause him harm, though it cost me mine own life."
She raised her right hand, touched her fingertips to her lips, then crossed herself slowly. Rhys Michael, glancing at the others, signed for her to come closer.
"I take you at your word, my lady," he said. "What must I do? How can I best aid you in your task?"
"He must not lose consciousness!" Lior said, seizing her shoulder and turning her before she could move from between him and Magan. "We must retain that control, to judge what you are doing."
Sudrey turned her gaze back to the king. "Can you rest easy under my touch, Sire?" she asked. "Conscious, you could be aware of my probe, which is apt to be clumsy, and your natural instinct will be to pull back, to deny me access. If I am to help you, you must not do that."
"I can only promise to try," Rhys Michael replied, watching her. "We had a Healer when I was a boy. I had learned to endure his touch."
"We shall do the best we can, then," she said, smiling slightly as she came around to stand behind him. "I shall work from here, so that the good fathers can see your face and reassure themselves that you are coming to no harm."
As she set her hands on his shoulders, drawing him back to lean against her waist, her thought flicked into his mind.
_What is it you wish me to do, besides pretend to probe you?_
Breathing out with a sigh, he made himself relax against her.
_Set up this scenario first. I'll pretend to resist a little at first. Once we've convinced them Dimitri didn't tamper, I hope they'll let you go with me to treat with Miklos_.
"That's fine," she murmured, thumbs moving up to massage at the base of his skull. "Try to relax. Look up at that spot on the ceiling, just above your head. Keep looking at it and let yourself float. Look only at that spot and let everything else drift out of focus... and drift..."
Making a show of compliance, he flexed his hands and consciously made them relax against the chair arms, allowing himself a heavy sigh then, as he let himself drift into trance of his own controlling. It was hard to keep his eyes open, but he knew it would alarm Lior and Magan if he appeared to lose consciousness, so he let his eyelids flutter but only close partway.
"That's very good," she murmured. "Just keep floating. You needn't be afraid... Now, let yourself return to the night before last. It was frightening, I know, but the fear cannot touch you now. Picture the man called Dimitri. He Truth-Read you while questions were asked... Did he do anything else...?"
As he felt her chin come to rest on the top of his head, he let the link form fully and himself took control of the working, apologetically sending forth his own probe, deeper than he had in the chapel, to confirm what he had read before—that Sudrey had long ago turned her back on her Torenthi kin and offered him her unqualified loyalty and service.
_Forgive me_ , he set in her mind, _but Miklos wishes to parley, and has suggested that I bring you along to Truth-Read for me. I had to be absolutely certain you had no hidden agenda_.
More gently then, and all in the space of a few heartbeats, he sent her the essence of what Miklos proposed and the arguments Rhun and the others had raised against it. Acknowledging, she pulled back a little, again massaging at the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders.
"Well done, Sire," she breathed. "You can stretch now. You're perfectly fine—and so far as I can tell, this Dimitri did naught but Truth-Read you."
As Rhys Michael blinked and sighed, flexing his fingers and stretching his neck, flicking his gaze around the tent to reorient, Lior and Magan exchanged whispered counsel. Sighere and Graham looked noncommittal. Rhun was nodding reluctantly in response to something Manfred had muttered to him.
"You're sure," Lior said, "that Dimitri didn't tamper with him?"
She shook her head and came around to kneel before the king, taking one of his hands in hers to kiss it.
"He did not, Father. Nor shall his lord tamper with mine. Sire, I beg you, let me come with you to treat with Miklos. I have not much power compared to him, but he does not know that. Perhaps my mere presence will keep him on his best behavior. And if not, perhaps I can protect you at least well enough to get out of any trap."
To Rhys Michael's surprise, Manfred was nodding, and Lior, though he was scowling, offered no word of protest.
"Well, at least it appears Dimitri did no damage in this particular instance," Rhun said grudgingly. "I confess, I like not the idea of letting you treat directly with Miklos, Sire, but if you are willing to take the risk, it may well be our best option. Shall I send the messenger back to arrange the meeting?"
Raising Sudrey to her feet, Rhys Michael tucked her hand in the curve of his arm.
"Please do so, my lord marshal," he said. "My vassal and I are eager to end this confrontation, to ensure that no more good men fall to a folly that need not be. I shall treat with Miklos of Torenth and a single human companion at midafternoon, accompanied by this brave lady."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.
—Psalms 144:1
"Tell me about the Haldane," Miklos said to the man sitting before him and Marek in a guardroom off the gate tower of Culliecairn. "I wish your frank impressions."
Hombard of Tarkent contained a yawn and made himself sit up a little straighter. The soporific effect of the _merasha_ they had given him in the Gwynedd camp had abated somewhat, but he still would rather have been left alone to sleep it off.
"He is comely, fit, apparently competent," Hombard said, delving back into memory. "He conveys an air of authority, yet seems somewhat reluctantly dependent upon his lords—in particular, a man who, I believe, is his earl marshal. I would guess there is some friction between the two, or at least an irritation."
"Most perceptive," Miklos murmured. "Who else was present?"
"Earl Sighere and the young Duke of Claibourne, as was expected; another senior military officer—by the device on his brigandine, the Earl of Culdi, I believe. Also several men of the _Custodes Fidei_ —a knight, a battle surgeon, a priest—no names were ever mentioned. And two aides."
"I see." Miklos glanced thoughtfully at the document Hombard had brought back, then returned his attention to its bearer. "Please continue. Perhaps you would summarize their reaction to the proposal you presented, point by point."
"Aye, my lord. They doubt your promise to observe a truce while you parley, knowing of Lord Hrorik's fate, and they question your possible motives for seeking this parley. Knowing you are Deryni, they naturally fear your power. They resent that you have given aid to Prince Marek and seem aware that you act on your own in this matter—that the king your brother has not sanctioned your actions."
"Succinct and perceptive," Miklos murmured, nodding. "Anything else?"
"Very little, my lord. I was treated with civility and even kindness by the Haldane, who bade me sit when he observed that the _merasha_ had made me unsteady on my feet. Incidentally, the drug was administered with one of their Deryni prickers, not by mouth; this made the onset much faster and more profound. When I had presented your proposals, I was taken to another place where, I confess, I dozed."
As he yawned again, Miklos glanced at Marek, who had been lounging against the sill of a window overlooking the yard below, wrapped in a dark cloak. Marek's most senior captain was with him, a seasoned veteran named Valentin who had taught both young men swordplay as boys. Also present was Miklos' personal physician, Cosim, a striking-looking man with piercing eyes and silver at his temples, wearing the high-collared dark green tunic of a military Healer.
"Do you still wish to try it?" Miklos asked quietly.
Marek nodded toward Hombard. "I think we ought to Read him first, despite the _merasha._ "
Hombard looked neither surprised nor dismayed as Miklos bestirred himself to come and lay a hand across the man's forehead. The drooping eyelids closed and he exhaled with a sigh, his head lolling more heavily against Miklos' hand. After a few seconds, Miklos flicked a glance of summons in the direction of the Healer, who moved in behind Hombard to take control as his master stepped away.
"They did not permit him to see a great deal," Miklos said quietly, as he joined Marek. "He did gain a glimpse of our dear cousin, just before they released him to return, but it does not seem to have occurred to them that they could enlist her assistance. They even failed to use her to Truth-Read while they interviewed him."
"But they've apparently decided that she's sufficient balance to keep _you_ honest," Marek said with a smirk. "Well, let's see what can be done. Cosim, is he ready?"
The Healer looked up, dark eyes veiled by his power. "Ready, my lord. Valentin, bring another chair for his Highness."
As the captain brought the requested chair, setting it beside Hombard's, Marek threw off his cloak and came to sit. Underneath, he was wearing leathers and harness identical to Hombard's. In common with all the other men in the room, his long, dark hair was pulled back and braided and clouted in a soldier's knot. He grinned as he handed Miklos his signet ring.
"I'll ask you to take care of that for me," he said. "Have we candles?"
"Here, my lord," Valentin said, putting a slender, honey-colored taper into Marek's hands. "Blessed by the Patriarch."
"You don't approve, do you, Valentin?" Marek replied. "It isn't black magic, my old friend; just a simple deception. I have to be able to get to the Haldane if I'm going to kill him."
"It's too soon," Valentin muttered, handing a second candle to the Healer. "You should wait a few years, until you have more heirs."
"But the longer I wait, the more heirs _he'll_ have," Marek pointed out. "Don't worry; if it isn't safe, I won't do anything."
"So you say," the old captain muttered.
Smiling indulgently, Marek patted his shoulder for the older man to come closer, then leaned back against him and settled with the candle clasped between his hands as Valentin rested both hands on his shoulders. The Healer had set the second candle between Hombard's hands and now came around to crouch between the two chairs, his left hand clasped around Hombard's. After passing his right hand over the candle to conjure flame, he clasped it around Marek's.
"Have you any questions, my lord, before I take you down?" the Healer asked, himself now the bridge between the two men.
Marek drew a deep breath and fixed his gaze on the candle flame in Hombard's hands, visibly relaxing as he exhaled.
"I'm ready," he murmured.
Standing before them, Miklos watched with detached interest as his cousin sank deep into trance at the Healer's bidding, noting as the signs of control deepened, the eyelids fluttered over the dark eyes, and Valentin eventually stepped back.
"Hand... to mind," Cosim breathed, himself very deep in trancing as he called forth the spell. "Mind... to flame. Bring forth the light... and then bring forth the glamour..."
Almost immediately, fire flared on Marek's candle, its light gilding the placid planes of his face—which then began to waver and change. Lines sank across the youthful brow, along jowls suddenly less firm; grey began to thread through hair no longer so dark or so glossy. Within seconds, two Hombards sat entranced before Miklos and the Healer Cosim.
A moment to orient himself, and Cosim raised his head to glance back at Miklos.
"Sufficient, my lord?" he murmured.
Miklos surveyed the two now-identical men seated before him and slowly nodded, smiling. "Well done, Master Cosim. Do release him now."
A flick of power, and Marek was stirring, drawing a deep breath and blinking several times as control was restored. His eyes, now gone from dark to blue, darted to the candle still burning between his clasped hands, and he blew it out with a grin as he glanced up at Miklos, also reaching across to pinch out Hombard's.
"Satisfactory?" he asked. The voice was several tones lower than Marek's usual light tenor.
Miklos chuckled and touched the Healer on the shoulder in congratulation. " _Very_ well done, Master Cosim. Perhaps you and Valentin would take the real Lord Hombard off to a well-earned bed. Put Marek's cloak on him and pull up the hood. I would as soon it not become general knowledge what we do. We shall join you in the yard directly."
An hour later, two riders emerged from the line of Torenthi troops ranged across the mouth of the Cardosa Pass, heading slowly across the plain toward the Gwynedd line under a white flag of truce. Rhys Michael Haldane watched them from horseback atop a grassy knoll overlooking the plain, Sudrey at his side and Rhun and Manfred flanking them. He was armored but unarmed—as, presumably, were the men coming to meet him. Others of his officers and aides were also gathered round, with the forces of Gwynedd drawn up in orderly lines to either side and back, both Kheldour men and the ones he had brought.
"I still don't like this," Rhun muttered, his eyes never leaving the approaching pair. "Why does Miklos insist upon a face-to-face meeting?"
Sudrey, astride a bay palfrey at the king's left hand, turned her face toward the earl marshal. She had changed her widow's weeds for the divided skirts and tweeds worn by most noble ladies in these border highlands when they ventured forth on horseback, though a black coif still bound her dark hair.
"Because you found out his agent and broke him," she said. "He will have attributed at least a part of the credit to his Highness, whether or not this is true. And there _are_ the persistent rumors that the Haldanes are divinely favored."
"What do you mean, 'divinely favored'?" Manfred rumbled.
"Why, that God protects the Haldanes," she replied. "Did He not vanquish Imre, when Cinhil came to claim back his throne? 'Tis the power of God that has ordained the survival of Haldane's Royal House."
Rhun snorted. "Consorting with Deryni sorcerers hardly constitutes divine aid, I think. Satanic, perhaps."
"Oh, do you still think that Deryni magic was responsible for the Haldane restoration?" Sudrey asked, ignoring the jibe. "Granted, Camber MacRorie and his kin convinced the Michaelines to provide military backing—but that was hardly magic. I was only a girl when it happened, and far from Valoret, but I remember that my uncle Termod was quite convinced that Cinhil Haldane had called up something far outside _our_ ability, to defeat Cousin Imre. 'Tis God who protects the Haldanes, my lord, and He will not allow His anointed to come to harm at the hands of a Deryni sorcerer."
As she rode down the knoll at Rhys Michael's side, heading out across the plain, he glanced at her in some amazement, adjusting the golden circlet on his head with one gloved hand.
"Why did you tell them that? Do you want to get me killed?"
She chuckled. "They have forgotten, Sire, but you are king by Divine Right. I do not pretend to understand where your powers have come from, but it is important that _they_ believe them come of God. Now, if it _should_ become necessary to use those powers against my kinsman, you have your own justification, even if, for some reason, I cannot cover for you."
"You expect treachery, then?" he asked.
"I do not expect it, no. But 'tis best to be prepared for such things."
Nodding thoughtful agreement, he directed his gaze ahead again, studying his adversary as he and Sudrey continued to approach. Now halted in the central area designated for the meeting, beneath the floating banner of white silk borne by Hombard of Tarkent, Prince Miklos of Torenth waited astride a fleet, desert-bred steed the color of a fox. The animal's flaxen mane and tail exactly echoed the shade of its rider's blond hair, which was braided and clubbed at the back of his head in a soldier's knot and bound across the forehead with a fillet of ruddy gold.
Other than some new lines around the dark eyes, Miklos looked scarcely older than when Rhys Michael last had seen him. Instead of the tawny, flowing silks he had worn at Javan's coronation, nearly seven years before, a close-fitting brigandine of russet leather encased his body, studded with roundels of polished brass that caught the sunlight like a galaxy of suns. Matching vambraces clasped his forearms above gauntleted gloves that flared at the wrists, and the thigh-high boots were cut and studded to incorporate greaves in their design. From what Rhys Michael could see, the prince bore no weapons.
Hombard bowed in the saddle as Rhys Michael and Sudrey drew rein, a proper courtier, but neither Miklos nor the king so much as flicked an eyelid downward.
"Well met, Haldane," Miklos said pleasantly enough. "You were but a lad when last we met. I see that time has at least enabled you to look like what you claim to be."
"I make no claim," Rhys Michael said carefully. "I am what I am—King of Gwynedd—and that is something that your kinsman, who calls himself Marek of Festil, can never hope to be."
"Indeed?" Smiling, Miklos leaned his crossed forearms casually against his saddle's high pommel. "That does remain to be seen, does it not?"
"Some other day, perhaps," Rhys Michael replied. "I believe possession of Culliecairn is the issue here. Your envoy indicated that you now intend to withdraw."
"In due course." Miklos nodded toward Sudrey. "Actually, I wished first to speak with my cousin. Thank you for obliging me by bringing her along."
Rhys Michael glanced at Sudrey, who had stiffened in the saddle.
"I have nothing to say to my husband's murderer," she said coldly. "I would not have come, except that my liege lord requested it. I am here to assist the King of Gwynedd, whose vassal I am."
"And that," Miklos said, "is precisely what I wished to discuss with you. Cousin, I have been trying for seven years to ascertain what became of you. I did not wish to believe that you would so far betray your blood as to marry against the interests of Torenth."
"And what is Torenth to me, except that a scion of Torenth has slain my lord?" she retorted. "Where was Torenth when my brother and I were abandoned, after the Festillic collapse? That I found kindness and love amidst my captors I count as one of God's great mercies."
"A dubious mercy, if it led you to betray your country, your race, and your kin," Miklos said mildly. "The royal blood of Torenth runs in your veins, Sudrey of Rhorau. Do you recall how we treat with traitors in Torenth?"
Without further preamble, he raised his right fist and thrust it toward her with a muttered Word, opening out his fingers with a snap. The gesture launched a fist-sized ball of fire that roared toward her like an inferno, growing as it came. Even as her shields went up, dismay and outrage flaring with her aura, Rhys Michael was interposing himself, his own shields blazing into being.
In a shower of sparks that scattered and fell like shooting stars, the sphere struck Rhys Michael's shields and dissipated harmlessly, much to the astonishment of both Miklos and Hombard.
What had begun as a casual, almost offhand accompaniment to Miklos' denunciation now shifted to more focused intent directed not only at Sudrey but also at Rhys Michael, who somehow had managed to avert Sudrey's just fate. As Hombard glanced uncertainly at his prince, increasingly fighting a now skittish mount, Miklos stabbed a gloved forefinger at the ground behind Rhys Michael. Sudrey screamed as flame leaped up from the very ground and began to trace a curved, fiery line around to the side and then behind Miklos, laying down a containing circle.
"No!"
Even as it began, Rhys Michael saw the danger—that if the circle closed, their escape was cut off. Instinctively he raised one hand in a gesture of forbidding. A Word of command conjured heavy cloud above the flames, weeping moisture that changed to steam as the fire below was quenched—to the dismay of the horses, who were growing increasingly difficult to control. The result was a smoking black line of burned turf outlining just over half of the circle Miklos had intended—now rendered impotent—and to underline his point, Rhys Michael sent a warning burst of energy against Miklos himself.
The Torenthi prince countered it easily, but his expression showed his shock. His horse began fighting the bit, white-eyed and on the verge of panic, and he had to turn some of his attention to bringing it back under control. Hombard was backing his horse away from Miklos, looking very alarmed, and Sudrey had turned her nervous steed, ready to flee at a word from the king.
"Don't try to interfere, Haldane!" Miklos shouted, again flinging fire behind them to prevent their escape. "'Tis only Sudrey I want."
"Well, you shan't have her," Rhys Michael replied, as his own mount reared and fought him.
"No?"
For answer, Rhys Michael turned another, stronger burst of power at Miklos like a crimson wave of light, defense shifting to attack. The Torenthi prince repelled the attack and struck again, but at Sudrey—forked lightning that leaped from his hand to spear her horse through the chest and out one side. The animal squealed and went down under her, dead before it hit the ground, even as Rhys Michael spurred closer to snatch her from the saddle before she could be crushed. He had dragged her to a precarious perch before him and was wheeling his stallion back on its haunches, preparing to disengage, when Hombard's mount slammed into his and sent it and him and Sudrey tumbling.
He ended up flat on his back, wheezing for breath, but somehow he managed to keep hold of the reins. An exultant Hombard was pulling up his stallion a few paces beyond and yanking it around for another pass, gigging the animal into another charge. As Rhys Michael hauled himself around by the reins, scrambling on hands and knees to regain his footing, he managed to avoid being trampled, but one murderous, steel-shod hoof came slamming down on his right hand with crushing force.
He screamed and let go of the reins in reflex. The pain wrenched at his concentration, and he only just managed to deflect another blast of Miklos' magic as he rolled clear and finally staggered to his feet, the injured hand hugged to his breast.
Sudrey had caught his horse and was hanging on to the reins and one stirrup, trying to get back up. To Rhys Michael's shocked horror and surprise, a blast of magic from the "human" Hombard sent her reeling to her knees, with a little cry. The horse bolted and took off for the Gwynedd line, where riders were already starting to thunder down the slope.
But Miklos was joining his attack to Hombard's, a clenched fist raised toward Sudrey, who was clutching at her chest. Through his own pain, Rhys Michael caught a wave of hers and dashed to her side, catching his arms around her from behind and launching another counterattack through the focus of his uninjured hand. The first bolt stopped Miklos' assault and nearly made him pull his mount over backward; the second all but bowled Hombard out of the saddle.
And how could Hombard be Deryni? They had tested him with _merasha_!
The air was atremble with lightning and the acrid smell of power gone rogue. Hombard was backing off, looking shaken and alarmed, but fury turned Miklos' face into a mask. As he readied another attack, this time against Rhys Michael, the king gathered up the power of the spell Dimitri had taught him—that Miklos had tried to use against Sudrey—thrusting outward through the focus of his good hand to punch his power through Miklos' shields and close a fiery hand around the Deryni prince's heart.
Rhys Michael had shaken Miklos' spell from Sudrey, but Miklos could not shake free of Rhys Michael's. And even as he clutched at his chest, doubling over with the pain, his horse betrayed him again, this time bucking him almost clear of the saddle—except for one spurred heel that caught in the stirrup and flipped him upside down to dangle amid the flashing, steel-shod hooves.
The beast bolted at this new outrage, continuing to buck and twist as it ran. Miklos' power flared erratically as he tried gamely to twist free, arms vainly upflung to protect his head, but he went limp after only a few strides. The power died away even as Hombard galloped in to seize the animal's reins and wrench it to a halt.
Except that Hombard no longer looked like Hombard. The pale eyes now were dark, the face of an age with Miklos, the hair escaping from its soldier's knot a rich chestnut, untouched by grey. Fury animated every line of the young man's body as he leaned down far enough to hook a gloved hand in Miklos' belt and drag him up across his saddle, and the look he cast Rhys Michael was murderous.
Sudrey caught Rhys Michael's good arm and raised it toward Miklos' rescuer with one of hers, power still bright around her.
"Help me warn him off, Sire," she gasped, summoning the spell and desperately willing him to augment her failing strength. "Quick, before your men reach us."
Obedient, Rhys Michael channeled a surge of energy into her directing. Fire lanced forth to score the earth before the burdened rider, and with a look of fury he turned and galloped off toward his own lines, Miklos' limp form before him. Rhun and Manfred and a party of mounted archers were approaching fast, galloping down the slope with arrows nocked to the archers' bows, and Sudrey fell back exhausted against the king's breast, encircled by his arms.
"We have not much time," she murmured. "Listen carefully. Say that it was my power that thwarted Miklos, but I drew upon your life-force to fuel it. I was able to do this because you are a Haldane, divinely appointed to rule Gwynedd. Find a way to suggest that the power within you has nothing to do with Deryni; it comes of God. Do not let my death be in vain."
"No! You aren't going to die!"
"Sire, I am wounded in ways you cannot see," she replied, grimacing. "Far better that I die now, in the manner of my own choosing, rather than face what your great lords might inflict upon me, for having sufficient power to defeat a mage of Miklos' stature. Promise you will not let them burn me."
"I promise," Rhys Michael whispered, putting from mind the image of Dimitri's dead body burning in the yard at Saint Cassian's. "But don't go. Don't give up. I can protect you."
She closed her eyes against a twinge of pain, then looked up at him again, as the hoofbeats thundered nearer.
"I make no judgment, Sire, but you will be fortunate if you can protect yourself. God be with you. Pray for me."
This time, when she closed her eyes, she did not open them again. There was one further, fluttering breath—and then, no more. As he laid his head against her still breast, knowing he would hear no heartbeat, his own men reached him.
"What the devil happened?" Rhun demanded, pulling up beside him and jumping down from his horse, as the mounted archers swept past and formed a line between them and the Torenthi line, where a party of rangers had broken and were spurring to meet Hombard.
Rhys Michael looked up dully, Sudrey's body still hugged to his chest.
"I think they were after Sudrey from the start," he murmured. "Miklos said she had betrayed her country and her race—and then he and the other man attacked her with magic."
"Are you saying that Hombard was Deryni, too?" Manfred said, jumping down to join Rhun. "But that's impossible. We tested him."
"I don't think it was the same man," Rhys Michael said uncertainly, as he started to ease her body to the ground. "His face changed, right at the end. He somehow looked familiar. She stood up to both of them, though, and I think she killed Miklos. The other man—aiie!"
He gasped as he jostled his injured hand while trying to put her down. He had managed not to move it much during the last little while, but now, as the rush of combat slowly faded, the pain set up a throbbing that coursed all the way to his elbow.
"Where are you hurt?" Rhun asked, as Manfred seized the injured right arm and turned it from the elbow, searching for signs of injury.
Rhys Michael sucked in his breath as Manfred prodded around a jagged gash in the leather gauntlet.
"Careful!" he snapped. "One of the horses stamped his great, bloody hoof down on the back of my hand, when I was on the ground. I'm sure there must be bones broken."
"Try to move your fingers," Manfred ordered.
Rhys Michael tried, but even the effort of trying made him nauseated from the pain. Lifting the trembling hand for closer inspection, he could see that blood and dirt crusted the gash in the glove and the wound inside, which looked to go well into sinews and bone. He fought down a wave of light-headedness as he whispered, "Damn!"
"Borg, come and take a look at this," Manfred called over his shoulder to one of the archers.
But Rhun was already pulling his horse around to mount again, glancing apprehensively toward the Torenthi line, which had opened to receive the fleeing Hombard and his burden.
"No time for that now," he said. "Mount up! We may have company very shortly, if we don't get out of here. Borg, give the king your horse, then lift Lady Sudrey's body up to Lord Manfred. Move!"
As Manfred helped Rhys Michael to his feet, the archer called Borg brought his horse over and gave Rhys Michael a leg up. Vaulting up into the saddle without using his right hand was difficult, and the hand throbbed with renewed pain when the archer jarred it in passing the reins to his good hand. He tried not to think about the hand as they moved out, instead fixing his gaze on the body of Sudrey, now cradled in Manfred's arms in the saddle before him. The pain accompanied him all the way back to the Gwynedd line and beyond.
Back in Culliecairn, Marek of Festil watched without expression as three of the patriarch's bearded and black-robed priests gently removed the last of Miklos' harness, starting to wash his body and prepare it for a lying-in-state later that night in the castle's chapel. The Healer Cosim stood at his elbow, but there had been nothing he could do for Miklos; it was not alone the injuries inflicted by his horse that had killed the Torenthi prince.
Marek had not wanted to believe that. Assisted by Cosim, he himself had conducted a Death-Reading on his dead cousin, before allowing the priests to take charge of the body. Afterward, he had erased what he read. Both he and the Healer now knew that magic had been the principal cause of Miklos' death—and that the power for the spell had come not from the Deryni Sudrey but from Rhys Michael Haldane.
"My worst nightmare, Cosim," Marek murmured, when he had drawn the Healer out of the little room where Miklos lay. "No, the very worst would be to fall to the Haldane myself—or even worse than that, for my son to perish as well. But for Miklos to fall—how could the Haldane do this? How is this possible?"
Cosim cocked a cynical eyebrow. "The allegations of Haldane power are hardly new, my lord—though, I confess, I thought them unlikely to be true, given the other tales we have heard these past six years of the impotence of this Haldane before his ministers of state."
"Well, it wasn't Cousin Sudrey who did that to Miklos," Marek muttered. "I'm still not certain how it happened. I _know_ Miklos could have taken the Haldane in a proper duel arcane—or _I_ could have done. This was meant to be a testing of the waters—though we were prepared to ambush him if that opportunity presented itself. Sudrey was the real target. Miklos had been obsessed with her defection since he found out about it at Javan Haldane's coronation. And I'd _swear_ that this Rhys Haldane had no powers at that time—not even shields—though there was certainly something going on with his brother."
"Perhaps this odd Haldane power is somehow vested in Gwynedd's crown," Cosim ventured, after a short pause. "Perhaps that is why you detected nothing at the coronation, save in Javan."
Marek shrugged. "I was but young then, and we never managed to make physical contact with either Haldane brother. But how can the Haldane power be that strong? It did not save Javan Haldane from his great lords' treachery, and it has not enabled Rhys Haldane to be his own man, these six years of his reign."
"Yet it enabled him to kill my prince today," Cosim murmured.
Marek hung his head. "I must ask you not to reveal that, Cosim."
"I do not know how you can keep it a secret," the Healer replied, "or why you would wish to do so. Deryni who witnessed what took place, even from afar, are well aware that magic was afoot."
"Magic—aye. But they must believe it was Sudrey's magic that killed Miklos—an unfortunate accident. Surely his injuries would have killed him, if magic had not."
"Perhaps. But why should you wish them to believe this? Why perpetuate this uncertainty?"
"Because I do not wish his men to seek vengeance for his death at this time, riding out to fight a battle that was never intended to take place and that cannot be won under the present circumstances." Marek glanced down at his hands, then back at the Healer.
"Cosim, I hesitate to ask, but I find myself obliged to seek your further assistance. Those who can, will Truth-Read me as I speak to them."
Cosim turned his dark gaze on the younger man, searching the dark eyes. "Are you asking me to adjust your memory, my lord, so that your lies go undetected?"
"I am asking you to adjust my memory so that I can present a half truth without danger of contradiction—that it was not magic that killed Miklos. I would never attempt to claim that magic was not used. But left with the sad yet unprovocative conclusion that his death was largely due to misadventure, his men hopefully will withdraw in good order to fight another day—and for me."
Slowly Cosim nodded "I understand what you are saying, my lord," he murmured "Further, I believe my lord Miklos would have agreed." He glanced around to ensure that they were alone, then returned his gaze to Marek.
"I will set a fatigue-banishing spell as well, my lord," he murmured, lifting one hand to Marek's forehead. "Open to me..."
A quarter hour later, his energies somewhat restored by the Healer's ministrations, Marek was facing the decidedly uncomfortable duty of confirming the details of Miklos' death to his officers. In the back of his mind was the knowledge that Cosim wished to see him again after the court—the reason escaped him for the moment—but for now, Marek was content to leave the Healer alone with his grief, standing down among Miklos' other men.
He had summoned them to gather in the castle's great hall, but he did not presume to sit in the chair of state that stood at the center of the dais. Miklos had held court from there in the more carefree days while they waited for the Haldane response, and now the patriarch himself stood beside the chair, glaring at Marek from beneath his black stovepipe headdress and veil.
Summoning Valentin to his side—who grieved, too, for the death of the young man he had loved like a son—Marek moved in front of the chair, though far enough in front to make it clear he had no intention of usurping the dead man's place. Not for the first time, he was glad he had sent Charis and the baby back to Tolan some days earlier; he did not relish telling his wife of her brother's death.
And telling King Arion was an even more daunting prospect. Though the late King Nimur, Arion's father, had given sanctuary to the infant son of Imre and Ariella of Festil following the Haldane Restoration, Arion's support for his exiled cousin's cause had never been more than lukewarm, especially since his becoming king ten years ago. Indeed, without Prince Miklos' friendship and patronage, Marek might never have survived to adulthood. Much less could he have mounted this expedition—which, unfortunately, had gone so badly awry.
Marek suspected that his sufferance by the Torenthi Royal House was about to become even more precarious than it had been all his young life. While neither illegitimacy nor incest were Marek's fault, the taint might only be truly removed by success—by taking back the crown his parents had borne. With Miklos gone, that now was not likely to occur for some time. And it would never occur if Marek allowed himself to be stampeded into action prematurely.
"Gentlemen, you will have heard many rumors regarding the circumstances of the prince's death," Marek said to the assembled men, hardly daring to lift his eyes to them. "That incidental mishap should have cost my cousin his life is the supreme irony, when so much was at stake. It was not magic that killed him."
"Yet magic was used," one of the captains pointed out. "And it was you who instigated it, my lord."
"Prince Miklos instigated it against the traitor, Sudrey of Rhorau," Marek said. "And though she responded in kind, this was not unexpected. What _was_ unexpected was the Haldane's response—though we have long believed that the Haldanes do have access to a kind of power akin to our Deryni powers. Unfortunately, I still am not certain how much of the power was Sudrey's and how much was the Haldane's. The question is academic, since ultimately it was my cousin's physical injuries that killed him, but the Haldane factor will bear further investigation."
"Not in conjunction with _this_ campaign," another of the captains said. "It has already cost us our prince."
"I greatly regret that," Marek began.
"As we do, my lord," another said. "But we are not now prepared to follow you farther into Gwynedd. While our prince lived, we were obliged to go where he commanded. Our fealty returns now to the king his brother, who may not agree that Torenthi troops should lend their aid to your cause."
Marek bowed his head.
"I accept the reprimand you have not spoken, my lord," he murmured. "I count myself at least partially to blame for the death of Prince Miklos and remind you that he was my cousin and brother to my wife, as well as being brother to King Arion. I do not look forward to answering to either of these worthies when I must tell them of his death.
"As for venturing farther into Gwynedd at this time, I assure you that it was never Prince Miklos' intention, this time around, to commit Torenthi troops to any major incursion into Gwynedd. I will respect that intention and will not even suggest that you should go against it."
He waited for their sullen rumble of agreement to die down, sensing that the critical decision was past.
"Practicalities yet remain," he said, when he again had their attention. "With the concurrence of his Highness' senior officers, I intend that we shall begin withdrawal from Culliecairn at dawn, banners flying and drums beating. I shall have the appropriate notifications drawn up and sent to the Gwynedd camp within the hour. Meanwhile, I shall personally keep vigil beside my cousin's body through the night. Those who wish to do the same are invited to join me."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
For gold is tried in the fire, and acceptable men in the furnace of adversity.
—Ecclesiasticus 2:5
The Kheldour commanders met the king's party as they rejoined the Gwynedd line, anxious and agitated to learn of Sudrey's death. Corban was detailed to take her body back to Lochalyn and her daughter; Sighere and Graham remained. It was clear they did not blame Rhys Michael for what had happened—Sudrey had known at least some of the danger—but the king felt a grief akin to their own as he continued numbly on toward the Gwynedd camp.
"Exactly what happened out there?" Rhun demanded, riding at his knee. He kept glancing back over his shoulder at the distant Torenth line, now in obvious agitation, anxious lest the fall of Miklos provoke a Torenthi attack. Manfred was on the king's other side, Cathan and Fulk now following with Sighere and Graham. A score of _Custodes_ knights had replaced the archers and rode close all around them.
"Miklos broke the trace, just as you said he would, but for different reasons than we feared," Rhys Michael said. "I don't think it's appropriate that I go into details right now. Let's see if his men are going to respect the truce or attack us."
The reasoning seemed to satisfy Rhun for the moment—and gave Rhys Michael a chance to think about what he was going to tell the earl marshal when the inevitable reckoning came. He cradled his injured hand to his breast as they rode, for the initial shock of the injury was wearing off, and the hand had begun to throb.
They drew up on a rise just outside the Gwynedd camp to await a Torenthi response. None came. After nearly an hour of watching and waiting and weighing the military factors, Rhun and his commanders decided that, with darkness coming on, an immediate attack was not likely. Leaving Joshua Delacroix in command at the perimeter, Rhun men escorted the king back to the command tent, accompanied by Manfred, Sighere, Graham, and the king's aides. Master Stevanus had been pacing back and forth before the tent, having been informed of the king's injury, and now came to take his royal patient in charge.
"Let's go inside and have a look at that," he said, as the king swung a leg over his horse and gently eased to the ground, trying not to jar his hand.
The king followed meekly into the command tent and sat where he was directed, on the edge of a camp bed. Father Lior was already there and waiting. As Stevanus came to crouch beside the king and began prodding at the gash in the red leather gauntlet, bidding Fulk to bring a rack of candles nearer, Rhun and Lior came to hover like two predatory vultures. Cathan knelt unobtrusively to unbuckle the king's spurs—and also stay close in case of need. Manfred remained near the entrance with Sighere and Graham, now anticipating a message instead of an attack from the Torenthi.
"Now, what the devil happened out there?" Rhun demanded. "You said Miklos broke the truce."
"He seemed ready to pull out—though we hadn't yet gotten to his terms," Rhys Michael said, wincing at Stevanus' ministrations. "Then he attacked Lady Sudrey with magic. In retrospect, I'm sure that's why he was so keen to have her come along. He felt she'd betrayed her family and her race by marrying Eastmarch. When some of the magic started spilling over to me, she interposed herself to protect me. She gave her life in my defense."
"I shouldn't have thought she was strong enough to stand against a Deryni like Miklos," Lior said. "You almost looked as if you were involved in it, too."
Rhys Michael gasped and tried to pull away as Stevanus attempted to straighten out his shattered fingers.
"I—don't remember that part very clearly," he managed to whisper. "I—think she somehow—pulled energy from me, to give her more power against him. He was still too much for her, though. If his horse hadn't exploded, he might well have—aiie!"
"Sorry," Stevanus murmured. "Lord Rhun, I'm going to have to ask you to continue this conversation after I've dealt with his hand. There's already a great deal of swelling. I'm going to have to cut away the gauntlet before I can even begin to assess the damage. Cathan, pour his Highness a double dose of syrup of poppies, would you? This isn't going to be pleasant."
Clearly unsatisfied, Rhun withdrew to the entrance of the command tent as Stevanus set to work, consulting in low tones with Manfred, Sighere, and Graham, though Lior remained to watch. Rhys Michael's first glimpse of the purpling flesh and the blood and dirt-caked laceration convinced him that he would rather have been almost anywhere than where he was, though he drank down only half the painkiller Cathan brought him.
"I'd rather not take too much of this until we know how Torenth is going to react," he said to Stevanus, as he handed back the cup, sucking in breath through clenched teeth as the surgeon's probing shifted broken bones.
"Very well, but don't say I didn't warn you. Once we get this clean, it's going to want suturing before I try to set it. How well it will ever hold a sword again remains to be seen."
"If I must, I'll learn to fight left-handed. Just get on with it."
Fulk went to fetch towels and a basin of warm water, and Stevanus set about assembling splints and bandages and other necessaries. Cathan helped the king shed his brigandine and the close-fitting leather tunic underneath, for it became clear that the narrow sleeves would not allow removal once the hand was bandaged. Even without bandages, the movement necessary to ease the hand through the sleeve was excruciating. Rhys Michael was shivering in after-reaction as he eased back against a stack of pillows and gladly let Cathan help shift his booted feet up onto the bed. Baring his torso had also revealed several substantial bruises forming, though he had not been aware of being struck at the time.
Very shortly, Fulk brought the warm water, setting the basin on a low table at Rhys Michael's side so he could immerse his hand. The warmth was somewhat soothing initially—but only until Stevanus began cleaning away the blood and dirt from his wound.
He tried to distance himself from the discomfort. Laying his good arm across his closed eyes, he attempted to set the pain aside and let himself float. As he gradually began to feel the effects of the painkiller and relax a little, he let his thoughts rove back over the events of the past several hours—and suddenly recalled where he had seen the face that replaced that of Hombard, out on the field. He wondered whether Rhun and the others had noticed the change.
"Rhun, the man we thought was Hombard was Deryni," he said, opening his eyes to search for the earl marshal, who turned at his words. "He may even have been Marek of Festil."
"That's impossible," Rhun said, coming over to him. "He was far too old. Besides, we tested him with _merasha._ "
"No, we tested the _first_ man," Rhys Michael pointed out. "The man who rode out with Miklos _looked_ like the man we tested—and I had no reason, at the time, to doubt it—but his face changed while Miklos and Sudrey were throwing around all that magic, and he tried to join in. Things were happening very quickly, but I'd swear he was the same man who came to Javan's coronation as Miklos' aide. Is it possible that could have been Marek, in both instances?"
Rhun pulled a camp stool to the left side of the bed and sat, as the others also drew closer to listen.
"It can't have been Marek," Rhun murmured. "Not even Miklos would have had the audacity to bring the Festillic Pretender to the coronation of his chief rival."
"So one would think," Rhys Michael said, glad for the distraction as Stevanus removed his hand from the basin and laid it dripping on a clean towel. "But, how better to evaluate the opposition? And how would _we_ have known? I should think that by now it's clear that Miklos had the audacity to try just about anything he chose. Has anyone ever _seen_ Marek of Festil?"
"I once saw a portrait of his father, King Imre, at one of the Order's abbeys," Father Lior ventured. "One would expect at least a family resemblance, especially given the mother."
"Describe the man in the portrait," Rhun ordered, turning to look at the priest.
Lior frowned, casting back in memory. "Slender—not a very large man, I shouldn't think. Very fair skin, but dark hair to his shoulders. Fine features: a thin face, a straight, elegant nose, slightly protruding eyes—dark brown, they were. I would have to say that the expression was a bit insipid-looking, though."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes, trying to ignore the bite of Stevanus' needle as the surgeon began setting sutures, for the image Lior had conjured coincided very closely with the face he had glimpsed on the field—and the face of Miklos' aide at the coronation, neither of which Lior had ever seen. Could he really have come face-to-face with Marek of Festil and not known it—and not once but twice?
"You've certainly described the man who came to the coronation with Miklos," Rhun said to the priest, confirming at least that part of Rhys Michael's impression. "By God, I suppose he _could_ have been Imre's son."
"He has also described the man I saw today," Rhys Michael said. He winced as Stevanus' needle bit again. "With both Marek and Miklos ranged against her, Lady Sudrey's defense is all the more remarkable. And we have Divine Providence to thank for—"
He broke off as Lord Joshua Delacroix came into the tent and handed a wax-sealed packet to Rhun.
"This just came in, my lord," Joshua said. "A herald brought it I suspect they didn't think we'd believe a white flag."
Manfred came to look over Rhun's shoulder as the earl marshal hurriedly broke the seals and unfolded the single sheet of parchment.
"'Prince Marek of Festil, rightful King of Gwynedd, unto the Haldane usurper,'" Rhun read aloud. "'Know that I hold you personally responsible for the death of my well-beloved cousin and brother-in-law, the Prince Miklos of Torenth. Be assured that further communication will be forthcoming from the king his brother.
"'In order to provide a fitting escort for my cousin's body, I shall begin an immediate withdrawal of the troops formerly under his command, commencing at dawn. No interference in this withdrawal will be tolerated. While the present circumstances have obliged me to decline further confrontation at this time, be assured that I shall continue to press my claim to what is mine. I now know your measure and will take appropriate steps to utterly destroy you.' Signed Marek _Princeps_."
"Insolent puppy," Manfred growled, reaching for the missive. "Let me see that letter."
Rhun shrugged and handed it over. "Yes, well. If he's pulling out of Culliecairn, slinking home with his tail between his legs, we've at least won this round. Later on, Arion may try to make life difficult, but we'll worry about that if it happens. At least we seem to have averted this particular battle. Joshua, we'd better set patrols to keep an eye on things through the night and to monitor the withdrawal. I'm sure my lords of Claibourne and Marley will oblige by providing scouts with local expertise." Sighere and Graham nodded. "Manfred, what do you think about pickets?"
As they withdrew to the other side of the tent to discuss logistic considerations, Stevanus finished his suturing and set about the more delicate and painful task of easing shattered bones back into place. Even with the thick piece of leather Cathan gave him to bite down on, and Cathan himself to help hold the arm steady for the surgeon's work, it was all Rhys Michael could do to stay still and not cry out. He was exhausted and drenched with perspiration by the time Stevanus finished, with bandages immobilizing his wrist along a flat length of wood that extended down the forearm and into the palm, curving the shattered fingers around its end and closing the hand in an approximation of gripping a sword.
"I wish I could tell you that there won't be any impairment of movement," Stevanus said, plucking the bit of leather from between the king's teeth. "The hand has a lot of bones, most of them fairly fragile, none of which are improved by having a horse step on them. Don't be surprised if some bone splinters work their way to the surface during the healing process. I've done my best for you, but I'm not a Deryni Healer."
As the battle surgeon set about rigging a sling to support the arm, Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly and considered his next move. He had not reckoned on becoming injured; it put him far more at the mercy of the great lords and those who served them. What he was contemplating carried some risks, but there probably was not going to be a better time. The great lords had left the tent during the process of setting the hand, unsettled by his silent endurance, and only Cathan and Fulk remained in attendance with Stevanus.
"Maybe we'd be better off if we still had Healers around," the king murmured. "I'd certainly welcome one, right about now."
Stevanus gave him a fleeting, uncomfortable smile as he tucked the end of a bandage in place. "If we could trust one not to do other things besides heal, so would I," he replied. "But you saw today how the Deryni keep their word."
As Stevanus turned away to top up the dose of painkiller the king had not finished earlier, Rhys Michael sent a quick summons to Cathan, who came to help him as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. At the same time, he advised Cathan of what he intended. Nodding, Cathan laid a mantle around his bare shoulders, then casually rejoined Fulk as Stevanus turned back, the little metal cup in his hand again.
"This should help you sleep through the night," Stevanus said. "The hand is going to throb for the first few days—maybe longer—but you should feel better after a good night's sleep. You look totally knackered right now, and small wonder."
Declining to take the cup himself, for even his good hand was none too steady, Rhys Michael nodded and set his hand on Stevanus', helping guide the cup to his lips. He drank deeply, but then he used the bond of flesh to seize control. The surgeon shuddered but could not resist, his eyes closing. Cathan had touched Fulk at the same moment and the aide stood likewise entranced.
"Stevanus, listen very carefully," Rhys Michael murmured, closing his good hand more securely around Stevanus' and drawing the surgeon nearer to crouch at his feet. "From this point on, regardless of what other orders you may receive, and from whom, my orders will take precedence. You will never reveal that I have given you these orders, but all your actions will be focused toward preserving me in life and health. Under no circumstances will you ever give me _merasha_ ; if you are ordered to do so by one of the great lords, you will pretend to comply, but will give me some other drug with a similar effect. Nod your head if you understand."
Stevanus' head nodded once in agreement.
"Good. Now, how long will the effects of this last, if I drink it all?"
"Only through the night, Sire, though it will be a heavy sleep."
Nodding, Rhys Michael drained the remainder of the cup, then brought the surgeon back to his feet and released his hand.
"That sounds just about right," he said, easing out of the link. "I don't know what will have happened by morning, but I need to be able to ride at the head of my troops, if necessary. It's important that the men see that I'm still alive and unharmed. Well, relatively unharmed." He jutted his chin toward his bandaged hand as he got shakily to his feet, leaning heavily on Stevanus' arm.
"Sometime tomorrow, I'll also need to pay a courtesy call on Lady Stacia. She's now given both her parents in my service, and I owe her the respect of my presence at her mother's funeral; I expect it will be the day after tomorrow. Before I leave, I'll also confirm her and her husband in the Eastmarch titles, since I'm here. It makes no sense for them to come all the way back to Rhemuth, especially if this border area is apt to stay a bit unstable for a while."
"You'll have to take up the scheduling with Lord Rhun, Sire, but the physical demands don't sound too difficult," Stevanus agreed. "Jostling that hand won't be comfortable, but you'll find that out the first time you do it."
Rhys Michael stifled a yawn as he hugged the hand closer to his chest. "I'm already well aware of that, Stevanus. It is hardly one of the great mysteries of life."
Stevanus chuckled. "I'll come along to help see you settled in your own bed, Sire. It wouldn't do to have you fall on the way back to your tent and have the men think you're hurt worse than you are—or drunk."
In the gathering darkness outside the command tent, three men in the rough tweeds of the Eastmarch borders watched from the shadows as the king emerged on the arm of the battle surgeon called Stevanus, also accompanied by his aides. Though a mantle was thrown around the royal shoulders, mostly covering his naked torso, the right hand and forearm were bandaged almost to the elbow and supported by a sling. He kept the arm close to his body as he walked, his balance steadied against the surgeon's arm, face taut and pale in the torchlight brought by the pair of guards who fell into step around him.
That they were bound for the king's tent was almost certain. He did not appear to be in custody. Exchanging silent agreement, the watching three separated to skirt ahead along the route they expected the royal party to take, observing the royal progress, keeping their passage as unobtrusive as possible. As king, surgeon, and aides disappeared inside the tent that served as royal residence in the field, with the Haldane standard stirring lazily in the evening breeze before it, the three joined up again, staying well back from the clear area in front of the royal tent and the sentries guarding it.
The tent itself was altogether too well guarded, as it had been since the arrival of the royal troops, with torches set around it and _Custodes_ knights detailed to walk its perimeter, always within sight of one another. When the surgeon alone emerged, a few minutes later, the three watched in silence until he had disappeared in the direction of the command tent with the soldiers who had escorted him, then melted away into the darkness themselves.
Later, in their own tent, where loyal retainers could ensure their privacy, the three huddled together to compare impressions regarding the events of the afternoon and evening.
"His injury may or may not be serious," Ansel murmured, as the other two bent to listen. "He didn't look too bad when he rode in."
"Speaking from a Healer's perspective, he looked shocky to me," Tieg whispered. "I don't know what happened to his hand, but Stevanus was a long time about whatever he had to do to it, even allowing for being human."
"I questioned one of the archers on that point, after I'd Read his account of all the magic flying around," Jesse said. "He thought a horse might have stepped on the hand. How seriously remains to be seen. The man didn't see much sign of bleeding, but that isn't necessarily good."
"True enough," Ansel agreed. "If he did get stepped on, then it could be anything from a bad bruise to badly broken bones. That's his sword hand, too."
Tieg snorted. "It doesn't much matter which hand it is, pain-wise. It's going to slow him down."
"Don't even think about trying to sneak in and help him," Ansel said, looking at him sharply. "At least right now, until we know more, we can't afford to risk losing you."
Tieg looked a little sullen, but could not disagree with the logic.
"Right, then," Ansel murmured. "I think we'd better let Joram know what's happened. This has all taken a turn that I don't think anyone expected—least of all, the king. I don't know how much of what went on out there was his doing, but Sudrey ended up dead, and probably Miklos as well. I also don't know what kinds of questions Rhun has already asked, but I hope to God that the king has answers."
Jesse nodded. "Well, I don't think he's going to be having answers to much of anything else tonight. If Stevanus had to set broken bones, he's probably given him a stiff sedative and painkiller—which would account for his somewhat unsteady movements. Do you want to notify Joram, or shall I?"
"I'll do it," Ansel said. "And let's do put a watch on his tent through the night, just in case. After that, you'd better turn in—both of you. I think we've learned about all we can without interviewing some of the principals—which isn't going to be possible—and it's getting too late to be out and about in the camp without arousing suspicion."
"Agreed," Jesse murmured, and took his leave to go and set up the desired surveillance. Tieg, though none too happy with the arrangement, retired to the doorway of the tent to sit as guardian while Ansel shifted over to his bedroll and stretched out, starting to compose himself to reach out for the contact with Joram.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Who will bring me into the strong city?
—Psalms 60:9
Rhys Michael Haldane knew nothing of the efforts expended in his behalf that night. Soon oblivious, thanks to Stevanus' drug, he dreamed deep, disturbing dreams that he could not remember upon awakening—though at least he did sleep pain-free through the night, as the surgeon had promised.
The sounds of the awakening camp and the throb of his hand woke him a little after dawn, with a dull headache behind his eyes, a foul-tasting mouth, and a ferocious thirst Cathan was asleep in a chair beside his camp bed, and Fulk had brought hot water for morning ablutions—and ale to quell the thirst. He felt a little better once he had drunk it down, but his whole body ached.
He was appalled to discover how helpless he was, with the use of only one hand, and found himself obliged to suffer the ministrations of both his aides to help him wash and dress. Since no one had come to tell him otherwise, he decided that armor might not be necessary, at least for the moment, and bade them help him don a full-sleeved linen tunic over leather breeches and boots. Stevanus came in just as Cathan was attempting to readjust the sling that supported his right arm, so the king enlisted his assistance. The hand was throbbing in time with his pulse beat, but Stevanus advised against another dose of the syrup of poppies until after he had eaten. The king had Cathan put a light cloak on him, fastening it at the shoulder with the Haldane brooch, and drew part of it over the sling before heading over to the command tent for the morning briefing.
Welcome news greeted him when he met his great lords over a substantial breakfast. No incidents had marred the night's peace, and true to Marek's missive of the night before, Torenthi troops had begun to ride out of Culliecairn at first light. The long column of them now stretched far up the Coldoire Pass to disappear into the steppes of Tolan. There had been no further Torenthi communication.
"Some of Sighere's scouts saw what they believed to have been Prince Miklos' funeral cortege leaving with the first outriders, just at dawn," Manfred told him. "There were several horse litters and an ecclesiastical contingent that probably was the patriarch's party. The last of the troops should clear by midafternoon, so that we can go and inspect the city."
Meanwhile, Marley and Eastmarch skirmish parties were observing the Torenthi line of retreat, dogging their heels, prepared to encourage stragglers. After breakfast, Rhun and Manfred rode out with Corban and another of the Eastmarch commanders to oversee, along with Lord Joshua and the principal _Custodes_ captains. The king was left in the charge of Father Lior and Master Stevanus, with reluctant permission to ride to Lochalyn and pay his respects to the castle's new mistress. To his disgust, Lior insisted upon bringing along a _Custodes_ escort, including the detested Gallard de Breffni.
On the short ride up to Lochalyn, with the pain of his hand throbbing up his arm with every jolting step, Rhys Michael racked his brain for an excuse to shake his keepers and speak privately with Stacia. A ghost of a plan was taking shape in his mind, but it would come to naught without the support of the Kheldour lords.
To his surprise and relief, he found the Duke of Claibourne's banner flying alongside that of Eastmarch as they rode beneath the gatehouse arch, with at least a dozen dour Claibourne men drawn up in a guard of honor outside the castle's chapel. Gallard de Breffni's brusque condescension proved to be his undoing—and Rhys Michael's salvation—for when Gallard attempted to send his _Custodes_ in to supplant the duke's men, ordering the borderers aside for the king to pass, Rhys Michael had to intervene before indignation and verbal resistance escalated into armed conflict. Following on the heels of such evenhanded mediation, his courteous request to present his condolences privately to the bereaved countess enlisted the immediate support of the duke's men, who made it abundantly clear to Gallard, Lior, and their _Custodes_ companions that the king might enter, but none other.
"I think it might be politic if you took your men up to the hall for some refreshment, my lord," he told the angry Gallard. "Perhaps some wine will cool hot tempers. I should hate to see our Kheldish hosts offended over so trifling an issue."
When Lior would have tried to stay behind, Rhys Michael put him in his place as well.
"Please go with Lord Gallard, Father. I may be some little while. Cathan and Fulk will wait here for me—and Master Stevanus, if you wish. Lady Stacia's mother gave her life in my service yesterday. The least I can do is to offer my condolences and spend a time in prayer with her."
It was the sort of pious justification to which even Lior could hardly take exception. Not giving the _Custodes_ priest a chance to find one, Rhys Michael turned and went into the chapel.
The faint scent of incense and beeswax hung on the air as he quietly closed the door behind him and moved down the center of the tiny nave, accompanied by the faint jingle of his spurs. The open coffin was set on hurdles on a rich Kheldish carpet just before the altar, guarded by six thick, honey-colored candles on tall candlesticks. A proud, straight-backed figure gowned and coiffed in black sat at the coffin's head, her back to the door. Young Claibourne was kneeling at the altar rail directly left of the coffin, face in his hands and huddled down in a mantle of grey border tweed. He glanced back at the sound of the king's approach and would have risen in surprised respect, but Rhys Michael waved him back to his knees as he paused to bow to the altar and then passed to the coffin's right.
His unexpected presence elicited a tiny gasp from Stacia, who had her infant son on her lap. Her pretty face was pinched and pale against the black veil binding the fiery hair, all her vitality drained away in the wake of this new grief. Beyond her in the open coffin, her mother lay wrapped in a cocoon of fine blue border tweed, face lightly shrouded by a veil of white lawn.
Rhys Michael crossed himself awkwardly with his bandaged hand and sank to his knees beside the coffin, steadying himself against its edge with his good hand as he bowed his head. It was he who was responsible for Stacia's bereavement—both father and mother lost in the space of less than a fortnight, and in his service. When he had knelt here with Sudrey, not three days before, he had never dreamed that he would cause her so soon to lie at the side of the loyal Hrorik, whose body lay beneath the very floor where her coffin rested.
As he had on his ride from the Gwynedd encampment, he found himself reliving the events of the day before, well aware that he might not have survived without her help—and that _she_ might still be alive, had it not been for him. He found himself wondering, not for the first time, whether she really would have died from her injuries, had she not chosen to hasten the process with her own magic—and whether he dared ask the help of her kin.
After offering a prayer for the soul of Sudrey of Eastmarch, and for divine mercy on Deryni in general, he got awkwardly to his feet and gently drew aside the veil of white lawn to press a respectful kiss to her forehead. He made himself draw a deep, steadying breath as he let the veil fall back in place and turned to face her daughter and her nephew. Young Claibourne had gotten to his feet as the king rose, and both his face and Stacia's were unreadable.
"Sudrey of Eastmarch was a very great lady," the king said softly. "Would that I had had the opportunity to know her better."
Claibourne glanced at his cousin a little uncertainly, then back at the king.
"If the King's Grace were more inclined to visit his northern provinces, he would hae had such opportunity," the duke said, though his tone conveyed no hint of disapproval. "E'en so, she kept faith with yer Royal House."
Rhys Michael cradled his aching arm in his good one, absently kneading at the stiff muscles along the forearm.
"Had it been wholly in my choice," he said quietly, "I would have come. Of all the great lords of Gwynedd, none have served my House half so well as the sons and grandsons of Sighere of Kheldour—and this daughter by marriage," he added, nodding toward Sudrey's coffin. "Claibourne, Eastmarch, and Marley—these are the brightest jewels in my crown."
"If they be yer brightest jewels, then why did ye no come?" Stacia asked. "Are ye no the king? Whose choice was't, if not yours?"
Rhys Michael glanced at her bleakly, wondering how much of the truth he dared to tell them—and set to Truth-Read them. With Rhun and the others off on other business, this might be a unique opportunity to sound out the loyalties of Kheldour. Graham and Stacia were of an age with himself, of a younger generation than had spawned the great lords who ruled in Gwynedd, and Graham's father had been murdered through the great lords' treachery. Perhaps Kheldour could become the source of military strength Rhys Michael would need to take back control of his crown. But he would never know, if he did not ask.
He glanced back at the church door, still closed, then moved closer to the pair, drawing Graham with him to kneel at Stacia's feet.
"Please listen closely, because I may not have much time," he murmured. "If any of my men should enter besides my light-haired aide, we are praying together for Sudrey's soul. The great lords have gone to elaborate lengths to conceal it, but believe me when I tell you that I have been a prisoner for these six years of my reign, ever since they arranged for the murder of my brother and seized control of Rhemuth."
"The murder—" Graham began. "Ye mean, King Javan?"
Rhys Michael nodded.
"But, they said that renegade Michaelines—"
"It wasn't renegade Michaelines," Rhys Michael said softly. "His own great lords betrayed him. And that same day that Javan was killed, probably at the very same hour, Archbishop Hubert and others took me prisoner in Rhemuth Castle. They drugged me and forced me to watch while they slaughtered the few men still loyal to Javan. The shock made my wife miscarry of what would have been our firstborn son."
"Dear holy Mother," Stacia whispered, wide-eyed, clutching her own son more closely to her breast "But, _why_?"
"To retain their power, of course. Javan was proving to be too powerful a king. They'd meant to pass over him in my favor. They'd hoped to keep him in the monastery and shunt him off into a harmless religious vocation. They didn't realize that he himself had sought out the monastery as a place to grow to manhood in safety, while he also gained the education he would need to rule. He never intended to be a monk. Weren't you surprised when you heard that Alroy was dead, and it was Javan to be crowned, not me?"
"Well, aye," Graham admitted. "But you didnae seem upset by it, when we came tae Rhemuth fer his coronation."
"Of course I wasn't. Javan was always supposed to be king after Alroy. Knowing what befell your father, Graham, believe me when I tell you that the great lords have stopped at nothing to retain the power they seized after my father's death. All during my brother Alroy's reign, even once the legitimate regency had ended, he was kept drugged to ensure his compliance, and the great lords actually ruled."
"D'ye think my father found out, an' that's why they killed him?" Graham asked, horrified.
"If he didn't know, he would have found out, if he'd spent much time at Court," Rhys Michael replied. "And I'm convinced that the only reason you remained safe was because your uncles were quick enough to uphold your rights and then smart enough to pull back to the fastness of the borders and the Kheldour highlands, where the regents dared not come. As long as none of you tried to interfere in Rhemuth, they were content to let you remain unmolested in the north; but you saw how savagely Murdoch went after Hrorik, when you came to Javan's coronation."
"But, they all swore Javan allegiance, before God an' on holy relics," Graham murmured. "I was there; I heard them do it!"
"Aye, and they were forsworn within the year," Rhys Michael replied. "Javan saw the danger from the beginning and tried to warn me, but I didn't want to see. As he began gaining strength, they began trying to undermine him. They were very good at it. Both Hubert and Manfred secretly encouraged me to marry, even though Javan warned me of the danger, if there were minor heirs while the great lords still had such power. I didn't believe him—I didn't _want_ to believe him, because I really do love Michaela—but I agreed to back off.
"When it became clear that I wasn't going to go against my brother, they had me kidnapped by 'Ansel MacRorie' and 'renegade Michaelines,' then had me 'rescued' by Manfred's men. They even arranged some convincing injuries in the process—and there I was, 'safe' in Manfred's castle to recover, and with Michaela conveniently there to nurse me back to health. She didn't know they were using her, of course. We both believed it was all real at the time, and we let the circumstances carry us right into marriage. Once Michaela was pregnant, it was only a matter of time before they set up Javan's murder."
Graham was still shaking his head slightly. "I cannae believe they would murder an anointed king," he whispered. "I mean, I dinnae doubt yer word, Sire, but—"
Rhys Michael glanced back at the door, then returned his gaze to Graham. "I understand," he said. "I didn't want to believe it either, at first. There's worse, too. Once Javan was dead, they kept me drugged until after my coronation, the way they'd done with Alroy. And once Michaela had recovered from her miscarriage, they—ordered us to start producing Haldane heirs."
"They ordered—" Stacia began. "But, ye cannae _order_ someone tae do that."
Rhys Michael allowed himself a bitter smile. "To survive, and to ensure the survival of one's line, one learns to be far more flexible than you can possibly imagine, my lady," he said softly. "We delayed as long as we dared, but the ultimate threat was that if _I_ didn't impregnate my wife, there were willing volunteers waiting in the wings to ensure that the job got done—and who would have known? Neither of us were ever allowed unsupervised contact with the outside world. From the time Alroy died, the eventual aim has been to secure the succession and then eliminate both Javan and me—which would give them another long regency in which to further entrench their power.
"They've got one heir now, and they'll have another after the first of the year. I expect I'm living on borrowed time. By the time my sons come of age, the authority of the crown will be so thoroughly bound up in the hands of Gwynedd's great lords that they won't even know it could be any other way. Unless... listen carefully," Rhys Michael said, drawing the two close. "I have a plan."
Stacia dared to lay a hand on his—cautious, tentative, sympathetic.
"Ye—dinnae sound like ye expect to get back to Rhemuth alive, Sire."
He shrugged. "Rhun probably would just as soon I'd died yesterday with Sudrey. It would have made life a great deal less complicated for him and the other great lords—though at least there're three fewer of them than when we rode out of Rhemuth."
Graham nodded, tight-jawed. "We'll no miss the likes o' Paulin an' Albertus," he muttered. " _Custodes_ bastards! But—how can we help? Wha' can we do fer ye?"
Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly in relief. "Do you mean that?" he whispered.
"Of course I do," Graham replied. "The Haldanes have always been friends o' my House. It wasnae Haldane treachery that slew my father. I know my uncle Sighere would agree, too. How can we help?"
Rhys Michael swallowed with difficulty and touched his good hand to Graham's. "Now that you've offered, I'm—not sure. I'd hoped for your support, but I haven't had much time to work through the details. Eventually, I may need military support, but for now—" He raised an eyebrow in sudden inspiration. "Would you and Sighere agree to be appointed regents for my son, if anything should happen to me before he comes of age?"
"Regents? Aye, whate'er ye wish, Sire." Graham paused a beat. "Are ye sure?"
"Oh, I am. The more I think about it, the surer I am. I know that neither of you could afford to neglect your own duties to be at Court all the time, but maybe you could take turns in Rhemuth. A regency council is already specified in my will; they made me sign what they wanted, years ago. But now that Paulin and Albertus are out of the running, they'll at least have to draw up a codicil. Maybe I could draft a codicil of my own before I leave; could you get me a local priest to witness it? And I'd try to set it up so that the other regents couldn't boot out either of you, the way they did with Duke Ewan and with Bishop Alister. If both of them had remained regents, the way my father wanted, Javan probably would still be alive and—"
He broke off as the door rattled behind them—Cathan's warning that they might be about to lose their privacy—and got to his feet.
"All right, we've got to make this quick," he murmured. "I don't know how long Cathan can hold off whoever's out there. Now, Rhun already knows I won't leave until after Lady Sudrey's funeral; try to delay that as late in the day as possible, so that by the time we've held court, he can't possibly try to leave before the next morning. I'd also like to move back to quarters here in the castle—tonight. There's no privacy at all in the camp, and it's going to take Cathan most of a night to draw up the document and make the necessary copies. Graham, I'll ask you to brief your uncle and line up that priest." He drew a breath and shifted his gaze to Stacia, who was hanging on his every word.
"My lady, I haven't forgotten you. By statute, I can't appoint a woman as regent who isn't of the Royal Family, but I'll be making a formal acknowledgment of you and your husband as the new Earl and Countess of Eastmarch, and taking your oaths of fealty. It will fall upon the two of you to help keep the peace here in the north, when Graham or Sighere or both are needed for extended duty in the capital."
"I understand, Sire. Ye have my support nonetheless—an' that o' my lord."
"Thank you. One last thing. Graham, it won't be possible for all of us actually to sign the documents in one another's presence—that's why it's essential that we have a good man as witness. However, as a sign of your approval and support of Stacia and Corban here in Kheldour, it wouldn't be inappropriate for you and Sighere to offer me reaffirmation of the oaths you swore at my coronation, once they're invested. We could agree among us privately that this also serves as a public affirmation of taking on potential regents' duty, and so specify in the document."
Graham nodded, wide-eyed.
"And that," Rhys Michael said, kneeling down at the altar rail on her other side, "is about all we have time for today. I suggest we all pray."
He had time to bow his head into his good hand before the door rattled behind him again and then opened. It was the Earl of Kierney who had come to fetch him—Iver MacInnis, Manfred's son, fully harnessed and armed for the field as he came striding down the little nave.
"Culliecairn's vacant, Sire," he said, including Graham and Stacia in his nod of address, as Cathan also appeared in the doorway. "The last of the Torenthi troops disappeared up the Coldoire Pass about an hour ago. My father says that if your hand isn't giving you too much discomfort, you might want to ride up and have a look. Lord Corban has already begun investing the castle with Eastmarch troops. You could even stay in Culliecairn tonight, if you wish."
Relieved that Iver seemed to be offering a choice, Rhys Michael got to his feet. His hand was throbbing again, but he knew he must not let that slow him down.
"I'll concede that the thought of a proper bed is appealing, after camp last night," he said, "but I've already accepted Lady Stacia's kind invitation to stay here, as a mark of respect for her mother. It's also occurred to me that we'll need to arrange for a formal court tomorrow; immediately after the funeral would probably be best. I'll want to invest the new Earl and Countess of Eastmarch and take their oaths of fealty."
To his surprise, Iver agreed. "I believe Lord Rhun had already intended something of the sort, Sire. Did you wish to ride up anyway? We can be back before dusk."
Rhys Michael nodded, cradling the arm again. "The hand hurts, but I expected that it would. It's about time for more of Master Stevanus' painkiller. He tells me that tomorrow is apt to be the worst."
"My sympathies," Iver said, and actually meant it. "If you're ready, then, we ought to go."
After taking his leave of Stacia and Graham, Rhys Michael rode back to the Gwynedd camp with Iver and Lior and his _Custodes_ escort. While Cathan and Fulk helped him arm—for he must look fit, even if he felt as if his whole body had been trampled, not just his hand—he managed to pass on to Cathan what was required in the way of documents. Since they had known of Hrorik's death before leaving Rhemuth, Cathan had been working en route to draw up the letters patent confirming Stacia and her husband as Earl and Countess of Eastmarch. Sudrey's death necessitated slight changes to the document—which provided perfect cover for Cathan to remain behind and also draft the codicil naming Graham and his uncle to any future regency.
"Consider the wording carefully," he murmured, as Cathan tightened down the buckles on the red brigandine. "It has to be unbreakable, and it has to stand up to the new will that I'll be forced to sign when we return. This may be the best hope yet, to at least help safeguard my sons, if anything happens to me."
He let Stevanus give him another half dose of the syrup of poppies before they rode out, and tried to set his mind against the pain that the drug could not control as he, Fulk, and Iver rode up to Culliecairn with a small escort to inspect the fruits of their past day's work.
In Rhemuth, while Rhys Michael rode toward Culliecairn, Queen Michaela gained her first inkling of some of those fruits as she strolled in the castle gardens with Rhysel. Earlier, they had taken advantage of the fine, sunny day to wash the queen's hair. Rather than remain cooped up in the solar with too many chattering ladies, Michaela decided to let it dry while she walked in the perfumed open air of the garden. She hummed snatches of a court tune as she paused to cut red roses climbing up a white-painted trellis, laying the blooms in a flat basket that Rhysel carried on her arm. The sun had kissed her face and hands with color, also lending highlights to her hair, which spilled past her hips in a fragrant cloud of wheaten glory.
After glancing around the garden with apparent indifference, Rhysel briefly closed her fingers round a handful of the tawny hair, then gestured toward a garden seat under the trellising.
"You're getting dry. Why don't you let me comb this again?"
Not thinking anything of the request, Michaela moved obediently under the trellising and sat down, closing her eyes as Rhysel set aside the basket and began gently combing through the damp tresses.
"Don't react, in case we're watched, but I heard from Joram last night," Rhysel murmured. "Culliecairn is resolved, and Prince Miklos is dead. So, unfortunately, is Sudrey of Eastmarch. She was Deryni, you know."
Michaela felt a cold claw clench at her insides, for Rhysel had not mentioned Rhysem, but she forced herself to keep her eyes closed as Rhysel kept combing, hoping nothing showed on her face.
"What about Rhysem?" she whispered.
"He's safe for the moment," Rhysel replied. "He had some kind of injury to his hand, but it doesn't appear to be too serious. What's potentially far more dangerous is that apparently there was a good deal of magic afoot when the king met Miklos. He'd taken Lady Sudrey with him, and most witnesses seem to think it was her magic that clashed with Miklos', but she wasn't thought to have that much power. Of course, no one really knew, because she put aside whatever she had when she took a human husband, and that's been twenty years ago."
"How—" Michaela had to pause to swallow before she could go on. "How did this meeting come to pass? I shouldn't have thought Rhun would let Rhysem meet Miklos face-to-face."
Rhysel shrugged and kept combing. "I can't tell you that Joram had his information from Ansel, who isn't exactly in a position to ask the principals involved. All he's able to do right now is to observe—and be ready to step in, if that's possible and advisable. I hope to have more information after tonight. It's likely, though, that the army will be heading home in a few days. With any luck, you should have your Rhysem back within a fortnight."
Plucking one of the roses from the basket, Michaela brought it to her face and inhaled deeply of its perfume.
"Dear God, let it be so," she whispered.
She returned to her quarters to try to sleep after that, both heartened and uneasy about Rhysel's news—and obliged not to reveal, in any way, that her information was more current than what was in the letters she received almost daily from her husband.
The most recent had told of Albertus and the odd attack by bees, though she knew from Rhysel that Albertus now was dead, and Paulin as good as dead, and that the spy Dimitri had perished as well—and Rhysem had come through it all safely. She expected official confirmation of that news to arrive at any time. It would shake the despicable Archbishop Hubert to the very core of his substantial and sanctimonious self and leave the remaining great lords similarly discomfited, for it totally shifted the balance of power among those who continued to presume that they, and not the king, should govern Gwynedd.
Later that evening, as she paid her permitted visit to her young son, she hugged him close and kissed him before tucking him into bed, ruffling the thick, dark hair and reflecting that perhaps, if fate continued to smile on his father, young Owain might inherit a free kingdom after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Righteous lips are the delight of kings; and they love him that speaketh right.
—Proverbs 16:13
It was not yet dark when the king's party returned to Lochalyn, satisfied with the arrangements at Culliecairn, but Rhys Michael was exhausted. His hand had not ceased throbbing, and he feared he was beginning to run a fever. After picking halfheartedly at supper in the castle's hall, he asked Stevanus to have a look.
"Maybe the bandages just need loosening," he said. "I expect it's more swollen than it was, but that's normal, isn't it?"
At Stacia's invitation, they retired to the lord's solar formerly shared by her parents, where his belongings had been moved up from camp during his absence of the afternoon. Though the new accommodation afforded greater comfort and privacy, and a woman's touch gentled the process of baring the hand for inspection, neither Stacia nor Stevanus looked particularly pleased. Most of the back of the hand was now a livid purple, and the skin around the sutures in the laceration was tight and shiny.
"There's certainly a good deal of swelling," Stevanus murmured, prodding at it gently, "but that isn't unexpected. I _am_ concerned about your fever. It could mean that an infection is developing. I think I need not tell you that a horse's hoof makes an incredibly filthy wound."
"But we cleaned it," Rhys Michael protested. He winced as Stacia began applying a fresh dressing of sphagnum moss.
"'Tis difficult tae clean sicht wounds properly," she murmured. "Ye shattered bones, too. That makes an injury like this especially dangerous."
"How dangerous?" Rhys Michael asked, turning his gaze on Stevanus.
The battle surgeon shrugged and began winding the bandages back over the splints. "I will not lie to you, Sire. Whenever bone is exposed to the air, there is danger. It could become necessary to take the hand. God knows, that would be a measure of last resort, for amputation carries its own dangers, but—"
"No," Rhys Michael whispered, hugging the wounded hand closer to his chest, remembering the Healer Tavis, who also had lost a hand. "Stevanus, I won't lose my hand. I won't!"
"We'll hope it doesn't come to that," Stevanus reassured him. "It's early on. A certain amount of fever is normal, with any wound. With luck, it will pass."
After Stacia had gone out, the surgeon prepared another draught of the syrup of poppies, watching the king drink it down before he left him to the ministrations of Cathan and Fulk for the night. When the drug had taken the edge from the pain but not yet made him too drowsy, Rhys Michael asked Cathan to show him the codicil he had drafted. Fulk had bedded down on a pallet near the door and, with a little encouragement from Cathan, was already fast asleep.
"I hope this is what you had in mind," Cathan said, perching on the edge of the bed beside the king. "If you approve, I'll make five copies during the night. I'm not sure exactly when we can arrange to get everybody to sign, but we'll manage something. At least Rhun has definitely agreed to stay through tomorrow night Corban intends to host a supper after the funeral and court. I expect that will be our best opportunity, once the wine starts flowing."
He held a rushlight closer so that Rhys Michael could read through the text. It named Graham MacEwan, Duke of Claibourne, and Sighere of Marley as regents during any minority of the king's heir, to serve regardless of whatever other regents might be named in any present or future decretal or last will and testament of Rhys Michael Alister Haldane. The appointments could not be reversed save by the king himself or the resignation of the men themselves. In case Sighere died before a Haldane heir came of age, the document designated the twenty-year-old Sean Coris, Master of Marley, to serve as Sighere's replacement.
"You're sure you want to make this an irrevocable appointment?" Cathan said, when the king had read it through. "Rhysem, I know you trust Claibourne, because you had a chance to talk with him and Truth-Read him, but you hardly know Marley. You have only Claibourne's word that he'll even accept, under these terms and conditions, and you have no idea about Marley's son."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes. His medication was making him drowsy. "Sighere and his brothers have always been loyal to my line," he whispered. "Their father gave my father his unqualified loyalty and bound his three sons to my father as well. The blood runs true in the brothers' offspring; I must trust that it runs true in Sighere as well. Both Graham and Stacia trust him."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to appoint Stacia, then?" Cathan asked. "At least you know _she's_ loyal. And she's got a few drops of Deryni blood, if that makes a difference."
"And I will cherish her for that, as well as for her loyalty today," he said, smiling as he glanced up at Cathan. "But I daren't appoint a woman as regent. The law forbids it and always has, except for members of the Royal Family. Besides that, I'm already treading on thin ice by trying to make this appointment at all. God alone knows whether it will stand up, if Graham has to exercise it. But at least he's a duke, so there's no one to outrank him."
Cathan allowed himself a sigh of exasperation, but he clearly could not argue his brother-in-law's point.
"I have to agree," he murmured. "Shall I make those copies, men? This is how you want it to read?"
Rhys Michael nodded, rubbing his upper arm above his bandages.
"I'd prefer to run it past more experienced legal minds, but we don't have that luxury. Make the five copies. Tomorrow we'll worry about how we're going to get them signed without Rhun or Manfred interfering."
Through the rest of the night he drifted fitfully in and out of sleep, unable to get comfortable, periodically aware of Cathan scratching away on his copies at a small table on the other side of the room, and that the rushlights burned nearly until dawn. On the occasions when he did dip deeper into sleep, his rest was marred by disturbing dreams that he could not remember on waking.
It was Fulk who came to rouse him, a few hours after dawn, looking by far the freshest of the three of them for having had a full night's sleep. Rhys Michael himself was hardly more rested than when he had gone to bed. He suspected that his fever had worsened during the night—his whole right arm was hot, from shoulder to fingertips—but he made himself get up and wash and dress, for he _must_ put in an appearance at Sudrey's funeral and the court and meal to follow.
Before the funeral, Rhun held an impromptu staff meeting in the castle's hall, to receive reports on the continued Torenthi withdrawal during the night and finalize plans for a departure on the morrow. Rhys Michael listened dutifully enough, brushing off Stevanus' attentions, for he did not want the surgeon to order him back to bed, but after drinking some ale he really did not want and eating a few mouthfuls of bread, he did accept another dose of painkiller.
The Requiem Mass for Sudrey of Eastmarch seemed to last forever, as he had feared. Being feverish, he bundled up in his crimson cloak with the Haldane brooch at the shoulder and alternated between shaking with chills and wanting to throw off all his clothes. The little chapel was packed, with people standing shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall, and even in the open doorway. Rhys Michael was feeling light-headed by the time it finished, but he could not even make an immediate escape, for Duke Graham had contrived to tell him, on the way into the chapel, that the priest, a Father Derfel, was utterly trustworthy and had agreed to witness the documents. But the king must make the final arrangements.
The priest disappeared into the little sacristy with his fresh-scrubbed altar servers, one of whom remained to extinguish the altar candles. The chapel quickly began to empty. Though Rhun and Manfred went out with the family, Graham gravely shepherding them as they headed toward the hall, where the court would follow, Rhys Michael kept back Cathan and Fulk—and Stevanus, lest there be any question, later on—and knelt near the front of the chapel in pretended prayer, waiting for the priest's servers to come out. Sudrey's closed coffin still lay before the altar, with four strong Eastmarch men waiting to lower it into its final resting place in the crypt once the mourners had gone.
Very shortly, the boys burst from the sacristy like exuberant puppies, their high spirits damping only momentarily as they saw him and made hurried bows before dashing on out the chapel door to the freedom of outdoors. Faintly smiling, Rhys Michael glanced at his companions and got to his feet. He had liked what he Read of Father Derfel during the Mass. The man exuded an air of kindness—a quality he did not often see in the sour _Custodes_ priests to whom he was accustomed.
"Wait here while I thank the good father for the Mass," he said "I won't be but a few minutes. I know court will be waiting."
His smile dimmed as he passed close to Sudrey's coffin, where the Eastmarch men were starting to move the slabs away, opening the vault to receive her. Drawing a deep breath, he set his hand on the latch of the sacristy door and went in.
The priest was still in alb and stole, his back to the door, diligently shaking out the black chasuble he had worn. Ginger-haired and bearded, of indeterminate middle years, he looked around in some surprise as the king closed the door behind him.
"I hope I didn't startle you, Father," Rhys Michael said in a low voice. "I believe his Grace of Claibourne spoke to you earlier this morning—or perhaps last night."
The priest gave him a careful nod and laid the chasuble aside.
"He did that, Sire. If what he has told me is correct, ye tak a grave risk."
Rhys Michael allowed him a fleeting smile and rubbed at his aching arm. "I do, if my great lords find out what I've done while I'm still alive. For that reason, I must ask that you keep all knowledge of this under the Seal of the Confessional. Once I'm gone, of course, you're released from that Seal. Then I'll _want_ the document to be broadcast as widely as possible."
"Ye have my word, Sire," the priest said, bowing slightly as he touched his right hand to the stole he still wore.
"Thank you." Rhys Michael pulled a much-folded copy of the draft of the text from inside his sling and passed it to the priest. "This is the draft version of the document I intend you to witness. Five copies have been drawn up in proper form. They'll need to be signed and sealed by the other principals before I sign. Do you mind if I sit while you read over it, Father? I'm feeling a bit light-headed. I fear my wound may be festering."
Quickly the priest procured a stool and shoved it under Rhys Michael as he sat, moving then to tilt the document by the better light from a lancet window beside the little vesting altar. He moved his lips as he read, his florid face going more and more pale, so that freckles stood out all across his tonsure and cheeks by the time he had finished.
"Sir, ye repose great trust in m'lords of Claibourne and Marley," he murmured. "Knowing both men, I believe such trust to be well placed, but ye _are_ aware that if the document stands in law—that ye may appoint such regents—they cannae then be ousted?"
Rhys Michael sighed wearily and shook his head. "Father, if you're counseling caution, know that I must seize this opportunity while I may and trust that I have judged these men correctly. Once my great lords have me back in Rhemuth, there will be no further opportunity to adjust the terms of a future regency more to my liking—and I cannot refuse to go back, or let my friends keep me here, for my wife and son and my unborn next heir lie totally in the great lords' power.
"As to whether the document will stand in law—that must be for others to determine, when and if it comes to that," he went on. "I can only do what best I may, while I yet live, to ensure that my sons have better regents than those with whom my brothers and I had to contend—if regents they must have. I pray, of course, that I shall live to see my sons' sons playing at my knee, serene in my old age, and free at last of the fetters of this past decade. But I harbour no illusions about my personal safety, once my queen is delivered of the child she now carries—especially if it is another prince, as I believe it to be."
He did not tell the priest that he already knew the child was another boy, for not even to a holy man dared he reveal that the Crown of Gwynedd again had Deryni connections. Even so, Father Derfel stared at him, mouth agape, then dropped to his knees at the king's feet.
"I am yer man, Sire," he whispered. "Earl Hrorik, God rest 'im, ever said yer line were brave and honorable, an' now I know it tae be true. But, how do ye mean to accomplish e'en this, if yer great lords watch ye so carefully?"
Rhys Michael rubbed his good hand over his face, trying to think. He was shivering with fever again, and even his good hand shook as he clasped it closer around the injured arm.
"After court, Sir Cathan will bring you the copies of the document. There are five: one each for Claibourne, Marley, and Lady Stacia, one for yourself, and one for me. The other principals will come to you individually during supper, in the place Lady Stacia shall designate, to sign and seal them in your presence. At some point I shall contrive to join you and add my own signature, such as it is." He slightly raised his bandaged hand. "That's another reason it's essential that I sign in your presence. I shall leave you my signet to seal the documents while I return to the hall, but you must get it back to me or to Sir Cathan as soon as possible, lest someone notice. I must also have my copy of the document before I leave tomorrow."
"I understand," the priest agreed. "But—Sire, are ye well enough to see this through? Ye look sommat feverish."
Rhys Michael touched the back of his good hand to his forehead and suppressed a shudder. "I _have_ to be well enough, Father," he whispered. "I'm sure I'll be all right. Master Stevanus said I might expect a fever for the first few days." He indicated his bandaged hand and gave an ironic smile. "Did they tell you what happened? Somebody's damned horse _stepped_ on me!"
Without invitation, the priest touched his hand to Rhys Michael's forehead and grimaced at the heat he felt. "'Tis no matter fer jest, Sire," he murmured. "Are they giving ye sommat for the fever?"
The king shook his head. "Not that I know of. Just syrup of poppies for the pain. To be fair, the fever's only gotten bad in the last little while. But I have to make it through court."
"God willin', ye shall do, Sire," the priest replied. "May I tell Lady Stacia? Her dear mother taught her much o' the healing arts that is not widely known."
"She helped Stevanus change my dressing last night," Rhys Michael murmured. "I expect she's done all she can. But go ahead and tell her, if you think it might help."
A cautious rap at the door returned their attention to more immediate concerns.
"I'd better go," the king said, getting to his feet. "That will be Sir Cathan, warning me I'll be missed soon."
"Aye, Sire. May I offer ye t'drink before ye go? Ye should be havin' lots o' fluids, with that fever."
"If it isn't too much trouble, that would be very kind," the king replied.
Fetching a silver ewer from a credence table near the vesting altar, the priest set it beside the communion vessels he had brought in from Mass and swept the burse and pall and veil off the chalice.
"I noticed, by the way, that ye didnae come up for Communion," he said, as he poured wine into the chalice. "Was there a reason for that? Should ye be seeking me out for shriving?"
Rhys Michael snorted. "My great lords would never allow me to confess to a priest who isn't of the _Custodes_ Order," he murmured. "Besides, I'd already eaten this morning. Master Stevanus wouldn't give me any more painkiller until I'd eaten something, and I thought that was more important than to keep the fast so that I could receive." He raised an eyebrow as the priest handed him the chalice, and asked, "Should I be drinking from this? I thought that holy vessels were reserved for holy things."
"What thing more holy than ministerin' tae one o' God's children who is ill?" Derfel replied with an arch smile. "Especially if that child be my anointed king. Would ye still be desirous o' receivin' Communion, Sire?"
Rhys Michael paused with the chalice halfway to his lips, suddenly aware that he did wish it. Somehow, the offer from this rustic priest meant more to him than all the bishops and other high-ranking clerics with whom he had ever come into contact.
"Yes, I would, Father. But only if you're sure it doesn't violate any rules."
"I keep the rules that serve His pleasure," Derfel said, gesturing toward the Presence Light burning atop the tabernacle on the little altar. "An' His pleasure is tae see His children come to Hun in love an' prayerfulness. I dinnae think He cares o'ermuch for some o' the legalities imposed by the men who govern His Church on earth—not when those legalities would deny His solace to His children who are in need. Ye took food as part o' medicine." He gestured toward the chalice. "That's medicine as well. Drink up, Sire, an' then kneel in thanksgiving, while I bring ye the Body of our Lord."
Somehow imbued with new energy, just by the words, Rhys Michael drained the chalice to the dregs, welcoming the cool wine sliding down his dry throat, then eased to his knees, clutching the chalice to his breast. Father Derfel had turned to reverence the tabernacle on the little altar, and now swung wide its golden door to part a veil of green silk and take out a ciborium of hammered gold. Removing the cover, he set it aside and turned to face the king, carefully taking out a small Host, which he held above the cup.
" _Ecce Agnus Dei: ecce qui tollit peccata mundi_ ," he said. Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him Who taketh away the sins of the world.
Bowing his head, Rhys Michael murmured, " _Domine, non sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo et sanabitur anima mea._ " Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof; speak but the word and my soul shall be healed...
He found himself gazing into the empty chalice as he recited the words, somehow visualizing light collecting in the golden bowl, and for the first time in many days he felt a sense of inner peace moving in his soul as he looked up again at Father Derfel, who now raised the Host a little higher.
" _Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodial animam tuam in vitam aeternam._ " The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve thy soul unto everlasting life.
"Amen," Rhys Michael murmured, closing his eyes then as Father Derfel put the Host on his tongue.
He could not have said, later, that it tasted any different from Communion he had received a hundred times before, but it somehow meant more to him. He knew he dared not linger to savor the feeling, but when Father Derfel had covered the ciborium again and put it back into the tabernacle, he felt a greater sense of his own sacral station than he had ever felt before, even at his anointing as king. Despite the fever still mounting in his body, he felt profoundly at peace as he handed the chalice back to Father Derfel, and when the priest offered a hand to help him up, Rhys Michael bent instead to kiss it.
"Sire, ye shouldnae do that," Derfel murmured, gently shifting his other hand to caress the king's sable hair in blessing.
"But I wanted to," Rhys Michael murmured, looking up at him. "I give you this salute as a token of my gratitude. You've given me back my balance, so that I can go out and do what I must, as an anointed king. I'd almost lost that, after years of going through the motions with priests I detest, whose sins are in their hearts and on their lips, and whose hands are stained with innocent blood. Thank you for reminding me that it doesn't have to be that way."
"My dear, dear boy," Derfel murmured.
Another, more insistent rap at the door impelled him to draw the king to his feet again, this time urging him to go.
"Be off wi' ye now, Sire. I'll see to the arrangements. God be with ye."
Rhys Michael was blinking back tears as he made his way back to the door, and he had to pause for a few seconds to compose himself. Stevanus said nothing as he came out, obviously reassured by Cathan, but the king decided it was probably best to offer at least a partial explanation for his long absence. As soon as they had gotten clear of the chapel, where men were already closing the slabs above Sudrey's grave, he glanced at the surgeon.
"I was only going to thank him for the Mass, but he'd noticed that I didn't go forward for Communion," he told Stevanus, as they went into the courtyard to cross to the great hall steps. "I told him I'd already broken my fast, so I could take my painkiller, but he said that was medicinal, under the circumstances, so it didn't count. I didn't think you'd mind the short delay."
"That was very kind of him," Stevanus said. "I shouldn't think even Rhun will mind—but we do need to hurry." He reached out to touch the king's hand, then his forehead. "That fever doesn't seem to be abating, though. Are you up to this court? I could have Lord Rhun deputize for you."
"No, I want to do it," the king said. "After coming all this way and costing them their lord and lady, it's the least I can do for Eastmarch. I'm also very hungry, so don't try to send me off to bed until I've had a crack at the food they've been cooking for two days."
He was _not_ hungry, but he knew he must establish from the start that he intended to perform his duties. He was feeling more and more light-headed, perhaps partially from the wine, but it was essential that he get through this, both for the reasons he had outlined to Stevanus and for the ones Stevanus must never know. He hoped he would feel better, once he had eaten. As it was, the smell of the food made him faintly nauseated as they approached the steps to the castle's hall.
The party to be invested were already assembled in the yard outside, Stacia and her husband waiting with half a dozen of their retainers. An adolescent girl in border tweeds held the infant Kennet, and two younger girls carried cushions bearing hammered silver circlets. Earl Sighere was husbanding a banner of the arms of Eastmarch in the crook of his arm, looking impatient, and his son Sean bore a sheathed broadsword with the sword belt wrapped around the scabbard—presumably the former property of Hrorik.
When Sighere saw the king approaching, he handed off the banner to his son and came over to greet the king.
"'Tis glad I am tae see ye here, Sire," he murmured, inclining his head slightly. "Ye didnae look too well during Mass."
Rhys Michael gave him a wan smile. "I have some fever," he acknowledged, "but I could hardly allow it to interfere with so important an event. I tarried to thank Father Derfel for offering Mass in Lady Sudrey's behalf. Would that I had more such priests in my service."
Sighere nodded carefully. "Father Derfel is a braw priest, an' a credit to his callin'."
"That was my thought as well," Rhys Michael agreed.
"Aye." Sighere's glance flicked to Stevanus, to Cathan, then back to the king, betraying nothing. Fulk had gone ahead into the hall.
"They'll be waitin' fer ye, Sire. Ye'd best go ahead in. I do thank ye for coming to our aid, if ye were not thankit before. Kheldour stands ready tae serve, as we hae served yer Highness these past days. By yer leave, Sire."
So saying, he gave the king another nod of his head and withdrew to retrieve his banner. Stevanus watched him go, men turned to glance at the king, apparently suspecting nothing.
"You _are_ looking peaked, Sire. Are you sure you're up to this?"
"I'm fine," Rhys Michael said.
They went on into the hall, which was already crowded. Rhys Michael had not thought about it before, but it was hardly half the size of the hall at Rhemuth. Mostly empty before, it had seemed larger.
With a supper to follow, the high table was set up across the dais as usual, with trestle tables and benches along both long sides of the hall. In the open space between the arms of the U thus formed, almost against the high table, they had positioned a high-backed chair to serve as a throne. Up to the right of it, an intense-looking Duke Graham was listening to instructions from Rhun and Manfred, looking none too happy, while Lord Joshua and Father Lior looked on.
The group dispersed as Rhys Michael approached, Rhun drawing Manfred aside in some private converse and Graham starting to marshal the retainers milling in the hall, urging them to approach the dais and leave a center aisle. Father Derfel had come in while the king spoke with Sighere, carrying a silver-cased Gospel book and wearing a white cope over his alb and stole. Father Lior looked none too pleased that the priest obviously expected to participate in the ceremony.
"Your offer of assistance is most generous, Father, but I believe we have things under control," Lior said.
"I've nae doubt that ye do, Father," Derfel said smoothly, as Rhys Michael passed, "but I am confessor tae Lady Stacia and Lord Corban. They hae begged leave tae swear their oaths on the Gospel book from which they hear the word o' God each day; an' who but their confessor can better remind them o' those oaths, when the king is far from Eastmarch?"
Even Lior could not gainsay that argument; and if he had tried, Rhys Michael was prepared to put in his own arguments for Derfel's presence. Fortunately, Rhun was approaching, gesturing for Fulk to bring the king's crown and sword.
"I think we should begin, Sire," he said, as Cathan took the crown from Fulk and put it on Rhys Michael's head.
_You're burning up_ , Cathan sent, adjusting the crown on the king's clammy brow.
Rhys Michael could only shrug as he sat in the chair provided and Fulk laid the sheathed Haldane sword across its arms. As the others took their places around them and the retainers of Eastmarch and Claibourne and Marley crowded into the hall, he tried to summon up the strength to get through this ceremony. He was feeling worse and worse.
A muffled roll of drums demanded the attention of all present, then began beating out a slow cadence suitable for a stately procession. In happier times, border pipes would have accompanied the new earl and countess down the length of the crowded hall, but not with Sudrey buried hardly an hour before, and not with the late earl but a fortnight before her.
The two came before him and made their reverences, Stacia still garbed in the unremitting black she had worn to her mother's funeral, Corban in drab border tweeds. Sighere had unfurled the Eastmarch banner and footed it on the step of the dais, and Graham stood beside Rhys Michael's chair, bearing the letters patent. Father Derfel waited at the young duke's elbow, the Gospel book hugged to his breast.
Rhys Michael glanced at Rhun and Manfred, keeping attendance from the other side, then turned his gaze to his Eastmarch retainers and their new earl and countess.
"My lords and ladies, people of Eastmarch," he said, speaking quietly, but in a voice that carried to the far end of the hall. "Mere words cannot express the honor I feel to be here among you, and to know the loyalty that has surrounded me these past days, as we stood together against would-be invaders. You have paid a high price, for you have lost both your earl and his lady in my service. It is a price they were prepared to pay, but I cannot but wish that payment could have been made in some other coin. I knew Lord Hrorik but slightly, from my boyhood days, and only met the Lady Sudrey on the night before she laid down her life in my defense, but both were brave and honorable. I can only hope and pray that our Lord in Heaven will richly reward those who, in life, served their earthly lord so well and so faithfully."
The hall had grown hushed and expectant as he went on, a murmur of approval whispering among his listeners. Rhun had an increasingly sour look on his face.
"But we have not come here today to speak more of Lord Hrorik and his lady, who are with us no more, but to acknowledge their daughter and heir, who comes before us to be invested as Countess of Eastmarch, and also her husband, Lord Corban Howell, who will rule as earl at her side. It is not often that so noble a title passes through the female line, but knowing what I do of the Lady Sudrey, I cannot think that her daughter will be any less noble as she assumes the office borne so faithfully by her late father. My lady? Lord Corban?"
At his gesture, the two came to kneel before him, Stacia directly at his knees, Corban a handspan back, for the two would give their oaths separately. As Stacia offered him her joined hands, he slipped his bandaged hand out of its sling to clasp her hands lightly against it with his good hand. Father Derfel had come forward with the Gospel and held it down beside their joined hands.
"Stacia, Countess of Eastmarch, I am prepared to hear your oath," the king said quietly.
Her dark eyes did not leave his as she spoke.
"I, Stacia, Countess of Eastmarch, do become yer vassal of life an' limb, an' enter yer fealty, an' do homage for all the lands of Eastmarch, formerly held by my father Hrorik, an' before him by my grandfather, Sighere, Warlord o' Kheldour an' first Duke o' Claibourne. Faith and truth will I bear unto ye, tae live an' tae die, against all manner o' folk, sae help me God."
Her hands were trembling between his, his injured hand throbbing to be so pressed, but he would not alter the symbolism merely for his own comfort. It struck him that this was the first time he had ever exchanged such oaths with any of his vassals with any sense that he actually had control over how the relationship was conducted. In truth, he had never been allowed an opportunity to interact with any of his vassals as king. The exhilaration made his blood sing through his veins and brought a faint flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with fever.
"This do I hear, Stacia of Eastmarch, and I, for my part, pledge the protection of Gwynedd to you and all your people, to defend you from every creature with all my power, giving loyalty for loyalty and justice for honor. This is the word of Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, King of Gwynedd, Lord of Meara and Mooryn and the Purple March, and Overlord of Eastmarch. So help me God."
When both he and Stacia had laid their hands on the Gospel and kissed its silver-chased cover, Corban Howell likewise set his hands briefly between the king's and then kissed the book, though he was not required to repeat the oath—only to affirm it. Rhys Michael liked what he could Read of Corban and had no doubt that the new earl was well content. In all practical aspects, this younger son of an impoverished family of gentry was now Earl of Eastmarch for Stacia's lifetime, the title to pass to their son upon her death. If one could not himself be born to such titles, attaining such a title by marriage was an entirely honorable and satisfactory way to establish his own noble succession. Young Corban had done well for himself.
There followed the investiture with the emblems of rank, each with its own symbolism. Handing off the Haldane sword, the king stood to place the silver circlets upon their heads, first Stacia and then Corban. He was awkward with only one hand—he had slipped his injured one back into its sling—but Father Derfel assisted him.
The banner that Sighere brought forward was easier to manage one-handed. Declaring it a token of Stacia's authority to govern Eastmarch in his name, the king delivered it into Stacia's hands. She, in turn, passed it into the keeping of Murray, one of her captains, as Sighere's son Sean brought forward the sword that had belonged to Hrorik.
This the king also gave to Stacia, in token of her duty to defend her people. After kissing the holy relic on its hilt, Stacia presented it to Corban, who followed suit and then enlisted the assistance of Duke Graham to belt the weapon around his waist. When that was done, the new earl stood to draw it and salute the king before sheathing it again.
Finally Rhys Michael presented Stacia with a cauldron, symbolic of her duty to provide for her people. Stacia herself took charge of this, laying her hand upon it in acceptance before another of her captains took it aside. The ceremony completed, Rhys Michael at last raised her up and turned her to face those gathered in the crowded hall, also gathering Corban to her side.
"People of Eastmarch, I give you your new Earl and Countess of Eastmarch. Be ye loyal and true, as they shall be to you."
A lone piper struck up a jaunty march at that, as the men cheered and brandished their swords in support and a few of Stacia's men took her and Corban onto their shoulders and paraded them the length of the hall and back. Rhun and Manfred and some of the Gwynedd men looked a little dismayed at first, but it soon became clear that pride and high spirits prevailed, rather than any danger. While the demonstration continued, Rhys Michael sank back down on his chair, conserving his strength, trying not to look as if he were anticipating what, for him, would be the most important part of the afternoon's ceremony.
When the impromptu parade had returned, young Graham held up his hands for silence, men turned to face the king and bowed. Sighere also had moved closer.
"Sire, ane boon I would ask, before we adjourn tae tak refreshment," Graham said. "I assure ye that it is within yer power tae give, an' that it isnae to the detriment o' yer crown."
Rhun and Manfred drew closer, wary and suspicious, but Rhys Michael feigned ignorance of what Graham intended.
"Speak, my Lord Duke," he said. "The king listens."
Graham inclined his head, partially turning to address the court as well.
"Sire, as was my duty, I gave ye my homage and fealty at yer coronation. Neither of us were long come into our manhood at that time, an' it was said that yer Highness' health had suffered temporarily from the shock of yer brother's untimely death, both o' which perhaps lessened yer Highness' appreciation o' the oaths we then exchanged.
"Circumstances havenae brought me back tae Rhemuth since then, an' they didnae bring yer Highness tae Kheldour until a few days ago. But in these past days, I and mine hae seen ample evidence that the king to whom I swore allegiance out o' duty is also worthy o' that allegiance on his own merits. Accordingly, an' it please yer Highness, I beg yer leave tae renew my oath o' fealty at this time."
Even having known that Graham was going to do this, Rhys Michael felt his pulse soar in excitement and pride and quickly swept his good hand before him in invitation for Graham to approach, before Rhun or Manfred could object. Paulin or Albertus would have forbidden it straightaway, as too public a display of personal support for the king, but Rhys Michael was gambling that neither Rhun nor Manfred was yet secure enough in his new office to make a public scene this far from home and on a point to which only those openly opposed to the king could possibly object.
As Graham came to kneel close before his chair, Rhys Michael sat forward and slipped his injured hand out of his sling again so he could clasp the young duke's joined hands between his own. As Graham's lips parted to speak the ritual words, Rhys Michael allowed himself to slip into the surface levels of the other's mind, reading the additional meanings already promised in their earlier conversation of the day before.
"Before God an' these assembled witnesses, I, Graham, Duke o' Claibourne, do affirm that I am yer man o' life and limb an' earthly worship. Faith and truth will I bear unto ye, tae live an' tae die, against all manner o' folk, sae help me God."
As he finished the oath, he dipped to press his forehead to their joined hands, first briefly touching his lips to the king's fingertips. Rhys Michael did not think Rhun or Manfred noticed, but he felt the fierce surge of the younger man's devotion, and held the joined hands more closely as Graham lifted his head, even though the pressure made his injured hand throb worse.
"Graham of Claibourne, this do I hear," he said, trying to keep his joy from showing but still convey his gratitude to the young duke. "As I swore at my sacring, so I pledge you anew—the protection of Gwynedd to defend you and all your people from every creature with all my power, giving loyalty for loyalty and justice for honor. This is the oath of Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, King of Gwynedd, Lord of Meara and Mooryn and the Purple March, and Overlord of Claibourne. So help me God."
As he released Graham's hands, the younger man crossed himself in affirmation of the oath and then got to his feet. Earl Sighere was already moving in to take his place, thumping to his knees to offer up his joined hands.
"Ye hae my pledge as well, Sire," he murmured, as Rhys Michael's hands enfolded his. "I am yer man—and do ye merely say _Amen_ to affirm it, for there be many more who desire tae swear ye the same."
As he, too, ducked his head to kiss the royal hand and then press his forehead to their joined ones in homage, Rhys Michael whispered, "Amen." Several dozen more came forward after that, to his growing amazement and gratitude and to the consternation of Rhun and Manfred, who quickly figured out what the men were doing when they bent to touch their foreheads to the hands.
The two drew apart a little to murmur between themselves, and Rhys Michael knew he would have questions to answer when it was all over, but he hardly cared, in the soul-soaring exuberance of learning what support he actually had. He Truth-Read them as they came, knowing there was none to detect it and betray him, and plumbed the depth of loyalty that lay behind each murmured "I am yer man"—loyalty that was his to command, could he ever find a way to tap it to free his crown.
His hand was aching worse than ever by the time they finished, for he could not help but jostle it in performing the ritual gesture—but he would not have omitted it for all the world and disappoint such fervent devotion.
But other reckoning came almost immediately, as the court broke up and folk dispersed for the feast to be set up—and Rhun and Manfred shuffled him apart, into the relative privacy of a deep window embrasure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie.
—II Thessalonians 2:11
"What the devil was that all about?" Rhun demanded, drawing the king deeper into the window embrasure as Manfred took up a stance to block further entrance or departure. "They were kissing your hand—every single man jack of them."
"I suppose it's local custom," Rhys Michael murmured, cradling his aching arm. "They're a passionate people, these borderers. You've seen them in action."
"Yes, and I know what it means, when they seal an oath that way," Rhun said. "It makes the oath a personal one—to the man, not just to the crown."
"Does it?"
"It bloody well does, and you know it!" Rhun snapped, though he kept his voice low. "Don't play the innocent with me. Did you know Claibourne was going to do that?"
"Of course not," Rhys Michael lied. "If I had, I would have told you. But once they'd started doing it, what was I supposed to do? Jerk my hands away and insult them? Spurn the loyalty of a quarter of the kingdom? It may have escaped your notice, Rhun, but without the Kheldour lords—and in particular, without that lady we buried a few hours ago—we might not be having this discussion. And I might not be the only one dead."
Rhun breathed out in a perplexed sigh, obviously keeping his temper in check only with the greatest of effort.
"Well, it doesn't matter now; it's done," he muttered. "Just don't get any ideas in your head."
"Ideas? What ideas?" Rhys Michael retorted, as all the despair of the past six years came welling up, pulsing with the ache in his arm. "What the hell do you think I might do? What _could_ I do?"
"I don't know!" Rhun retorted, then glanced around and lowered his voice as he continued in a more conciliatory tone. "Just don't push me, Sire. As you may have gathered, I'm still uneasy over this whole Eastmarch affair—the deaths en route, the resolution with Miklos, and now this little demonstration by Claibourne and Marley. And with Albertus and Paulin gone, the entire balance in Rhemuth will be shifting as well. If you were to become too inconvenient—well, I don't think I need to spell it out, do I?"
Rhys Michael blinked and swallowed with difficulty, tight-jawed, then shook his head.
"I thought not," Rhun murmured, glancing out into the hall again. "Now, I think no one would take it amiss if you were to retire early this evening. I'm a little concerned about your hand. You don't look at all well."
Rhys Michael looked away, hugging the injured arm to his chest. "I'll be all right," he muttered. "Why should you care? I should think it would be the ultimate 'convenience' if I died from it."
"Not really," Rhun said. "Actually, I should prefer to choose the time and place for _my_ convenience." He gave the king a quick grimace that might have passed for a smile, though without a trace of mirth, then set his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"But I think we need not speak further of such things tonight, Sire. Shall I have Stevanus escort you to your quarters?"
Rhys Michael made himself stand more erect, setting his good hand on his belt and trying to strike the right balance between assertion and compliance. Were it only for his own comfort, he would have sought his bed some time ago, but one last duty remained to be done before he dared seek that comfort, and he must not allow Rhun to interfere.
"Not quite yet, if you don't mind," he said. "I really am feeling better than I probably look, and it would be insulting to our hosts not to make an appearance at least. Besides, I have to eat. If you prefer, though, I won't stay too late. I'll confess that bed sounds like an altogether tempting proposition."
"Very well," Rhun said, "if you're sure."
Rhys Michael could feel the earl marshal's gaze following him as he pressed past him and Manfred and went back into the hall. To his relief, neither man pressed the issue, though he knew, as he rejoined Cathan and Fulk, that they and probably Stevanus would be told to watch him. So long as it was just those three, the situation probably was surmountable. He prayed that it was, because the very future of the Haldane Crown perhaps depended upon it.
They were summoned to table very shortly. Rhys Michael was glad to escape to the less demanding small talk of a feast beginning, subdued though it was because of the castle's recent bereavement. He had Stacia seated on his right, in the place of honor, with her husband beyond and Graham and Sighere at that end of the table, though he could not speak freely because Lior was on his immediate left, followed by Joshua Delacroix. Rhun and Manfred sat beyond with several of their aides, where they might be free to observe and comment to one another in relative privacy.
Cathan and Fulk took turns serving the king, also giving instructions to the local squires assigned to wait table. Rhun had drawn the two aside early on, one at a time—to order them to accompany the king, if he even went out to use the privy—but later in the meal, Cathan was able to confirm that he had gotten the necessary documents to Father Derfel, who was waiting in a tiny chamber just beyond one of the garderobes.
After the pace of the previous few days, the meal seemed to drag, with the courses interspersed with interludes of sad harping and singing, some of it in a dialect Rhys Michael did not understand. He only picked at his food, but he managed to drink enough wine to further blunt the throbbing of his arm—though he took care lest it also blunt the edge of his wits for survival. Both Graham and Stacia had already disappeared briefly during the course of the meal, and Sighere had been in and out of the hall several times, ostensibly stewarding the flow of wine.
"All the others have signed," Cathan finally reported, as he bent close to refill the king's cup, "but it's worthless without your signature and seal. The way Rhun is watching you, though, it's going to be a near-run thing. You'll only get one chance."
The chance came a short time later, when Manfred had just returned from a trip to the privies and settled in beside Rhun again, in time for the serving of a new course; Rhun had disappeared briefly a short time before, so probably would not be inclined to disappear again for a while. Stevanus was talking to one of the men who had been wounded with Hrorik the week before.
Quietly excusing himself from the company of Stacia and Corban—Lior was deep in conversation with Joshua and one of Manfred's aides—Rhys Michael rose a trifle shakily on Cathan's arm and staggered from the hall, Fulk following a few seconds later. Sighere passed them en route to the exit, none too steady on his feet and with a goblet in his hand, but Rhys Michael suspected he was far more sober than he looked. The priest's chamber lay a few steps farther up the stairwell from which the curtained garderobe opened, just off the landing outside the hall. With a quick glance around, Rhys Michael simply continued up the stair to slip inside while Cathan took up a more leisurely stance outside the garderobe entrance, just as Fulk came out of the hall.
"Any problem?" he heard Fulk ask.
"No, but he may be a few minutes," Cathan replied. "Say, did you notice that pretty dark-haired lass who was sitting way at the end of the table on the left? She was watching you."
"Yes? Which one was that?"
Trusting Cathan to keep Fulk occupied and divert any suspicion, Rhys Michael closed the door the rest of the way and turned to the table where Father Derfel waited behind a rack of candles, a quill already in hand and extended to him. The faint perfume of melted sealing wax tickled at his nostrils as he removed his signet ring and gave it to the priest, then took the quill awkwardly in his left hand and bent to sign. It was difficult, but he did the best he could, scrawling a reasonably legible _Rhys R._ on each of the five copies. Derfel began sealing them as soon as Rhys Michael had finished the first one.
"Get the seal back to Sir Cathan as soon as you can," he whispered, after finishing the last one with a shaky flourish and then sticking the quill back in the inkwell. "They're really watching me. If anyone notices that I'm suddenly not wearing it, there could be questions."
"Gie me half a minute, an' ye can tak it now," Derfel replied, already applying wax to the third of the copies as the king moved to the door.
Nodding agreement, the king quietly eased the door open far enough to set his eye to the crack. To his horror, Rhun had just stepped into the landing and was looking either at Cathan and Fulk or at the garderobe entrance, a frown furrowing his narrow brow.
Rhys Michael drew back in momentary panic, heart pounding, then carefully set his eye to the crack again. Rhun did not look particularly suspicious or upset; but he was there. Fulk was nodding amiably to the earl marshal. Carefully Rhys Michael sent out a tendril of thought to Cathan, hoping he could reach him without physical contact.
_Cathan?_
Startlement came through, though Cathan showed no outward sign of it. Dismayed, Rhys Michael realized that his kinsman did not seem to have the power to send back more than impressions.
_Don't waste energy trying to send back. Just do what I tell you. I know you can handle Fulk. I also want you to maneuver Rhun around so his back is to me_.
From Cathan came a sense of query.
_The only thing I can do; blank him for about five seconds, long enough for me to get into the garderobe. But you've got to get him up a few steps so I can reach him before he sees or hears me_.
Agreement came through the link, even as Cathan turned toward Rhun. He was just opening his mouth to speak when Sighere came careening into the landing from the great hall, wine sloshing from a goblet in one big hand as he caught his balance against the door jamb.
"Weel, if it isnae Rhun the Ruthless," he said amiably, the words slurred and a little too loud, his gaze unfocused. "I rememmer you. What're ye doin' in Marley, Ruthless?"
As he lurched closer to Rhun and peered at him blearily, and Rhun drew back in distaste, Rhys Michael hoped desperately that Sighere was only trying to divert Rhun, not pick a serious fight. Of one thing he was certain; Rhun was not drunk. He was fairly certain Sighere was not really drunk either. There was bad blood between the two, though. If it came to blows, real blood might be shed—and at least one of the men was apt to die.
Not that he would mourn Rhun's loss. But if Sighere died, that would nullify half the document Rhys Michael had just gone to such pains to get signed—and sealed, he remembered, as the priest slipped in beside him to slide the signet ring back on his hand. And if it was Rhun who was killed, he would hate to have to bring Sighere up on charges of murder.
"You're drunk," Rhun said in disgust. "Why don't you go sleep it off?"
Sighere drew back in a theatrical posture of mock affront—staggering a few steps away from Rhun and the garderobe entrance—and managed an exaggerated pout.
"Tha's no verra friendly. I hae sworn tae yer Haldane king. That makes us allies. Will ye no share a drink?" he asked.
As he held out his goblet, still weaving on his feet, Rhun was already summoning Fulk and Cathan—who would just about provide a convenient screen between Rhun and the garderobe, provided Sighere kept up the diversion. Already, Rhun had his back to the stairs.
"Fulk, get him out of here before I do something we'll both regret," Rhun muttered. "God, these borderers are all alike—"
"Wha's wrong wi' m'drink?" Sighere was muttering, looking into his goblet quizzically and sloshing a little as Fulk and Cathan swept in to take him in charge, also sweeping Rhun along. "Ish good wine. Ah, yer spillin' it. Careful!"
In those few seconds of confusion, as Sighere juggled his wine and the others tried to jolly him along, Rhys Michael was able to dash down the few steps and gain the shelter of the garderobe entrance, pushing the curtain aside even as he pivoted in the doorway, as if he had just come out.
"What the devil is going on out here?" he demanded, twitching the curtain closed behind him.
"Oh, _there_ you are," Rhun said, straightening his tunic as Cathan and Fulk propelled Sighere back into the hall with a good-natured shove. "I wondered where you'd gotten to. Sorry, Sire, but your precious Earl of Marley is a sloppy drunk. The fool accosted me."
"What, outside the privy?" Rhys Michael said with a snort, unable to resist the gibe. "I shouldn't think he was serious."
Rhun stiffened and moved closer. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, never mind. If you're determined to take offense at some simple high spirits from men to whom we owe a great deal—Why were you lurking out here, anyway? You know Sighere doesn't bear you a great deal of goodwill."
"Actually, I was looking for you," Rhun said.
"Looking for me?"
"Yes."
"Whatever for? Can't I even go to the privy without you following me around? Isn't it bad enough that Fulk and Cathan are my faithful shadows?"
Rhun managed to look almost a little embarrassed. "You were in there for quite a while."
"What, having secret conferences?" Rhys Michael said, suddenly realizing that he had Rhun on the defensive and could skirt very close to the truth and make it seem outrageous. He gestured toward his injured arm.
"I don't suppose it occurred to you that this might have slowed me down just a little," he went on, letting the sarcasm bite with his words. "Or did you think I might have invited some secret supporter into the garderobe with me, so we could plot intrigues while he helped me take a piss? Your suspicion is getting out of hand, Rhun. Do you want to have a look and see if he's still in there?"
As he gestured scornfully toward the garderobe curtain, Rhun turned on his heel and stalked back into the hall. As soon as he had disappeared, Rhys Michael had to turn away briefly as he nearly convulsed in silent laughter, Cathan and Fulk also fighting to control wide grins as a bewildered-looking Claibourne retainer poked his head onto the landing, took one look at them, and went back into the great hall.
After a few seconds, Rhys Michael drew himself up more soberly, going nearly white as the throbbing in his arm recalled him to more immediate concerns.
"Well done, gentlemen," he said with a tight grimace. "And on that note, I believe I shall take my leave and retire. Fulk, would you please give my regrets to Lady Stacia and then ask Master Stevanus to attend me?"
He was shivering with fever again by the time he climbed into bed, and he curled onto his side under the sleeping furs until Stevanus came to him. With the surgeon were Stacia and an ample old woman dressed in the simple homespun and tweeds of the local folk, carrying a reed basket over her arm.
"Sire, I hae brought ye Mother Angelica," Stacia said, as Stevanus laid a hand across his forehead to gauge his fever, tight-lipped and grim as he then gave way to the woman. "She is midwife in the village, but her mother used to work wi' the Healer we had in those days. There is a remedy she uses fer childbed fevers. It might help this one."
Rhys Michael's hopes leaped, that the old woman might be a Healer herself, but as she, too, set a hand to his forehead, clucking her tongue and shaking her grizzled head, he knew she was not even Deryni.
"I would look a' the wound," she murmured, shifting her hands to feel the strength of the pulse in the sides of his neck. The gnarled old hands were gentle; the nails were cut short and scrupulously clean.
He winced as Stacia began unwrapping his hand, keeping his gaze on Mother Angelica and seeking to Read her surface thoughts, though he did not probe lest she sense the touch, from working with the Healer long ago. When re-dressing his hand the night before, Stacia had positioned the bandages so that the dressing could be changed on the actual wound without loosing all the support that bound the broken bones into place. As the wound was bared, Mother Angelica peered at it critically, prodding around it and up his forearm, sniffed disapprovingly, then directed Lochalyn's chatelaine to clean it and bind it up again with fresh sphagnum moss. Rhys Michael thought it looked much the same as it had the night before.
"The wound is inflamed, but I dinnae see sign that the poison is spreading up his arm," the old woman said, rummaging in her basket. "This should help the fever."
She pulled out a small earthen jar corked with a wooden plug, opened it to insert a little finger and taste the contents, then nodded and turned to Stevanus.
"He should have as much o' this as will cover the bottom of a small cup, dissolved in water or wine, four times a day."
"What is it?" Stevanus asked.
"My mam called it tacil," the old woman replied. "This is the last of it. The Healer used to make it, but he died."
"A Deryni drug?" Stevanus said, frowning.
"A drug fer easin' fever," Stacia said briskly, taking a cup from the stand beside the bed and shaking in a layer of white, crystalline powder. "Do ye wish tae ease the king's fever or no?"
"The _king_ wants to ease his fever," Rhys Michael said, sitting up and reaching for the cup. "And if there were a Healer available, I'd welcome his services, regardless of what Master Stevanus thinks of Deryni. I don't suppose there is one, though."
"Alas, not since I was a wee girl," Stacia said, and gave him an odd look. Cathan had come with a flask of wine, and she filled the cup halfway and gave it a quick swirl before handing it to the king. "Drink it doon, Sire."
He obeyed before Stevanus could decide whether or not to interfere, though he had to swallow three or four times to get it all down. The dregs were bitter, and he made a face as he handed back the cup and lay back on his pillows. The effort had exhausted him, though his hand seemed to be settling down to a lesser throb after the pain of being examined and rebandaged.
"Am I allowed to have more syrup of poppies, or will the tacil help with the pain, too?" he asked. "I need to get some sleep, if we're to ride out tomorrow."
"The poppy willnae interfere," Mother Angelica said, "but the hand doesnae want jostlin'. At best, ye will be sair uncomfortable."
"The earl marshal wants to get back to Rhemuth as soon as possible," Stevanus said, before the king could reply. "I don't think there's any appeal from that, Sire. We have surgeons aplenty in our train, and there are suitable halting sites all along the way."
"Well, we can discuss it with Rhun in the morning," Rhys Michael said. "If my fever is down, we should move out. The hospitality here at Lochalyn is impeccable, Lady Stacia, but I must get back to my wife and son. She's with child, you know, and she'll already be anxious when she hears I've been injured."
Stacia could not argue with that, and Mother Angelica merely shrugged. When Cathan had shown them out, Stevanus measured out another dose of syrup of poppies—and left convinced that Rhys Michael had drunk it down. In fact, as soon as he had gone, the king set Fulk to bedding down in the anteroom adjacent to the lord's solar and called Cathan to him.
"I do want to get home as quickly as possible, but I think it might be wise if we sent a copy of the codicil ahead to Mika, just in case."
"Just in case what?" Cathan murmured, leaning close as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"I'm not sure." Rhys Michael hugged his injured hand closer and rubbed at the arm above it. "It's a good week's ride back to Rhemuth with troops on the march, and a lot of things could happen. You don't die from having your hand stepped on by a horse, but I—I'd feel better if one of the copies was in her hands."
"Fair enough," Cathan agreed. "Do you have a messenger in mind, or would you like me to go?"
"Not you," Rhys Michael replied. "Trust-wise, I couldn't ask for better, but you'd be missed. Besides, I don't know that I could make it without you.
"But it's important that the copies be dispersed as quickly as possible. I don't think I've yet become too 'inconvenient' for Rhun to keep putting up with me, but if it looks as if he's losing patience, I intend to reveal that the codicil exists and that the only way to keep Graham and Sighere out of government is to keep me alive. I don't dare make that threat unless I'm sure he can't get at all of the copies."
"Sound reasoning. That doesn't answer the question of who goes, though."
"Who're our choices?" Rhys Michael said. "I'll want to set compulsions, in any case, but it's always better if I can start with someone who's loyal."
"How about one of the local men? Sighere's son, perhaps. He struck me as being levelheaded."
Rhys Michael shook his head. "Whoever goes, he has to be able to gain access to the queen; a borderer couldn't. One of our men—but he can't be someone who'd be readily missed."
"None of the _Custodes_ , none of Rhun's men, or Manfred's," Cathan murmured, musing aloud. "That means someone in the service of one of the lesser lords, or—Yes. I know just the man. Lord Ainslie's son Robert—and I saw him in the hall earlier this evening. Do you remember him?"
"Of course. And he's perfect."
"I'll see if I can find him, then. I doubt he's gone down to the camp yet. I assume you'll want him to leave tonight?"
"Absolutely. And send Fulk in on your way out. I want to dictate another short document—something to provide for you, in case the other should need to be enforced. I'll want you to get it to Graham in the morning, before we leave."
Cathan looked at him sharply. "Rhysem, are you _sure_ you're not keeping something from me? You're not going to die!"
"I'm certainly not planning on it," Rhys Michael said, forcing a grin as he tried again to ease his hand. "Just covering my options. Now, back to the codicils—have we got a copy, or does Father Derfel still have them?"
"Derfel's got them," Cathan replied, "but I'll fetch one before I bring young Ainslie. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Fulk came to him within a few minutes, moving the little writing table closer to the bed with a rack of candles and settling on a stool behind it Reaching out with his mind, Rhys Michael confirmed that he was already controlled.
"You will take this down," Rhys Michael murmured, "but afterward, you will not remember that you have written it. Head it with today's date and place.
"'Unto Graham, Duke of Claibourne, and Sighere, Earl of Marley: In the event that you are successful in asserting your authority as regents after my death, as is my will and intention, I command and authorize you to confirm the appointment of Sir Cathan Cinhil Drummond as a fellow regent, as your first legal act following the assumption of your duties as regents...'"
When Fulk had finished taking the dictation, Rhys Michael read it over once, scrawled a reasonably legible signature at the foot, and had Fulk seal it. Fulk was just moving the table back from the bed when Cathan returned alone.
"Didn't you find him?" the king asked.
Cathan shook his head, coming to lay a hand on Fulk's shoulder.
"Go ahead to bed, Fulk. I'll take the first watch."
When Fulk had gone, closing the door behind him, Cathan came to crouch at the king's bedside.
"He's still drinking downstairs with the others, and I got the copy of the codicil, but it's going to be impossible to get him up here without anyone noticing. There are just too many people still about. If you want him to go tonight, the only thing I can suggest is to let me send him."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly, hugging his injured hand and suppressing a shiver. "I really wanted to send him myself."
"I know that. What if we were to delay until tomorrow, catch him sometime during the day, and let him slip away?"
Rhys Michael shook his head. "Too chancy. Once we leave here, I'll have even less privacy. Besides that, we don't know what condition I'll be in. I could get worse instead of better, though the tacil does seem to be lessening my fever." A giant yawn took him, sufficient to make his jaws ache when he had finished.
"All right. I know you can't set the same kinds of compulsions I was going to use, but do the best you can. Come closer, and I'll give you some direction. I'm giving you my signet to give to him as well; that will be Mika's guarantee that it really does come from me."
He set his instructions in Cathan's mind, gave him the signet for Robert and the new document to deliver to Graham MacEwan, then bade him Godspeed and sent him on his way. When Cathan had gone, he took up the cup with the syrup of poppies that Stevanus had left, drank it down, rinsed the cup with a little water, and drank that down, too. His arm seemed to be throbbing worse than ever, even though the fever did seem to be diminishing. He was heavily asleep by the time Cathan returned, some hours later, and slept without moving until a bell ringing Prime roused him to the now familiar throbbing of his arm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They gather themselves together against the soul of the righteous, and condemn the innocent blood.
—Psalms 94:21
At least his fever seemed to have lessened. His head ached almost as much as his arm, from the aftereffects of the syrup of poppies, and he knew he would have to take more to endure the jolting of a day's ride, but neither his brow nor his arm felt as hot as they had the night before. Stacia had left the tacil with them, and Cathan handed the king another dose of it before letting him even stir from bed.
Rhys Michael made a face at the bitter taste but drank it down. He groaned as he got out of bed and let Cathan help him set about washing and dressing. His whole body ached, and every movement was stiff.
"A lot of that is normal, considering what else you went through, in the process of getting stepped on," Fulk said cheerily, as he packed up their belongings in saddlebags. "Do you want Stevanus to see you before you go downstairs?"
"No, he won't give me any painkiller until I've eaten anyway. I'll see him in the hall after Mass."
"Very well. I'll take some of these down to the yard while you finish, then, and meet you both in the chapel."
As soon as he was gone, Rhys Michael glanced at Cathan, who was bringing the red brigandine to put on him. As on the day before, he wore leather breeches and boots and a loose-sleeved tunic, for he could not get the tunic of his riding leathers over his bandaged hand.
"I take it you got our friend away safely last night," he murmured.
Cathan settled the brigandine over the royal head and started doing up the side buckles. "Why don't you Read it direct while I do this? It's safer if we don't speak."
Closing his eyes, Rhys Michael set his good hand on Cathan's forearm and scanned for the memory, fetching out images of a slim but well-built young man with curly brown hair standing with his right hand clasped in Cathan's, the blue eyes all but veiled by long lashes, lightly entranced. Sir Robert Ainslie had fearlessly accepted the king's commission from Cathan, and offered no resistance when Cathan set such compulsions as he could.
"He was away before midnight," Cathan murmured, as Rhys Michael emerged from the probe. "Changing horses, and with minimal stops for rest, he should be in Rhemuth in about four days."
The king himself rode out of Lochalyn at midmorning, after hearing Mass with Lady Stacia, her family, and officers and eating rather more than he really wanted while standing in the castle's hall, after which Stevanus allowed him his pain medication. They were in the saddle soon after, with Graham, Sighere, and Corban riding with them for the first few miles as escort, accompanied by a score of fierce borderers. The men they had brought from Rhemuth went with them, but the levies from Caerrorie, Sheele, and Valoret would stay for another week or so, under the joint command of Joshua Delacroix and Iver MacInnis, in case the Torenthi withdrawal had been but a feint.
All too soon, time came for the three Kheldour lords to take personal leave of him, drawing rein to briefly touch gauntleted fists to armored breasts, proud heads inclining in wordless homage. Flanked by Rhun and Manfred, Rhys Michael could not go to them, but he read their fierce devotion as he bade them a formal farewell, wishing he could tell them what their loyalty meant to him, wishing he could stay.
As the mounted forms receded in a cloud of dust, heading back toward Lochalyn, Rhun and Manfred drew him on. The syrup of poppies was gradually lulling his pain to a dull ache, and soon his thoughts were less for regret of what he was leaving than minding that he did not doze and fall off his horse.
Meanwhile, from the slight disruption of the depleted Gwynedd camp, Ansel, Jesse, and Tieg had watched from the shade of a sprawling oak as the king rode past, noting the bandaged hand supported in a sling over his armor. He looked thinner than when he had arrived, pale and drawn. Tieg shook his head as the royal cavalcade receded, heading out across the plain of Iomaire.
"I certainly would like to have gotten a look at that hand," he murmured. "He looked as if he was in quite a bit of pain."
"I think you and I will pay a quick visit to Lady Stacia," Jesse said. "This may be our best chance, while the men are riding out with the king."
A quarter hour later, a servant was showing the two into the laird's solar at Lochalyn, where a slight, energetic girl-woman with a mane of dark red hair was sorting the contents of a pair of large chests. Several more women were sweeping and scrubbing, stripping the great bed, shaking out sleeping furs, bustling at the domestic chores involved in running a large household. A baby cooed contentedly in a nicely carved cradle, and a pair of shaggy grey wolfhounds lolled lethargically around it—ample reason why the servant had no qualms about bringing two strange young men to his lady's bower.
"These two men tae see ye, Lady Stacia."
The redheaded woman glanced at the two newcomers but continued folding a dull green tunic.
"Aye?"
Jesse inclined his head, reaching out to probe, but she was lightly shielded so he withdrew.
"We are friends of the king, my lady. May we speak with you in private?"
She flicked her gaze over them appraisingly.
"The king rode out an hour ago," she said.
"Aye, he did," Jesse replied.
The dark eyes flicked over them again; then she gestured toward a doorway in the corner of the room that led into a turret stair.
"Come ye this way," she said.
As they followed her, one of the wolfhounds bestirred itself to press past her up the spiral stair, waiting with tail-wagging impatience until she had opened the small door to the roof parapet and it could crowd through. The sun was warm and steady, gentled by a faint breeze. She dropped her hand to the wolfhound's head as she turned to face the two of them.
"Despite yer tweeds, I dinnae think ye be Kheldour men," she said. "I receive ye fer the sake o' the king, who is my liege. What is it ye wished tae say tae me?"
For answer, Jesse held out one cupped hand and conjured silvery handfire in it. The fire was pale in the direct sunlight, but she saw it, and her dark eyes widened. The wolfhound yawned.
"We came in hopes of helping the king, my lady," Jesse murmured, as he extinguished the fire. "Unfortunately, we were never able to get close enough to him to offer our assistance. My companion is a Healer. We hoped you might be able to tell us of the king's injury. It may be possible to gain access to him later, on the road."
Her gaze shifted over Tieg's lanky, gangling frame, then back to Jesse.
"He didnae mention that he had Deryni helpin' him," she said.
"The great lords must not know," Jesse replied. "Friendship with Deryni has already been the death of one Haldane king."
"It's true, then," she murmured. "He said they had killed his brother Javan an' others, that he has been spared only tae breed heirs."
"If he told you that, then it's clear he trusts you," Tieg said. "Will you trust us? We need to know about his injury."
Stacia bit at her lip, fondling at the dog's ears.
"Ye need tae know more'n that," she murmured. "The hand isnae good—a horse trod on it, an' bones were crushed—but I dinnae think 'tis only that wha' worries him. He had a document drawn, appointin' Uncle Sighere an' my cousin Graham as regents."
"A document?" Jesse breathed, exchanging a glance with Tieg.
Drawing careful breath, the young Healer moved a step closer to Stacia, the hazel eyes dark and serious in the boyish face.
"My lady, we have many questions and not much time. I think you know as well as we, how desperate is the king's plight. We know your mother was Deryni. Will you allow me to Read the details we need? I give you my word, on my Healer's oath, that I will do you no harm, nor Read past what concerns the king."
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Yer voice is a man's, but can ye be old enou' tae have sworn the Healer's oath?" she said.
He grinned in return, looking a little sheepish. "My teachers tell me I am something of a prodigy. My father was a Healer called Rhys Thuryn. Perhaps you've heard of him."
"Och, aye." Her smile turned to a grin to match his own. "An' Rhys Thuryn an' his kin were e'er friends o' the Haldane line. Wha' will ye have me do?"
"Crouch down here beside me," he said, flicking a wary eye toward the wolfhound as he dropped to his knees, "and please reassure your friend that I mean you no harm."
"Conn? Och, he's but a big baby. He willnae hurt ye."
As she slipped to a sitting position with her back to the parapet wall, the wolfhound merely settled and laid its great head in her lap. Jesse had turned his gaze out over the wall, watching for the return of Stacia's kin, and glanced down at them as Stacia settled.
"Try to make this quick," he murmured.
"As quick as I can."
She closed her eyes before Tieg could even clasp her head between his hands. The shielding both he and Jesse had sensed melted away at the first touch of his probe, and she breathed out a tiny sigh as he gently took control. After blocking what little power she had, he drove deep, assimilating all her memories since Rhys Michael's arrival. The king's plan was brilliant, if it worked—and a dangerous gamble. But knowing of it, they perhaps could help facilitate its success, if the great lords called his bluff.
The condition of the king's injured hand was less encouraging, though Tieg decided that the "tacil" Stacia's midwife had given the king for fever probably was talicil, a mainstay of the Healer's pharmacopoeia; it would have been his choice as well. He regretted that he had none with him to give her, to replace what had been sent with the king, for with the village Healer long dead, there would be no more until Deryni once more could walk freely in Gwynedd.
But he had learned what he needed to know. He restored Stacia's meager powers—a smattering of shields only, with perhaps a hint of Truth-Reading ability that would never come through as more than hunches—then gave her a brief assurance of the support that others of the king's friends might be expected to give in assisting the Kheldour regency, if it came to that. She blinked and peered at him as he brought her out of trance.
"My mother was better a' this than I am," she murmured, one hand shifting to caress the wolfhound's ears. "I dinnae know what help I can be to the king."
"You can be his eyes and ears here in Eastmarch," Jesse replied. He had crouched down beside them, to read the spillover from Tieg while the Healer worked. "If Graham and Sighere can achieve the regency, if anything should happen to the king, at least there's a chance of eventually breaking the power of the great lords. With Albertus and Paulin already out of the picture, the process may already have started, if we can keep up the momentum."
"If the king dies," Stacia said, lifting her chin determinedly, "Graham an' Sighere will be at the gates o' Rhemuth with armed men at their backs, demandin' their rights, an' the rights o' the young prince. We willnae fail him, Master Healer. Tell him that, if ye can see him. An' tell the rest o' his Deryni friends."
"I will that, my lady," Tieg replied.
Since the king's arrival in Lochalyn, Joram had ordered that someone be on duty at all times in the domed chamber where the Camberian Council met, with a monitoring link ready for activation at any time Ansel or one of his party should attempt to open communication. When Tieg sought contact after his and Jesse's return from Lochalyn, it was Queron Kinevan on duty. Within half an hour of receiving Tieg's report, he had the other available members of the rebels' leadership gathered around the octagonal table and had shared Tieg's intelligence.
"The codicil idea is brilliant," Joram acknowledged, "but can he pull it off?"
Queron shrugged. "I certainly have the impression that Stacia and her menfolk will do whatever _they_ can to enforce the decree, should that become necessary. Fortunately, their loyalty totally outweighs the fact that they'd stand to benefit if the king did die, so we don't need to worry about them helping him along."
"True enough," Niallan agreed, "and the very threat that the codicil exists should be sufficient to keep Rhun and Manfred in line, because they no longer stand to benefit from his death, if they have to share a regency with Kheldour. Once they know about it, I should think they'd do everything in their power to keep the king alive. It's a pity he couldn't have promulgated a second document as well, denouncing his great lords and calling upon his loyal Kheldour lords to free him and his family from their tyranny. They would have helped him, if he'd elected to stay; he's going home because of Michaela and the young prince."
"You're assuming," Dom Rickart said, "that the king will survive his injuries." He folded his pale Healer's hands before him as if in prayer, tapping his fingertips against his lips. "All our impressions are several times removed, of course, but the fever is worrisome. While we must bless that unknown Healer who left a legacy of talicil to the goodwoman Lady Stacia brought to the king, talicil may not be enough."
"Are you saying this injury may be life-threatening?" Joram asked.
Rickart shrugged. "That's impossible to say, without actually examining him. He has fever; he's in considerable pain. Quite aside from the fact that I mistrust the motives of any _Custodes_ surgeon, I very much doubt that the good Master Stevanus was able to set the shattered bones correctly. If the hand heals that way, even if there are no other complications, movement is almost certain to be impaired. And as Queron will tell you—or Camlin, whose wrists will never be quite right—it is not always possible to effect full corrective Healing after the fact."
Camlin rubbed at one of his wrists, nodding, feeling for the king. "Couldn't we send a Healer to intercept the king's party?" he asked. "Perhaps in disguise—"
Joram shook his head. "The only likely outcome of that is of losing another good man—if not the Healer himself, apprehended before he could even reach the king, then perhaps the king himself, once it was discovered that he had been Healed."
"I thought we'd already agreed that the codicil would protect him," Niallan said.
"It _could_ protect _him, if_ they believe he's actually executed it and managed to get the copies dispersed; it wouldn't necessarily protect the Healer."
"There's some danger, I agree," Queron muttered. "I still feel that a Healer ought to see him."
Niallan raised a grey eyebrow. "You surely don't propose that we risk Tieg?"
"No, no, I had myself in mind," Queron replied. He held up a hand, shaking his head. "Now, don't all of you jump on me; I know what I'm proposing. I was looking at the map while I waited for all of you to arrive. They'll certainly overnight at Saint Cassian's tonight, but they're headed back the same way they came, toward Ebor and Sheele and Valoret. I'm the first to admit that using the Portals at any of those locations is too dangerous, but there's the secondary Portal at Caerrorie, which isn't that far off the line of march. I could disguise myself as an itinerant monk, a hospitaller of some sort, make my way from Caerrorie to Valoret, and then head north on the King's Road until I meet with the returning army."
"And then what?" Joram demanded. "Walk right up to Rhun and introduce yourself and demand to see the king?"
Queron rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, drumming his fingertips on his chair arm.
"Of course not. But I can find out what the king's condition is by then. If it proves impossible for _me_ to see him without subjecting myself to unreasonable risk, perhaps I can at least influence someone who does have access to him, if things can be done for him via conventional medicine that aren't being done."
"Those risks are acceptable," Rickart said, before Joram could disagree. "For that matter, it might be possible for Tieg to do much the same sort of thing, until Queron can get there to take over. We could ask him and Ansel and Jesse to shadow the army as they head south and watch for opportunities to find out more."
The creases in Niallan's brow had been deepening as Rickart spoke, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I—ah—believe we may be losing sight of the fact that Tieg is not yet fourteen. I know he looks older, with all that gangly height and those big hands, but I'd be very surprised if he yet has the conventional training to do that kind of infiltration. Correct me if I'm wrong, but so far as I was aware, the bulk of his preparation to date has been centered around his vocation as a Healer."
"That's quite true," Queron replied, "and I'm not prepared to risk him, under any circumstances. But Ansel and Jesse do have the necessary skills to ferret out the kind of information Rickart was talking about. They could have collected a great deal of valuable information by the time I meet up with them. And if Tieg's assessments as a Healer are necessary, those can be done indirectly, without risking him overmuch.
"I really think this is the only reasonable approach we can take, just now," he went on. "The twin factors of the codicil and the king's injury make this both a more and less stable situation than it has been for the past six years. It may totally change what we were planning for year's end. I think we're going to have to be both flexible and conservative in our approach until we see how the current situation resolves."
They continued to discuss practicalities of the coming exercise for another hour, also agreeing that while Rhysel ought be alerted to what was happening, the queen should not be told.
"I fear for the poor lass, if the king doesn't make it through this," Queron told Joram, after the others had returned to the sanctuary. "This pregnancy still has a long way to go. If she should lose the king _and_ this new baby, the way she lost the first one, I don't know that we'll ever be able to salvage the Haldane line—or if it's worth even trying anymore. One four-year-old prince isn't much on which to base a strong dynasty."
Joram only shook his head and dropped it to one hand. "Queron, I don't even want to _think_ about that possibility," he murmured. "And I don't want to think about what I'll do if anything happens to _you_. Since we found out about the queen's new pregnancy, we've been focusing our preparations to make a major attempt at shifting the balance back in Rhys Michael's favor later in the year; but don't lose sight of what you and I have been doing for the last six years, in addition to monitoring the Haldane situation."
Queron smiled and reached out to pat Joram's hand. "You're a dutiful son and brother, Joram," he murmured. "For a man who didn't want to have anything to do with his father's sainthood, you keep displaying startling evidence of belief. I don't intend to do anything stupid, though. I'm well aware that, whether we succeed or fail with the Haldanes, Deryni fortunes will not be restored easily or quickly. Reestablishing a viable cult of Saint Camber may give our people hope for the long term, so that eventually we _can_ resume a place of equal partnership again."
"I'd certainly appreciate a little assistance from Saint Camber in the present venture," Joram murmured. "Unfortunately, he seems to have a mind of his own regarding when and where he makes an appearance." He cocked an eyebrow. "Father always did have a mind of his own."
"As do you," Queron said, smiling. "As did your sister. We shall hope that her son has not inherited that aspect of his mother's stubbornness, when I give him his instructions. Perhaps I'll be able to reach Jesse or Ansel instead and urge them to keep a tight rein on young Tieg."
Joram finally allowed himself a hint of a grin. "I'll leave you to it, then, and start making what arrangements I can from sanctuary. Camlin will come to relieve you when you're ready."
Meanwhile, many miles south, Archbishop Hubert MacInnis was receiving news long known to Joram and his kin but just come to Rhemuth. A _Custodes_ monk called Brother Fabius had arrived at the Gwynedd capital just at dusk, with news so dire that Hubert could barely believe what he was hearing. He and Father Secorim, who was _Custodes_ abbot at the cathedral, had been visiting the ailing Archbishop Oriss when the exhausted monk was shown into the parlour near Oriss' sickroom.
"Dimitri killed Albertus?" Hubert murmured, when the man had gasped out the gist of his news. "And Paulin is not expected to survive?"
While Secorim questioned the man further, for he and Paulin had been friends since seminary days, Hubert quickly scanned over the written confirmations the man had brought—assessments from both Rhun and Lior—still unable to believe what he was reading.
"I must summon the council," Hubert said, folding the parchment pages and slipping them under his cincture. "Secorim, do you wish to come? I'd guess you're as likely as anyone to replace Paulin, if he doesn't recover. At very least, you can deputize for him for the present."
"I'll come," Secorim said. "Brother Fabius, please come along as well. The council may wish to question you further."
Half an hour later, they were seated around one end of the long table in the council chamber, now joined by Tammaron, Richard Murdoch, and the young Earl of Tarleton Bonner Sinclair, whose father had been Earl of Tarleton before he became Lord Albertus of the _Custodes Fidei_. Though Albertus and his eldest son had not been especially close, young Tarleton still looked stunned, as did the rest of them.
"I blame myself," Hubert murmured, when the messenger again had related the gist of his news and then Secorim had read aloud the texts sent by Rhun and Lior. "It was I who recruited Dimitri. And all these years—Dear God, have I sent them all into a trap? Was Dimitri working for Torenth all along and this all was a ruse to lure the king to a meeting on Torenth's terms?"
"If it was," Richard said coldly, "their strategy did not think far enough ahead. Even if the king perishes, we still have the heir and another on the way. Do you really think Marek of Festil is strong enough to assault the gates of Rhemuth to press his claim? No. We still hold the important cards."
"You're probably right," Tammaron said. "Nonetheless, I think it might be best if we pull additional troops from elsewhere to defend the city—just in case we've underestimated Marek. Richard, your lands are closest. How many men can you call up from Carthane?"
"How many would you like?" Richard replied. "A hundred? More than that? I should think we can also draw upon _Custodes_ troops," he added, glancing at Secorim.
Secorim nodded. "I can secure perhaps a hundred overnight, from the garrison outside _Arx Fidei_ Abbey. More, if I summon from farther afield, but a lot went north with the king."
Richard shook his head, busy jotting figures on a scrap of parchment. "No, an additional two hundred should be sufficient for now. If a messenger leaves at once, my men can be here within two days. Practically speaking, I don't think it's necessary to fortify any more than that until we hear further from Rhun. We do have to feed all those extra men if we bring them in, after all."
Hubert had begun to recover his equilibrium and nodded agreement.
"I quite agree. We should wait for further clarification of the situation before we let ourselves be stampeded into any sort of panic. Richard is perfectly correct in pointing out that we still hold the controlling factor, in young Prince Owain. To that end, however"—he glanced at Tammaron—"I believe it would be wise if we keep any knowledge of this latest development from the queen. It also may become necessary to confiscate future missives from the king, if he mentions anything to do with this latest development."
"Are you concerned about another miscarriage, if anything should happen to the king?" Richard asked.
Hubert nodded. "It may become necessary to confine the queen to her bed for the remainder of her pregnancy. Tammaron, I rely upon you to instruct the court physicians accordingly. No action is to be taken yet—I do not think mere news and rumors of news would be sufficient to match the shock that brought on the first miscarriage—but we must hold ourselves in readiness. And it goes without saying that the safety of Prince Owain now becomes even more important than it long has been."
"I'll see about streamlining the running of the royal household," Tammaron said. "With reasonable care, things should be able to drift along as they have done, for at least another week or two, but appropriate precautions will be taken."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Keep thee far from the man that hath power to kill... lest he take away thy life presently.
—Ecclesiasticus 9:13
While the great lords in Rhemuth pondered what had occurred at Saint Cassian's nearly a week before, the royal party was returning there en route home. For Rhys Michael, most of the day had passed in a merciful narcotic blur, though that had mostly worn off by the time they rode into the abbey yard, just at dusk. The first news to greet them was that Paulin of Ramos had died the night before and been buried that morning in the abbey crypt beside his brother.
Though hardly unexpected, the news elicited a wave of pious lamentation among the _Custodes_ members of the king's party, with appropriate mouthings of regret from Rhun and Manfred and the junior officers in their immediate vicinity. Before quarters could even be assigned for those lodging within the abbey precincts, a joint summons came from Father Lior and the abbot for the king and his principal officers to join the _Custodes_ clergy in the crypt beneath the church for special prayers beside Paulin's tomb. Rhys Michael tried to plead exhaustion to get out of it, for he could think of few actions more hypocritical on his part than pretending to pray for Paulin's soul, but Rhun made it clear that he must at least affect the appearance of regret.
Accordingly, the king knelt in the crypt with the rest of them and mouthed the prescribed prayers and tried not to think about his throbbing hand or the fever still simmering in his brow. He emerged into the evening coolness to find that gossip was spreading to the camp about Deryni involvement in Paulin's death. Clearly, the circumstances of his illness had not been forgotten by a week's absence. A little later, at table in the abbot's refectory, conversation inevitably turned to Paulin's death.
"In retrospect, I suppose it was folly to expect the outcome could have been any different," the abbot said, responding to a question by Manfred. "What chance had he against Deryni sorcery?"
"Surely you continued the exorcisms, the purifications," Lior murmured.
"And the prayers of the entire community," the abbot said, staring into his cup. "The taint remains, though, Father. I fear it shall take a prolonged period of fasting and prayer and mortification to cleanse this House of it."
Shaking his head, Manfred glanced at Rhun, who seemed to be biting back a caustic comment, then at Brother Polidorus, the abbey's infirmarian, who was sitting farther down the table next to Master Stevanus.
"I am no churchman," he said uneasily, "but it seems obvious to me that all was done that _could_ be done, for his spiritual well-being. A pity nothing availed for his physical recovery."
Brother Polidorus raised an eyebrow and pushed his goblet away a little.
"We did try, my lord, but as Father Abbot has said, the prognosis was poor from the start. He could not eat. He could not control his bodily functions. His heart remained strong and he continued to breathe, but my helpers and I were never able to elicit any kind of response.
"Except when he was bled," he amended, almost as an afterthought. "Several times, he seemed on the verge of stirring, and we hoped this might be evidence that the taint was leaving him." He shook his head. "But he never regained consciousness. At least I do not think he felt anything, there at the end. God grant him peace," he concluded, crossing himself piously.
Rhys Michael echoed the gesture along with the rest at table, but he could not find it in his heart to regret Paulin's fate. As he stifled a yawn and tried to find a more comfortable posture, he found himself wondering whether the bleeding that Polidorus had mentioned might have hastened Paulin to his reward, for the _Custodes_ were known to use—and misuse—bloodletting as part of their internal discipline within the Order. He wondered whether they might view it as an alternative coup de grâce for one of their own with no hope of recovery, though the coup generally was limited to fatal battle injuries in the field, and the Church maintained only a precarious peace with the practice. He remembered hearing how a _Custodes_ battle surgeon had given the coup thus to Murdoch of Carthane, the day after Javan's coronation—or rather, Rhun had done it under _Custodes_ direction. More normally, the _Custodes_ used bleeding as a means of discipline and intimidation, sometimes unto death. If Paulin had succumbed to loss of blood, Rhys Michael could not but think it fitting, to taste the fate he had inflicted on many others.
But his own fate was far more on his mind just now. After a while longer of listening to the _Custodes_ mouth platitudes and make noises of regret, he excused himself and retired with Cathan and Fulk to the quarters the abbot had allocated him on his previous visit. He was dragging with exhaustion as they helped him out of his armor and into bed, and he lay there shivering under several sleeping furs until Cathan brought him another dose of the tacil. Though no one had summoned him, Stevanus came in very shortly with Brother Polidorus and another, younger monk carrying a small wooden chest and a two-branched candlestick for more light. Cathan had just set the empty cup and the little earthen flask of tacil on a small table beside the bed and tried to push them farther into shadow before the monk set the candlestick on the table.
"I want to change your dressing and see how you're faring after a day in the saddle, Sire," Stevanus said, setting down his medical satchel on the foot of the bed. "Brother Polidorus also thought to have a look at you. Brother Deiniol, could you fetch us a basin and some hot water, please?"
As the younger monk disappeared to obey, Rhys Michael reluctantly pulled his bandaged hand out from under the furs and let Stevanus begin unwrapping it, while Polidorus felt his forehead and made _tsk_ ing sounds.
"Dear, dear me. These things are always so tiresome when broken bones _and_ wounds are involved. The forearm looks clean enough. I see no red streaks."
"Aye, but there's fever in it," Stevanus said.
"Yes, I can feel that."
"And the laceration shows more inflammation than I would like. I also don't know what may be going on around the bones that were crushed. There's still too much swelling and bruising to see or feel much."
As he exposed the hand and the two started poking and prodding, Rhys Michael gasped and even cried out, trying not to squirm with the pain. At Stevanus' summons, Cathan and Fulk came to help hold the arm steady while the examination continued, and Brother Deiniol returned with towels, a basin, and a steaming pitcher, which he set beside the fireplace.
"I think perhaps those sutures should come out," Polidorus said, drawing back to wipe his hands on a clean towel. "The flesh is very swollen, the skin taut and shiny. I would say that the wound wants cautery to burn out the impurities. Have you bled him yet?"
"I didn't want to weaken him," Stevanus began.
"No! I won't be bled!" Rhys Michael whispered, sitting up in alarm. "And I don't want cautery. I'm making good progress. Just give me time."
"If you hope to keep the hand," Polidorus said coldly, "then you must allow us to do what we think best." He gave a curt nod to his assistant, who turned back to the fireplace and began taking things out of the chest he had brought. "The crushed bones may yet necessitate more aggressive treatment," he went on, returning his attention to Stevanus, "but we can postpone that for now, see how he looks in a day or two. What are you giving him for the pain, syrup of poppies?"
"Aye."
"But I can't stay here!" Rhys Michael protested. "I have to ride tomorrow—"
"Well, give him half again the dose you've been giving," Polidorus continued, paying the king no mind at all. "And you, sir—" He nodded to Fulk. "Fill that basin with very hot water, and we'll get his hand soaking. The heat will draw out some of the inflammation and also ease the removal of the sutures."
"I've told you, no," Rhys Michael said again. "Leave the sutures. I don't want cautery, and I won't be bled."
"Don't be foolish. You're in no condition to know what you want, or what's best for you," Polidorus muttered, turning away to supervise his assistant.
As Stevanus also withdrew, pulling his satchel from the end of the bed to measure out the painkiller Polidorus had ordered, Rhys Michael pulled Cathan closer with his good hand.
"Go and tell Rhun what they're doing," he whispered. And added, in Cathan's mind, _Tell him I refuse to stay here and that if I die, they're going to have a different regency than they bargained on. Tell him about the codicil_ — _but you haven't got an original copy, and I've ordered you not to tell who does_. "Hurry."
Stevanus looked annoyed as Cathan nodded and turned away to dash out the door, and he was shaking his head as he brought a small metal medicine cup filled with syrup of poppies.
"Sire, Rhun isn't going to interfere in this," he said, holding out the cup. "Drink this down now. You needn't make this any more difficult than it has to be."
"I don't want the cautery," Rhys Michael said stubbornly, ignoring the cup. "You can soak the hand if you want—I can see how that might help—but the wound isn't bleeding. And I won't be bled; I might be too weak to ride. I can't stay here. I have to be able to keep traveling. I have to get back to Michaela."
"Sire, are you trained as a surgeon?" Polidorus said pointedly.
"No, of course not."
"Then do not presume to tell me my business. Take this and drink it. What must be done will be done, with or without this help. Don't force me to have you held."
As he pressed the cup into Rhys Michael's good hand, Fulk brought a steaming basin to the right side of the bed, looking uneasy as Polidorus came to move the bedside table closer. The earthen flask of tacil and the empty cup were still sitting on the little table, and the monk had to move them before he could spread the towel hung over Fulk's arm. He sniffed curiously at the cup as Fulk set the basin down.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It's something for the fever," Rhys Michael said, before Fulk or Stevanus could reply. "It seems to be helping. The chatelaine at Lochalyn Castle gave it to me."
"Some folk remedy, eh? What is it called?" The monk glanced at Stevanus as he opened the flask and then peered inside and sniffed again.
"The old midwife with her called it tacil," Stevanus replied. "Lady Stacia said her mother used to get it from a Healer who's since died."
"From a Healer? Then it's a Deryni drug!" Polidorus said, holding it away from him with a grimace of distaste. "I'll have none of that under _this_ roof!"
"No, it's helping me!" Rhys Michael cried. Still encumbered with the cup in his good hand, he made an inadvertent grab for the monk with his injured one—and jarred it against the edge of the basin with enough force to bring tears to his eyes, just as Stevanus rescued the cup of painkiller.
"Don't be impertinent, Sire," Polidorus muttered, as Rhys Michael curled defensively over the injured hand, gasping, and Fulk moved in protectively. "Brother Deiniol, get rid of this. Burn it or something."
"But, it _does_ seem to be helping," Stevanus said uncertainly, though he blocked Fulk from interfering with the younger monk, who came and took the flask from Polidorus.
"Nonsense." Polidorus shook out another towel with a snap and spread it on the bed beside the table. "If it's Deryni, it can't possibly be helpful. Now, give me that hand, Sire, and let's get it to soaking before the water gets cold. Stevanus, either persuade him to drink that or get some strong men in here to hold him down."
As Rhys Michael heard the smash of pottery down the garderobe shaft, he sank back against his pillows in dismay, gasping but no longer resisting as Polidorus took his injured hand and plunged it into the steaming water. The tacil _had_ helped—he was sure of it—but now there would be no more relief from that quarter. And all because a Deryni had made it...
Queasy and disheartened, jaws clenched against the heat coiled around his hand, Rhys Michael anxiously watched the younger monk return to the fireplace, where Polidorus had gone to check the cautery instruments heating in the fire. As Stevanus put the little cup of painkiller back in his good hand, he reflected that his only hope was for Cathan to get Rhun here before these _Custodes_ butchers started doing really horrible things to him.
It was not just the threat of pain that set terror in his heart. He could have submitted to cautery with hardly a whimper if convinced that it would be beneficial, but the thought of being bled sent a cold chill of dread down his spine, especially since he had heard of Paulin's treatment. He turned the little cup nervously in his fingers as his mind flashed back over his own reluctant acquaintance with the practice.
The first time, though he could not remember it, had been after his "rescue" from his kidnappers, to make him think he had lost more blood from his "wounds" than he actually had. Stevanus himself probably had been responsible for that one. They had bled him occasionally during those awful months after Javan's murder, to keep him weak; and he had been bled several times just before his coronation, so that he would display a paleness and lethargy appropriate to long illness.
There were legitimate medical reasons for bloodletting, of course. And he knew it was a common enough monastic discipline in some religious houses, sometimes permitted as a voluntary aid to preserving chastity, since lowering the blood also lowered inclinations to "passions of the flesh." _Minution_ , they called it, from the Latin _minuere_ , to lessen or diminish.
But the _Custodes_ had a less benign use for it—not only a required test of the vow of obedience but also, in some cases, a vehicle of intimidation. Javan had told him how they bled an innocent priest called Faelan, trying to force him to reveal why Javan had requested his services as a confessor; they had even bled Javan himself, during his stay in the monastery, to demonstrate their absolute power over him.
_Believe me_ , Javan had told him one night, _there are few more helpless feelings in the world than watching your lifeblood pump out of your veins and knowing that if it suits them, those in authority over you have the power to forbid a halt_...
Polidorus' return with a new pitcher of hot water brought an abrupt release from _that_ image, though the monk's intent was hardly more reassuring as he bent to check the temperature of the water. Blessedly, and somewhat to Rhys Michael's surprise, the hot water actually was starting to ease the ache in his hand, after the initial shock. But when Polidorus began slowly pouring more hot water into the basin around the hand, increasing the temperature, the king remembered the cup in his good hand and gulped down about half the contents before handing it off to Stevanus.
"You ought to drink it all," the battle surgeon murmured, glancing into the cup. "That isn't enough to put you under."
"I don't _want_ to be put under," Rhys Michael said stubbornly. "I have to be coherent when I talk to Rhun."
"That won't change anything," Stevanus replied. "At least lie back and let what you've drunk take effect. This first part won't be too bad."
"Sire, shall I go and see what's keeping Cathan?" Fulk asked a little nervously, from over nearer the door.
Rhys Michael shook his head and closed his eyes briefly, heartened that Fulk had offered that assistance on his own, belatedly wishing he had dared to set stronger compulsions in the young knight, who could not help the fact that his father was one of the men responsible for the king's servitude.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," he whispered. "Just don't leave me alone."
"Just don't _interfere_ ," Brother Polidorus amended sharply, bending to peer more closely at his reluctant patient's hand.
For the moment, neither Rhys Michael nor Fulk had any choice but to comply. At least for now, in just the short time the king's hand had been submerged, either the heat or the drug or a combination of the two had eased the pain substantially. Some of that relief was canceled out when Polidorus began cleaning around the laceration, though it did not hurt as much as he had feared. At least the monk's touch was gentle.
What did hurt was when Stevanus started probing out the first of the sutures to be removed, for the stitches were deeply embedded. Resistance only made the surgeon's task more difficult and brought further sharp threats of physical restraint from Polidorus, who was steadying the hand, so Rhys Michael gave it up and lay back, turning his face away so he would not have to see his blood reddening the water in the bowl. Closing his eyes was not an option, because if he did, he could feel himself starting to float with the lethargy brought by the syrup of poppies. That was dangerous until after he had talked to Rhun. So long as he kept his eyes open—
"What the devil is going on?" an angry voice intruded suddenly—Rhun's—as Rhys Michael came alert with a start. "Stevanus, what are you doing?"
"It was my opinion," Brother Polidorus said, "that his Highness' wound should be cauterized to burn out the impurities. I believe he should be bled as well. For now, the hot water is drawing out the inflammation."
Rhun stalked over to look at the hand in its basin, flicked a glance to Rhys Michael's face—taut with discomfort and defiance, the grey eyes dilated from the painkiller—then swept a hand around the room.
"All right, everyone out of here. I'll speak to his Highness in private. Cathan, you may stay."
Stevanus set aside his instruments and hurriedly dried his hands, sketching Rhun a nervous bow before heading for the door, Fulk accompanying him. Polidorus let Cathan escort him and his assistant after them, but paused to murmur something to Cathan before the younger man closed him out of the room. Cathan latched the door, then came to take the king's hand from the basin and set it on a clean towel.
"What are you doing?" Rhun demanded, as Cathan took the basin to dump it down the garderobe.
"Brother Polidorus said I should put the king's hand to soak in clean water while we talk," Cathan replied, returning to the fireplace to refill the basin with hot water. "That will prevent further contamination and continue drawing out the inflammation. I don't agree with the cautery, if the king doesn't want it, but I do agree with this."
As he brought the basin back to the king's bedside and eased the hand into the fresh water, watched suspiciously by Rhun, Rhys Michael allowed himself a tiny sigh and murmured his thanks, then turned his gaze to the earl marshal, who was staring at him from the foot of the bed.
"Thank you for coming," the king murmured, concerned that he had to concentrate to keep Rhun in focus.
"It doesn't appear that I had much choice," Rhun said. "What's this ridiculous story Cathan has been telling me about some codicil to your will that you had drawn up in Eastmarch?"
"It isn't a story, and it isn't ridiculous," the king said quietly. "If I die before an heir of mine comes of age, the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley are irrevocably appointed as regents, regardless of whoever else you ramrod through the council. And before you even have a chance to kill them, they'll have appointed their own successors—and their successors will appoint successors. Kheldour will have a say in the next regency."
"Kheldour will be running the kingdom," Rhun said testily, "and the next thing you know, Kheldour will be providing the next king."
"I don't think so," Rhys Michael replied. "And if they did, they couldn't do much worse than your lot have done. You never gave Alroy a chance to be a real king, and you killed Javan when it looked as if he might be one. And you've only been keeping me alive until you were sure you had an heir and a spare to mold in exactly the image you wanted. If it isn't to be a free Haldane king on the throne of Gwynedd, Rhun, I think I might prefer one from Kheldour. The Duke of Claibourne would make an excellent king. Or maybe Kheldour can give my sons a free crown."
"I don't believe a word of this," Rhun said. "You're bluffing."
Rhys Michael laid his head back on his pillows and glanced at the ceiling.
"Show him the draft copy, Cathan." And as Cathan went to the king's saddlebag to get it, Rhys Michael added, "And don't think that you can simply destroy all the copies and pretend they never existed. There are a number of them—I won't tell you how many—and at least one is bound to reach the hands of those best equipped to make proper use of it. I'll tell you right now that none of them are in my hands anymore."
As Cathan brought the draft copy over to Rhun, the earl marshal snatched it out of his hand and took it over by the fire to read it. His face was white as he looked up at the king, and he slowly refolded the piece of parchment as he returned to the foot of the bed. Cathan had gone to stand with his back against the door.
"What is it you want?" Rhun asked, creasing the parchment between nervous fingers as he stared appraisingly at the king.
Closing his eyes briefly, Rhys Michael allowed himself to breathe a faint sigh of relief, trying not to drift as he sank deeper into the thrall of the syrup of poppies.
"First of all, I want to get home," he whispered. "I want to see my wife and son. I don't want cautery, I don't want to be bled, and I don't want anyone to cut off my hand. If we still had Healers—if your colleagues hadn't shot Oriel down like an animal, six years ago—he would have been with me at Culliecairn, and this probably never would have gotten to this state. Without one—well, I simply have to hope I'll be lucky. If I'm not, you can blame it on your precious _Custodes_. The ever-pious Brother Polidorus threw out the 'Deryni' drug that Lady Stacia gave me to take my fever down. It was helping, but that didn't matter; a Healer had made it. Therefore, it was evil."
Whatever Rhun was thinking, his lean face revealed none of it. After a taut pause, he said, "I somehow expected the Deryni sympathy."
"It isn't Deryni sympathy; it's acknowledgment that Healers were a good thing," Rhys Michael said. "I'd give a great deal to have one here right now. But that isn't going to happen, because by going after the Deryni, you've lost us the Healers as well."
Rhun shrugged, still toying with the folded piece of parchment, but his eyes had gone hooded and dangerous. "It's pointless to argue about this. You've given me a list of things you _don't_ want done to your hand, and you've said you want to go home. What happens then?"
"Once I'm home and well?" Rhys Michael allowed himself a faint smile. "You'd like to know that, wouldn't you? For now, if I were you, I'd worry about keeping me alive. And it's also in your best interests to keep Cathan alive," he added, improvising to protect his brother-in-law but not revealing the conditional appointment as regent, which would spell his death. "If anything happens to him, you are personally named as the one responsible, Rhun. If you kill the queen's brother, you'll hang. I drew documents to protect him, too."
Rhun nodded, anger now smouldering openly in the pale eyes. "That's what all that little dance outside the privies was about, isn't it?" he said. "You _told_ me to look inside, and I didn't."
Rhys Michael chuckled weakly. "I didn't sign the documents in the privy, Rhun. There was a tiny room off the stair, just a few steps up. Sighere helped create the diversion so I could dart back down and make you think I'd come out of the garderobe."
"I suppose Fulk was a part of it, too? Cathan I can understand—he's kin. But Fulk—"
"No, he was a dupe," Rhys Michael replied. "He hadn't a clue what was going on. He'd have gone straight to his father."
"Tammaron will still kill him," Rhun muttered.
"I hope not. He's a good man, and he'll be as appalled as you to learn how he was used."
Rhun let out an explosive snort and set his hands on his hips, glancing at the floor, then cocked his head at the king.
"All right. I'm a practical man, Sire, so let's get down to practicalities. What shall we do about your hand? If you should die from it because you won't accept sound medical advice, that isn't _my_ fault."
"You'd better hope I _don't_ die from it," Rhys Michael replied. "Have a look. You've ample field experience. What do you think?"
He lifted it slightly from the basin, to the sound of dripping water, glanced at it, men looked away queasily as he let it back down. As he had hoped, Rhun came over to inspect it more dispassionately, lifting it slightly out of the water with two fingers from under the palm and then shifting his gaze to the grey Haldane eyes—and was snared in them, as Rhys Michael had intended, though the king drew in his controls gently, so Rhun would not realize what was happening.
"It looks as if Stevanus started removing the sutures," Rhun said.
Rhys Michael nodded. "I couldn't stop him."
Rhun blinked. "It will let the wound drain, if you won't let him cauterize."
"If it were your hand, would you let him cauterize it?" Rhys Michael asked. "Tell me truly."
Rhun looked at him and blinked again, sinking deeper into the spell. "I—don't know. There's fever here and local infection, but no sign of poisoning going up the arm. Still, if you really intend to keep traveling with this—"
"I _must_ be able to travel, Rhun," he said softly. "I want to get home. I'll do it flat on my back in a horse-litter, if I must, but I have to keep moving. I don't know what's going to happen with this, but I—want to see my wife and son."
He set his good hand on Rhun's wrist at that, clasping his fingers around and using the closer contact to press deeper. Rhun's eyes closed, and he started to sway on his feet, but Cathan came to support him from behind, though he held back from any further involvement as Rhys Michael drove deeper still.
It was difficult to stay focused, with the syrup of poppies dulling his concentration, but he feared he might never have another chance like this. Skimming over the filth and guilt and hatred he knew was there, not touching their earlier conversation about the documents, he set a succession of irresistible commands—some of which he would probably regret, when called to final judgment, but which would serve what must be done, to secure a Haldane future. It took a while, but he had been thinking about what he needed to do while he waited for Rhun to show up.
When he was finished, he blocked all memory or access to what he had done, released Rhun's wrist, then released Rhun himself to the new instructions set deep in his mind. Cathan very quietly returned to his place against the door.
"I'm very tired now," Rhys Michael murmured, as Rhun blinked. Rhys Michael let the injured hand back into the water—cooler now than when they had begun—then looked up at Rhun again. "Could we please ask Master Stevanus to come back and rebandage my hand? And it's understood that there isn't going to be any cautery or bleeding?"
Straightening, Rhun picked up one of the towels and dried his hands, his jaw set, the anger back in his eyes.
"You're a very stubborn man, Sire. You always have been. If you're determined to continue on tomorrow, thought—"
The king allowed himself a yawn that was not at all feigned. "I really don't care to discuss this further, my lord. I've had a fairly stiff dose of painkiller, so I'm afraid I'm starting to drift. Please fetch Master Stevanus."
"I'll call him, Sire," Cathan said.
Rhun left as Stevanus came in with Fulk, but Polidorus was not allowed to enter. Rhys Michael could hear voices raised in anger receding down the corridor as Stevanus came over to him.
"No cautery and no bleeding," Rhys Michael told him, extending his dripping hand. "Just dry it and dress it and wrap it up again. I want to be out of here early in the morning."
He had drifted into sleep by the time Stevanus finished wrapping up his hand, as certain as he could be that Cathan and Fulk would ensure that his wishes were respected, and slept deep and dreamlessly for what remained of the night. He would have been heartened to know that the Healer Queron once more was on the move, riding to rendezvous with him, bringing hope of relief from his pain; but he did not know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God.
—II Timothy 3:4
The news of the king's injury and the outcome in Eastmarch reached Rhemuth in the early morning hours as Rhys Michael slept uneasily at Saint Cassian's. Though troops were already on the way to the capital from _Arx Fidei_ and Carthane, the former expected to arrive by midmorning, the great lords resident in the capital breathed a collective sigh of relief as they gathered in the council chamber by torch and candlelight to hear one of Hubert's scribes read out Rhun's account of the resolution at Culliecairn. That the king had survived, apparently by the grace of Sudrey of Eastmarch, was received as almost miraculous, especially when they learned that Sudrey had stood against not only Prince Miklos, but almost certainly the disguised Marek of Festil.
"What do you suppose they were trying to accomplish?" Father Secorim asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes, for like the rest of them, he had been summoned from his bed when the messenger arrived—a knight called Henry of Rutherford.
Hubert rolled his eyes heavenward, trusting the candlelit darkness to cloak his impatience; Secorim had much to learn before he could hope to be Paulin's match.
"If they could have done it, I'm sure they would have slain the king then and there," he replied. "However, I very much doubt that was their expectation. What they apparently intended in the short term was the slaying of Sudrey of Eastmarch, née Rhorau, whom they considered to have betrayed her House and her race by marrying Eastmarch. In truth, _I_ would have said that _Eastmarch_ betrayed his lineage and his race by marrying Deryni." He sighed. "But we were hardly in a position to pursue the point, when we only learned of it fifteen years after the fact. At least the bitch is dead now."
Tammaron raised an eyebrow at that, but Richard only smiled, cunning as his father had been, and even more pitiless.
"So Miklos is dead, and Marek has gone slinking home to lick his wounds and answer to Miklos' brother," Richard said. His smile became wolfish. "That means the king will be coming home after all."
"Until the queen is safely delivered," Tammaron said archly, "you'd best hope the king does come home. And best not to count on _that_ until we see him riding through the gates. Personally, I shall not even begin to rest easily until we are certain that Marek has, indeed, gone home, and that Culliecairn is well and truly in the hands of Eastmarch again."
Richard yawned and stood, affecting the uttermost bored indifference. "Gentlemen, you may continue this discussion until dawn, if you wish, but I'm going back to bed for what few hours remain of the night. Until the king does return, I still have a city to protect and troops arriving in the morning."
As Richard left and the others began to disperse, Hubert took Rhun's letter and read over it again for himself, weighing each turn of phrase, for Rhun was not given to choosing his words lightly. The apparent treachery of Miklos of Torenth, while amply repaid, underlined the complexity of the deception in which Dimitri must have been involved and made Hubert worry about how much farther the tendrils of deceit might extend.
That Marek himself had managed to gain access to the king was particularly disturbing, though it was Rhun's opinion that the bulk of his and Miklos' effort seemed to have been focused on eliminating the Lady Sudrey. But given the past history of the Haldanes, Hubert had to wonder whether it had been only Sudrey's resistance that had prevented Marek from launching an attack to utterly crush his Haldane rival. It did not occur to him to worry about the injury Rhun had reported to the king's hand.
Marek himself was about to face the wrath of his brother-in-law, the King of Torenth, in whose torchlit audience chamber he and his two companions nervously waited; he had already weathered his wife's tearful anger in Tolan. Cosim had warned him to send a written message first, knowing King Arion's temper, and Valentin had been reluctant to go at all, but Marek had insisted he must bring the news in person. After they arrived at the Royal Portal in Beldour, the gist of their mission evident by their stark attire and the absence of Miklos, a stony-faced chamberlain had whisked them to the most austere of Arion's private reception rooms, there to languish without refreshment or even seating as the taut minutes gradually stretched nearly to an hour.
The door opened at last. Unattended, looking recently roused from sleep, King Arion swept into the room in a dark shimmer of black silk robe, his feet unshod, the long hair loose around his shoulders, fairer than Miklos' had been. Cosim, who had long been King Arion's vassal, took one look at the rage seething in his sovereign's eyes and sank to his knees, bowing his forehead to the floor and not daring to rise from that position. Old Valentin gave the young king a precise and respectful military salute but kept his gaze averted, staying well behind Marek. Marek himself, well aware of his potential danger, ventured close enough to kneel humbly at the king's feet and reached for the hem of his robe to kiss it.
"How dare you show your face here?" Arion whispered, yanking the silk from Marek's grasp and moving back a pace, the nimbus of his power crackling around his head, his eyes almost colorless in the torchlight. "Did I not warn you that the time was not yet right to pursue this mad cause of yours?"
"Sire, it was not entirely Prince Marek's fault," old Valentin began.
" _Silence!_ " Arion commanded. " _I_ will decide what is and is not Marek's fault!"
In the stunned hush that followed, Marek cautiously dared to lift his eyes about to the level of Arion's belt, though he stayed on his knees, his hands crossed tight under his chin in an attitude of deference. The king was only five years older than Marek, but he had the presence of a man of far more years—and had far more mastery of his power than Marek expected he would ever wield. Miklos had been powerful, but casual in his use of his magic; Arion was all focus and steely will. Though Arion terrified Marek when he was in such a mood, the younger man knew he had but one hope of winning back even a chance at the other's goodwill or even tolerance.
"Sire, I throw myself on your mercy," he whispered, cautiously lifting his gaze to the king's. "If the negligence is entirely mine, I will accept whatever discipline you choose to impose, whatever penalty—even my death, if you deem it fitting. I loved Miklos as the brother I never had and never shall have again. We encouraged one another in the dream we pursued, but our miscalculation was mutual. Though we sought to test the Haldane for the future, our true objective was to put an end to the traitor Sudrey of Rhorau. Neither she nor the Haldane responded as we expected. She—"
"Do you dare to tell me that _Sudrey_ bested my brother?" the king demanded. "That cannot be."
"I _know_ that," Marek said miserably. "Yet her power played a part. She seemed to lend power, or knowledge, or focus, or _something_ to whatever the Haldane has. Read the truth of what I say, Arion! I don't _know_ how it happened! You know I cannot lie to you!"
Arion's eyes seemed to glow like pools of quicksilver, impaling Marek's will, the tall, lean form towering above him like an avenging angel. Not bothering with mere words, the king flicked a silent command at Cosim, who had fearfully lifted his head to observe the exchange between the two. Quickly the Healer moved to do the king's bidding, coming to kneel behind Marek and brace him for the king's touch, ready to assist when Arion took up Marek's offer.
"I give you fair warning, Marek. If you resist at all, I am apt to cause permanent damage," Arion said, the strong fingers sliding into Marek's dark hair as the thumbs pressed to his temples. "This angry, I cannot promise to go softly."
Numbly resigned to accept what he had invited, whatever might be the cost, Marek closed his eyes and eased back on his hunkers, leaning into Cosim's enfolding, letting his hands fall loosely to his sides in token of utter submission. As he yielded up his shields, he felt the deft soothing of the Healer's touch first, relaxing his body and taking his consciousness gently enough down the first few levels into passive readiness. But then Arion's cold probe was knifing into his mind and soul with surgical precision, laying bare every particle of memory that had to do with Miklos over the last two weeks, every perception and intuition about Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, about Sudrey of Eastmarch, née Rhorau, who had betrayed her kind and helped bring about Miklos' death—and all the dark memory and anguish of Miklos' passing and its aftermath.
As Arion thrust ever deeper, touching now on Dimitri and his mysterious demise, Marek's growing discomfort began verging into real pain; but having given over control to Cosim, he could only let the Healer take him through and beyond the pain to unconsciousness rather than the oblivion of mind-ripping, for Arion would not relent until satisfied that his subject had yielded everything of consequence.
When next Marek became aware of anything besides a dull throbbing behind his eyes, he was lying in Valentin's arms and struggling to breathe. Cosim was kneeling beside them, one hand still touching Marek but himself still reverberating to the memory of the Death-Reading the two of them had done on Miklos, also given over for the angry examination of Miklos' bereaved brother. Marek heard Arion before he saw him—a stifled sobbing that he soon tracked to the dim recess of a nearby window embrasure, where a darker shadow hunched amid the flickering shadow play from the torches in the room.
"Arion?" he whispered, struggling to sit up despite the warning murmur from Valentin.
The sudden movement caused a lancing pain behind his eyes, which abated not at all as the king turned to glare at him, the swollen eyes still angry.
_Say nothing_ , Cosim warned, stirring enough to try to wrap his healing around the pain in Marek's head. _He knows it was not entirely your fault, but that does not cancel out the loss_.
"We shall not discuss this further at this time," Arion said quietly, without any inflection whatsoever. The temperate tone was far more frightening than any outburst of further anger might have been. "Go back to my sister's capital in Torenth. Give her what comfort you may. Bring my brother's body back here for burial, but do _not_ come by Portal. By land, with a fitting escort, the journey should take at least a week. Perhaps by then I shall be able to speak to you civilly."
With that he was gone, out the door in a swirl of black silk and blacker mood. Not for several seconds did Marek dare to stir, only then turning his gaze uncertainly to the men the king had left him.
"Cosim, will he ever forgive me?" he asked.
The Healer bowed his silver head.
"Do not count on his support for a very long time, my friend," he said softly. "I have never seen him so angry. Just now, he is angry with you. When his anger turns to Miklos and the Haldane as well, perhaps he will be able to at least accept what has happened. I think it now clear that the Haldane is something we had not anticipated, even if he did not directly kill Miklos."
"One day I will take him, Cosim," Marek said. "But even though I best him with magic, I will need troops to secure what I have won. And I can only get them through Arion's good graces."
"In time, you may regain Arion's favor," the Healer replied. "But for now, be thankful that he has spared your life and sanity. Are you able to stand?"
"I think so," Marek said, letting Valentin help him shakily to his feet.
"Then let us obey the king's command, and go back to the Princess Charis."
"Aye," Marek whispered, passing a trembling hand across his eyes. "And pray a curse upon the man who calls himself King of Gwynedd."
The bells of Prime startled the king awake as they had on his previous visit to Saint Cassian's, and he dragged himself from bed to ready for the day's journey, not looking forward to the jarring of the ride, but eager to be quit of the place. His hand seemed marginally less swollen, perhaps because of its hot soak the night before, but all his body still ached. He could feel the tension in his neck and shoulders and the warmth of fever in his brow.
He skipped Mass that morning, for he could not bear the thought of having a _Custodes_ priest minister to him, after the simple sanctity of Father Derfel. Deliberately ignoring Stevanus' advice, for the battle surgeon was a lay member of the _Custodes Fidei_ , he took his morning dose of painkiller before going into the refectory to break his fast. It made him slightly nauseated on an empty stomach, as Stevanus had warned; but again, eating seemed entirely too much effort, and he only managed to get down some ale and a little bread before pushing away from the table and heading out to the yard, where Rhun and Manfred sullenly awaited orders. He gathered Rhun had shared the previous night's revelation about the codicil with the older man, for Manfred gave him a hard, cold look before mounting up. Father Lior's sour countenance suggested that he knew, too; and Brother Polidorus now had joined the other _Custodes_ men riding at the Inquisitor-General's side.
The second day's travel was much like the first, except that Rhys Michael felt worse as the day wore on. As they forged on across the rest of the Iomaire plain, he tried to make himself eat a little whenever they stopped to rest—or at least drink some wine to fortify himself, for he knew he must keep up his strength—but he could feel his fever mounting without the tacil to control it. Rhun and Manfred were never far from his side, and the _Custodes_ bodyguards who rode before and behind him seemed unusually attentive. Gallard de Breffni was prominent among them. When they camped for the night, Cathan reported that there seemed to be more guards around the royal tent than usual, no doubt to prevent the export of any more unauthorized codicils.
He ate sparingly in his tent with Cathan and Fulk, for he could not stomach the prospect of his enemies' cold-eyed speculation if he dined in the command tent. After supper, despite his exhaustion, he had Cathan take down a letter to Michaela, for there had been no opportunity to write to her the night before. Writing was less than satisfactory, for other eyes would read his words before they reached the queen, but he knew that having the letters would bring her some comfort. Before they were finished, Stevanus came to dress his hand, accompanied by Brother Polidorus, Father Lior, and even Rhun and Manfred, but no one said much, Stevanus only commenting that his fever seemed to have worsened since morning. Rhys Michael decided it was pointless to remind them that the drug Polidorus had taken away from him might have prevented that.
When they had gone out, he lay back on his camp bed and brooded on developments as Cathan finished the letter by lantern-light, and Fulk spread his pallet before the tent entrance, preparing for sleep. Stevanus had left the usual dose of painkiller, but Rhys Michael had not yet touched it.
Outside, the bustle of the camp gradually settled down to the usual night sounds, with Fulk's gentle snoring soon providing a reassuring background drone. By the time Cathan had brought ink and quill for the king to sign Mika's letter, Rhys Michael had conceived a further measure he might take, to the comfort of his family, for he was coming to worry that either his weakening condition or the growing enmity of Rhun and Manfred might conspire to prevent him from ever reaching home.
"Before you take that to Rhun for dispatch, I need you to fetch me the Haldane brooch from my cloak," he murmured to Cathan, as he scrawled his awkward signature. "And when you come back, please don't disturb me until I indicate that it's all right. I'll tell you then, what this is all about."
"Very well."
When Cathan had gone, Rhys Michael lay back with the Haldane brooch cupped under his good hand, resting on his chest, his thumb lightly caressing the sleek gold of the clasp as he set the Haldane lion in his inner sight like a battle banner. He gathered his intent as he drove himself deep into trance then, shutting out the pain, shutting out the fever coursing through his body, coiling his design around the core of his Haldane potential, knowing exactly what must be done. He could not and would not impose the full weight of the Haldane legacy on his son at so young an age, but he knew beyond questioning that the potential must be set, both in Owain and in the second son Rhysel claimed Michaela carried. And it might be that Michaela herself would have to do it, if he could not.
Using the brooch as a focus for this new purpose, as he and Michaela had long used it as a focus for their aspirations to free his crown, he set the requisite spells and bound them with his power, also setting instructions for Michaela on a more superficial level. It took a great deal of energy.
He was sweating and trembling with chills by the time he had finished. To seal the intent and bind it to his will, he turned the brooch over and braced it against his chest, the clasp now pointed upward, gleaming in the lantern-light. Even his good hand was shaking, and he had to steady the body of the brooch against his bandaged hand so that he could rest the other atop the clasp.
For strongest binding, he would have preferred to thrust it through his palm, as he had at his empowering; but he knew he did not have the strength, and also dared not risk debilitating injury to his one good hand, with no Healer to attend to it. Considering, he lightly tried the point against the join of thumb and forefinger, then shifted it to the web of skin and muscle and sinew between his middle and ring fingers and closed his eyes—and shoved hard.
The pain was sharp but brief, and as nothing beside the pulsing throb of his other hand. He drew a deep breath, and another, to disengage from the spell. When he opened his eyes, Cathan was sitting quietly on the edge of the bed beside him, eyes wide. The king managed a shaky smile as he glanced down at the sliver of gold protruding from between his fingers.
"You can pull that out now, if you will," he whispered, wincing as he turned his hand slightly to accommodate Cathan. "It's done. Just make certain that Michaela gets the brooch, if anything happens to me. And the Eye of Rom."
Cathan had picked up the hand and was poised to pull out the clasp, but he faltered at the king's words, blue eyes flicking first to the great ruby in the king's right earlobe, then to the grey Haldane eyes.
"Do you know something I don't?"
Rhys Michael swallowed audibly and glanced at the brooch, jutting his chin at it for Cathan to proceed, breathing a little sigh of relief as the clasp slid free.
"Thank you," he whispered. "No, I don't have any particular prescience of disaster; I'm just taking precautions. I'm mostly worried about the hand." He swallowed again as Cathan laid the brooch aside and then inspected the two small puncture wounds. There was very little blood, and Cathan squeezed the hand to make them bleed.
"You'd better let me clean that for you," he murmured, going to dampen a clean towel in the pitcher left from Stevanus' earlier ministrations.
When he had done that, also wiping the damp towel over the king's perspiring forehead and neck, he knelt down and took the newly wounded hand again, pressing it to his forehead, tears in his eyes.
"You don't think you're going to make it, do you, Rhysem?" he whispered. "Dear God, what's to become of us?"
"I don't know," Rhys Michael murmured. "Humour me, though, and put the brooch in your saddlebag right now. I hope it's my fever that's making me fearful, but I want to be sure you have it, if anything does happen."
When Cathan had obeyed, he came back to the king, who nodded his thanks and managed a faint smile.
"Thank you. Now, there's one more thing I want to do tonight. If I shouldn't make it through this, I want Michaela to know that my last thoughts were and are of her and our sons. I don't want to write it, because I can't be sure she'd get it, but I _can_ set the message in you, to deliver if—if that becomes appropriate. Will you let me do that?"
"Of course. What do you want me to do?"
"First give me the painkiller Stevanus left, so I can drift off to sleep when I'm done, then sit here beside the bed so that I can rest my hand on your head. You won't even remember unless it becomes necessary. I'm taking precautions, because it's wise to have contingency plans, but it isn't my intention to die."
Other contingency plans were also being set into place, though the king did not know it. In the very campsite where he shortly slipped into drugged, exhausted sleep, Ansel, Jesse, Tieg, and a much depleted band of quondam "borderers" gathered by turns in Ansel's tent, there to compare what they had learned since joining the royal party late in the afternoon.
What little information could be had suggested that the king's fever was giving cause for alarm. Further, he had quarreled with his commanders, and the _Custodes_ clergy were even more out of favor than previously. No one seemed to know specific causes, but some put it down to differences of opinion over the king's medical treatment. A _Custodes_ battle surgeon called Master Stevanus was still the king's principal physician, but another man, the infirmarian from Saint Cassian's, had been added to the king's household when they left the _Custodes_ establishment that morning. Brother Polidorus seemed an officious individual, and even other _Custodes_ seemed not to have much complimentary to say about him. The medical implications troubled Tieg, in particular, and made him glad to know that Dom Queron was on his way at all speed to try to intervene.
That same Queron even then was emerging from an underground passage in a village at the foot of Caerrorie Castle, some miles eastward, disguised as a common monk, his Gabrilite braid once again sacrificed in the interests of less distinctive tonsuring. Skirting past the village church, he slipped silently into a neatly kept barn where he saddled a quiet brown mare and led her outside, leaving behind a gold coin and a slip of parchment sealed with the arms of old Culdi. Its finder would take the latter to the village priest in the morning, who would read, _A friend of Father Joram had need of this horse and will return it if at all possible_.
Queron pushed the mare hard, all through the night. Approaching dawn found him far along the road to Valoret and striking off northward and overland toward the King's Road, to gain a few more hours' progress before daylight forced him into hiding. His brown robes marked him as a brother of the Order of Saint Jarlath, whose House lay in the direction he was riding, but his blooded steed was no monk's mount.
Not that both he and the mare would not benefit from a few hours' rest, but he resented the delay, when every hour might make the difference for the king's survival. At least they were headed toward one another. According to Ansel, whose report had been relayed via Camlin before he left sanctuary, Queron could expect the king's party to reach as far south as Ebor or even Sheele by the end of this third day out of Lochalyn; but Queron still had many miles to cover.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
And as troops of robbers wait for a man, so the company of priests murder in the way by consent.
—Hosea 6:9
Rhys Michael's condition had not improved by morning, but at least it seemed no worse. Though still feverish, he insisted upon pushing on. He still had little appetite and had to force himself to eat what little he did.
Despite increasing doses of his pain medication, his hand throbbed almost unbearably, and he continued to shiver and burn by turns as the morning wore on. Just past midday, not long after the column had passed a tiny convent perched jewel-like on a distant hill, his condition took a dramatic turn for the worse.
He had been riding along in a sort of stupor for several hours, head bowed over his injured hand and his hood pulled up to shield him from the sun, when a bout of shivering shifted into something very like a mild convulsion. Already hunched down in cloak and hood, his good hand clinging to the pommel of his saddle, he managed to weather the first attack without anyone noticing. But an hour later it happened again, more violently, and he had to pull up, teeth tightly clenched as the spasms bowed his spine and threw his head back, nearly wrenching him out of the saddle.
"Rhysem, what's wrong!" Cathan cried, pulling up beside him and catching at his reins as Fulk set a steadying hand on his good shoulder.
The spasms eased but little as Stevanus crowded close alongside to take Fulk's place, reaching out to clasp his wrist, and Rhun and Manfred halted the column, trotting back to find out what was happening.
"Jesus, he's burning up!" Stevanus muttered.
"What's wrong with him?" Rhun demanded. "Sire, can you speak?"
Rhys Michael could hear them, but he could not seem to get any words out. The spasms were easing, but his vision was blurred, and his ears were ringing, and it took all his strength of will to keep from falling off.
"We've got to get him to shelter and knock down this fever," Stevanus said, glancing around urgently. "What's in the vicinity?"
"We're still about an hour's ride from Ebor," Manfred said, consulting a sergeant at his stirrup. "Can he stay on a horse that long?"
"I doubt it," Stevanus said. "Wasn't there a convent a mile or two back?" Releasing the king's wrist, he pulled his medical satchel over his shoulder and started rummaging in it. "Cathan, get up behind him and make sure he doesn't fall off, or we may not get him back up. Fulk or somebody—fetch me something liquid in a cup—water, wine—it doesn't matter. Just something to dissolve a sedative. No, that's not it," he muttered, discarding several small parchment packets.
"C-cold," Rhys Michael managed to whisper through clenched teeth, eyes tightly closed, using almost all his strength to get the word out. "B-burning up." But Cathan was scrambling to a seat behind him, bracing him with his arms around him, and no one heard.
While Stevanus continued to search his satchel, hampered by the restless shuffling of his mount, Fulk had swung down and dashed back along the column. Very shortly he returned with a small horn cup.
"I've got wine!" he shouted, as he made his way back toward Stevanus.
Two _Custodes_ knights meanwhile had dismounted and come to stand on either side of the king's horse, holding his legs steady in the stirrups and keeping the animal quiet, casting alarmed glances at Rhun and Manfred as the king started shaking again. Father Lior and Father Magan were urging their horses forward from farther back to see what was wrong, followed by Brother Polidorus. As Fulk presented his cup, Stevanus passed down two of the parchment packets.
"Dump those in the wine and swirl it round," he ordered, returning his attention to the king as he set a steadying hand on the royal shoulder. "Sire, I want you to drink this sedative. It will put you to sleep, but it will help control the spasms. Cathan, help him!"
As Fulk held the cup up, Rhys Michael managed to take it, assisted by Cathan, but a new spasm closed his hand around the cup with such force that it shattered, spattering him with wine as his head jerked back. They got him onto the ground before he could fall, amid a milling confusion of grasping hands and anxious voices shouting conflicting orders, and the next thing he knew was a sharp jab of pain in the side of his neck, a second, and then waves of nausea and psychic disruption joining with the spasms and the unrelenting throb of his injured hand.
"Goddammit, Lior, I didn't want to give him _merasha_ ," he dimly heard Stevanus muttering, as the wave of darkness came welling up. "I don't know how it will react with what's already in him!"
Just before he passed out, he found himself wondering whether they would figure out that he was reacting like a Deryni. But the spasms already racking his body prevented that, and the double dose of _merasha_ added to his earlier medication took him quickly beyond being able to care.
How long he remained unconscious he did not know; only that the room in which he briefly surfaced was dim and cool and presided over by several dark-clad women of indeterminate age, with gentle hands and kindly faces. Two of them were sponging his naked body with cool water while a third, younger one applied cold compresses to his burning forehead. At chest and hips, wide bands of cloth bound him to the bed. Dimly he realized that his arms and legs were likewise restrained. Every muscle and joint in his entire body seemed to ache.
He managed a painful croak, yearning for something cool to drink, something to still the pounding pain behind his eyes.
"So, you've come back among the living," a cheery female voice said, owned by a fourth black-clad figure who joined the others at this sign of life and bent to feel his forehead under the compress. "Don't try to move. Your physicians had you restrained because of the convulsions. Now that you're conscious, though, we must do something more about that fever besides just sponging you down. Sister Regina, release that chest band, please, so we can raise him up. We don't want him to choke on this."
Another woman came and put a wooden cup in the speaker's hand. The women sponging him set aside their basins and drew a sheet up to his waist, then released the band that bound his chest. Through the dull lethargy and pounding in his head, a muzzy part of Rhys Michael's brain dimly registered that his ministering angels must be religious of some sort. The disjointedness of this conclusion reminded him that at least part of the cause for his wretchedness was _merasha_ , never mind the fever and the hand.
"Where's Cathan?" he managed to whisper, letting out an inadvertent groan as one of the sisters raised him up with a gentle arm behind his shoulders. "Cathan?"
"That's one of your men, isn't it, Sire?" the cup-bearer murmured. "Drink this first, and I'll call him."
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's a tea we brew from white willow bark, very good for fever. Believe me, it will help."
"My head hurts," he protested weakly, as the cup pressed to his lips.
"That's from the fever. Just drink this down. It will help that, too."
He had little choice but to obey, though he could only get it down in tiny sips, almost a trickle past dry lips. The effort exhausted him enough to slide him back into darkness.
His head was a little clearer when he woke again, but his body still ached, as did his hand. He could feel the chest restraint back in place with the others, and someone was prodding none too gently at his abdomen.
A tentative try at reading the prodder's identity with his powers produced a stabbing pain behind his eyes and a new wave of nausea and vertigo, confirming that _merasha_ aftereffects continued to disrupt his abilities. A poke in the bladder made him gasp and open his eyes, to discover that his tormentor was a sour-faced Brother Polidorus. Stevanus stood beside him, looking underslept and far too anxious.
"Did that hurt?" the battle surgeon asked, almost hopefully, as Polidorus continued to poke and prod.
Rhys Michael had to swallow before he could summon the energy to shake his head. "Bladder's full."
When the appropriate receptacle had been brought, utilized, and taken away, Stevanus took Polidorus' place, still looking grim as he laid his hand across his patient's forehead. Cathan and Fulk had come into the room, accompanied by Manfred and Rhun. The latter two looked angry. The room was dim, as before, but now Rhys Michael sensed light beyond the heavy curtains to his right. He wondered what day it was.
"How do you feel?" Stevanus asked, very quietly.
"Am I supposed to feel better?" the king replied.
Stevanus quirked him a faint smile as he took his hand away.
"One keeps hoping. Your fever is a bit diminished, but you've had convulsions off and on, all through the night and morning. The hand is draining, but that's to be expected."
Rhys Michael flexed at his bonds and closed his eyes briefly. "Do I have to be restrained?"
"When you go into convulsions, you're pretty spectacular. You could break bones. I'm afraid the restraints have to stay."
"How long?"
"Until the convulsions ease up."
"No, how long until _that_ happens? Stevanus, could I die from this?" he asked, trying to catch the battle surgeon's gaze.
Stevanus glanced away. "I—don't think you're going to die from this, Sire," he whispered. "But here, I've got some more of the sisters' willow-bark tea for you. And a bit of sedative. It seems to help the spasms a bit. Cathan, just lift his head a little."
Whether the sedative would have helped was a moot point, because the draught had not been in his stomach long enough to take effect before his body was again racked by wave upon wave of violent, cramping convulsions that arched his spine and choked off his breath and eventually left him unconscious. When he came around, he knew not how much later, angry voices were being raised in argument all around his bed, and he could feel his body tensing for another set of convulsions even as he opened his eyes to look around him.
"Medically, that's precisely what is called for!" Brother Polidorus was saying, as Lior laid a restraining hand on an angry Stevanus' shoulder. "I wanted it done days ago and look what's happened."
Manfred was standing in the background, looking determined, and Sir Rondel, his aide, had the furiously struggling Rhun in a hammerlock, two _Custodes_ knights pulling his arms outstretched while Father Magan bared one burly forearm and angled for a clean jab with a Deryni pricker. Cathan was nearby, but Gallard de Breffni had _him_ in custody, with a dagger held to his throat rather than a Deryni pricker. Fulk was over by the door flanked by two more _Custodes_ knights, not actively in custody but looking defeated and sick at heart.
"But he's too weak already!" Stevanus was protesting. "If you bleed him, he may not even survive _that_ , much less the longer-term effects."
Through the red haze that was creeping over the king's vision as convulsions claimed him again, wrenching him once more toward oblivion, the sense of Stevanus' words sent cold dread flooding through his mind. They meant to bleed him after all! He had forbidden Stevanus or Rhun to allow it, but Lior and Polidorus apparently had prevailed against even Rhun's orders. By an exhausting act of will, for the residual effects of the _merasha_ continued to cloud his access to his powers, Rhys Michael managed not to succumb to this latest set of convulsions, but as they receded and he could again turn his perceptions outward, he was not certain he would not have been happier not to know.
For they were not arguing over him anymore. Cathan was kneeling at the right side of the bed, one hand gently stroking his forehead, weeping bitterly into his other hand. And on the left, as a sudden, burning pain in his arm made him flinch and turn his head in dismay, he saw Polidorus lifting a bloody lancet.
"No!" he cried weakly, instinctively trying to jerk away, even as Polidorus released the ligature that had kept his blood from flowing. "Noooooo!" he groaned, as the hot blood began to stream around his arm and collect in a basin set beneath his elbow.
But a _Custodes_ knight had one hand set firmly against his shoulder and the other on his upper arm, and Father Magan had that forearm in an unrelenting grip, to ensure that their unwilling patient did not twist against the padded wrist restraint that held the arm outstretched. Another _Custodes_ knight had moved in beside Cathan at the king's first sign of movement and restrained his right arm and shoulder. Stevanus was nowhere to be seen.
The horror and the helplessness of it all swept through him in less than a blink of an eye, along with the anger and betrayal and the utter futility of continuing to resist. Even so, he did try, wrenching at his bonds with a moan of outrage but then forced to succumb as Gallard de Breffni pressed across his body to pin him helpless, crushing the breath from his lungs, and his other captors tightened their holds on his twitching limbs. The exertion made the blood flow even faster, a still-rational part of him dimly realized, briefly spilling over the edge of the bowl until Polidorus could steady it. As the king gave up his struggling, Gallard eased off on crushing his chest, and the _Custodes_ men pinning his shoulders let up slightly.
"Rhysem, forgive me, I couldn't stop them," Cathan whispered, urgently turning his kinsman's face from what was being done. "They won't kill me, for Mika's sake, but they would have made me leave you, if I hadn't stopped fighting them. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering this alone."
"But, why?" Rhys Michael managed to croak, his voice quavering. "Is this how they're going to kill me?"
"Now, Sire, you mustn't get such ideas in your head," Polidorus purred, calmly milking at his upper arm to keep the blood flowing, the bloody lancet still in his hand. "You're a very stubborn patient. You don't know what's best for you. Bleeding will let out the evil humours that are causing your illness. Believe me, we know what we're doing."
Unable to argue such illogic, Rhys Michael cast his gaze helplessly around the room and saw that Rhun had subsided onto a stool over nearer the door, eyes closed, his head leaned back against the wall. Manfred was standing beside him, one hand on his shoulder, glancing down at him occasionally. Lior was on his other side. And Rhys Michael's blood continued to run around his elbow and into the basin, more and more of it, just as Javan had described when the _Custodes_ bled him, what seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Rhun, listen to me," Rhys Michael called, with as much strength as he could muster. "Rhun, if they kill me, I've told you what will happen. Don't let them do this—for your own sake, if not for mine."
Manfred's hand tightened on Rhun's shoulder, and he quirked an uneasy smile at the king. "I'm not certain he can hear you, Sire. In any case, I am not as gullible as Lord Rhun. I don't believe you."
"Shall I have Cathan show you the document?" the king asked.
"Anyone can draw up any document in their fantasies," Manfred replied. "I think you're bluffing."
"And if I'm not?"
Manfred shrugged. "Sire, it is regrettable that sometimes, despite the best of medical care, even the most illustrious patients do not survive illnesses as serious as yours. There will be ample witness that all was done that could be done and that your Highness refused sound medical advice on more than one occasion, until it was too late to save you."
"But, it's murder," Rhys Michael murmured, despair curling in his gut like a slithering snake. "What's more, it's sacrilege. But then, you've killed a king before, haven't you? At least Javan was able to die in the field, with his sword in his hand!"
Smiling a terrible little smile, Manfred walked over to the bed and glanced dispassionately at the basin collecting the king's blood, now nearly filled.
"I am not a vindictive man, Sire. I give you my faithful promise that when the time comes, you may die with your sword in your hand, if you wish—with the very sword that Javan held in _his_ hand, in _his_ last moments. But it will not be today."
At his nod, Brother Polidorus set aside his lancet and pressed a pad of clean towel to the wound in the king's arm, lifting it clear so that Father Magan could remove the bowl of royal blood. When they had washed the arm clean, Polidorus applied a new dressing and bound it up, then directed Cathan to press his fingers against the dressing to be sure the wound was stanched, for they did not loose the restraints.
"Thank you, Brother Polidorus," Manfred murmured. "Your services may be required again during the night, if our patient shows no sign of improvement, but for now, you may go. Sire, I'll send Master Stevanus and Lord Fulk back to you after Father Lior has had a word with you."
Polidorus made Manfred a slight bow and retreated with him, the _Custodes_ knights following with the groggy Rhun stumbling between them. When they had gone, Lior came over to the bed to sniff disdainfully at the bowl of blood still set on the table beside it. Father Magan was quietly gathering up the bloodied towels and instruments, collecting them on a wooden tray.
"A pity your Deryni friends could not be here, Sire," Lior said softly. "No doubt they would find royal blood highly desirable for their rites of abomination. As it is, the custom in religious houses is to fertilize the gardens with the products of bloodletting. Perhaps in a year or two, the good sisters will be able to tell us whether royal blood is superior to merely mortal blood for that purpose."
Increasingly light-headed, either from the loss of blood or the sedative earlier, Rhys Michael could hardly believe what he had just heard. But it was Cathan who challenged the _Custodes_ priest, blue eyes wide with horror and indignation.
"Just what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded. "That's a lie, about the Deryni!"
"Oh, had you not heard of their blood rites?" Lior asked. "Of course, you mostly escaped their taint. I remember testing you. But 'tis well known that the Deryni consort with demons, who demand blood of their devotees. My sources inform me that royal blood is considered to be only slightly less efficacious than that of virgins or infants. In some cases, it is more useful. Be thankful that they do not have access to your body, Sire, much less to your soul."
Cathan had blanched, unable to reply, and Rhys Michael could only turn his face away in loathing. His breathing had become more labored, and his thinking was not as clear as it had been.
"Speaking of which," Lior went on, "I shall have a priest come to you in a little while. I am sure you will wish to make confession and receive Extreme Unction, being in mortal peril. I would offer my services, but somehow I doubt you would find me acceptable. Or Father Magan, I expect." Rhys Michael could only shake his head numbly. "Well, I shall find someone. Good evening, Sire."
When he and Magan had gone out, taking the tray and the blood with them, Stevanus was allowed to return, Fulk also coming to stand uneasily by the king's bed.
"I am truly sorry, Sire," the battle surgeon murmured, looking distraught. "I tried to stop them. Sir Fulk tried as well, but we could only insist so far."
Rhys Michael closed his eyes, tensing for a new set of convulsions he could feel coming on.
"I know," he whispered. "You're none of you to blame. Cathan—"
Cathan's hand closed around his good one, and he hung on for his life as the spasms racked him again and Stevanus and Fulk tried to still his thrashing. Thereafter he slipped into troubled sleep, given respite at last by his sedation, his three guardians keeping watch by turns, as day slipped into evening and to night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
—II Timothy 4:6
Queron caught up with the Gwynedd army late in the morning of the next day. He had expected to find them much farther south, and caught intimations of a royal pause only a little after dawn, when he paused at a farmer's steading to beg food and drink.
"Aye, Father, they're camped round about the convent up the road," the goodwife told him, as she poured him fresh milk from a crockery jar. "They say the king fell ill, an' they took him there for the good sisters to care for him."
Queron soon found opportunity to probe the woman more closely, but she had already told all she knew. Begging a slab of cheese and a hunk of bread, he left the brown mare in exchange for the farmer's more suitable grey donkey and set off up the road, wolfing down the food for sustenance and planning how he might gain access to the king.
The cover he had chosen was an excellent start. Not only did his obviously advanced years present no physical threat to whatever laymen might be responsible for the king's safety, but his monastic habit virtually guaranteed the hospitality of just about any religious house. An itinerant cleric could always be prevailed upon to share the latest news of the outside world in exchange for his supper and a bed, while also enabling his hosts to exercise Christian charity. A visiting priest also might be asked to hear the odd confession and perhaps celebrate Mass, if the community did not have its own resident chaplain. Begging a noonday meal was perhaps not as satisfactory an entrée as requesting travelers' fare and lodgings at day's end, but Queron reflected that he could always make the donkey limp temporarily, if no other ruse seemed likely to gain him entrance.
He did not have to resort to such tactics. Though he could see the vast sprawl of the army's encampment across the fields as he approached, and there was much evidence of horsemen riding to and fro on the road as he neared the convent gates, no one gave him a second glance as he guided the little donkey under the entrance arch. Across the cobbled courtyard, several armed men were tending horses outside what he presumed must be the guesthouse, and more horses stood tied beside what appeared to be the entrance to the stable yard. As he drew rein, a smiling young sister in a black wimple and habit came to greet him, setting work-roughened hands on the donkey's bridle as he slid to the ground.
"God's greeting to you, good brother. Welcome to Saint Ostrythe's. How may we serve you?"
"God's greeting to you, Sister. Might I trouble you for a bite to eat and fodder for my four-legged friend? 'Tis a long ride yet to Saint Jarlath's, and I do not know where the evening will find me. My name is Father Donatus."
"And I am Sister Winifred," she said, bobbing him a curtsey. "Of course you may find hospitality in this house, Father. I fear the fare may be less ample than our usual wont, for we guest the king and his party, but you are welcome to share what we have. Come and I'll show you where to put your beast."
Following her into the stable yard, Queron took in as much as he could of the layout of the place, alert for any sign of the king's presence nearby; but he could find no trace.
"Tell me, what brings the king to these parts?" he asked, as she led him past several soldiers into a well-built barn.
The little nun gave a sad shrug, stroking the donkey's neck as she guided it into a spacious box stall strewn with sweet-smelling hay.
"I fear he is very ill, Father. They brought him here yesterday, all but unconscious, and 'tis said that even bleeding has not eased him. Mother Prioress instructed us to pray for him, both last night and this morning."
Stunned, Queron laid a hand on her shoulder, gently taking control as he turned her to face him and then probed deep. Sister Winifred's discretion was what might be expected of a religious, but her knowledge of the king's condition was not confined to a mere glimpse or convent gossip. She was only a very junior member of the community, but she had been one of several sisters to tend the king immediately after his arrival.
From her he read the king's condition at that time and what had been done for him in her presence. The injured hand had not been dealt with, for it was fever and convulsions that had interrupted his journey. Queron would have preferred talicil for the fever and could have prescribed several specific Deryni drugs that might have eased the very alarming spasms, but the tea brewed from white willow bark conveyed some of the same benefits as talicil, and sedation, in general, usually helped to ease convulsions.
Unfortunately, Sister Winifred had no direct knowledge about the bloodletting, though it was understood that the king almost certainly had been bled more than once since his arrival and possibly as many as three or four times. That was alarming enough, but earlier this morning, one of the king's officers had made inquiries concerning the availability of the convent's chaplain—which seemed odd to young Winifred, since the king's immediate party certainly had several priests among their number. One had celebrated Mass for them this morning, for the convent's resident priest was away.
This additional piece of information struck a dread chill in Queron's heart. That a priest was being sought was ill news, indeed, for it bespoke the very real possibility that the king was in danger of death. And how like Rhys Michael to refuse the services of his _Custodes_ priests. Queron recalled being told that the dying Alroy had done precisely the same thing, only finally receiving his last Communion from his brother Javan's hands.
But herein lay a possible way to gain access to the king, not as an itinerant hospitaller but as a disinterested and neutral priest who might be acceptable to a man who knew the failings of his own priests far too well to entrust his soul to them as he approached death. It was not what Queron had hoped to accomplish, and he tried not to let himself expect that he was in time to make a difference as a Healer; but at least if Queron was too late to save the king's life, perhaps he might help ease that life to a more peaceful close, with the solace of a friend beside him, even in the midst of his enemies...
"It grieves me to hear that the king is so ill, Sister," Queron murmured, shaking his head, smoothly releasing her without memory of any passage of time. "Far from home and kin, it must give him comfort to receive the loving care of this House. And for his soul's cure, I should imagine he has the ministrations of many good priests."
She dropped her gaze and folded her hands in the wide sleeves of her habit, biting at her lower lip. "I—am not certain he has yet received the sacraments, Father. Earlier this morning, one of his young officers was inquiring for a priest; alas, ours is away. Later, the senior of the king's priests said Mass for us—a Father Lior—but he seemed preoccupied and almost angry. I—wonder whether he and his brother priests may be out of favor with the king. I can think of no other reason to ask for ours."
Queron raised an eyebrow. "You think he would not see his own priests? But—oh, dear. Sister, I can hardly claim to be the sort of courtly, sophisticated priest to which the king must be accustomed, but do you suppose he still needs one? I would be honored to offer what solace I may, if he would think it no impertinence from a humble country cleric."
Sister Winifred smiled hopefully.
"You're very generous, Father. I can take you to the king's men. It may be that his Highness would be well content to confess himself to a priest who knows him not at all. Perhaps there lies the problem."
"Perhaps," Queron agreed.
Leaving the stable with Sister Winifred, Queron followed her back across the central courtyard and through into the cloister garth, heading for the Chapter House. It appeared the king's officers had appropriated the building for a temporary command headquarters. Several _Custodes_ guards were posted outside the open doorway, some of them looking grim, indeed, but they gave only casual interest to the aged, brown-robed cleric who followed silently at the heels of the pretty Sister Winifred, hands folded piously in the sleeves of his habit and head ducked down in his cowl. Fortunately, Queron had never had a face-to-face meeting with any of the men likely to be inside, though he knew most of them by others' mental recall and description.
"Beg pardon, my lords," Sister Winifred said, peering timidly into the open doorway and bobbing a nervous curtsey as several of the men looked up. "One of the young officers was inquiring earlier this morning about a priest. This is Father Donatus, on his way to Saint Jarlath's. Could he be of any assistance?"
An intense, black-eyed priest in _Custodes_ habit detached himself from a knot of _Custodes_ officers and came over to the doorway—Father Lior, Queron realized.
"What was that name again, Father?" Lior asked.
"Donatus," Queron said, making the obviously grander Lior a deferential bow, eyes averted. "I do beg your pardon, Father, but perhaps Sister was mistaken. I was told a priest was required, but I see several priests among you."
Behind Lior, Manfred gave a snort. Rhun of Horthness stood beside him, sullenly nursing a large goblet.
"Well, Lior, your prayers are answered," Manfred said. "I doubt it will make much difference to _him_ , but I'm sure you priestly types will feel better about all of this if the proprieties are observed."
Biting back whatever retort had come to mind, Lior merely folded his hands behind his back and curtly gestured to Queron with his chin as he headed out the door.
"Come with me, please, Father. Thank you, Sister."
A few minutes later, Lior was leading Queron past a pair of _Custodes_ guards and into a dim, close room tinged with the sweetness of incense and beeswax and the underscent of blood. Two motionless figures in leather and shirtsleeves knelt to either side of a white-covered bed, and a third in the black tunic of a _Custodes_ battle surgeon turned a compress on the forehead of the bed's occupant. Though Queron had never met any of the three, he recognized all of them as they looked up—Cathan, Fulk, and Stevanus—and he sent a quick burst of thought to Cathan, who alone might guess what he was.
_Say nothing. I am sent by Joram_.
"This is Father Donatus," Lior said, gesturing toward Queron. "How is his Highness?"
"Quiet," Stevanus said, setting his compress aside, not meeting Lior's eyes as he got to his feet. "It—cannot be much longer."
Lior's lips tightened, and he shook his head, piously folding his hands at his waist. "These are sad times, indeed, Father. I gave his Highness holy anointing early this morning, when his condition became grave, but he would not speak to me, he would not make last confession, nor would he receive Viaticum. If you can reach him, if you can persuade him to make his peace with God, I would count it a personal favor."
"I am honored to offer that comfort to any soul in need, Father," Queron said quietly, somewhat surprised to find that Lior's regret seemed genuine—though he was also aware that Lior took little personal risk by asking another priest to hear the king's last confession, since any accusations against Lior or the others would be sealed by the confidentiality of that sacrament. "If we may have some privacy, please?"
"Of course."
With a pointed glance at the others, Lior began making shooing motions to urge them out of the room. Cathan rose obediently enough, though clearly on the brink of tears, but he lingered near the foot of the bed as Fulk, Stevanus, and then Lior passed outside.
"Might I stay in the room, please, Father?" he whispered. "Maybe over in the corner? He has been like a brother to me. The queen is my sister."
"Not just now, son," Queron said, setting his hands on Cathan's shoulders to guide him to the door—and in those seconds Reading all he could of what had been done to the king. "Why don't you wait outside with the others? I promise I'll call you before the end."
Cathan choked back a sob but gave a nod as well, for Queron had sent explicit instructions during the brief contact. When he had passed outside, Queron gently closed the door and then came back to gaze down at the king.
Rhys Michael's eyes were closed, and his labored breathing barely stirred the stark white sheet pulled up to midchest. He was no longer restrained. Both arms lay outside the sheeting, the right hand heavily bandaged and splinted and lesser bandages binding both arms at the elbows, evidence of the repeated bleedings. Cathan had witnessed four, though the king probably had not been aware of the last of these. He still had lucid moments, but they were becoming fewer and shorter.
Crossing himself with weary resignation, Queron knelt at the king's left and took the slack hand in one of his, chafing it gently as his other hand came to rest on Rhys Michael's forehead, Reading deep as a Healer Reads and knowing, as only a Healer can know, that all his powers could not reverse what had been set in motion. The physical damage to the hand could still be Healed—and Queron would have been willing to risk personal discovery, if such Healing might save the king's life—but nothing could be done to replace the vast quantities of blood the king had lost, or to quell the fever burning away what little strength remained to him.
The pain Queron blocked, for that, at least, he could do; but nothing more for the body that housed Rhys Michael Haldane's soul. The king stirred slightly at this respite, though his breathing still was labored, and he did not open his eyes.
"Rhysem, I know you can hear me," Queron whispered softly, very near the king's ear. "It's Dom Queron. Joram has sent me. I deeply regret that I cannot Heal you, but is there anything else I can offer you? Don't try to speak aloud; just give me your thoughts. Rest in the Mercy and let me help you find your peace."
The hope that had stirred faintly in Rhys Michael's soul fluttered back and was stilled, yielding once more to resigned acceptance, for he had given up any real hope of surviving this when they bled him the second time. Before the third time, Manfred had even laid the Haldane sword under his hand, in confirmation of their intentions, though he already had been too weak to hold it. Still, this final acceptance of what soon must be his fate enabled him to send his thought to Queron strong and focused.
_Dom Queron... sweet comfort come at last... Please hear my confession, Father. I would not go to God unshriven, but I could not confess to Lior..._
_Dear son_...
Their thoughts merged and blended then, beyond all need for mere words as the king offered up all his fears and failings for the examination of his spiritual physician, humbly acknowledging the Healer's assessments, letting Queron guide him in making his contrition. Withholding nothing, he also revealed to Queron how he had made provision for passing the Haldane potential to his son—not the full empowering, for Owain was only four, but the means for the ground to be prepared and the seeds sown.
And Cathan must be his agent in this and cautioned not to do or say anything after the king's death that might prevent his return to Michaela, for whom he also bore a last, loving farewell from her Rhysem. It was all the king could offer, in the end—one final bequest to the kingdom he had never really ruled. Having discharged this ultimate obligation, he was content to rest, mind intertwined to mind as hand to hand, even as Queron softly pronounced the ritual words of absolution and signed him in blessing.
" _Ego te absolvo, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen._ "
"Amen," Rhys Michael whispered, opening his eyes at last, the light blazing in them, fierce and strong and nearly burned out.
"Rhysem, I have brought you the Blessed Sacrament," Queron murmured, touching a hand to his breast, where the little pyx rested under his habit in its soft leather pouch, suspended from a cord. "Will you receive Viaticum now? It is heavenly bread, the Body of our Lord, to speed you on your way."
Almost too weak to speak, Rhys Michael nodded, tears welling in his eyes as he remembered the passing of his brother Alroy and how Javan had called him to the dying Alroy's side to share Communion together one last time.
"Call Cathan?" he managed to whisper. "And Fulk and Stevanus, if they wish. They have served—as best they could. In another little while, I think I could have won them truly... but no time."
"Perhaps you have won them better than you knew," Queron murmured. "I'll call them."
He did. Cathan slipped past him anxiously, almost as soon as Queron opened the door, Fulk and then Stevanus following gratefully at the priest's beckoning gesture. Lior had been joined by Manfred, Rhun, and several more _Custodes_ clerics, and would have followed the three the king had asked for, but Queron laid a hand on his wrist to stay him, his stern glance also halting the others.
"He wishes only these three, my lords."
"But I should be there," Lior protested, looking quite ashen-faced in his _Custodes_ black, for he knew that Queron must be aware of his duplicity. "I have offended him, and I would seek his forgiveness."
"I think it best if you remain here and pray for him, Father—and for yourself," Queron said, neutral of tone but with the force of compulsion behind his words. "He forgives, but he does not wish your presence."
Queron did not wait to see the effect of his order, only closing the door and returning to Rhys Michael's bed. Cathan and Fulk had gone to the other side, Cathan kneeling nearest the king's head to pull the Haldane sword quietly from underneath the bed and lay its shining length atop its owner's body with the cross-hilt at the breast, gently bringing the king's good hand to rest upon it, sign both of faith and of kingship. Queron bade Stevanus come beside him, on the king's left, pulling the leather pouch from inside the neck of his habit as he knelt.
The little pyx inside the pouch was silver-gilt, plain, but it blazed like a sun in Queron's psychic sight as he opened it and took out a small consecrated Host. Holding it before the king's burning gaze, the Healer-priest spoke the words that proclaimed their faith, speaking them in the common tongue, that none might mistake his meaning:
"Beloved son, behold the Lamb of God, Who taketh away the sins of the world. Receive this food for thy journey: the Bread of Heaven, containing in itself all delight; the Body of Christ, to keep thee in life everlasting."
Rhys Michael's breathless "Amen" barely stirred his lips, and tears were trembling on the closing lashes like jewels as Queron laid the Host on his tongue. Leaving the king to commune with his God, the priest returned his gaze to the vessel of sunlight glowing in his hand and carefully took out another Host, breaking it in quarters and giving one to Cathan, another to Fulk, the third to Stevanus. The fourth he himself reverently consumed after murmuring the accompanying words in Latin:
" _Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam meam in vitam aeternam. Amen._ "
But he had gently caught the minds of all the others as he touched them, and when he had given thanks for his own Communion, he gathered together their several strands of focused meditation to weave another, silent exhortation, this time calling unseen Powers to witness the passage of the one who shortly would enter their realms. Those Powers were the same Rhys Michael had seen come to speed Alroy on his way, who had witnessed Rhys Michael's coming into his heritage, the same whose presence Queron himself had sought so many times, to bless so many purposes—Guardians and Protectors and Teachers.
And now, Conveyers at last of the soul's passage into—Other. Queron's sorrow was tempered with joy as he bade them welcome, lifting up his heart in glad summoning, offering up wordless greeting by names that caught but a hint of their bearers' puissance and beauty.
Raphael of the winds, serene and gentle, ethereal as a dawn mist but powerful as a raging storm, transparent wings trailing beams of golden sunlight.
Michael of the flames—better known to Joram and his warrior kin than to a Healer like Queron, but a steady and faithful protector of those who must live by the sword—or by the fire of their wits.
Gabriel, Queron's own especial patron, glad herald of the Blessed Virgin, powerful but compassionate, quicksilver-subtle, changing as the tides and as deep as the sea.
And finally Uriel, whose specific commission it was to usher souls across the Great Abyss; Uriel, rock-steady, whose earth would claim the earthly bodies of all, in time, but who now waited to receive a soul. The rainbow shiver of unseen wings rustled the very air around Queron as he gave the Four thanks for their coming and brought the king into their presence.
Rhys Michael did not rouse, but his hand contracted slightly on the hilt of the Haldane sword. As he gave a little shudder, his breath rasping in his chest, Queron used his thumb to sign a cross on the king's forehead in blessing, then gently laid his hand over the king's, with the sword beneath, bowing his head in homage both to him and to the Ones who waited.
_Dearest son, be free to go_ , he whispered in the king's mind. _Your body can no longer serve you. You have fought a noble fight against powerful adversaries, and you have won a chance for your sons. Others will take up the fight now. Be at peace, and go when you are ready_.
The king did not go immediately. A little while longer he lingered, inward-focused and scarcely breathing, perhaps gathering his resolve for that final leap into the Unknown. But Queron sensed that moment when Rhys Michael Alister Haldane finally cast loose the last of the ties binding him to earthly life.
The labored breathing faltered once and then ceased. The hand under Queron's went slack. Lifting his gaze to search the too-pale face, at peace now, Queron fancied he saw the king restored, the king Rhys Michael should have been, crimsonmantled and crowned with the great state crown, clear-eyed and brimming with health, his grey gaze fixed steadfastly on something beyond Queron's head as he rose up out of his abandoned body to join another young man who looked very much like him, with the same grey eyes and jet black hair and a crown of running lions on his head, who also pointed where Rhys Michael was looking.
Queron turned his gaze to follow and beheld another figure cloaked and hooded in grey, extending something in both its hands toward the raptly staring Cathan. Neither Fulk nor Stevanus seemed aware, both with their faces buried in their hands. And as the greyling figured turned, lowering the hands _almost_ enough to reveal what he held, Queron caught just a glimpse of the face deep inside the hood—a face he had sought to know for many years.
_Camber!_
He almost spoke the name aloud, but even as his lips parted, that portion of the vision was gone—and all the spirit hosts that had surrounded it, receding at dizzying speed to a single point of brilliant light directly above Rhys Michael's head, that suddenly was not! Queron gasped as it winked away, the spell broken, then let out a slow sigh, for he had not remembered to breathe for many seconds. Cathan was staring at the king's face, blinded by tears, slowly nodding. The others remained unmoving, with heads bowed.
"May Christ—Who has called thee—now receive thee, beloved son," Queron managed to whisper, almost by rote, slowly crossing himself, willing the pounding of his heart to slow. " _Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine_ —"
" _Et lux perpetua luceat ei_ ," Cathan murmured, the other two joining in raggedly.
" _Kyrie eleison._ "
" _Christe eleison, kyrie eleison_..."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I have seen the wicked in great power.
—Psalms 37:35
A short while later, kneeling at the back of the convent church, Queron did his best to help Cathan regain some measure of equilibrium before leaving him. The younger man had done with weeping for the moment and now knelt merely trembling beside the brown-robed old priest, though his face remained buried in his hands.
Queron still did not know what Camber had shown to the boy, though he suspected it might have had something to do with Cathan's final commission from the king. There had been no time to ask at the king's bedside. Further prayers beyond the _Kyrie_ seemed superfluous after the holy simplicity of Rhys Michael's passing, and Queron knew he must be away from here as soon as possible.
So after Cathan had tearfully slipped the Haldane sword back under the bed and removed the Eye of Rom, secreting it in his belt pouch for Michaela, Queron had left Fulk and Stevanus to grieve at the king's bedside and silently instructed Cathan to indulge his own grief in as dramatic a fashion as he could, as cover to get the two of them out of the death chamber.
"The king is at peace," Queron informed Lior and the others waiting outside, as he led the sobbing Cathan out of the room. "His passing was very gentle. I shall take this young man outside to compose himself now. Father, perhaps you would lead the appropriate litanies here at the king's bedside."
Lior and the others had surged into the room to see for themselves with hardly a second look at Queron and Cathan, each with his own priorities, now that the king was dead—Lior coldly practical, Polidorus sharp-eyed and intent, Manfred apparently unable to believe they had actually done it, Rhun all too well aware what they had done. Cathan had been reluctant to leave his beloved Rhysem in such hands, but knew with his reason that the king was no longer there to be hurt by them.
"I've given you what guidance I can, as quickly as I can," Queron murmured, shifting back to speech as he prepared to leave Cathan in the chapel. "I have to ask, though, before I go, just what you saw, there at the end. I shan't intrude, but I have to ask."
Cathan lifted his head, not looking at Queron, still a little caught up in what he had witnessed, both sacred and profane.
"It was a reminder of something I have to do for Owain," he whispered. "Rhysem wanted me to see that he gets the Haldane brooch. I know the earring is somehow important—the Eye of Rom—but there's something about the brooch as well." He shook his head. "I can't tell you any more."
"There's no need," Queron said gently, for Rhys Michael had told him of Cathan's mission.
Cathan swallowed, then looked up at Queron searchingly. "Can you see that Mika knows Owain is meant to have it, Father? It isn't a state jewel, so no one may think of it. If—something happens to me, before I can get back to her, they'll still give her Rhysem's things, won't they? They've killed him; surely they wouldn't deny her a few keepsakes." He swallowed hard and looked away, shaking his head. "God, widowed at twenty!"
"Steady, son. I'll see that she knows. But you must do your part to see that you get back. Don't give them any excuse to kill you."
Cathan nodded, sniffling back the last of his tears, and stiffened as Fulk came into the church, looked around, and headed right for them.
"Father, they're looking for you," he whispered, leaning between them. "You'd best go while you can. You know too much about the king's death."
Nodding, Queron murmured, "Thank you," and sent the young man to kneel at the back of the church in the shadow of a clerestory pillar.
"At least we've won that one," he murmured, as he set his hand on Cathan's arm and prepared to leave. "If he survives this, keep track of him and don't underestimate his usefulness."
"What do you mean, 'if he survives this'?"
"Well, being Tammaron's son may save him, but he still knows too much. So does Stevanus. So do you. Be very careful."
"I plan to be," Cathan agreed. "And you?"
Queron gave him a grim smile. "Your Rhysem really did strike the regents what could be a deathblow, son, by issuing that codicil. But it will all be for naught if it can't be implemented. I'll inform our people as soon as I've left here, and they'll notify the Kheldour lords. From here out, we've all got to play our parts, to make certain all our sacrifices haven't been in vain."
Nodding bleakly, Cathan looked up again at the Deryni priest. "I'll do the best I can, Father. And thank you for coming. I know what you risked."
Queron smiled gently. "I only wish I could have reached him in time to bring healing to his body as well as his soul. The Haldanes have not been lucky in this generation. God grant that his sons will fare better."
As Cathan nodded again, wistful, dispirited, Queron gently laid his right hand on his head in blessing, sending across a burst of further information Cathan might need, even as his lips moved in the traditional words.
" _Benedicat te omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus. Amen._ "
Cathan managed to repeat the _Amen_ , reeling a little on his knees, unable to see for a few seconds for the emotion whirling through his mind; but even as he recovered his senses, Queron was gone. Cathan remained where he was for a few minutes, head bowed in his hands, gathering his composure, then rose to follow, pausing to lay a hand lightly on Fulk's shoulder.
"Come, we have duties to the king," he said softly. "If it's permitted, I intend to keep watch by him tonight. Will you join me?"
Fulk nodded slowly and got to his feet, a kindred spirit in his grief, his face a mask of stunned disbelief and loss.
"It will be my honor," he said quietly.
Still shaking off the numbness of his sorrow, Cathan tried to make his mind turn toward practicalities of survival as he and Fulk crossed the courtyard, heading for the cloister garth. He saw no sign of Queron, but there seemed to be a great deal of activity over by the stables. He hoped it was not an indication that Queron had been taken, but as he watched several mounted patrols ride out, he guessed that the elusive Father Donatus was still being sought. He thought the wily old Deryni would be hard to corner.
Thankful for that, at least, he continued on into the cloister garth and headed toward the infirmary and the room where the king's body lay. Somewhat to his surprise, he saw no outward sign that anything had changed within. When he and Fulk entered the room, he found out why.
It apparently had not occurred to the guards outside that the king's aides should not be admitted. Close beside the deathbed, their faces starkly lit by the torches held by two _Custodes_ monks, Manfred and a tight-jawed Rhun looked on while Polidorus stitched at the bloody stump of the king's right hand, assisted by Father Magan. Master Stevanus was present but not participating in this desecration of the royal corpse, head bowed where he stood between Lior and Gallard de Breffni. The king's severed hand lay in a bloodied basin, purpled and almost obscene, hardly recognizable for what it was.
All eyes shifted toward the door as Cathan and Fulk came into the room, and Lior was gesturing urgently to Gallard even as Cathan gasped, "What are you doing?" and started forward, and Fulk tried to hold him back.
"Lord Cathan, I must ask you not to make this any more difficult than it already is," Lior said mildly, as Gallard restrained the younger man, then controlled him with a choke hold when he tried to twist free. "Your loyalty to the king cannot be faulted, but it won't help him now. I shall tell you the official story just once. If you forget it, it could cost you your life. Lord Fulk, I advise you to listen carefully as well. I don't intend to repeat myself."
Fulk had started to go to Cathan's aid, but halted at Lior's warning, stiffening as Manfred came around to lay a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Remember who you are, son," Manfred murmured. "None of this is your affair."
Fulk darted an affronted, helpless look at Cathan but subsided, as had Cathan. Physical resistance clearly was useless. As Cathan carefully shuffled to get his feet back under him, bracing against Gallard's leather-clad arm, the pressure eased across his throat, but the _Custodes_ knight did not release him even then.
"That's much more sensible," Lior purred, casting his glance back to where Polidorus and Magan continued to work, ignoring Stevanus. "Now, as you know, the king has had the very best of medical attention, but his illness became far more serious than initially supposed. Despite the most zealous of care, his hand became gangrenous and had to be amputated. Most unfortunately, his Highness did not survive the shock of the procedure."
"It isn't true," Cathan whispered. "You bled him to death!"
"Not at all," Polidorus interjected, blithely continuing to suture the dead flesh. "While it's true that his Highness was bled several times, to relieve the evil humours causing his fever, numerous witnesses saw him alive this morning after the last of the bloodlettings."
"That's still what killed him," Cathan said stubbornly.
Scowling, Rhun bestirred himself to come and stand directly in front of Cathan, his pale eyes cold and even more pitiless than usual. Whatever differences had existed between him and Manfred earlier, the two apparently had resolved them and now were in one accord.
"If you say that outside this room, you may well suffer the same fate, brother of the queen or no," he said quietly. "The king's injured hand had become badly infected and had to be amputated. Weakened by his fever, he sadly did not survive the surgery. Anyone who says otherwise will be dealt with most unpleasantly. _Anyone_."
Cathan could only close his eyes briefly in dismay, swallowing with difficulty. Fulk had gone pale with disbelief, shrinking back a little under Manfred's hand. Stevanus only shook his head, eyes closed, swaying so alarmingly that Lior caught a hand under his elbow.
"I trust that everyone now understands the rules of engagement," the _Custodes_ priest said quietly. "Lord Fulk, I believe that neither you nor Lord Cathan got very much sleep last night. Perhaps Master Stevanus would be so good as to provide a suitable sleeping potion for each of you—and for himself as well. A rather strong one, I should think. See to it, Stevanus," he said sharply, releasing the battle surgeon's arm. "None of you will be required until tomorrow, when we leave for Rhemuth, and I do not wish to see any of you stirring before that time."
Outraged, Cathan started struggling again, hardly caring when Gallard's choke hold took him swooping into unconsciousness. As he started to come around, gasping for breath and with his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he found himself flat on his back on the floor, with Stevanus lifting his head and setting a little metal cup to his lips.
"Just drink it," the battle surgeon murmured urgently, as Cathan pressed his lips together stubbornly and tried to shake his head. "If you won't, I'll have to stick you with _merasha_. I'll have no choice."
Cathan made himself gag it down, tears of impotence welling in his eyes, laying back then to catch his breath as the queasy disorientation of returning consciousness began to give way to the drifting, woolly-headed sensation of the sedative taking hold. After a minute or two, Gallard and another _Custodes_ knight came and took him and Fulk into custody, escorting them civilly enough to another room; but Cathan never remembered his head hitting the pillow.
Meanwhile, Queron had made good his escape from Saint Ostrythe's, blocking memories of his passage and slipping through the convent gate on his little donkey before any serious effort could be organized to detain him. As soon as he could gain shelter in the next village, hiding the donkey in a farmer's barn while he secreted himself in the hayloft, he put himself in trance and sent out an urgent call to Jesse or Ansel or Tieg, all of whom should be nearby.
It was Jesse who caught the summons, though full contact was delayed until he also found a safe place in which to open to rapport. That done, Queron passed on a full account of what he had learned and witnessed at Saint Ostrythe's, saving only the content of Rhys Michael's final confession. Jesse was stunned, but agreed to make certain the news was passed on to the Kheldour lords.
_They must not come until they've received the news by conventional means_ , Queron reiterated, _but this time can be used to plan their strategy. None of us thought it would be this soon_.
_Shall we send them to Rhemuth, then?_ Jesse asked.
_Aye, as quickly as possible. I have no doubt the regents will wish to crown the young king as soon as possible_ — _they may even try to do it privately—but it will take a little while to sort out the new regency, with Albertus and Paulin out of the picture. I'm also not sure how long Cathan will be safe there. It's essential that he go back, for reasons I'll convey to Joram in detail, but his position will become more and more precarious as the queen's pregnancy progresses. Be thinking on this. Meanwhile, I shall be heading back to Sanctuary_.
When he had ended the contact, he lay there in the straw for perhaps a quarter hour more, first running through a fatigue-banishing spell and then considering whether he ought to attempt a second contact now with Joram or whoever was on duty in the council chamber. After reflection, sensing that he was not yet fully restored, he decided that it was wisest first to put more distance between himself and whatever soldiers might be out looking for an aged priest named Donatus, who had heard the king's last confession.
Descending from the hayloft, he retrieved the little donkey and made his way without incident back to the farmer's barn where he had left the brown mare. This time, besides exchanging mounts again, he left a gold coin in compensation for a set of the farmer's clothes and another quick meal, and by dusk was riding at speed through the forest tracts that would lead him back to Caerrorie in a few days' time.
He would stop again in a few hours, to attempt the call to Joram, but for now he could only ride, focused on his intent that the day's events should bring success in the end, praying that their efforts would be enough, praying for the young king who lay dead at Saint Ostrythe's, and praying for the far younger little king who lay somewhere in Rhemuth, as yet oblivious to the weight of the crown which this day had passed to him all unknowing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A wicked messenger falleth into mischief; but a faithful ambassador is health.
—Proverbs 13:17
While the new king of Gwynedd slept in Rhemuth Castle, as unaware as those around him that his destiny was upon him—and in four-year-old innocence, unlikely to comprehend his new estate, even had he known—one set as a guardian of his welfare moved unobtrusively among the men dining noisily in the castle's great hall, filling wine goblets when needed and looking for a young knight she had never seen before.
Rhysel had received word that he was coming two days before, passed from Jesse to Joram and then to her. His name was Sir Robert Ainslie, and what he carried was of inestimable value to the future of the Haldane line. That the king had managed not only to draw up a codicil to his will, naming regents of his own choosing, but also to smuggle it out from under the great lords' noses, was no mean feat. It was already common gossip around the castle that Lord Albertus had been killed while on the campaign in Eastmarch, with Father Paulin so badly injured that he was not expected to live.
What was not common gossip was the way Albertus and Paulin had met their fates. Rhysel knew, because Joram had passed on what was picked up from the link they had set in Dimitri. She was sure that Hubert and the other great lords also knew—or thought they did. Rhysel still could hardly believe that the king really had emerged unscathed and unsuspected from the incident. She had told the queen of none of this, just as she had kept back the extent of the king's recent injury, though she now feared the latter to be rather more severe than first thought.
Neither had she yet told the queen of the messenger she now awaited, nor of what the man carried. There was time enough for that, once Rhysel had it in her hands. As she had last night and the previous one, as the officers protecting Rhemuth gathered at the long trestle tables for the evening meal, she lightly scanned each new man who came into the hall whose face was not already familiar to her. Though she knew the messenger's name and that he must be reasonably young, her sources had been able to tell her nothing of his physical appearance. She hoped his arrival would not cause someone to wonder why he had returned prematurely from the campaign with the king.
When she finally caught his trace, she realized she need not have worried. His appearance would never turn heads, even in court attire. He was not unattractive; simply not memorable. He was stocky and nearly a head shorter than most of the other men in the hall, soberly clad in nondescript brown riding leathers, and only his gilded spurs and the dingy white belt supporting a good but plain sword declared his knightly rank—yet another anonymous young knight perhaps come to Court to seek royal service. He had halted uncertainly just inside the doorway, looking tired and a little irritable as he pulled off a leather cap and swept a watery blue gaze across the hall, obviously looking for someone, one hand riffling idly through curly brown hair that was starting to thin on top.
Changing her pitcher for a fuller one, Rhysel took up an empty goblet and began casually working her way toward him, changing direction as he started to make his way slowly along the row of window embrasures that overlooked the gardens. By the time she drew near to him, he had found a place at the end of one of the long tables and had sunk down wearily on one of the benches. She gave him a friendly smile as she filled the goblet and set it before him with a curtsey and managed to brush his hand with hers as she withdrew, confirming that he was, indeed, Sir Robert Ainslie.
"You look thirsty, my lord," she said coyly, refilling the cups of several of the other men seated around him. "Have you ridden far today?"
"Not so far as I would ride tonight," he said with a grin, taking appreciative measure of her with his eyes as he lifted his cup in salute and then took a healthy quaff.
Ribald hoots of approval surrounded them as he set it down, still grinning, and swept her onto his knee to bend her in a lusty kiss. Giving only token struggle, she let him enjoy it—for she had put the notion in his mind—and used the opportunity to probe him. The missive was inside his tunic. That confirmed, she set instructions for a later rendezvous and a present withdrawal. Young Robert surfaced from the kiss flushed and ardent, blue eyes smouldering, but he let her go without protest as she disentangled herself good-naturedly from his embrace and reclaimed her pitcher.
"A notable introduction, sir knight, but you needs must feed your weary body before indulging other appetites," she said, lightly laughing as she beckoned to a serving squire with a full platter of roast pork. "At least Rhemuth can sleep easy, knowing she has such lusty knights defending her."
He grinned and made another grab in her direction, kissing his hand to her when she deftly avoided him, and was grinning still as he helped himself to food and began wolfing it down, interspersed with banter with his fellows.
She slipped out of the hall as soon after that as she could and made her way to the chapel royal to wait for him. It was one of the few public places in the castle where both of them might be seen without causing comment and where some degree of privacy might be hoped for or at least arranged. An old soldier and one of the elderly laundresses were praying in the chapel, so after lighting a votive candle and kneeling for a brief prayer of her own, Rhysel went back outside to lurk in the shadows.
He came half an hour later, a trifle less steady on his feet than he had been, but alert and purposeful as he spotted her beckoning gesture and came to join her in the little vestibule past the chapel doors. His blue eyes were boyish-wide and mystified, and she decided he was somewhat younger than she had first supposed, perhaps hardly older than herself.
"You have something for me?" she whispered, as he took her hands.
"Aye, for the queen," he replied. "But how came it that you spoke to me so openly in the hall? I was told to be most wary."
_It was not open at all_ , she whispered in his mind, catching control before he could tense and start to draw back in alarm. _I am Deryni in service to the king. You're in no danger. Give me what you carry_.
Without will to resist, he reached into the front of his tunic and produced the document, folded to palm size and sealed on the outside with the king's seal. Even as her fingers touched it, the door to the chapel opened from the inside.
By the time the old soldier had emerged, limping and leaning heavily on a stick, Rhysel had drawn her dazed accomplice into an embrace to rival the one in the hall, the incriminating document pressed between their bodies as their lips pressed together, his body shielding her face from the soldier's gaze as she again linked her mind deeply with his and bade him assist in the illusion they were creating for the old man's benefit. Robert was only human, but he adapted to her instruction without hesitation or question, bending her back in the curve of one arm in a passionate kiss while the other hand probed deep into her bodice—and also secreted his document there.
A part of her mind remained detached, keeping track of the bemused soldier who limped past smiling, but she found her body responding to the young knight's kiss, as he to hers, and a part of her mind as well. Her heart was pounding as she withdrew from him, the danger now past, and she relaxed her controls as she glanced up at him.
"Forgive me for that," she whispered. "I hope you understand why I had to let it happen."
He took a deep breath and suppressed a little shudder as he nodded and reached into a pouch at his belt, producing the king's signet ring, which he pressed into her hand with a lopsided grin.
"I would give a great deal to be the man you really love," he murmured. "You were in my mind, weren't you?"
As she arched an eyebrow at him, supping the king's ring onto her finger with the seal turned inward, he ventured a cautious nod.
"I'm not afraid," he whispered. "Lord Cathan taught me that there's nothing to fear. Did you Read all that you need to know?"
"There wasn't time or focus," she admitted. "May I do it now?"
He smiled with just a touch of irony. "Have I a choice?"
"I prefer to have permission," she replied. "I'm sorry I had to use you the way I did, but I would do far more than that to serve the king and his House. If it's any consolation to your manhood, I rather enjoyed it, despite the sheer terror that the man was going to interfere."
The irony of his smile turned slightly more wistful. "That's something, then. I—suppose you must block my memory when you're done. I know you have to protect yourself."
"I do," she said softly, taking his face between her hands. "But I can leave you the pleasure—and keep my own."
Her kiss took him gently into the promised forgetfulness, as she delved deep and Read as much as she could of Cathan's briefing when he handed over the document and of Robert's own observations throughout the campaign. She found him an honorable young man, both clever and kind, loyal to his pledged word and faithful to his friends. Regarding his possible continuing usefulness to the king's cause, she noted that his loyalty had been freely given, even before Cathan set the mild compulsions of which he was capable.
She had no right to recruit him to active conspiracy when in this vulnerable state, but further probing confirmed that he gladly would choose to serve, if given the chance. She resolved to give him that chance, well aware that she made her decision on personal grounds, as well as those of expediency for the Haldane cause, trusting her instincts. Leaving intact his memories of what he had done, both by choice and by constraint, she forbade him only the forced disclosure of information that might be harmful to the king; no torture might wrest it out of him.
She gave him then some knowledge of herself and her mission, though of that he could not speak or even write—the protection he himself had expected. But concerning what had passed between the two of them, she made no adjustments at all—and allowed herself to drink deeply of his pleasure as she withdrew from control but not from the kiss, letting him slowly bring it to an end in his own good time and pull back, gazing wonderingly into her hazel eyes.
"I have a thousand questions that I know there isn't time to ask or answer now," he whispered, stroking trembling fingertips down her cheek and across her lips. "When may I see you again?"
She swallowed noisily, her head tipped back to meet his gaze.
"You should return to the king when you've slept," she whispered. "He needs friends nearby, and 'tis best the great lords never learn that you were the bearer of this document." She lightly touched her hand to her bodice, under which it rested. "The sooner you go, the less chance of being missed by those with the king."
"For _his_ sake, I will do it," Robert agreed. "But may I not see you again before I go, even briefly?"
"Arrange to be walking in the garden tomorrow at mid-morning," she replied. "Over near the rose arbors. I often walk there with the queen in the afternoons, but I will try to contrive a reason for an earlier walk tomorrow. I will say that her Highness wishes some roses for her hair. But if, by some chance, I have not come by noon, you must go anyway."
He nodded, lifting her hands to his lips. "I will be there. God keep you."
"And you," she whispered.
He kissed her palms, then her lips, briefly and gently, then turned away and set out along the corridor toward the great hall, too prudent to risk further danger, now that their farewells had been said. She watched until he had disappeared around a turn in the corridor, not once looking back, then retreated to the little cubby she shared with one of the other maids.
Elspeth was already asleep, but Rhysel deepened that sleep before striking a light to the little rushlight set on the tiny table on her side of the bed. It was too late to go to the queen without arousing suspicion, but she could at least confirm what the packet was alleged to contain, before hiding it away. The signet she would give to the queen in the morning, as confirmation that the document had arrived.
Taking the packet from her bodice, she undressed down to her shift, extinguished the rushlight, then lay down beside Elspeth and clasped the packet between her two hands, closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath to begin settling into trance. As she exhaled, she visualized the staring pattern known as _An Suil-Dia_ , the Eye of God, and let her consciousness be drawn toward the center of its mazelike convolutions, deepening her trance. When the centering was focused, she reached out a tendril of questing to the message between her two hands and slowly read the words.
_We, Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, by the Grace of God King of Gwynedd, Lord of Meara, Mooryn, and the Purple March, and Overlord of all the lands of Kheldour, being of sound mind and body, do declare this to be an irrevocable Codicil to Our Last Will and Testament, and hereby renounce all previous arrangements that may conflict with this Codicil, and hereby set in place the following Provisions, which may not be changed or set aside save by unanimous assent of the parties herein named or their legal heirs, they being of age and legal majority_.
_In the event of Our death before the coming of age of Our Son and Heir, the Prince Owain Javan Cinhil, or the coming of age of the Child now carried by Our Queen, should the said Owain die before Our second Child's majority, We do hereby appoint as Regents for the Kingdom of Gwynedd His Grace the Duke of Claibourne, also known as Graham MacEwan, and the Right Honourable the Earl of Marley, Sighere son of Sighere, to serve jointly or separately, as may seem to them most expedient for the welfare of Our Kingdom, regardless of whatever other Regents may be appointed by Instruments signed by Us or said to be signed by Us. These appointments shall be effective until such time as our Heirs shall come of age or until said Lords are replaced by their heirs of legal age, whether by resignation or death_.
_In that We repose full and unequivocal trust in the said Lords of Claibourne and Marley, We hereby authorize and pardon any military action deemed necessary by the said Lords to secure and exercise their lawful authority as Regents for Our Heirs_.
_Given under Our Hand and Seal this twenty-fourth day of June, being the Feast of Saint John the Baptist, in the Year of Our Lord Nine Hundred Twenty-Eight at our Castle of Lochalyn in the Earldom of Eastmarch, Kheldour Province, wherefore the undersigned have this day publicly reaffirmed their Oaths of Fealty to Us, in further witness of their Fidelity to this Our Solemn Decree_.
(signed) Rhys R. (his seal)
Agreed: Claibourne (his seal)
Agreed: Marley (his seal)
Attest: Stacia, Countess of Eastmarch (her seal)
Attest: Fr. Derfel (+).
Rhysel let herself drift for a moment when she had finished scanning, allowing the import to sink in. As Joram had told her, it was a brilliant document—no guarantee that the great lords would not try to kill off Claibourne and Marley and thus eliminate the opposition, but certainly a good incentive for them to keep the king alive as long as possible, to avoid having to deal with the problem.
For to deny the Kheldour lords their just due was to risk civil war—a thing she did not think the great lords would dare, given that their ranks had recently been reduced by the loss of Udaut, Albertus, and Paulin. The great lords probably would allow Richard Murdoch to continue in the constable's post left vacant by Udaut's death, since Richard had married Udaut's daughter; but until the _Custodes_ question was sorted out and stabilized and replacements for Albertus and Paulin had been confirmed on the royal council, she suspected the great lords would tread very carefully, indeed. And the document in her hands was a way of ensuring that they did.
Still hovering between trance and wakefulness, Rhysel cupped her hands over it on her breast, considering the hiding place she had already devised for it, then decided that before surfacing she would first send through confirmation to Joram that the document had arrived. It was the hour when they might expect her sending, but to her surprise, a link not only was open but seeking, with Joram himself pushing at the other end.
With both parties stretching for the contact, Joram's amplified probe swept into her mind like an avalanche, imparting his grim news with a force that nearly made her cry out. Her confirmation of the codicil's arrival was overwhelmed by the devastating news that it was already in effect, that young Prince Owain had already been king for nearly half a day. The king had died at an obscure convent called Saint Ostrythe's, somewhere between Sheele and Ebor, already weakened from his hand injury and then bled unto death by order of the _Custodes Fidei_ , despite the fact that Rhun, at least, had known of the codicil's existence and of the crisis that would loom for him and his fellow regents as soon as the king's death became known.
It changed everything. Despite Rhys Michael's heroic effort to safeguard what he could for his sons, his effort now would be tested in the forge of internal strife and possible civil war; and if the shock of his death cost the queen the child she carried, young King Owain Haldane might well be the last Haldane king.
Rhysel kept herself focused for Joram's instructions, but her mind was numb, the fragile delight of her brief flirtation with Robert Ainslie all but blotted out in the greater urgency of what she must do for the queen. When Joram had withdrawn from his contact, leaving her stunned and bereft, she lay there for nearly an hour with tears running silently from her eyes and into her hair, hugging the now priceless codicil for comfort and caressing the king's signet between her fingers, mourning this new failure of their hopes and dreams.
Eventually she rose by the light of cautious handfire to secrete the document and the king's signet underneath one of the floorboards, with a charm set to dispel any curiosity about the possible hiding place. She lay back down in darkness then, though it was a long time before she drifted into troubled sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
For she is privy to the mysteries of the knowledge of God, and a lover of his works.
—Wisdom of Solomon 8:4
Rhysel went to the queen the next morning with some reluctance, for she did not relish the charade she must play, the deception she must maintain. She had awakened to the leaden knell of the cathedral bells tolling down in the city, soon picked up and carried by the closer bells of Saint Hilary's-Within-the-Walls and other lesser bells throughout the city. Though she knew that news of the king's death could not have reached Rhemuth yet, apprehension was a choking lump in her throat until she could make inquiries.
She was somewhat dismayed to learn that it was Archbishop Oriss who had died, sometime during the early morning hours, for he had been the sole moderate sitting on the Royal Council and the only one of its members not to have been actively involved in the murder of King Javan six years before. In theory, he would be replaced by a formal vote of the assembled bishops, but in fact it was Hubert, the Archbishop-Primate, who would determine Oriss' successor—and to Hubert's advantage, rather than the advantage of the House of Haldane. The one positive aspect to the entire matter was that the mere turnover of the office would further destabilize the existing Council, already weakened by the loss of Udaut, Albertus, and Paulin.
But for now, as a dutiful member of the queen's household, she must feign respectful regret for the archbishop's passing, just as she must pretend that she did not know of a far more devastating loss farther north of here. She presented herself in the royal boudoir to find Michaela oddly pensive, wistfully fingering a little gold cross around her neck while Eithne, one of her maids, laced her into a gown of dull purple. Lady Estellan had chosen the gown as a mark of respect for Archbishop Oriss, also laying out a seemly black veil and the simplest of the queen's gold circlets; but as Rhysel set about the usual morning ritual of brushing and arranging the royal tresses, she realized that the queen's subdued mood was caused not by regret over an archbishop's passing but by growing concern for her husband's safety.
And Rhysel dared do nothing to reassure her on that account, for the truth must be avoided for yet a little while, and offering any false hope would be cruel. To lighten the immediate atmosphere, and also to set the stage for covering any outward reaction to the more welcome news she brought, Rhysel gradually shifted their casual chitchat to a shyly offered description of the young knight who had paid her court in the great hall the night before. It soon focused the attention of all the ladies in the room, eager for the gossip of little Liesel's new romance, but it also provided ready cover for the queen's real relief when Rhysel silently confirmed that the knight had delivered the codicil as well as a kiss. Supposed shyness about imparting too much detail about so delicate and new a flirtation also saved Rhysel from possibly letting slip hints of the more dread news that had arrived later in the night.
Protocol demanded the attendance of the entire household at Mass that morning, out of respect for the archbishop. En route to the Chapel Royal, Rhysel contrived to press the king's ring into Michaela's hand, biting her lip at the glad surge of happiness that swelled the queen's breast as she slipped it on her hand with the seal turned inward and clasped her hands prayerfully around it.
The Mass itself provided focus for Rhysel to set about the next of the tasks Joram had set her the night before. Kneeling beside the queen, who soon lost herself in renewed prayers for her husband's safe return, his ring clasped between her hands, Rhysel offered up her own prayer for the repose of the king's soul, then used the remainder of the service to gently insinuate new controls in Michaela's mind, set to damp her grief when the inevitable word came that her beloved Rhysem was dead—for nothing must interfere with the child she carried, now become Heir Presumptive of Gwynedd, even before his birth.
Afterward, when the queen returned to her solar for the morning's unvarying session of needlework with her ladies, all unaware what her Deryni confidante had done, Rhysel betook herself to the castle gardens, far toward the end by the great hall. There she set herself to cutting flowers for the queen's bower, taking her time, laying them one by one in a flat basket, being careful to move slowly and openly among the garden's wide paths. She had carried her basket into a rose arbor and was admiring a perfect bloom of blood-crimson when Robert joined her, slipping his arms around her waist from behind and leaning down to nuzzle the side of her neck.
She stiffened and averted her face, ready to muffle his reaction if he could not, as she whispered, "Please, you mustn't. I have ill news. The king is dead."
She felt him go rigid as well and sensed the dull grief welling from deep inside him even as he held her more tightly, burying his face against her neck for comfort now rather than passion.
"His hand?" he asked.
"His physicians," she replied, turning in the circle of his arms to face him. "Or rather, I should say his _Custodes_ physicians. They bled him, Robert. Four times in less than a day and a night, and far too much. Even once or twice would have been perilous, as weak as he had become. One of our people got to him before the end—a Healer, even—but it was too late. He died yesterday afternoon."
Robert swallowed hard and held her to him. She could feel his heart beating next to hers, but she steeled her own will and made herself extend light controls as she slid her arms around his waist.
"You must go back as quickly as you can," she whispered. "The little king is safe enough for now, but Lord Cathan must be protected. He will be one of the queen's few sources of comfort when she learns of the king's death—but only if he can stay alive to do it. He knows this, but his grief could make him rash. It also may not have occurred to him how important his help will be in aiding the Kheldour lords to assert their rights as regents. You must go to him and be his voice of reason, if you can. I'll set a message for him. You will not know what you carry until he Reads it from you. Are you bold enough to invite his touch?"
"To use his powers on me?" Robert asked. "He did before, and you have done. If I was going to be afraid of _that_ , it's a little late, isn't it?"
She drew back and smiled sadly, setting her fingertips lightly on his cheeks. "My bold, brave knight," she whispered. "How I wish we had met in less dangerous times. I like it not, to impose my will on one I would liefer have offer his aid."
"Dear lady, I gladly offer all I have and am," he breathed, "whether you are Deryni or no, whether or not you must impose your will to help me do what will help our new young king. Do you think I would scorn such assistance, knowing it will make me stronger in his service? I am not so proud as to think I cannot be the more effective tool, simply because the aid you give me is beyond my ability to do alone. If it is humanly possible, I will bring Lord Cathan back safely to the queen. Tell her she may depend upon it." He frowned. "She doesn't know yet, does she?"
Rhysel shook her head. "No, and she must not, until official word comes, lest I be discovered. It will also give me time to prepare her. I've begun that already. Nothing must be allowed to endanger the child she carries."
"Aye, God forbid," he murmured, bending to gently kiss her forehead.
She used the contact to implant the message for Cathan, sent and set in the blink of an eye, even as Robert pulled back to look at her in question.
"You must get to him somehow and give him opportunity to Read you," she murmured. "I hope he will know to attempt it when he sees you have returned. There will be at least one other among that company who can help you; he will make himself known to you. Once Cathan has my instructions, simply do as he and the other bid you and try to bring both of you back safely. Both the queen and I shall be waiting."
She kissed him then, this time with no subterfuge or mental augmentation, simply letting herself melt into his arms, feeling the sweet pleasure flooding through her body and his. It was he who pulled back at last, trembling with passion yet unleashed, to draw apart and only hold her hands, looking searchingly into the golden eyes and drawing shaky breath.
"When I come back, Rhysel Thuryn, I intend to ask for your hand in marriage," he whispered. "Don't answer now; just think on it until I return. I don't care what you are; perhaps I love you more because of it. I do know that I love you, as God is my witness. May He keep you safe."
With that, he was bending to kiss both her hands, then catching up the perfect red rose she had laid in her basket just when he arrived. He took it with him as he receded down the path, not looking back, and Rhysel sank to her knees to weep over her basket of roses, unable to watch him go, wondering whether all their efforts would come to naught. The codicil was even now in force, but could the Kheldour lords execute it?
The codicil to the king's will was about to become of great interest to others in Rhemuth, though they would not learn for some days that it was already in force. As Sir Robert Ainslie galloped northward out of the city, a sedate ecclesiastical procession under _Custodes_ escort was winding its way back up to the castle after a noon Requiem Mass for the departed Archbishop Oriss, whose body now would lie beneath the cathedral transept until his state funeral, two days hence. Archbishop Hubert had presided alongside Rhemuth's Auxiliary Bishop, Alfred of Woodbourne, and now gave blessings from the scarlet-upholstered sedan chair that had become his habitual mode of transport in the last few years, as his bulk increased beyond the ability of any single horse to carry him securely.
Six burly gentlemen bore him this afternoon, all but engulfed by the vast black cope that swept from beneath a jeweled golden mitre. His crozier was in his left hand, set in a socket along the side of the sedan chair. A crucifer and two priests swinging thuribles walked before him, and Lord Tammaron and Richard Murdoch rode to either side, both soberly clad in mourning like the rest. The two pressed on ahead as the litter negotiated the last ascent through the castle gate, and as Hubert alighted from the chair before the steps of the castle's great hall, he was surprised to see Tammaron already reading a missive just handed over by a weary-looking courier in Rhun's livery.
"I think we'd better go inside to discuss this," Tammaron said, giving Hubert an odd, strained look as he folded the letter and slipped it into his gown. "It's from Rhun. It appears the king may have taken the bit in his teeth in a totally different manner than we feared. Oh, and Paulin has died."
When they were closeted in Tammaron's private study and Hubert had read the letter for the third time, he tossed it onto the table and shook his head, anger lighting the china-blue eyes. He had shed his mitre and cope and loomed in the sober purple of his episcopal robes.
"It has to be a bluff," he said. "There's no way he could have executed a codicil to his will. And even if he did, it wouldn't stand up in court. Not one of _our_ courts."
"You've read Rhun's letter," Tammaron said blandly. "He saw the draft copy. If it isn't a bluff—if enough originals were executed and witnessed by enough people—even one of our courts would at least have to give the matter consideration. And there's no doubt that the Kheldour lords would certainly push it as hard as they could. I've always said it was a mistake to eliminate Duke Ewan from the last regency, and now it's come back to haunt us. Sorry, Richard, but your father was occasionally overzealous."
Richard picked up the letter and scanned it again, ignoring the reference to his father.
"We can force him to write a new will when he gets back," he said. "We'd already begun drafting the provisions to replace Albertus and Paulin in the list of future regents. We'll simply make certain the wording is ironclad, superseding anything else he's ever signed."
Tammaron waved a hand dismissively. "That's understood. It still won't stop Claibourne and Marley from producing their documents and trying to assert their rights."
As he sighed, Hubert was pulling a fresh piece of parchment toward him and taking pen in hand.
"I'm sending for Father Secorim," he said, over the scratching of the pen on parchment. "Oriss' death leaves another gap on the Council that I want to fill as quickly as possible, certainly before the king returns. I trust neither of you will object if I name Secorim as archbishop-designate? He'll have to be ratified by the bishops, of course, but they'll do as I command. That will put another man I can trust back on the Council right away."
Tammaron cocked his head quizzically. "Didn't you have him in mind for Paulin's replacement?"
"Yes, but if he were only vicar-general of the _Custodes_ , he could be ousted; the Archbishop of Rhemuth can't. I'll find another vicar-general: Lior, perhaps, or maybe Hallex, out at _Arx Fidei_. Meanwhile, this will give us another strong voice on the Council, to put pressure on the king when he returns. Richard, give this to a courier, please."
As Richard disappeared with the summons, Tammaron gave Hubert an uneasy glance.
"He's pulled a very shrewd move, has our clever young king," he murmured. "Even the threat of such a document's existence ensures that we'll do our utmost to keep him alive. It cancels out all our old threats until Owain comes of age."
Hubert picked up the offending letter once again and hefted it in his hand, the rosebud lips pursed in sour indignation.
"It's a clever enough challenge, I'll grant you. But I think he'll find it isn't clever enough by half. He thinks he's found the ideal threat, but it's worthless, so long as he's alive. And while he's alive, he _can_ be manipulated. There are worse threats than death, for a king."
But the king had already passed beyond the threat of death. The military cavalcade that had borne him ailing to Saint Ostrythe's Convent two days before left it that morning as a funeral cortege, silent save for the creak of leather and the jingle of harness and the quiet whuffling of fresh steeds eager for the day's journey. _Custodes_ monks mounted on black horses led the procession, one bearing a processional cross and the other the king's banner, the latter drabbed by black streamers drooping from its staff.
The king's body, now coffined in oak and covered with a rich funeral pall, traveled in a litter borne by two black horses and escorted by a score of black-clad _Custodes_ knights. Atop the black damask and velvet of the pall had been fastened the king's sword and the golden circlet he had worn upon his helmet. The king's earl marshal and vice-marshal rode to either side of the coffin as a particular guard of honor, both in borrowed black _Custodes_ mantles despite the rising heat of the day.
Sir Cathan Drummond, the dead king's brother-in-law, rode farther back in the cortege, hollow-eyed and looking very pale. There was reason for that besides his grief, for he had clawed his way from drugged sleep that morning to find that he had been bled during the night—probably not enough to endanger health, for they preferred to keep him alive for Mika's sake, but certainly enough to weaken him appreciably. The other bed in the tiny room had been slept in—by Fulk, he supposed—and a dried smear of blood on the sheet suggested that he, too, had been bled.
The threat did not need further elucidation. Clearly, even the possibility of resistance was not to be allowed. Even as Cathan had considered this grim development, fingering the bandage on his bare arm and trying to shake off a beastly headache, Stevanus had come into the little room with a monk Cathan did not recognize, who silently examined the arm and then remained until the patient had drank down every drop of the cup he had brought. It looked and smelled like ordinary morning ale, perhaps a bit better than most, but there was an undertaste to it that Cathan did not dare to question. Once the monk had left, he rounded on Stevanus in near panic.
"What was that?" he demanded. "What does this mean?" He indicated his bandaged arm. "And where is Fulk?"
"You'd better dress while we talk," Stevanus said quietly, drawing the pile of Cathan's discarded clothes to him and sitting on the edge of the bed.
Wearily he related how Fulk had already been removed from the temptation to speak of what he had witnessed in the king's death chamber—rousted from bed at daybreak and posted off to Cassan without so much as a by-your-leave, in custody of two _Custodes_ officers and half a dozen Culdi archers, to enter house arrest at his brother's court until it was certain he could hold his tongue.
"As for you," he went on, "that was your new physician, Brother Embert. The ale he gave you was laced with rather a stronger dose of what the regents used to give Alroy to keep him tractable. I'm afraid you can expect the same every morning. Embert's also the one who bled you, on Manfred's orders. I don't think they'll do it again soon—they've made their point abundantly clear—but you'd better be very, very careful. Rhun didn't try to stop it. I hardly need remind you that he's wanted to see you dead for a very long time. The only thing saving you for now is that he and Manfred both know they'll have to answer to Archbishop Hubert if you die and then the queen loses the new baby. If Hubert had been along on this expedition, things might have gone very differently. He's a very pragmatic individual."
"He's a murderer like the rest of them," Cathan murmured, pulling on his boots, though he kept his voice low.
Stevanus heaved a disconsolate sigh. "I've come to see that. I can't but think the entire _Custodes_ Order must be tainted as well, though I didn't want to believe it at first. I thought I had a true vocation, that the Order had important work to do. I even thought I was doing the right thing when I helped stage the king's 'abduction' while he was still prince. And I was very good at what I did.
"But it was all a lie," he continued, handing Cathan the tunic to his riding leathers. "The entire focus of the _Custodes Fidei_ is and always has been a cover for gaining secular power. I lay most of the blame for that on Paulin and Albertus, but I have little hope that their successors will be any better."
Cathan pulled on the leather tunic over his head, wincing at the twinge on his sore arm, and began doing up the front laces.
"You said this Brother Embert is to be my new physician. Does that mean you're being sent away, too, like Fulk?"
Stevanus glanced at his feet, nodding dismally. "Would that it were so benign. No one will dare to slay Earl Tammaron's son. I'm—ordered to go to the abbey at Ramos tomorrow, when we pass nearby. Father Lior has called it a 'retreat,' to refocus myself after the strain of what I've been through. He's my superior in the Order, so I have no choice but to go. But it's the harshest of the _Custodes_ houses. God alone knows whether I shall ever leave there, save in a coffin like the king." He looked up uncertainly. "Can you forgive me for what they made me do to him?"
"You were never like them," Cathan assured him, bending uncomfortably to buckle on his spurs. "And you tried to serve him faithfully, in the end."
"Aye, but too little and too late."
"For him, perhaps, but not for the Haldane line, pray God."
"I do—and shall," Stevanus whispered. "And for you, my lord."
Saying nothing, Cathan tried to put on a brave face for Stevanus as he stood to buckle on his sword, a little surprised that he had been allowed to retain his weapons—though what harm he could do with them now, with the king already dead, God alone knew. To his dismay, his knees went weak and his vision blurred, and he had to catch his balance on the battle surgeon's arm until a wave of vertigo had passed.
"Light-headed," he murmured. "Is that from the drug or the bloodletting?"
"A little of both, I expect. If you can exaggerate the effects, pretend to be more affected than you are, there's a chance they'll decrease the medication after a day or two. I wish there were something I could do to help, but—" He shrugged and sighed, apparently resigned to his fate. "Do you think you'll be able to manage a horse?"
Cathan gave a weak snort. "I'm sure I'll have minders to keep an eye on me. You don't really think they'd let me fall off, do you?" His tone made it no question at all.
One of his minders turned out to be Gallard de Breffni, though he hardly cared who rode to either side of him that first morning. Merely staying on his horse occupied the greater part of his conscious effort until well past noon, and he had no need to exaggerate anything. It was not until late afternoon that his brain had cleared sufficiently for him to string together more than two thoughts without getting lost in his own chains of logic, and by then he was too physically exhausted to do more than fall into bed after picking wearily at an ill-cooked meal.
His observations over the next few days were not reassuring. Though his minders became less attentive, once convinced of his disinclination to do anything besides try to stay mounted, Gallard de Breffni's presence at his side was a constant reminder of the story Rhysem had told him of his kidnapping, a few months before Javan's murder, when the treacherous Gallard had posed as one of the prince's captors and Rhysem himself had been swept along similarly helpless and drug-blurred and weakened. He thought they did ease back on his medication after the first day, but he continued to feign greater weakness than he actually felt, in hopes that he might begin to regain some degree of control.
But always with him was the awareness that any untoward initiative on his part might bring a dose of _merasha_ with a Deryni pricker rather than the gentler sedative Embert had been giving him. He nearly wept that second morning when, just before midday, he saw Stevanus and half a dozen _Custodes_ set off on another road, headed eastward toward Ramos. He found himself hating the _Custodes Fidei_ more with every passing hour.
And ever before him was the fear, the uncertainty, both for his personal safety and for the greater goal. He wondered whether Robert Ainslie had made it safely to Rhemuth and prayed that Mika's copy of the codicil was now in safe hands.
For that matter, what of the even more important copies in Kheldour? Did the holders even know yet that the document must already be exercised? Dom Queron had promised to get word to their allies at Lochalyn Castle, but could Claibourne and Marley act quickly enough?
Even as Cathan pondered these questions, Ansel and Tieg and an escort of four armed men rode under the gate arch of Lochalyn Castle and asked for urgent audience with the highest-ranking person in charge. It was just on noon, and the castle yard seemed mostly deserted, though a blacksmith was hammering away in his forge, over by the stable yard, alongside several armorers repairing weapons. Stacia came down to see them presently, a wolfhound pressing against her apron and tweed skirts, the glorious red hair bound under a linen kerchief. She blanched as she recognized young Tieg.
"May we speak with you in private, lady?" Ansel murmured.
She summoned Father Derfel as soon as she heard the bare gist of their news, and by midafternoon they had been joined in the solar by Graham, Sighere, and Corban, recalled from their patrolling of the surrounding area.
"Damn the bluidy lot o' them!" Sighere blurted, slamming a beefy hand against the table when Ansel had given them a sketchy account of the king's death and touched anew on the implications. "That puir lad. An' they're apt tae cut us right out if we dinnae act quickly."
" _Can_ you act this quickly?" Ansel asked. "Is the border secure enough to pull troops just now?"
"Och, aye," Graham replied. "There hasnae been a peep fra Torenth this week gone, nae sign o' Marek. Besides, we willnae need ta tak many. No more'n a score, or we cannae travel fast enou'. Corban, kin ye spare us those?"
Corban nodded. "Aye, the fewer gone, the fewer missed. It's coverin' yer and Sighere's absence I'm thinking will be chancy. Ye dinnae want the bluidy _Custodes_ houndin' ye back tae Rhemuth tae mak life more difficult."
"God forbid!" Tieg breathed. "Can you create some kind of diversion?"
"Aye, it can be done," Sighere said. "We'll send the _Custodes_ north wi' Delacroix, tae check out the pass through the Arranal, an' the levies fra Caerrorie an' Sheele can be dispersed locally tae guard the pass here."
Corban nodded his agreement. "Just ane favor I'd ask: Could ye mebbe figure a way tae clap the Caerrorie commander in irons? He's Manfred MacInnis' son, ye know. I wouldnae feel safe wi' one o' _that_ tribe left in any position of authority while ye hare off tae Rhemuth."
"I think something can be arranged," Ansel said grimly. "I'd also suggest that you try to keep news of the king's death from leaking out until we're well away. I suspect that official notification will be delayed for some time, since Rhun and Manfred know about the codicil, but it _will_ reach here eventually. What are MacInnis' officers like? Anyone who can be trusted?"
Sighere shrugged. "I couldnae say. He's keen on discipline, though. 'Tis probably best tae pretend he's goin' with us, an' mebbe forge some orders tae cover his absence."
Tieg chuckled. "No need to forge anything, my lord. If you'll get him here, I believe I can safely assure you that Lord Iver MacInnis will write a brilliant set of orders to cover whatever we'd like. I don't ordinarily condone tampering with a person's free will, but in this case, I'll be pleased to make an exception."
"I think I can improve on that idea," Ansel said. "We'll send Iver MacInnis _and_ the _Custodes_ commander north to do some reconnoitering—after both commanders have written impeccable orders to cover their maneuvers. That will also delay them finding out about the king, and give us a few more days' lead time. If we succeed in Rhemuth, it will be right away or not at all."
"About Rhemuth," Graham ventured. "D'ye really think we can pull this off wi' only twenty men?"
Ansel smiled. "We'll be more than twenty by the time we reach Rhemuth."
As he outlined the rest of their plan, hastily reworked from the original scenario for year's end, Sighere laughed aloud in sheer delight, his bristling red hair and beard giving him a look of vulpine cunning. Stacia, too, was smiling and nodding, as Ansel started drafting the brief sets of orders that would be necessary to get Iver and Joshua out of Lochalyn.
By nightfall, following a flurry of activity in the several hours preceding, Lord Iver MacInnis and Lord Joshua Delacroix led out fully half the royal troops still based at Lochalyn, heading northward on a special recce to scout the next pass northward. The remaining royal troops were left in Corban Howell's capable hands.
Shortly after their departure, a rather smaller, more lightly mounted band headed south, led by the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley and including two new-come borderers and a middle-aged priest mounted somewhat precariously on a smooth-gaited rouncy. The new Earl of Eastmarch rode with them as far as the camp, his lady watching from the castle ramparts. When the riders had disappeared into the dusk, the countess retired to the castle chapel to offer prayers for the success of their mission, and a special mother's prayer for the little boy in Rhemuth who now was king.
CHAPTER THIRTY
And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you.
—II Peter 2:3
It was on the morning of the next day, the royal party's third day out from Saint Ostrythe's and the fourth since the king's death, that Cathan Drummond at last was able to seize some small hope concerning his situation. The army had camped the previous night in a field half a day's ride south and west of Ramos, close along the banks of the Eirian. Wispy fog still clung to the ground, risen up from the river during the night, as his minders escorted him to his mount. Just as Gallard was giving him a leg up, Cathan spotted Robert Ainslie not far away, leading up a saddled horse for his father.
The exertion required to mount made Cathan light-headed, so that he had to hold tight to his horse's mane for a few seconds until his vision steadied. When he could look around again, Robert was gone.
Though he knew his mind was at its muzziest early in the morning, right after taking Brother Embert's potion, he was sure it was Robert he had seen. But Embert's drug also made him uncertain whether the young knight had returned from his mission or simply had betrayed Cathan and the king and never gone. He put but little stock in the compulsions he had tried to set, for he knew his own shortcomings as a Deryni, but he hoped he had not misjudged Robert that badly. Beyond thinking was the possibility that Robert had gone right to Rhun and Manfred and given them the codicil—though he could not imagine his own life would have been spared, if that had been the case.
All day, as they rode along, he tried to figure out a way to speak with Robert. The prospects seemed slim, for Gallard or the other man, a knight named Cloyce de Clarendon, were always beside him, maintaining the illusion of benign regard but ready to intervene if he put one foot wrong.
It must be something subtle, then—or as subtle as Cathan could manage, with his thinking fogged and his physical reflexes slowed, though at least they had not bled him again. He decided that if Robert _had_ been to Rhemuth and returned—as was most likely, when Cathan was not feeling paranoid—he probably had delivered the missive through Rhysel. And if the Deryni Rhysel had been the contact, there was a fair chance that she had set some return message in Robert's mind for Cathan's reading—perhaps instructions and guidance, though she probably would not have known yet of Rhysem's death.
But how to gain access to the young knight? Since Robert was not Deryni, and Cathan only a very weak one, even when in full command of his faculties, he could only Read such a message through physical contact. But how was Robert going to get past Cathan's ever-vigilant minders?
Cathan decided he was going to have to create his own opportunity and trust that Robert would recognize it and follow through. He watched for his chance all through the afternoon, the while continuing to feign listlessness and fatigue and even nodding off in the saddle, but he did not once even see Robert again. Not until they were splashing through the sandy shallows of a wide ford across the Eirian, approaching the _Custodes_ House that was their destination for the night, did a ghost of a chance present itself.
It was not much of an opportunity, and if Robert was not trying to get to _him_ , it was not going to work, but it was worth a try. The day was warm; a dunking would do no harm.
For Robert and another young knight were spurring casually forward along the line to make some inquiry of an officer just beyond Cathan, who was already turning in his saddle in response to Robert's hail. Cathan waited until the two were nearly abreast of him and his minders, slumped heavy-lidded in his saddle—and let himself topple soundlessly over the side closer to the pair, which was also the side away from Gallard, who was more likely to be alert than Cloyce.
Gallard gave a shout as Cathan tumbled, but it was too late for Cloyce de Clarendon to catch him. The startled _Custodes_ knight caught enough of a handful of tunic to slow his charge's fall, but keeping hold would have dragged him off, too, and Cathan was already hitting the water.
Cathan started flailing weakly as he briefly sank beneath the surface, glad he was only wearing riding leathers and the water was only knee-deep on the horses. To his relief, Robert Ainslie was off his horse and dragging his head above the water before he could even worry about being stepped on or kicked or possibly drowned.
"Easy, my lord," Robert murmured, as Cathan struggled to a sitting position with his help and started coughing, affecting grogginess and disorientation. In that same instant, Cathan had almost the impression that Robert himself, who was not Deryni, had willed him to Read. The message came through in a burst of crystal clarity—reassurance from Rhysel and tight-focused instructions that he would have to examine later, when Gallard de Breffni stopped yanking him out of Robert's grasp.
"I've got him!" Gallard snapped, as Cathan murmured, "Sorry, I nodded off." "Leave him to me. He hasn't been sleeping well since the king's death. Just help get him back on his horse."
Apparently taking Gallard at his word, as Cathan continued to murmur embarrassed protestations of apology, Robert gave a hand getting the queen's brother back up onto his mount. The further contact gave Cathan opportunity to send the gist of what had been done to him while Robert was away. Both compassion and determination showed on the young knight's face as he handed up the reins, but he turned away and sprang back onto his own horse without a word as Gallard also remounted.
Despite the mildness of the summer evening, Cathan could feel himself starting to shiver, as much from after-reaction as from any real chill, and he gratefully drew close the dry cloak Cloyce laid around his shoulders. His leathers were already getting clammy. As they carried on toward the abbey gates ahead, he wondered whether he could get out of the usual vigil beside Rhysem's coffin that night. He thought Rhysem would not mind; and with his medication mostly worn off, he was not certain he could contain his relief at the news Robert had given him.
That the codicil was delivered was greatly reassuring; that the Kheldour lords were on their way was news more welcome yet. And that at least one further ally was already with the royal party was most personally reassuring of all.
Later that evening, when duties at last released him, Sir Robert Ainslie casually made his way to the tent of a handful of borderers who had joined his father's party a few days before his arrival. Their leader had sought him out that morning and given him new instructions.
"I was wondering when you'd get here," Jesse MacGregor said, beckoning Robert across the bodies of several sleeping men to a space beside the stool where he was sitting, cleaning a boot by lantern-light. "I'm glad it wasn't cold. I take it you did make contact?"
"Aye."
"All right, sit yourself down and let's see whether he was able to send anything back. The others won't stir."
He set the boot aside as Robert settled gingerly, patting his knee to invite the younger man to lean against it. As strong hands drew Robert back, thumbs slipping upward into the curly brown hair, time seemed to pause. When Robert next became aware of anything, the Deryni was breathing out a long sigh, his hands kneading gently once at his tight shoulder muscles and then releasing him. Robert felt revitalized, though he knew he would sleep heavily when he shortly sought his bedroll.
"You did that very well," Jesse murmured. "He did _his_ part very well, despite what he's been through."
Robert nodded. "I was surprised at that myself."
"He's alive, though, and that's what's most important for now," Jesse whispered, shifting his gaze into the lantern flame. "We'll be in Rhemuth in a few more days, and God willing, the Kheldour lords will be there shortly after that. Once that happens, I have a feeling things are going to move very quickly indeed, for better or for worse." He glanced at Robert. "Are you afraid?"
"I'd be mad not to be," Robert admitted, nodding. "But that isn't going to stop me from doing what must be done."
Jesse smiled. "Good man. You've been more help man you know. For now, stay close and watch for any chance to gain some kind of regular access to Cathan. I'll let you know what happens next. You'd better go and sleep now, though."
When the younger man had gone, Jesse extinguished the lantern and lay back on his pallet, soon imparting his night's report to Joram, who was waiting to add this most current piece of the puzzle to the master picture building in a Michaeline war room, deep within the stronghold that had housed him and his renegade band of Deryni for nearly a decade now.
_You can't get to Cathan yourself?_ Joram asked.
_I don't see how. But at least I think we'll get him to Rhemuth alive. What's the word on the Kheldour lords?_
_On their way_ , came the answer. _They shouldn't be more than two or three days behind you_.
In Rhemuth, at that same hour, what remained of Gwynedd's royal council was about to receive the latest news to arrive from the returning expeditionary force. Archbishop Hubert had been dining privately with Tammaron, Richard, and Secorim in the withdrawing room behind the dais of the great hall. Earlier, Hubert had presided at Archbishop Oriss' funeral rites, with all the Court in attendance—an affair that stretched well into the afternoon, by the time they laid Oriss' body to rest with his predecessors' in the episcopal crypt beneath the high altar.
As they lingered over wine and sweetmeats, rehashing the significance of the day's events, Tammaron and Richard still wore the deep mourning of earlier in the day; Secorim was always clad in funereal _Custodes_ black, and Hubert had put aside the usual robes of his rank in favor of a plain black cassock, retaining episcopal purple only in the broad cincture bound around his ample girth—and in the episcopal ring and the amethysts studding the jeweled pectoral cross suspended at his breast.
One pudgy hand darted to that cross as a guard admitted a haggard-looking messenger wearing Culdi livery—Sir Rondel, Lord Manfred's own principal aide. Rondel pulled off his gloves as he came to kneel and kiss Hubert's ring and remained kneeling and with head bowed until the door had closed behind him. Hubert saw that his hands were shaking.
"Is my brother dead?" Hubert asked quietly.
Rondel shook his head, only then daring to look up.
"No, your Grace. Lord Manfred is well. I—regret to inform you that the king has died—"
"What?"
"When? Where?"
"Let him finish!" Hubert snapped, holding up a hand for their silence. "Out with it, man. How came this to be?"
"At—at Saint Ostrythe's Convent, near Ebor, some three days ago," Rondel stammered, daring to look up. "He took a raging fever. His—hand became badly infected and had to be amputated. Unfortunately, he did not survive the surgery."
The stunned buzz of their comment died away as Hubert slowly crossed himself, his rosy face gone ashen, the tiny lips trembling.
"You—have further details of this?" he whispered, after a few seconds.
"I do, your Grace." He got to his feet, his composure returning. "Might I suggest, however, that this company first retire to the council chamber?" He touched a hand to his breast. "I have further information to convey to your Lordships, but my Lord Manfred suggested that its sensitive nature recommends the utmost in discretion."
Stunned to silence by his implications and the stark unexpectedness of his news, they retired immediately to the more secure council chamber, ordered by Hubert to say nothing en route. Secorim set _Custodes_ guards outside the double doors as servants lit candles and torches in the room and then departed. As they took their customary places around the long table, Hubert and Secorim on one side, Tammaron and Richard on the other, Hubert reflected that there were not nearly enough of them—especially not if, as the king had threatened, there really was a codicil that broke his most recent will and named Kheldour appointees to what had just become a council of regency.
But not everyone at the table knew about the codicil—Secorim did not—and until Hubert knew the circumstances of the king's death, he was not going to raise the issue. By the light of a candelabrum set at the end of the table where they huddled, he held out his hand to Sir Rondel, seated in Manfred's customary spot three places to the right. Impassive and silent, Rondel passed a sealed packet across Father Secorim, directly to Hubert. Hubert broke the seals and scanned over the text—written in Manfred's crabbed hand but also signed and sealed by Rhun—then passed it over to Tammaron, who pulled the candelabrum closer and began to read aloud.
"'Manfred MacInnis unto his brother and Father in God, Hubert, Archbishop of Valoret and Primate of All Gwynedd; and also unto Earl Tammaron Fitz-Arthur, Chancellor of Gwynedd, and Richard Murdoch, Acting Constable, Greetings.'"
Not having read Secorim's name among the addressees, Tammaron glanced at Hubert, who gestured with a hand for him to continue.
"'I regret to report the death this afternoon of our sovereign lord, King Rhys Michael Alister Haldane, who succumbed to his injuries at about the hour of three after an illness bravely fought. His Highness had received the final sacraments and died peacefully, his weakened body being unable to survive necessary surgery.
"'His Highness' body will be brought back to Rhemuth by stages, departing Saint Ostrythe's Convent tomorrow morning. We estimate arrival in Rhemuth on or about the third of July. Owing to the season, I recommend a short lying-in-state, with funeral to follow on the fifth of July.
"'Given at Saint Ostrythe's Convent, this twenty-eighth day of June, in the Year of Our Lord Nine Hundred Twenty-Eight, under our hands and seals: Manfred, Vice-Marshal and Regent; Rhun, Earl Marshal and Regent.'"
Tammaron looked up when he had finished reading, glancing at Hubert and then back at Rondel.
"I had hoped for more detail," he said a little pettishly. "Sir Rondel, would you be so good as to elucidate?"
Rondel lowered his eyes. "I have been told to be brutally frank, my lords. You are aware of the alleged codicil to the king's will?"
As Tammaron and Richard nodded, Hubert said to Secorim, "The king claims to have written a codicil to his will while in Eastmarch, appointing the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley as regents in the event of his death. Several copies, duly signed and witnessed, are said to exist. Sir Rondel, am I to take it from your comment that you do not believe there ever was a codicil?"
Rondel met Hubert's gaze coolly, not flinching.
"I do not, your Grace. What is more, my Lord Manfred does not believe it exists."
"But Rhun believes it exists," Tammaron said.
"That's as may be." Rondel looked decidedly uncomfortable. "My lord, I am bound to tell you this, because my Lord Rhun will tell you anyway, when he and Lord Manfred reach Rhemuth. There was a—difference of opinion in the choice of treatment for the king's injury. Before even leaving Lochalyn Castle, he developed a heavy fever. Master Stevanus, the battle surgeon attending the king, had allowed the use of a Deryni drug to reduce it, given by the chatelaine of Lochalyn, but the infirmarian at Saint Cassian's withdrew the Deryni drug and recommended cautery and bleeding to release the evil humours, both of which the king refused. That was when he informed Lord Rhun of the existence of the so-called codicil."
"Are you suggesting that the king invented this story to avoid receiving unpleasant but necessary treatment?" Hubert asked.
Rondel inclined his head. "So your brother believed, your Grace. He was also furious that the king would dare to use the threat of a codicil to defy himself and Lord Rhun. When the king's condition continued to deteriorate, Lord Manfred decided to allow the bloodletting recommended by Brother Polidorus. The official story—which will be borne out by the condition of the body—is that the king's hand had to be amputated, and he did not survive this surgery."
"And what is the _true_ story?" Tammaron whispered, suddenly gone white.
Rondel swallowed and looked very uneasy. "If you later confront me on this, my lord, I will deny I ever said it. The king's fever had worsened to the point that convulsions halted our journey. Brother Polidorus again recommended bleeding to release the ill humours, and this time Lord Manfred allowed it."
"And did the king agree to this kind of treatment?" Hubert asked sharply.
"It was for his own good—"
" _Did he agree?_ " Hubert repeated. "More specifically, was force employed?"
Rondel flicked his gaze to his hands, clasped rigid on the table before him.
"It was only really necessary the first time," he whispered. "The _Custodes_ men held him."
"I see." Hubert studied the knight without blinking, glanced casually at the ashen-faced Secorim, then returned his gaze to Rondel.
"Father Secorim is a priest of the _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ , Sir Rondel. Are you aware of a _Custodes_ discipline called minution?"
Rondel swallowed. "I am, your Grace."
"Then you are also aware that it is a very specialized form of bloodletting, with both physical and spiritual benefits. Occasionally, in very special cases, a form of minution is administered in lieu of the coup de grâce. Isn't that right, Richard? Please tell Sir Rondel how your father received the coup."
"Lord Rhun and a _Custodes_ surgeon opened his veins," Richard whispered, his eyes wide and frightened.
"Rondel, is that what happened to the king?" Hubert asked.
"It wasn't the coup," Rondel whispered. "They meant to release the ill humours causing the fever."
"And how many times was the king bled?" Hubert persisted. "Do you know?"
"I was only present the first time, your Grace."
" _How many times?_ "
"F-four, I think."
"And over what period of time?" Hubert said more gently.
"Less than a day."
"I see. And after he eventually succumbed to this entirely benevolent treatment, his hand was cut off to support a more acceptable medical explanation."
"He was already very weak!" Rondel blurted. "Even if he hadn't been bled, he might not have survived the surgery. It little matters now."
"It matters if the story of the codicil is true!" Hubert snapped. "And my dear, impulsive brother dared to wager that it is not! Dear God, Manfred, you always were pigheaded!"
"Your Grace, the king's defiance could not be tolerated!" Rondel said. "What matters it if a fatal blood loss came _before_ the amputation of his hand rather than because of it? 'Twill be a new regency now."
"Pray God it will not be far newer than any of us bargained for," Tammaron muttered. "Why did Rhun do nothing to stop this? He surely realized what Manfred really intended. From his earlier letter, I'd have sworn he was convinced the codicil was real."
Rondel drew a deep breath and let it out. "The—ah—two gentlemen quarreled on this point, my lord. After the king's collapse, the _Custodes_ physician again pressed for bleeding as the best course of treatment, and Lord Manfred finally agreed. Lord Rhun was—under the influence of _merasha_ when the order was given to proceed. I believe he later conceded that Manfred had acted correctly."
"For all our sakes, I hope he did," Hubert said, folding his hands before him to tap his thumbs against rosebud lips. "In this case, however, I would have been inclined to let nature take its course. But it's done now. How many know the particulars in this matter?"
Rondel's gaze flicked nervously to the table. "Other than those in this room—Lords Manfred and Rhun, Sir Cathan, Sir Fulk. The rest were _Custodes_ men, lay and vowed, including Brother Polidorus, the physician who carried out the treatment, and the battle surgeon Stevanus, who refused to have any part of it. Those considered to be risks have been dealt with."
"Where is my son?" Tammaron said evenly.
"Oh, safe, my lord, never fear," Rondel assured him. "He was sent next morning to Cassan, under heavy guard. Lord Manfred trusts you'll put in a word to make certain he holds his tongue. The battle surgeon Stevanus and those _Custodes_ men deemed less than trustworthy in this regard were to be sent on to the _Custodes_ abbey at Ramos, whence I believe it's intended they shall not depart. Out of deference to your Grace's regard for Lord Cathan and his calming influence on the queen, he travels well sedated with the king's funeral cortege, having himself been weakened by bleeding, to make it clear what must be his fate if he does not cooperate. I trust these arrangements meet with your satisfaction, your Grace? My lords?"
Hubert nodded slowly, already adjusting to the new parameters his brother had placed on the situation by his rash action.
"Yes, they do," he murmured. "If, indeed, the codicil does not exist, Manfred has done what probably ought to have been done some time ago. The story will hold, I think." He glanced at Secorim, who was the newest member of their conspiracy. "Are you able to deal with this, Secorim? If not, just say the word, and I shall post you off to some remote abbey where you can live out your life in peace, so long as you keep _your_ peace."
It was a lie, of course, for he would have Secorim killed here and now if he showed any sign of wavering; but though obviously shaken by what he had just heard, the _Custodes_ archbishop-designate did not flicker an eyelash as he gravely nodded.
"I have given you my vow of obedience, your Grace," he murmured. "I am greatly saddened to hear of the king's unfortunate demise. Clearly, he had the best of care."
Hubert allowed himself a faint, sly smile. "I think my new Archbishop of Rhemuth and I shall get on very well," he said. "But enough of this. We now are regents for a very young new king. It's late to roust him from his bed, but the mother should be told, I think—gently, lest her grief dislodge the babe she carries—and with a physician there to give her a soothing potion. After a night's sleep, she should be past the worst of the shock and reasonably able to accompany us to the boy's chamber in the morning. Meanwhile, I shall post extra guards outside his apartments, but the news of the king's death is to be suppressed until tomorrow. Are we all agreed?"
At their nods, he rose.
"Very well, then. Tammaron, please fetch Master James and have him prepare a sleeping draught for her Highness."
A short while later, as Rhysel brushed out the queen's hair in preparation for retiring, Archbishop Hubert came with one of the Court physicians to inform the queen that her husband was dead. Rhysel guessed their mission as they came into the room and held tightly to the queen's hand as she rose to receive them—and knew that the queen guessed, even before Hubert opened his mouth. Michaela blanched and sat back down again, covering her face with the hand Rhysel was not holding, and Rhysel damped the pain as the inexorable words conveyed their dread message.
"It is not believed that he suffered greatly, my lady," Hubert said quietly. "He simply was not strong enough to survive the surgery. I am very sorry. I've had Master James prepare you a sleeping draught. I strongly recommend that you drink it—for the sake of the child you carry, if not for your own. In the morning, if you wish, I—shall allow you to inform young Owain. He is king now, of course, and there are proclamations to be drafted, ceremonies to be performed, but I believe there is no need to wake him at this hour."
As Michaela managed a jerky nod, saying nothing, Rhysel took the cup from the court physician and set it in the queen's hand, urging her to drink. The queen obeyed without demur and numbly allowed herself to be put to bed. A quarter hour later she had escaped into sleep. The tears would come with the morning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
His sons come to honour, and he knoweth it not.
—Job 14:21
Michaela woke to the slow, leaden tolling of church bells and a dull ache of heart that knew for whom they tolled. Rhysel lay beside her, fully clothed, faithful guardian through the night. The younger woman sat up as Michaela stirred, gently setting a hand on her wrist.
"Mika, you must be strong," she whispered.
Michaela drew a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, grateful for the human intimacy of the other's mere presence at such a time.
"I feel numb inside," she replied. "I know he's gone, but I can hardly feel it. Is that your doing?"
Gravely Rhysel nodded.
"You have a child on the way and another who will need you today, especially. I have never lost a husband, but I was seven when my father died." She gave a wan smile. "When I learned of it, I had only my grief to contend with, devastating though that was. I did not become a king as well."
Michaela could feel tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them back and sniffled resolutely, wiping her free hand across her eyes as she sat up.
"I'll be all right," she whispered. "You'd better help me dress. I want to be ready when they let me go to Owain. You don't think he'll have guessed, from the bells?"
Rhysel shook her head. "He's very young, and there have been ample bells these past few days."
Half an hour later, dressed in deepest mourning, Michaela sat waiting among her black-clad ladies in the shade of the solar, eyes downcast, turning Rhysem's marriage ring on her finger. She would have preferred to go to her son informally, with her hair tumbled loose and free the way he liked it, but protocol required otherwise of queens, especially on such a day. Under Lady Estellan's tight-lipped direction, Rhysel had been obliged to scrape back the queen's wheaten mane in a tight knot before covering it with the mandatory widow's coif and veil. Michaela made no protest to this, but stubbornly declined the prescribed jeweled diadem in favor of a light circlet of gold and silver roses—because that was Owain's favorite.
The waiting now began. While Michaela's women sat murmuring prayers all around her, Rhysel settled quietly at her feet, her head resting lightly against the queen's knee as she continued to urge calm and serenity—for she would not be allowed to accompany the queen to the new little king's apartments.
A knock at an outer door brought Rhysel to her feet and set Lady Estellan hurrying to answer it. Shortly she returned with the queen's two visitors of the night before, plus Tammaron, Richard Murdoch, and Father Secorim. As the archbishop and Secorim bowed, somber and correct in their ecclesiastical robes, the physician hung back to study his royal patient. Tammaron and Richard came to kneel and kiss the queen's hand.
"Your Highness, our condolences this morning come on behalf of the Regency Council," Hubert said. "Did your Highness spend a quiet night?"
"I am well enough, your Grace," she said, not meeting his gaze. "May I see my son now?"
"If Master James feels you are strong enough."
Michaela sighed as the physician silently came to clasp her wrist. After a moment he released her and lightly felt her forehead.
"Her pulse is steady, your Grace. She seems composed enough, but this will be a difficult day. Your Highness, may I recommend something to ease you? Nothing as strong as last night. I know you would have your wits about you when you speak to the King's Grace."
"I thank you, no, Master James," she said, rising purposefully. "Your Grace, I would go now to my son."
Only Tammaron's wife, Lady Nieve, was allowed to accompany her as the regents escorted her to the nursery apartments occupied by the young prince. All of them remained in an adjoining anteroom as the queen went on into the prince's solar, where he had been lining up toy knights on the floor of a window embrasure. His little tunic of Haldane crimson was a bright splash of color against the whitewashed stone. A sad-eyed governess had been supervising his play, but withdrew immediately at Michaela's appearance, only pausing to bob her a sympathetic curtsey.
"Good morning, my love," Michaela called, smiling and holding her arms out to Owain as he scrambled to his feet with a crow of delight and ran to embrace her around the knees.
"Mummy! Come and see my knights! There's one that looks like Papa. He's going to fight the bad prince who wants to take away his crown."
Fighting back her grief, smiling despite it as she bent to kiss him, she let him lead her back to the window embrasure, where she sank down on the step to let him point out his favorites. There was, indeed, a knight on a white horse that looked something like Rhysem, with a tiny gold lion painted on his crimson shield and a little crown on his helm. Cathan had made them for Owain the previous winter, and they were rather larger than the usual sort, standing halfway to the boy's knees. Another knight on a grey carried a miniature Haldane banner.
"That's Uncle Cathan," Owain said, pointing him out, "and there's the bad prince. He keeps falling down."
She looked beyond the royal forces at a motley array of smaller figures painted in the tawny and black and white of Torenth, one of which had fallen over. Stiffening her resolve, Michaela held out her arms to Owain again.
"Darling, come and sit on Mummy's lap, would you? I have something to tell you."
Owain looked at her curiously and picked up the figures of his father and Cathan before coming to climb down a step and then ease onto her lap, settling a little uneasily as he twisted around to watch her. She hugged him close for a moment, pressing a kiss to the tousle of black, sweet-smelling hair, then reached around him to gently stroke a fingertip across the crown on the figure of the king.
"Darling, something very sad has happened to your papa. He hurt his hand, and it made him very sick. His doctors tried very hard to make him better, but he—"
"Papa's sick?" Owain whispered, his little face going still and anxious.
Michaela shook her head, blinking back tears. "Not anymore, my darling," she whispered. "Your papa is with the angels now. His hurt hand made him very, very, ill, so—the angels have taken him to be with God."
"With—God?" the boy repeated, bewildered.
"Your papa has died, my love. He's gone to Heaven, to be with God."
"No!" Owain said flatly. "My papa can't be dead."
"Oh, darling, I wish it weren't true—you know I do. But it is. It's very, very sad, but—"
"Who hurted my papa's hand?" Owain demanded, anger flashing in the grey Haldane eyes as tears began to well. "Did the bad prince hurt my papa?"
"I—don't know exactly, darling," she heard herself saying. "We'll know more when..."
She let her voice trail away as he collapsed weeping in her arms, sobbing his little heart out, the toy knights still clutched in both hands. She wept with him, letting fall the tears she had denied herself the night before but aware, in some deep recess of dispassionate logic, that her grief was tempered still by the discipline Rhysel had imposed, lest the shock do harm to the other life she carried. She felt it as a profound sadness that might well persist until her dying day, but not a life-shattering sorrow that might keep her from her duty.
As Owain gradually subsided to hiccoughs and moist sniffling, huddled down in her lap, Michaela also mastered her tears. Pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve, she wiped her eyes and composed herself, then produced another one to blot away her son's tears.
"Can you blow for me?" she whispered.
He complied, but he would not let go of the toy knights in his hands. Still sniffling, he squirmed around to turn tear-reddened eyes to hers.
"Mummy, I have a question," he said tremulously.
"Yes, darling?"
"Did the bad prince take away my papa's crown?"
She smiled gently and brushed the hair off his forehead as she shook her head. "No, my darling, he did not. Your papa left his crown for you. And no one shall ever, _ever_ take it away from you—I promise."
Owain looked doubtful. "But I'm only little, Mummy. What if the bad prince comes?"
"The bad prince is dead, my love," she whispered, wishing the other "bad prince" were dead as well. "He can't come and take your crown. And you shall grow up to be a very brave and wise and powerful king, the way your papa wanted."
"I'll be king like Papa?"
"You will, my darling. And until you're big like Papa, there will be wise men to help you learn how to be a king."
Owain sighed. "More lessons."
"I'm afraid so," Michaela said with an amused chuckle. "For many, many years. But for now, I think you should have your first lesson today in being a proper king. The archbishop and some of the other great lords are waiting outside to see you. Now that you're king, there are some things they have to do and some words they have to say. Do you think you could be a very brave boy for me and make Papa proud in Heaven?"
"What I have to do?" he asked suspiciously.
"Just be very polite and answer when you're spoken to. There will be quite a lot of bowing, and after they've said some words, they'll want to come and kiss your hand, the way you've seen them do for me and for Papa. That's their way of showing you that they know you're the king now. Would that be all right?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Can I take my knights?"
"Well—how about just the one of Papa? And you must hold him like this, with your left hand, so they can kiss the other one. We'll let Uncle Cathan stay here to see that the other ones behave—all right?"
"All right."
"Now, hold out your hand the way you've seen Papa do, so that I can rest my hand on yours while we go into the next room. That's right." She rose and laid her left hand on his right: "Now, you are the king, and I am your lady, and we must be very dignified as we go to meet your great lords."
She could tell that Hubert was pleased, when it was over. Little Owain escorted her into the next room with four-year-old dignity, accepting their bows as his due, and waited for another chair to be brought for his mother before he would sit on the one they had provided for him. After that, while Earl Tammaron read out the proclamation of accession, Owain sat quietly, tightly hugging his toy knight, then gravely allowed each of them to kiss his hand. He came close to tears when Hubert briefly slipped his father's Ring of Fire on his left hand, bewildered and a bit distressed because it was far too big, but he brightened when Lady Nieve produced a sturdy gold chain from which to suspend it around his neck.
His exemplary behavior earned his mother the privilege of taking him back to her own apartments for the rest of the day. Secorim was dubious at first, being but recently apprised of the nature of the late king's tense relationship with his great lords, but Tammaron argued as the father of four sons that a child's place at a time like this was with his mother, king or no king. Even the usually hard-hearted Richard, whose son was a year older than Owain, had to agree that the young king ought not to be kept from his mother, at least until after the two very emotion-laden events still to come—the return of the late king's body to Rhemuth, with its reception on the cathedral steps, and the state funeral to follow. Hubert concurred.
Thanking God for this small mercy, Michaela let them escort her and Owain back to the royal apartments, herself bringing the Uncle Cathan knight so that Owain could carry the Papa knight and still cling tightly to her hand. As soon as she and Owain had reached the sanctuary of her solar, she divested herself of coronet and veils and bade Rhysel loose her hair, letting it tumble around her shoulders the way Owain liked it as she bent to give him another hug.
As they retreated to the bedchamber beyond, she found that Lady Estellan and the other ladies had set out a light lunch—much appreciated, for Michaela had not had the stomach to eat anything earlier. She still could not bring herself to eat very much, but young Owain tucked in with surprisingly good appetite, making sure that Papa, Uncle Cathan, and their horses all had portions of bread and cheese set before them. After he had eaten his fill, Rhysel helped his mother pull off the crimson tunic and shoes and bed down the little king for an afternoon nap. When the other ladies had gone out, all solicitude and sympathetic tongue-cluckings for the brave little prince, Rhysel bade the queen lie down, too.
"You need the rest as much as he does," she whispered, as she helped the queen remove her outer robe and lie down in her shift. "And don't worry about telling me anything; I'll Read it while you sleep and then see how the king fares as well, underneath his show of bravery."
The respite into sleep was welcome and left several fewer hours of the afternoon to be endured, when she awoke. Owain's governess and a page had brought the rest of his beloved knights and a very small black tunic while they napped, and Michaela sat silently watching him until suppertime, as he took the knights out of their wicker basket and improvised an ambush for the bad prince from behind a hillock made of her shoes. Both his concentration and the black tunic were all too sober for so young a child, but she knew they were but the least of things he would have to bear all too young.
A bath was brought after supper, and Michaela gladly bent to the task of bathing him herself—something she had not been allowed to do for some time. Afterward, when he was asleep, tucked clean and sweet-smelling into the bed she lately had shared with his father, she knelt beside him and stroked the raven hair and prayed for his life. There was another child beneath her heart, but this one was the one who would have to bear up under whatever the regents tried in the days and weeks and years to come. Far too soon, he would be asked to follow in his father's footsteps and take up at least the promise of his Haldane heritage.
And tomorrow, he must watch his father's body brought back to Rhemuth in a coffin. Hubert had come after supper to tell her that the cortege would arrive sometime after noon. The news set a further blight on what remained of the evening, and she was glad to retire early and let Rhysel take her deep into undreaming sleep.
An update the next morning, after breakfast, indicated that the procession probably would not reach the cathedral much before three. Already dressed in her widow's weeds but with hair still flowing loose for Owain's sake, Michaela spent the morning gazing out the window at the gardens below, while Owain played at her feet with his knights, the Ring of Fire and its golden chain a bright contrast against his funereal black. After lunch, she let Rhysel do up her hair and donned her widow's veil and the State Crown, with its crosses and leaves intertwined.
Tammaron and Richard came to fetch them at two—an easy enough escort as far as the great hall, for Owain knew both of them. But as the royal party emerged on the great hall steps, great lords and bereaved queen and wide-eyed boy clutching a toy knight under one arm, a _Custodes_ guard of honor came to attention with such clashing of weapons and stamping of feet that young Owain faltered, burying his face in his mother's skirts.
"There, now, my darling," Michaela whispered, bending down to comfort him as Earl Tammaron indicated they should proceed to the canopied sedan-chair waiting at the bottom of the steps. "Those men are doing you honor. Many men will do you honor today. Do you remember how the great lords kissed your hand yesterday?"
He nodded tremulously.
"Well, soldiers show their respect by clashing their weapons like that, because that is how they serve you—with their strength of arms. Now, hold your head up and take Mummy's hand the way you did yesterday. Why, I do believe we're meant to ride in one of the archbishop's rather splendid sedan-chairs. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to travel in one of those? I know I have."
Thus reassured, he did as she bade, gravely taking her down the steps and handing her into the sedan-chair with the aplomb of a courtier many times his age. He was rather less dignified as Tammaron lifted him up beside her, once she had settled her skirts and made space for him.
"It's high," he whispered, as he settled the Papa knight more securely under his arm and held on with his other hand.
"A little," she conceded. "But think how well you'll be able to see."
The ride down to the cathedral started out bumpy, but it gradually settled to a gentle side-to-side motion as the horses fell into step. As constable of the castle, Richard rode before them with a mounted guard of his own men in Carthane livery. Tammaron rode on Owain's side, with Sir Rondel on Michaela's; _Custodes_ knights followed behind. All along the way, silent crowds had gathered to watch their passage, the men doffing their hats as the little king passed by, many of the women weeping to see him come so young to his throne.
When they alighted at the cathedral steps, Archbishop Hubert was there to receive them, along with Bishop Alfred, who should have been the next Archbishop of Rhemuth, and Abbot Secorim, who would actually have the position. A bevy of additional clergy and choristers also waited with torches and incense and a huge, jeweled processional cross, but Hubert came and led the two of them inside, out of the sun, to wait in the cool of the baptistery near the rear doors until the expected cortege should actually come into sight. The cathedral was well filled with richly dressed men and women, and Owain peered out at them with interest through the brass-latticed baptistery gate when Hubert had gone back out.
"Mummy, have all these people come to honor Papa?" he whispered.
"I do believe they have," she replied. _And also to see this child who will be their new king_ , she thought to herself, pitying him anew—and herself. "Why don't you sit here very quietly beside me while we wait for the archbishop to come back? Shall we say a prayer for Papa?"
They had finished several prayers, and Owain had taken to prancing his knight along the edge of the fount, when Lord Tammaron came to fetch them.
"It's time, your Highness," he murmured, as the _Custodes_ guards outside the gate clashed to attention. "Sire, will you come this way, please?"
A little stiffly, Owain lifted his chin and held out his arm for his mother's hand, gravely conveying her after Tammaron, who had to bite at his lip to keep from showing his emotion. The choristers had begun intoning a Latin hymn, and as Michaela and her son emerged into the sunlight, she could see the procession approaching the cathedral steps. Her brother Cathan was among the lead riders, Rhun and Manfred to either side; and beyond them, escorted by _Custodes_ knights and preceded by a processional cross and Rhysem's banner, was the horse-borne bier that bore his black-draped coffin. She could see the sunlight glinting off the sword and crown fastened atop it, and tears blurred her vision as she held tightly to her son's hand and watched it draw near.
The lead riders were dismounting, Rhun and Manfred coming up the steps with Cathan and a pair of _Custodes_ knights behind them. Her brother looked dreadful, pale and much thinner than when he had left, but at least he had come back.
She shifted her gaze to Rhun and Manfred, armored and full of their own self-importance as they came to kneel at Owain's feet and kiss his small hand, rising then to give Tammaron quiet greeting before withdrawing to either side for Cathan to make his salute. Cathan managed a reassuring smile for his young nephew as he bent over the boy's hand, but as he rose to embrace his sister lightly and kiss her on both cheeks, she saw that his eyes were dilated even in the bright sunlight.
Drugged, then; that explained his appearance and the lethargy that blurred his grace as he moved around to her other side, one hand lightly keeping balance against Owain's shoulder. She knew the signs well, from those years ago with Rhysem. She slipped her arm into his for reassurance and comfort, but he did not admit her to his thoughts, only gazing numbly at Rhysem's coffin as the horse-litter came to a halt and strong men began lifting it down.
Tears welling in her eyes, Michaela watched the priests begin to cense her husband's coffin and sprinkle it with holy water and heard the words that Hubert sang as he invoked the saints of God and the angels of the Lord to come to Rhysem's aid, presenting his soul before the sight of the Most High.
" _Suscipiat te Christus, qui vocavit te..._ " Hubert sang. May you be received by Christ, Who has called you: and may the angels bring you into the bosom of Abraham.
_They did, you know_ , came Cathan's thought in her mind, as he shifted her hand into his hand for comfort. _The angels came_ — _archangels, actually_ — _the same as came the night he received his power. Dom Queron called them. I know he's at peace, Mika_.
" _Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine_ ," Hubert sang, " _et lux perpetua luceat ei._ "
" _Offerentes earn in conspectu Altissimi_..."
Both stunned and cheered by his message, her vision blurred by tears, Michaela somehow managed to get through the rest of the ceremony, numbly following her husband's coffin into the hushed cathedral, Owain clinging to her left hand and Cathan supporting her on her right. The great lords served as his pallbearers: Tammaron, Manfred, Rhun, Richard—and Lord Ainslie and Sir Rondel to round out the numbers, since Hubert and Secorim were otherwise occupied. Clouds of incense followed them down an aisle that seemed far, far longer than it had the many other times Michaela had walked it. The most joyful had been to repeat her marriage vows to the man whose coffin she now followed; the most difficult before now, to follow him to his coronation, knowing that he must make vows before God that they would never allow him to keep.
The choir offered up a hymn promising resurrection and salvation as the great lords gently set the coffin on the catafalque prepared for it and then moved the funeral candles into place: thick, bright-burning yellow brands set in six tall silver candlesticks, three on a side. Hubert offered more prayers as the pallbearers came to kneel behind the queen and the little king, and he sprinkled and censed the coffin again, sending up more clouds of sweet-smelling smoke that made Owain sneeze. At some point, Tammaron and Rhun brought the State Crown and sceptre from the altar, Rhun laying the wand of gold-embellished ivory close beside the Haldane sword and Tammaron exchanging the state crown for the simpler circlet that had traveled with the king from Eastmarch. The latter he brought to the queen, presenting it on bended knee.
She thanked him softly as she clasped it to her breast, kneeling dutifully with Owain and Cathan at the head of the coffin while the prayers droned on and on, the pious responses murmuring from the congregation kneeling behind them. Only with Rhysem's circlet in her hands, the one she once had set in place on his helm, did she truly begin to accept that he was dead. Not the eternal part of him, of course, which Cathan assured her had been taken up to God by archangels; but she still could mourn the human part of him, that lay in that oaken box, that nevermore would take her in his arms—and that other part, so recently glimpsed, that might have made of him so truly magnificent a king.
She was weeping quietly by the time it was over at last, but it was a sadness rather than an anguish. Tammaron approached her as the procession was forming up to go out, accompanied by a concerned Master James, but she assured both that she would be fine and let Cathan escort her and her son back up the aisle with the rest of the royal household. Blessedly, the curtains had been let down on the sedan-chair, so she and Owain were screened from prying eyes for the return to the castle. The curtains also muffled the sounds from outside, the hollow clip-clop of hooves on cobblestones and the faint murmur of the crowds still lining the streets.
"Mummy," Owain whispered a little later, as they lurched along and he snuggled close in the circle of her arms, hugging the Papa knight close. "Mummy, Papa wasn't really in that box—was he?"
She bit back a smile, wondering whether he could have caught some hint of her own soul-searching, back in the cathedral.
"No, my darling. His body was in there, but it's only an empty house now. His soul, the most important part of him, has gone to God."
He pulled back to glance down at his chest, then looked back up at her. "Is this my house, Mummy?"
"Yes."
"When—when I go to sleep, does my soul come out of my house?"
She closed her eyes briefly, trying to think of imagery that a four-year-old could understand and that would not frighten him.
"Some people say it can—but you mustn't be afraid of sleeping, darling. We always come back to our bodies until it's time for God to call us home. Some people think every person has a silver cord connecting the soul to the body. It's a magical cord that can stretch to the very ends of the earth—but it always brings us back when we're ready. When people get old, the cord starts to wear out, it starts to ravel. And eventually it goes all unraveled and lets the person go back to God."
"Papa wasn't old. What happened to his silver cord?"
"Well, sometimes, when we're very sick, or very badly hurt, the cord breaks. When that happens, angels come to carry the person to God. That's what happened to Papa. You can ask Uncle Cathan. He says he saw the angels."
"He did?" Owain's eyes got very wide and round. "He saw angels take away my papa?"
"You mustn't think they did it to be mean," she said hastily. 'It's the angels' job to guard us and keep us safe. But Papa's cord was already broken. His body had been very sick. That's why the angels came to take him to God."
"Oh."
Owain's momentary anger at marauding angels died away at that reassurance, and he subsided against her arm, apparently satisfied with the explanation, cradling the Papa knight close. He was asleep by the time the sedan-chair drew up before the great hall steps, and it was Cathan who drew back the curtains to gather the sleeping boy into his arms.
"Let him sleep," Cathan murmured, when Michaela would have protested that he himself was too weak for the exertion. "I can carry him. He isn't very heavy."
He was allowed this privilege, though clearly no privacy would accompany it. Manfred followed them up to the royal apartments, Tammaron trailing after. As soon as Cathan had deposited the boy in his mother's bed, Manfred crooked his finger at him from the doorway.
"May I have just a moment with my sister—please?" Cathan begged.
"That will have to wait. We're expected downstairs."
"Just a few seconds. I only want to give her a few of her husband's keepsakes."
"What keepsakes?" Manfred demanded, barging into the room with an uncomfortable-looking Tammaron following.
Trembling, for he feared he might not have another chance at this, Cathan hastily pulled a folded handkerchief from the pouch at his belt and fumbled out the Eye of Rom.
"This is part of the regalia of Gwynedd," he said, placing it in her hand. "You'll have to pierce his ear so he can wear it." _And do it, as soon as possible_ , he managed to send, while he briefly had contact with her.
She nodded numb agreement as she closed it in her hand and Manfred set a heavy hand on Cathan's sleeve.
"The Council requires your presence, Sir Cathan. Don't make me ask again."
Shrinking from the thought of what they might want him for, he pressed the Haldane brooch into his sister's hand, still partially wrapped in the handkerchief.
"He also wanted you to have—my lord, this is a private piece!" he added sharply, his hand blocking when Manfred would have reached for it. "It's only his cloak clasp. She had it made for him after the birth of Prince Owain! May she not keep this one remembrance of their love?"
"Manfred, leave it be," Tammaron said wearily. "Your Highness, I apologize for Lord Manfred. His manners obviously have worn thin from his journey. Manfred, the Council has certain questions it would like to put to you, as well as to Sir Cathan. Will you both please come with me, or must I call a guard?"
"Don't _you_ push me," Manfred muttered, as he turned on his heel to go. "Drummond, come along, or you haven't heard the last of this."
Head meekly dipping, Cathan let himself be herded toward the door. "If they'll let me, I'll try to come and have supper with you, Mika. God keep you, sweet sister."
"And you, dear brother," she whispered, as the door closed behind all three of them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Then the chief captain came near, and took him, and commanded him to be bound with two chains.
—Acts 21:33
The reckoning that awaited Cathan in the council chamber was both more and less than he had feared. Not unexpectedly, Richard was waiting just inside the door to demand his sword. Cathan could feel the hostile eyes upon him from the table beyond as he slowly unbuckled the belt and wrapped it around the scabbard before handing it over, using the time to assess his chances, wishing his head were a little clearer, trying to keep his hands from shaking.
Hubert was already seated in his customary place at the left side of the table, nearest the king's empty chair, with Lior to his right and Rhun next. After indicating that Cathan should sit at the foot of the table, where the queen normally would sit, Richard escorted Tammaron to the chair opposite Hubert and sat beside him, casually laying Cathan's sword on the table before him. Abbot Secorim was directly to Cathan's right, and Manfred huffed himself down in the empty place between Lior and Rhun.
"Manfred, we shall speak with you privately later about certain aspects of your actions during your absence," Hubert said without further preamble, shuffling a stack of papers in front of him, the amethyst on his hand glinting in the sunlight. "For now, I am far more concerned with the report that Lord Rhun sent us some days ago, staring that the late king claimed to have written an unauthorized codicil to his will, naming additional regents not sanctioned by this council. Father Lior believes this to be the draft of the codicil that the king showed to Rhun to substantiate his claim." He indicated the page before him. "Sir Cathan, I believe the hand is yours. Perhaps you would be so good as to shed some light on this subject."
Cathan bowed his head, aware that every word he said from here was likely to bring him that much closer to a death sentence. He supposed Lior had found the draft copy in the king's saddlebags, to which Cathan himself had not had access since the king's death.
Denying anything was pointless. The draft _was_ in his hand, as were all the executed copies—as they would discover, when the Kheldour lords arrived to try to enforce the codicil. He could not and would not change the truth about his part in helping the king produce and execute it; but if the great lords became too angry with him, too soon, he was a dead man.
"The codicil exists," he said quietly. "It was executed at Lochalyn Castle, before valid witnesses. The king was unable to write out the text with his injured hand, so he dictated it to me, and I made copies, as was my duty to him—to do as he commanded."
"And what about your duty to this council?" Hubert said sharply. "I seem to recall that the terms of your appointment to the king's household were such that your first loyalty was to your superiors on this council. You swore an oath on holy relics."
"And I swore another, more binding oath to my king," Cathan said boldly. "With my hands between his sacred hands, made holy at his anointing, I swore him faith and truth before all men, saving only my allegiance to God. In obeying his command, I kept that faith. I am not sorry."
"That has been clear for some time now," Manfred said. "How many copies of the codicil were executed?"
"Enough," Cathan dared to retort.
"Don't you play cheeky with me!" Manfred said. "How many?"
"One each for those named in the codicil, one for Lady Stacia, one for the priest who witnessed it, and one for the king," Cathan said evenly, for it could make no difference now whether they knew or not—and they would torture it out of him anyway, if he did not tell.
Lior cleared his throat. "Your Grace, we found no copy among the king's effects, other than the draft."
"What happened to the king's copy, Cathan?" Tammaron asked.
Cathan looked him in the eye. He was the most decent of the men seated at this table, but he was still one of them.
"The king had it sent ahead to Rhemuth, I don't know by whom or to whom." The first part was true, the rest a blatant lie—but plausible enough that they probably would not torture him to get another answer.
"That's impossible," Rhun muttered. "You must have known. _We_ would have known. Not that many of our men moved freely about the castle."
"With all due respect, my lord, it was not _your_ castle," Cathan said quietly, seizing on an ironclad explanation that would not implicate him. "Having just entrusted the regency of his young son to the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley, do you not think he could have enlisted their aid to smuggle out his copy of the document?"
As Rhun and Manfred stared at him dumbfounded, Hubert snorted and pulled the draft codicil back into his stack of papers, jogging the edges self-importantly as his hard blue gaze flitted briefly among the others—resentful and agitated, but willing to let him take responsibility.
"Cathan, I have no more time for playing games with you," Hubert said. His voice had the exasperated tone of a parent finally pushed too far by a wayward child. "Your sister carries the next heir. Clearly, I cannot risk killing you until after she is safely delivered. I promise you, however, that you shall not enjoy these last months of your life."
Cathan kept his eyes averted, hands clasped tightly in his lap.
"I'm sure you are aware of the constraints that were placed on the late king in the months following the death of King Javan," Hubert went on blandly. "Well, your constraints shall be far more rigid, and the worse for knowing, beyond hope of reprieve, that the day the queen is delivered, you shall die—with merciful quickness, if the child lives.
"But if she loses the child—well, you cannot begin to imagine the pain that the human body can endure before death finally releases it. Or perhaps you can—but no, you did not witness the fate of one Declan Carmody, who betrayed our trust some years ago. You were too young. It happened the same day that Richard's father rid us of an earlier Kheldour lord—the father of the present Duke of Claibourne, if I'm not mistaken. Did Murdoch tell you of it, Richard?"
Rhysem had told Cathan of it; and obviously Murdoch had told, too, for Richard went very pale as he gave the archbishop a curt nod.
"I thought he might have done," Hubert said with a cold smile. He drew a deep breath and let it out before going on.
"But, enough of these pleasant digressions. As for the immediate future, dear Cathan, your docile presence will be required at the king's funeral two days hence. You will make one more public appearance at the young king's coronation in a few months' time. Father Lior, if I entrust him to the _Custodes'_ tender care, can I be assured that he will be sufficiently biddable to meet his remaining obligations?"
Lior inclined his head. "You have my word on it, your Grace, by the obedience I owe you."
"Then take him out of here," Hubert said coldly. "I don't wish to look at him any more."
As Lior summoned guards, and Cathan suffered himself to be bound and hustled from the council chamber, he thanked God for his temporary reprieve and resigned himself to at least his immediate fate—though he allowed himself a breath of hope that the Kheldour lords might arrive in time to save him from everything that Hubert had planned. He could endure the next few days, unpleasant though they would be.
And after that—after that, if the Kheldour lords were not successful, it really hardly mattered...
When supper time had come and gone and Cathan still had not appeared or sent word, Michaela's anxiety began to mount. Increasingly worried inquiries to the guards outside her door revealed nothing until a sympathetic captain finally informed her that Sir Cathan was indisposed and would not be able to join her that evening. Her tearful persistence eventually elicited the opinion that the queen's brother was exhausted from his journey and was expected to catch up on his sleep in the next day or two.
Rhysel fared little better in her efforts to gain information. She found excuse to go abroad several times during the early evening hours, first to fetch her belongings from her former room and then making foray to the kitchen for a cup of warm milk for Owain, the while trying to pick up some hint of what had happened behind the Council's closed doors. She learned only that the Council was still in session, supper having been sent in. No one seemed to know if Cathan was still among them.
She returned to the royal apartments with Owain's milk to find the queen just finishing his bath, pulling a clean white nightshirt over the tousled raven head. Later, when they had tucked the boy into the big state bed, his Papa and Uncle Cathan knights propped against the lion headboard to guard him while he slept, she and the queen withdrew to sit in the window embrasure. With Rhysel's promotion to the queen's household, she now slept on a pallet at the foot of her mistress' bed, but with both women in their night shifts, and fair hair caught in fat braids down their backs, they looked like sisters or two errant schoolgirls rather than queen and maid.
"What did you find out?" Michaela asked, huddling over the rushlight set between them. "Is he all right?"
Rhysel shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know. The Council was still in session. That first story we got, of him being 'indisposed,' suggests that he isn't going to be able to see you for a while."
"Maybe he _is_ catching up on his sleep," Michaela said hopefully. "He did look awfully tired."
"He also said he'd try to come back for supper—if they'd let him," Rhysel replied. "But I don't think they'll dare to do anything to him at least until after the funeral," she added at the queen's look of panic. "By then, the Kheldour lords should be here, and I hope everything will be all right."
"What if it isn't?" Michaela whispered.
"We aren't going to think about that right now," Rhysel said sternly. "In the meanwhile, the great lords think you're in far more precarious health than you are, and they're terrified you'll lose the child. You don't want to push that fear to the point that Master James comes poking around wanting to keep you in bed or sedated, but it wouldn't hurt to keep asking about Cathan and demand to be allowed to see him and make it clear that you're pining for your brother, especially now that—the king is gone."
Michaela bowed her head, fighting back her grief—for both men—then remembered the brooch Cathan had been at such pains to get to her. Returning to her dressing table, as Rhysel leaned out to watch in some curiosity, Michaela picked up the Eye of Rom and the Haldane brooch and brought them back to the window embrasure.
"I wonder why he made such a point of giving this back to me," she said, laying the great ruby aside and taking the brooch between the fingers of both hands. "I can understand about the Eye of Rom; it's part of the Haldane regalia. And certainly, the brooch was important to the two of us, as a symbol of—"
She broke off as Rhysel laid a hand on hers.
"May I see that?"
Wordlessly Michaela gave it to her, watching as the Deryni woman closed her hands around it briefly, then laid the enameled side of it against her forehead, eyes closed. After a moment she took the brooch away and looked up, grinning a little as she fingered the red-enameled gold.
"You have a very brave man for a brother, and your Rhysem was far wiser than I ever gave him credit for. I can't Read it, because it isn't meant for me, but there's something locked into this brooch, Mika—something your Rhysem set there, just beginning to learn to use the powers we loosed in him, here in this very room. I shouldn't be at all surprised if he's left you the key to setting the Haldane potential in his son."
"In Owain?" Michaela breathed. "Rhysel, he's too young!"
"Too young to wield the power, but not too young to have it set upon him, so he can grow into it, guided by wise men who'll gladly come to teach him, if we can ever get him truly crowned. That's why Cathan brought you the Eye of Rom as well. You know it's always been more than just a physical part of the Haldane legacy. What did Cathan say When he gave it to you?"
"Why, only that I'd have to pierce Owain's ear so he could wear it— _and that I should do it, as soon as possible_ ," she added, suddenly remembering that silent exhortation he had sent her, temporarily forgotten in her concern for his safety.
She picked up the Eye of Rom and looked at it, the great cabochon ruby the size of a man's thumbnail, set in gold as an earring, with a golden wire to secure it.
"Rhysel, I don't know how to do this," she whispered, her eyes going round. "Oh, not how to pierce his ear—I remember when my mother did mine. But the rest—the ritual. I can only vaguely remember what we did for Rhysem, and _I_ didn't really do it; I only said and did as I was told."
Smiling, Rhysel took away the Eye of Rom and replaced it with the brooch, closing the queen's fingers around it.
"See what he's left you, Mika," she whispered. "Close your eyes and let yourself relax. Draw a deep breath and let it out... and now think of Rhysem, lying in some darkened room, not very long ago, with the brooch clasped in his hand, thinking of you and of Owain... And when you're ready, press the brooch to your forehead, the way you saw me do... and open to Rhysem's message... an ultimate message of love and strength that can sustain you and Owain and even the other son you carry, even beyond Rhysem's mortality... When you're ready..."
Michaela could feel the lethargy stealing over her, the power of Rhysel's magic taking her deep and centered, and gradually she came to know that she could do as Rhysel asked. She could feel all her concentration focusing on the brooch in her hand, the resolve that she and Rhysem together had forged in this symbol of Haldane freedom. And as the other woman's hand fell away from hers, she was aware of her own hand slowly lifting, seemingly of its own volition, the brooch cupped in its palm; and her head nodding lower and lower until it touched the cool enamel.
Knowledge came complete and crystal-clear, of how he had wanted it done. He had simplified and refined what had been done for him, both the night she had been witness and another night, when his own father had done secret things to his own three sons. It was the nature of the Haldane power that a father might not see his son fully empowered, but it was also its nature that each holder of the power sensed, by instinct, how its potential was to be transmitted. Owain _was_ young for what was asked; but Rhysem had trusted in the wisdom of the new regency he had tried to create. And if Michaela trusted in _him_ , subjecting their son to what was required, and Rhysem had, indeed, judged the Kheldour lords with wisdom, the Haldane crown might yet be free.
Tears were spilling from her lashes when she at last looked up, but she also was smiting. Still lightly in trance, she offered Rhysel her hand, to share what she had learned. Rhysel, too, was crying after she had Read it and moved closer to hug the queen in comfort until they both had spent their tears.
"Should we try to do it tonight," Michaela whispered, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her shift, "or do you think we ought to wait until tomorrow night? Cathan might be able to help, if we wait."
"We maybe ought to do it while we have the chance," Rhysel replied. "The situation could get worse. For one thing, the new regents could decide that you need closer observation, what with fears about your pregnancy and the threat of the Kheldour lords coming to challenge them." She raised an eyebrow in faint amusement. "This is going to be interesting: no medication, no Healer, no priest—"
"And nobody who really knows what she's doing," Michaela said, returning a brave smile. "But Rhysem thought we could do it; he thought _I_ could do it, just in case you weren't available to help me out. With both of us, how far wrong could we go?"
"Now _that_ ," Rhysel said with a grin, "is a question you must never ask."
It took them most of an hour to prepare, assembling and improvising materials and waiting for activity to settle down in the outer rooms of the apartments and in the corridors outside. After they heard the guards change, Rhysel slipped into the solar where Nieve and Lirin were sleeping on daybeds—the ladies on duty, should the queen need them during the night—and deepened their sleep so that only a commotion in the corridor outside would rouse them. She could do nothing about the guards, but intrusion was unlikely at this hour, given the queen's delicate condition.
She tiptoed back into the bedchamber to find Michaela sitting cross-legged in the middle of the great bed with a sewing basket on her lap, the sleeping Owain close beside her. In Rhysel's absence, she had unreeled a skein of silken thread to define a circle around the bed—Haldane crimson, almost invisible against the dark floorboards. Included in the circle was the small nightstand hard by the left-hand side of the bed, which held a towel and basin and a single rushlight. As instructed, she had left a gap in the northeast quadrant, as had been done in another circle in that room only a few weeks before.
"I'll confess before we start that this is as primitive as _I've_ ever worked," Rhysel whispered, as she came through the gap in the circle, closed and loosely tied the ends of silk behind her, and climbed up onto the bed beside the queen. "My mother would have loved it—experimental ritual. My father would have been appalled. But then, Healers are often quite conservative. Look at my brother: you'd think he was thirty, not thirteen." She smiled and glanced down at the sleeping Owain.
"On the very positive side of things, if anyone walks in on us, unless they catch us at _exactly_ the wrong moment, there isn't any physical evidence to get us into trouble. I'll try to keep the necessary formality to a minimum. Are you ready to begin?"
"I am."
And she was. As Rhysel smiled and held out her hands, Michaela took them and bowed her head, closing her eyes as they lowered the circle of their arms around the sleeping Owain.
"Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, O Lord, and I shall be clean," Rhysel murmured, taking this simple verse as symbol of the more formal purification they dared not enact, with incense and aspergillum. "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures."
"He leadeth me beside the still waters, He restoreth my soul," Michaela continued softly, whispering the words, with Rhysel until they had finished the Psalm. After repeating the Lord's Prayer, she crossed herself in the protection of the Holy Trinity, also signing Owain's forehead with the sacred symbol, then watched as Rhysel slowly stood in the center of the bed and faced the east.
Her head nearly touched the canopy above them, pale yellow Forcinn silk shot with gold, nearly the color of her hair. After clasping her hands before her for a moment, lips pressed against her fingertips, Rhysel lifted her arms in a silent gesture of orison, sweeping them up and wide to either side and back to cross on her breast, after which she bowed. Then, with left hand still pressed lightly to her breast, she pointed the first two fingers of her right hand at the floor in a gesture of command, just where the silk thread lay. Michaela could almost see the ghostly, steel-bright blade of her focused will shoot out to touch and ignite the silk with an unseen fire that did not burn.
Rhysel spoke no words aloud as she began turning slowly to her right, her two fingers following the line of the silken thread, but Michaela could feel the power pouring through the focus of that hand and sensed the invisible light that followed the hand like snagged silk caught and dragged behind it, a gossamer veil that billowed wider as she turned, rising up and over the canopy of the bed in a softly shimmering dome of not-light by the time Rhysel had come full-turn to her starting point.
She clasped her hands before her again at that, bowing slightly to the east, then cocked her head to listen to the outside sounds before turning her palms upward, just at her breast, and beginning a whispered invocation.
"O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In the name of Light arising do we summon Thy holy Raphael, Heavenly Physician, Guardian of Air, to witness this rite and bring healing of minds and souls and bodies."
She brought her hands together and bowed, then turned a quarter circle to lift her palms southward.
"O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In the name of Light increasing do we summon Thy holy Michael, Protector, Wielder of the Fiery Sword, to witness this rite and protect us in our hour of need."
Again the bow, the turning, the lifting up.
"O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In the name of Light descending do we summon Thy holy Gabriel, Thy Herald of the Heavens and Lord of Water, to witness this rite and carry our supplications to Our Merciful Lady."
And finally to the north.
"O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. In the name of Light returning do we summon Thy holy Uriel, Lord of the Earth and Conveyer of Souls, to witness this rite but to take only fear from this place. All this, if it be Thy will."
When she had turned back to the east, she bowed again, then spread her arms again, throwing back her head to whisper, "Now do we stand outside time, in a place not of earth. As our ancestors before us bade, we join together and are one. Amen. Selah. So be it."
"So be it," Michaela repeated, bowing her head to cross herself again.
In the silence that followed, as Rhysel turned with a soft sigh to sink to her knees opposite the queen, the sleeping Owain between them, Michaela pulled her sewing basket closer and took out a needle threaded with scarlet silk, bidding Rhysel bring the rushlight closer.
"Your father had a distinct advantage when he did this to Rhysem and his brothers," Michaela said softly, holding the needle in the flame, glancing at the sleeping Owain. "Deryni potions to cleanse the wounds, and Deryni talent to heal them."
Smiling, Rhysel handed Michaela the rushlight and leaned over to fetch the basin, which was partially filled with water.
"I can't help you on the healing, but it doesn't take Deryni talent to know that boiling things helps to clean them." She plucked the Haldane brooch and the Eye of Rom from the sewing basket and slipped them into the basin. "Put your needle in, too, but leave a bit of the thread hanging out. Now draw back a little. It _does_ take Deryni talents to boil water this way."
Wide-eyed, Michaela watched as Rhysel held her hand close above the water's surface and closed her eyes. After a moment, tiny bubbles began to form along the surface of the water, deeper; then steam began to rise.
"My father taught me how to do this shortly before he died," Rhysel finally murmured, as she took her hand away and the bubbling stopped. "It's an old Healer's trick, but it doesn't take a Healer to do it; just Deryni concentration. I later learned a variation for cleaning off magical residues, but this was just for physical cleansing. We wouldn't want to cancel out whatever the king left on these. Hand me that towel, and we'll give our young man's earlobe a good wipe before you go poking your hole."
In the flat silence while they waited for the water to cool a little, Michaela listened to the sound of her own heart beating and the occasional, muffled sound of a guard stirring far outside. At length, Rhysel dipped a corner of the towel in the hot water and used it to clean Owain's ear, also bidding the queen to wipe off her hands. Then, while Rhysel held the boy's head steady, also keeping him asleep and free from pain, Michaela used her sterile needle to pierce her son's right earlobe. He did not stir, and there was very little blood.
"I have another earring of twisted gold wire in my jewel casket, that Rhysem used to wear before he became king," she whispered, as she inserted the Eye of Rom in Owain's ear. "It's lighter and will be more comfortable while the ear is healing, but he's supposed to wear this one for what we're doing now."
Rhysel nodded. "It's heavy for such a wee lad. Special occasions, until he comes of age. It's the power that's important."
"Aye. Now we'll see about _that_."
Together she and Rhysel shifted the sleeping Owain round so that his shoulders lay in her lap, head cradled against her stomach. Rhysel let him stir as Michaela began washing his left hand, though she kept loose controls with a hand on one bare foot.
"Mummy—why you washing my hand? Is it morning already?"
"Not yet, darling. There's something Papa asked us to do, but you must be very, very quiet. It might be a little scary, but you'll be very brave, won't you?"
"For Papa?" Owain murmured, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand, which he then offered her. "Wash other hand, too?"
"All right, we'll wash both hands," Michaela murmured, glancing at Rhysel, who was only barely containing a smile. "Can you sit up a little better for me now? That's right. Let me put my arms around you and hug you. Mmmmm, I do love you!" she declared, kissing the top of his head.
He grinned and wriggled contentedly in her arms. "An' I love you, Mummy. What we do for Papa?"
"Well, Uncle Cathan brought us something that Papa very much wanted you to have. It's a very special present."
"Papa's Lion," Owain breathed, as she took it out of the ba sin, not touching the clasp, and shook off the excess water.
"It is, indeed. Soon after you were born, I asked a man to make this for your papa, to remind us of the crown Papa wore—the crown that you're going to wear." She set the curved body of the brooch in Owain's small right hand with the gold clasp opened at right angles, cupping her own hand around his to steady brooch and clasp, glancing at Rhysel.
"Now, here's the part that's very special. You can't see the lion right now, can you?"
"No."
"Well, something else that you can't see is a special kind of magic that Papa left you, that will help you be a proper king some day, like him." She gently sought his left hand with hers and opened the little fingers. "I can't explain how or why right now—you'll find out when you're bigger—but I promise you that Papa wanted us to do this. You might think it's a little scary, so you must be brave, but I promise I won't hurt you. Will you be brave for Papa?"
Frowning a little, he twisted his face around slightly to look at her, grey Haldane eyes searching hers.
"Brave for Papa?" he murmured.
Before he could change his mind—or she could change hers—she braced his hand against hers and set the point of the brooch's clasp lightly against his flesh—flesh of _her_ flesh. Not against the palm, as his father had done the night of his empowering, but just against the tender web of skin stretched between thumb and forefinger—and thrust the sliver of gold home.
With Rhysel controlling, _he_ felt no pain, though he gasped with surprise, but the passage of the gold through her own flesh as well sent a hot chill up her entire arm as the power began to flow.
_That_ he felt, though Rhysel damped his ability to make any sound as energy began to shift within the circle, swirling and then focusing through the Haldane brooch transfixing the hands of mother and son. Most of it flowed into Owain, sending tendrils of potential power probing into the deepest recesses of his being, long after he ceased to be aware of any of it; but some of it cycled through the mother and then back into Owain.
And some of it, and then more of it, flowed into the mother and, finding Haldane flesh, flowed into the child she carried, beginning to quicken the heritage of his blood before ever his tiny body quickened, stirring the Haldane potential in him as well.
She felt it in herself as the power channeled through her and stirred her own Deryni blood to new potency—a tingling and a quickening—and as its wonder registered, she dared to raise her eyes to the glorious light all around her and Owain, to the gossamer forms of winged Others who moved within that light and lifted exquisite, transparent hands to touch their faces in benison.
Tears of gladness welled in her eyes as she held her son close, their hands joined by love as well as gold, and just as she thought her heart could contain no more wonder, she caught just a scarlet glimpse of another among those glorious creatures—surely her own Rhysem, come back to her for just this instant, his form radiant with the perfection of health restored and the beauty of eternity, his face shining beneath a golden crown as he pressed his fingertips lightly, tenderly to his lips, smiling as he offered her his kiss on outstretched hands.
And behind him was another, with quicksilver eyes and quicksilver hair, and a wise, knowing face that smiled, just as the light and the love overwhelmed her.
When Michaela awoke, perhaps an hour later, she wondered a little fuzzily whether she had dreamed it all. The rushlight still was burning on the little table beside the bed, and Owain was snuggled down beside her, his Papa knight loosely clasped under one arm and one thumb but recently slipped from his perfect rosy lips. She smiled and eased the toy from his grasp, leaning it against the headboard beside its companion to take up watch again, then absently smoothed a lock of black hair back from her son's face—and brushed the little hoop of twisted gold wire in his right earlobe.
"He'll be fine," Rhysel's voice said softly from behind her, at the same time setting a hand on her shoulder to soothe her startled response as she rolled onto her back to stare. "I changed the earring—blooded the Eye of Rom and the Ring of Fire before I put them away in your jewel chest—then I cleaned up the two of you and put everything back the way it was supposed to be. It's a good thing you didn't try this on your own."
Michaela swallowed and bunked at the Deryni woman, amazed that she could be so calm and matter-of-fact after what had happened.
"Did you— _see_ anything?" she asked.
Rhysel nodded slowly. "I felt quite a lot, too. Now I know why no one's supposed to touch the subject during such a working. No harm done to any of the parties involved"—she held up a hand to stay Michaela's concern—"I was prepared. But it was—intense." She cocked her head. "I never met Cinhil or Javan, but I'd have to say that your Rhysem probably was the finest Haldane to date, when it comes to figuring out how the Haldane power is supposed to be used. If his sons are half as good, they'll be something very special."
"Did you—see Rhysem?" Michaela asked.
"Aye. And my grandfather, I think." She sighed. "I wish I'd known him. Uncle Joram says he really is a saint—or at least he seems to do a lot of things that saints do. One thing is certain: he didn't just die, all those years ago."
Michaela nodded slowly, fighting back a heavy yawn, men went ahead and indulged it.
"You'd better get some sleep," Rhysel said softly, laying her hand gently on the queen's. "I can't explain it, but I think your own power may have increased from the spillover. I do advise rest, though. The next few days are apt to be rough. Please don't fight me."
Fighting sleep was the last thing on Michaela's mind as she let her eyelids close. And the last thing she thought, as she drifted into sleep, was to wonder what Rhysem had done to her, from beyond the grave—or from the cathedral, it occurred to her, as she yawned again and then sank. Because Rhysem wasn't even buried yet...
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I speak of the things which I have made touching the king.
—Psalms 45:1
When Rhysel reported the results of the queen's work to Joram, a short while later, his elation could scarcely be contained. Almost, she fancied she could hear him laughing aloud in the room with her, as she had not heard him laugh in years.
_The new king confirmed in his potential_ and _Michaela somehow boosted to higher ability? This_ is _welcome news. I begin to think we may actually pull this off. I've never heard of such a secondary effect, but who really knows anything about the Haldane potential? Ansel and Queron and the others will be delighted_.
After giving her an update on their progress and estimated arrival time, he offered further instructions.
_Just be certain that nothing prevents the queen from making the usual appearances in the next few days, and the young king with her. We wouldn't want the regents to decide, for example, that attending the funeral would be too much strain on her and the baby. On the other hand, if she seems too strong, they may decide that they don't need Cathan any longer. You've not been able to discover a clue as to what's become of him?_
_The official word is that he's "indisposed" Someone tried to tell us that he was simply catching up on his sleep, but I didn't like the tone when Tammaron and Manfred took him off to the first meeting of the Regency Council. I'll try to find out more in the course of tomorrow_.
_Do that_ , he responded. _And in the meantime, if it can be managed at all, try to give Michaela an intensive course in using what she's acquired. You know the specific skills to concentrate on_.
_I'll do the best I can_ , she agreed. _Tomorrow is the lying-in-state, but I don't expect they'll allow her to go to that, since they let her be there to receive the body this afternoon. Even if they did, they wouldn't let Owain go—and she wouldn't leave him. Nor would I wish her to. But the great lords will go_ — _or else remain closeted in the council chamber, trying to decide what to do about Kheldour. In either case, I'll try to find out more about Cathan. It would be bitter irony if he got this far, only to perish before we can bring our plan to fruition_.
Cathan had not yet perished, though he could almost wish he had. He had guessed they might bleed him again, so was not surprised when Lior and his _Custodes_ guards took him to a bleak cell in the bowels of the castle where Brother Polidorus soon appeared, armed with basin, ligature, and lancet. The guards had held him while Polidorus performed the operation, and Cathan had fought it despite the futility, sickeningly aware how his strength ebbed as the volume of his blood in the china basin grew.
Lior had stopped it short of seriously endangering him, of course, for they still needed him for a few more days at least. It was done purely to intimidate him further; their drugs would have been sufficient to keep him docile. But the medication Polidorus gave him afterward, though enough to blur his vision and render him incapable of standing unassisted, was not enough to force him into the mercy of sleep, where he could forget his plight for a few hours; and merely dozing brought nightmares. At midnight, left alone in only shirt and breeches, his bandaged arm still smarting, he lay awake by choice in his close prison cell, staring at the barrel-vaulted ceiling and praying for deliverance, one bare ankle shackled to an iron ring in the wall at the foot of the wooden bedstead.
And at midnight, the torches and candles were still burning in the council chamber, as the newly reunited Regency Council continued to consider strategies to protect what they had stolen.
"It doesn't seem likely, then, that any serious force from Eastmarch can reach here in less than two or three days," Tammaron was saying, as he rubbed wearily at his eyes. "We're probably safe until after the funeral. By then, we'll have our troops in place and the city secure. Also, the more men they try to bring, the slower they'll be. What's the earliest that a messenger could have reached them with the news?"
"Well, it would have been a solid two days' ride to Lochalyn Castle," Manfred said. "Obviously, we made no attempt to send word north, but it's possible, I suppose, that they might have had agents among our returning forces, who could have carried the news. But our own men didn't know of the king's death until the next morning, other than the officers billeted at the convent. The sisters at the convent knew, of course, but we closed it down for the night, and no one left."
"Except that priest who heard the king's final confession," Rhun murmured. "You wouldn't have thought such an old man could disappear that quickly, without someone seeing him."
"What priest was that?" Hubert inquired, looking sharply at Lior.
"Just—an itinerant father who showed up at the convent, your Grace," Lior answered uncomfortably. "Some priest of Saint Jarlath—a Father Donatus. I'd given the king the last anointing during the night, but he'd refused confession and Holy Communion. By then, he was—not kindly disposed toward _Custodes_ clergy." He blanched as he caught Hubert's simmering look of resentment, only then remembering how the king's brother, King Alroy, had similarly refused Hubert's ministrations when _he_ lay dying.
"I'd been trying to locate someone not of my Order," Lior offered. "I couldn't let him die without full benefit of the Sacraments."
"A salve to your conscience, after you'd set about his death," Rhun muttered, subsiding at Manfred's sharp glance.
"The convent's own priest was away, but one of the sisters produced this Father Donatus just after noon," Lior went on cautiously. "He looked harmless enough—he was quite old—and he wasn't in _Custodes_ habit. I took him to the king immediately. Apparently his Highness found him acceptable. The priest was with him when he died, and he comforted Sir Cathan afterward."
"And disappeared before he could be interrogated," Hubert said coldly, "being well aware of the circumstances of the king's death, having heard his last confession."
Secorim frowned, daring to come to Lior's defense. "With all due respect, your Grace, the priest is bound by the seal of—"
"You apparently assume far more conscience in the Order of Saint Jarlath than exists in your own Order, Secorim," Hubert said coldly. "How many times have you and I—and Paulin, in his time—broken the seal when it suited our convenience? Donatus, Donatus—the name means 'a gift,' doesn't it? Lior, what did he look like?"
"Just an aging country priest, your Grace. Not a large man," he elaborated, at Hubert's sharp look. "Sparse of flesh—wiry, I would say—dark eyes, white hair, neatly tonsured."
"And wearing the robes of the Order of Saint Jarlath." Hubert shook his head, still looking annoyed. "Secorim, send to the Abbot of Saint Jarlath's and find out whether he has a priest meeting that description. I know it will take some time, but I want to know. In the meantime—" He leaned back in his chair, smiling dangerously. "I wonder what else Sir Cathan can tell us about the man."
A quarter hour later, Cathan was again seated in the chair at the end of the council table, barefooted and restrained by manacles and fetters, his prisoner status now undeniable. Again he wished they had given him the mercy of heavier medication, so he could have escaped this interrogation. Instead, he fought to keep his head up and follow the line of Hubert's questioning.
"I've told you, I never saw the man before that day," he said, which was true enough. "Surely you don't expect me to recognize every priest in every little religious order in Gwynedd. Besides, I was hardly in any condition to notice details. He was a priest that the king was willing to see. That was the only thing on my mind."
"And what did he say to you, after he took you out of the death chamber? Where did you go? Where did _he_ go?"
"I don't remember exactly what he said. Words intended to comfort, I'm sure. I'm afraid I wasn't in any condition to appreciate them."
"And you went—where?" Hubert repeated.
"To—to the chapel." Cathan shook his head bleakly. "We prayed, I think. Yes, I'm sure we must have done. And then he—left. And Fulk and I went back to the king."
"Did you see him leave? Did he take a horse?"
"I don't remember seeing either," Cathan whispered, which was true. "I wanted to get back to Rhysem's body. I wanted to—attend him, to serve him one last time. But they were—cutting off his hand..."
The memory was suddenly before him again, far too vividly, loosed and intensified by the drugs in his body. He felt the bleak horror rising in his throat as he buried his face in manacled hands and started sobbing, a still coherent and logical part of him daring to hope that his interrogators would find it difficult to cope with emotions loosed by the medication they themselves had given him.
Even drug-fuzzed, his logic turned out to be correct. When they concluded that he could tell them nothing more, they let the guards take him back to his cell.
This time, he did sleep from sheer exhaustion; but in his dreams, stirred by emotion and unfettered by his medication, he relived those terrible last hours over and over again.
He saw no one but his _Custodes_ jailers the next day. He dozed uneasily through most of it. The meal they brought him at midday was drugged, but he ate it anyway, for starving himself would only make him weaker, and they would only drug him some other way if he refused to eat; the sting of a Deryni pricker would utterly betray him. His only consolation was that they would have to bring him out for the funeral the next day, for they dared not risk his sister's hysteria, if he was not at her side to help her through the emotions of the day.
Michaela, too, dozed through much of the day, though her sleep was that of deep trance, interspersed by the usual constraints imposed on a captive queen. Archbishop Hubert invited her to attend Mass that morning in the chapel royal, but she did not wish to subject Owain to the strain of another public appearance and would not leave him while she went. In any case, she could not bear the thought of receiving the Sacrament from Hubert when it was not required. Tomorrow would be more than sufficient for that.
At least Owain seemed fine when he woke, chirpy and eager for breakfast, apparently unaffected by what had happened the night before, if he even remembered any of it. Rhysel assured the queen that he would not.
"He Reads very much like a Deryni child," Rhysel told her, as she braided her hair after their leisurely breakfast, still cloistered in the queen's bedchamber. Owain had retreated to the window embrasure with the Papa knight and the Uncle Cathan knight and was setting up the others his governess had brought the day before, taking them out of their wicker basket and lining them up for royal inspection.
"If he grows into his powers in a similar way," Rhysel continued, "he won't have much access until he approaches puberty—but that's as it should be, because you wouldn't want a child wielding the kind of power he'll have until some discretion is acquired. After all, he still has to survive among humans who are basically afraid of us."
"Which means a benign regency, to protect him until he's grown," Michaela murmured. "Oh, Rhysel, do you think they'll be able to do it? Will the Kheldour lords reach here in time?"
"God willing," Rhysel whispered. "God knows they will try."
The Kheldour lords, meanwhile, were galloping southward from Valoret on blooded horses from the archbishop's stables, striking out across country rather than sticking to the better-traveled route that skirted the Eirian. The going was harder, but the distance was considerably shorter—and the only way they had a chance of reaching Rhemuth before the king's funeral on the morrow. The great lords would not be expecting them so soon, certain they could not have received the news and responded so quickly.
They would stop at Mollingford in a few hours to change horses again. They had made the three-day ride to Valoret in two, where Queron had already paved the way with Bishop Ailin MacGregor, Valoret's long-suffering auxiliary bishop.
Ailin was and long had been one of the keys to their plan. Singled out early in his career by no less a churchman than the saintly Archbishop Jaffray, to whom he had been devoted, Ailin had been hardly a year in his incumbency as Jaffray's auxiliary when the archbishop's death necessitated the election of a new successor—and Ailin had not supported the man who eventually won and held the See of Valoret. Not only had he supported the candidacy of Alister Cullen over Hubert as Primate of Gwynedd, but he dared to abstain in the election that made Hubert the ousted Alister's replacement, a few days later.
It was not an offense for which Hubert could remove him from office—and Ailin dutifully gave his new superior the vow of obedience demanded at his enthronement—but Hubert soon had made it clear that Ailin might forget about ever being promoted to a see of his own, so long as Hubert lived. Nor might he even expect escape as an itinerant bishop, for they enjoyed too much freedom. In Valoret, as a functionary in Hubert's episcopal machine, Ailin would remain closeted away where he could do no harm, under close observation by Hubert's spies—who increasingly wore the habit of the _Custodes Fidei_ , whose Mother House was nearby. Resigned to his fate, Ailin continued to honor his vow to his office, for he was a conscientious man and a dutiful son of the Church, but he harboured a smouldering resentment against the man who had stymied his career out of spite and now proceeded to abuse the office of primate and archbishop to extend his secular power.
This resentment did not go unmarked, though Ailin had kept it carefully private in Valoret. The exiled Bishop Dermot—and through him, the coalition led by Joram and the Deryni Bishop Niallan—had been courting Ailin for several years, against the eventual military ouster of the great lords. Ailin had been hesitant about supporting an armed undertaking that could be construed as rebellion against the king he had sworn to uphold; but supplanting Hubert and his cronies in favor of the king's duly chosen and appointed regency appealed to Ailin. He had inspected the codicils produced by the Duke of Claibourne and the Earl of Marley, duly witnessed by the queen's brother and a priest who was _not_ a member of the despicable _Custodes Fidei_ , and he had smiled as he lodged one of the copies in the archives of Valoret Cathedral. And he was ready to back up his approval with horses, men, and his own person.
Now, as they pressed on toward Mollingford, pulling back to a walk after a long stretch of cantering, Bishop Ailin drew rein alongside Ansel. Like the rest of them, he wore riding leathers and a leather brigandine, his tonsure covered by a leather cap and with no other sign of his calling visible. Unlike the rest of them, he was unaccustomed to such long hours in the saddle—fit enough, for a man in his mid-fifties, but they had ridden through the night, with only brief stops to water the horses and snatch rations on the go.
"Could we stop for a few minutes?" he said breathlessly.
"Legs still bothering you?" Ansel replied.
At Ailin's pained nod, Ansel surveyed ahead and behind, catching Sighere's glance backward, and signaled a halt. They were passing through a broad meadow studded with tiny lake-lets, with a clear view for miles in either direction.
"A quarter hour to rest the horses," he called, as he pulled up. "Tieg, see if anyone has a problem. Dom Queron, could you join us, please?"
As he swung down, giving his horse to one of the Kheldour men and then going to help Ailin dismount, Queron kneed his mount closer and also slid from his saddle. He was at least a decade older than Ailin, but the past week in the pursuit of the king had reaccustomed him to the rigors of long-distance riding, and he knew exactly what the bishop must be feeling.
"I thoroughly sympathize, your Grace," the Healer said easily, as Ansel helped Ailin ease down on a rotten log. "From very recent experience, I can imagine that your legs must feel like jelly. I can give you something to dull the pain, or I can do something more direct. It's your decision."
Ailin grimaced and stretched out first one leg, then the other, leaning against Ansel for support, his face grey with fatigue and discomfort.
"Well, I don't suppose I ought to take anything, as tired as I am," he said, massaging at his inner thighs, "so that leaves something more direct. I won't deny I'm a little apprehensive, but I've trusted you with my life and office and maybe my soul; I might as well trust you with my body."
Smiling, Queron knelt down in front of Ailin, glancing up at Ansel in quick instruction. "My Healer's vows are as holy as my priestly ones, to do no harm," he said gently. "Your Grace may rest easy."
So saying, he set his hands on Ailin's knees, even as Ansel took control from behind Ailin, pulling his head back to rest against his waist. Ailin's pale eyes closed, his whole body going limp against Ansel's. In Healing trance, Queron worked his magic very quickly, easing the cramped muscles in knees and thighs as best he could, then setting a fatigue-banishing spell on the human bishop. It would need renewal before they rode into Rhemuth, but the rest of the journey would be easier for it.
He left Ailin sleeping for a few minutes while he moved among the others, but everyone seemed reasonably fit. The Kheldour men had slept for a few hours in Valoret, while Graham and Sighere and their Deryni allies talked to the bishop, and the Valoret troops, some thirty of them, were still reasonably fresh. They watched him curiously as he moved among them, for most were young enough never to have known a time when Healers were regarded for their worth and not for their "tainted" blood, but Ailin had chosen his men well. He sensed no hostility or fear.
Tieg was talking to one now, his hands clasped around the fetlock of the man's mount in healing concentration and carrying on a conversation at the same time, with the young Duke Graham crouching to look on. The lad was good. Queron gave him an appreciative nod before heading back to Ailin and Ansel. Sighere had come over to look at the bishop while he slept, taking a swig from a leather flask, but he stoppered it and hung it back on his saddle as Queron approached.
"Is he going to make it?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, yes—especially now that he's let me give him a hand. I wasn't sure about that, but I didn't want to force anything. He's got to be a totally willing ally, or it won't work."
"Well, it willnae work if we dinnae get there, either," Sighere muttered, glancing over where Graham was talking to Tieg and the Valoret man. "Mebbe when we change horses at Mollingford, I'll ask ye fer a jolt o' whate'er ye gave him. Graham, let's awa!"
The order brought an immediate flurry of activity, as men and horses reunited and began falling into place. As Queron knelt by Ailin again, Ansel brought him out of sleep, himself abandoning the light trance he had entered to refocus his own energies.
"Better?" Queron asked, as Ailin's eyes fluttered open with a start.
Ansel's hands helped him straighten more upright, and the bishop rubbed tentative hands along his thighs, letting out a sigh as he looked up at Queron.
"That's miraculous," he murmured. "How can anyone say that's evil?"
Queron cocked his head and shrugged. "I'm sure _I_ don't know. Something to think about, when you get back up on that horse."
A few minutes later, they were on their way again, settling into the ground-eating pace that would take them to their next stop, that much closer to Rhemuth.
And in Rhemuth, as dusk began to settle over the city, the self-proclaimed regents of Gwynedd met once more in the castle's council chamber—Hubert and Rhun and Manfred and Tammaron.
"So we simply shut the gates to Claibourne and Marley," Tammaron said. "We don't let them into the city. It isn't as if they won't be recognized."
"True enough," Manfred agreed, "but a great deal depends on how many men they bring. We can shut the gates, but eventually we'll have to answer them. And once word gets out of this codicil, it's going to be difficult to deny them entrance."
"Richard has a force ready to take north to intercept them," Rhun said. "Do you want them dispatched tonight?"
"How many?" Hubert said, drumming his pudgy fingers on the chair arm.
"About two hundred," Rhun said. "A joint command of Carthane lancers and _Custodes_ knights. I should think that more than adequate to deal with however many Claibourne and Marley have been able to scare up. Borderers!" He sneered. "Richard will chase them right into the river."
"Manfred, do you agree?" Hubert said.
Manfred nodded. "I've briefed Richard. We can depend on him."
"Let's dispatch him, then," Hubert said, nodding. "What about the eastern approach to the city? Is it possible they could come that way?"
"Unlikely," Manfred said. "It's slightly shorter, but not a route for moving lots of men in a hurry. The roads are poor, with very rough going in some spots. For speed, I think they'll come along the river—and Richard will be ready for them. And if they should come from the east—well, no one is going to let border levies into the city. In any case, I can't imagine anything will happen tomorrow."
"Very well," Hubert said. "In that instance, I suggest we all get some sleep."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth for evermore.
—Ecclesiasticus 44:14
The morning of the king's funeral, Great George was slowly tolling in the cathedral tower below the castle as Gallard de Breffni came with _Custodes_ guards to take Cathan from his prison cell. An hour later, bathed, shaved, and dressed in unrelieved black, still under guard, Cathan received a not-unexpected visit from Manfred MacInnis, accompanied by the _Custodes_ monk called Brother Embert.
"I hear that it's a fine day for a funeral," Manfred said coldly, as Gallard set heavy hands on Cathan's shoulders to prevent him rising. The earl was carrying Cathan's sword, its white belt wrapped around the scabbard, and Embert had a cup in his hand. "I trust you aren't going to cause any problems for us today. I shouldn't want the queen to be upset."
Cathan shook his head, tight-lipped, well aware what Embert had in the cup.
"Good. I'm glad that's understood. You will now be so good as to drink down the little potion that Brother Embert has brought you. You know the drill."
Cathan took the cup that Embert put into his hand, but his eyes flashed his hatred as he glanced up at Manfred, his hand tightening around it.
"What would you do," he said softly, "if I tipped this onto the floor?"
Manfred's face went even colder, the light eyes narrowing. "I would make you lap it up like a dog, and then I would have Brother Embert bleed you again, to compensate for what had been lost."
Raising an eyebrow, Cathan lifted the cup slightly in salute—he could feel Gallard's hands tensing—then tossed off the contents in a single draught, grimacing as he swallowed and handed the cup back to Embert.
"Bad ale but a good threat, Manfred. It's far more original than I expected. Come now, you didn't really think I'd be stupid enough to deny my sister what little comfort I can, today of all days, just to spite you? Gallard, take your hands off me. I'm hardly in any position to defy anyone. I've taken my medicine; I'll be lucky to stay on my feet today."
"You'll be lucky to stay alive, if you keep that up," Manfred muttered, thrusting Cathan's sword into his hands. "Put that on."
"Of course."
With Gallard's hands still on him he stood, unwrapping the sword belt and passing it around his waist, noting that someone had cleaned the white leather. In addition, though this hardly surprised him, a thin piece of wire had been bound around the quillons and through the rings of the scabbard, to prevent the weapon being drawn. They were taking no chances with him.
When he had finished buckling the belt, passing the tongue behind and through the loop and pulling it taut, he reached aside for the black cap they had provided, setting it squarely on his fair head as he looked back at Manfred.
"I am yours to command, my lord."
"Yes, you are," Manfred said, the pale eyes dangerous. "And still shall be, when this day is over. I suggest you remember that, before taking any action that I might find objectionable. Bring him," he added to Gallard.
They took him downstairs then, to await the arrival of his sister and the young king. The drug started to hit him on the way, the familiar fogging of his senses and faint dizziness, and he had to catch his balance on Gallard's arm as he came out of the stairwell.
By the time he reached the yard and mounted up on the white charger they had provided—for the little king would ride with his uncle on the way to and from the cathedral—he knew it would take all his concentration to keep him and Owain on the horse and not disgrace them both. It was hot in the sun, especially dressed all in black, and he let himself doze in the saddle as they waited for the royal party to come out.
The royal party, meanwhile, was making final preparations for departure. While the queen's ladies fluttered nervously in the solar like so many blackbirds, waiting for their mistress, the queen and Rhysel were nearly finished dressing Owain. The process was being overseen by both the Papa knight and the Uncle Cathan knight, whom the boy had set on his mother's dressing table beside the jewel casket.
"Just hold still," Michaela murmured, fumbling at his ear, "and then Liesel will hold a mirror so you can see."
She finished fastening the Eye of Rom in place, setting the other earring of twisted gold back into her jewel box, then gave the black hair a quick swipe with an ivory comb. She wore the Haldane brooch at the throat of her gown, her only adornment save for the State Crown and her marriage ring.
"That's fine," she said, turning him to where the black-clad Rhysel stood with the mirror. "It doesn't pull too much, does it? It's a little heavier than the other one."
He fingered at it uncertainly as he turned, his little face screwed up in concentration—and froze as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, his mouth gaping in wonder. After two days of wearing plain black tunics, he had paid little attention when she pulled this one over his head a little earlier, but now he smoothed an almost reverent hand over the crimson and gold of the Haldane shield embroidered full across the chest of the black velvet. The Ring of Fire hung almost to his waist on a substantial gold chain, but he ignored that to stroke the embroidered lion again.
"Oh, Mummy, it's beautiful!" he whispered.
"Yes, it is, darling. I thought you'd like it," she heard herself saying, as she took up the small black velvet cap of maintenance, with its gold coronet nestled behind the ermine of the turn-up. His rosy lips made an awed O as she set it on his head, and Michaela felt her own breath catch in a pang of memory almost too dear to be borne.
"Mummy, I almost look like Papa," he whispered, reaching up to touch the coronet. "Mummy, do you think Papa looked like this when he was a little boy?"
Most assuredly, Rhysem had never looked like this at this age, as the third son of the king, but Michaela recalled that he had looked a great deal like this at Javan's funeral, the only time she had ever seen him in mourning. She blinked back the tears and forced herself to put the image from her mind as she dropped to her knees to hug him to her.
"Oh, my darling, you look very much like Papa," she murmured against his shoulder, choking back the tears. "Your papa would be so proud..."
"Don't cry, Mummy," he whispered, patting her cheeks with his little hands. "You said we must be brave for Papa."
"Yes, darling, I know."
"Mummy smile, then? Mummy be brave?"
"Yes, darling, Mummy will be brave," she said, and pressed firm kisses to both his hands before getting shakily back to her feet.
_Help me, Rhysel_ , she sent, as the younger woman steadied her. _I don't know if I can get through this_.
"Your Highness must be strong," Rhysel murmured, for the benefit of the other ladies now beginning to peer in from the solar, impatient to depart. "Let me fix your veil." And with her mind she reached out for the soothing controls, blurring the grief, instilling calm, urging courage and hope.
Michaela had recovered her composure by the time she must pass through the solar to where Tammaron was waiting to escort her and Owain. Obliged by protocol to take his arm, she had Rhysel walk before her with Owain, the other ladies going ahead and behind, fluttering sympathetically and making much of their privilege of being in the queen's entourage. At the last minute, Owain again had insisted on bringing the Papa knight, but Rhysel was carrying it and had gotten him to agree that it might ride to the cathedral in the sedan-chair with his mother, for he was to go on horseback with his Uncle Cathan.
As they came out onto the great hall steps, foot soldiers lined up along either side clashed to attention and an honor guard of twenty mounted _Custodes_ knights dipped their lances in salute, already dressed in mourning in the sweeping black mantles over their black armor. This time understanding the honor they did him, Owain did not flinch, holding his little head high as he followed Tammaron and his mother to the waiting sedan-chair and watched her handed into it, checking to see that Rhysel installed the Papa knight safely at her feet. He waved good-bye to Rhysel as she followed the other ladies to the palfreys provided for them, only then allowing Tammaron to lead him down into the yard, where Cathan sat watching him on a white horse with red leather harness. Rhun and Manfred waited behind Cathan, mounted on black horses, and Gallard de Breffni was on his left.
"Uncle Cathan!" the boy cried, breaking free of Tammaron to dart between Cathan's horse and a sorrel waiting for Tammaron, catching at Cathan's off-side stirrup.
Bending carefully, for sudden movements made him dizzy, Cathan leaned down to take the boy's hand and press it to his lips.
"Good morning, my prince," he murmured, as Tammaron caught up with the boy and picked him up, boosting him to sit in the saddle in front of Cathan.
"Just mind your manners, Drummond," the earl murmured, as they helped the boy settle.
The look he gave Cathan before backing off to bow gave similar warning, but Cathan only held the boy close in his arms, gathering up the red leather reins as the groom released them, and Tammaron mounted his own horse. He was somewhat heartened to see that Owain wore the Eye of Rom and hoped that meant that Mika had followed his instructions; he thought he had caught a glimpse of the Haldane brooch at her throat as she got into the sedan-chair.
"It's good to see you, Owain," he murmured, desperately wishing his head was clearer, wondering whether help would come today. "You look very fine this morning. Your papa would be proud."
"Mummy said we must be brave for Papa," Owain whispered. "You be brave, too, Uncle Cathan?"
Cathan nodded, bending to kiss the boy's neck. "We'll all be very brave, my prince. God help us, we all must be very brave."
The royal procession rode slowly out the castle gates and through the streets of Rhemuth—no true funeral cortege, since the late king's body had been taken directly to the cathedral on arrival in the city. Still the crowds lined the streets to glimpse their new young king and his brave, widowed mother, many remarking how fine the boy looked, sitting there straight and proper with his handsome uncle, many bowing as he passed, some of them weeping.
Again Archbishop Hubert was waiting on the cathedral steps with his clergy, ready to follow the royal party inside for the Requiem Mass that would lay Rhys Michael Alister Haldane to rest with his father and brothers. When Cathan had let Owain down into Tammaron's arms, he carefully swung down himself, forced to steady himself for a moment against the earl's shoulder, for his medication was at its peak.
"You'd better pull yourself together," Tammaron whispered sharply.
The moment of dizziness had already passed, but Cathan kept his voice carefully low as he whispered back, "If I fall flat on my face, blame your blessed archbishop. It won't be because _I_ wished it."
So saying, he drew himself carefully erect and took Owain's hand, leading him over to the sedan-chair where Michaela was alighting with the assistance of Manfred and Rhun—obviously with little enthusiasm. But when Owain made to retrieve the Papa knight, Manfred tried to keep him from it.
"Papa—" Owain whimpered, reaching for it.
"You can't take it into the cathedral," Manfred said, lifting it away, as Owain trembled on the brink of tears. "It isn't fitting."
"For God's sake, my lord, let him have it!" Michaela begged. "It gives him comfort. He's only a baby."
"He's the king."
"He's four years old," Cathan said softly, locking his hand around Manfred's wrist.
"Drummond, you push too far," Manfred whispered, his face but a handspan from Cathan's, though his hand began to lower.
"Just give the boy his toy."
Snorting, Manfred jerked his hand away, but he did thrust the wooden knight into Owain's hands before stalking over to Rhun, muttering under his breath. Cathan saw Rhun glance at him murderously, but he put it out of mind as he bent to comfort Owain, who was hugging the Papa knight and tightly clutching his mother's hand, lower lip still trembling.
"Here now, what's this?" he murmured, chucking the boy lightly under the chin. "I promised your papa we'd all be brave. Can you hold your head up like a king while we go inside? It would make your papa very proud."
Sniffling away the last of his tears, Owain lifted his head and nodded, almost managing a smile. At that, Cathan adjusted the boy's cap and coronet, then carefully straightened to join Michaela on her other side.
"Thank you," she whispered, not daring to meet his eyes as he slipped his arm through hers—and had to steady his weight against her until he caught his balance. "Cathan, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing," he whispered. "Just a little dizzy." _I'll tell you later_ , he added in her mind.
He had to wait until the procession began moving into the cathedral, to clouds of incense and the chant of monkish voices and the distraction of Hubert's ecclesiastical splendor, before he dared the concentration to answer her.
_Remember what they did to Rhysem, right after Javan died? Well, they haven't forgotten how, in six years. Since Rhysem died, I've been bled twice and kept drugged almost continuously. I'm all right for now_ , he added, at her start of fear. _Just weak and a bit groggy. But I don't give myself very good chances if the Kheldour lords don't get here fairly quickly_.
_Might they reach here today?_ she dared to ask.
_It's possible_ , he replied. _I pray God they do_.
The Kheldour lords even then were approaching the city, though they had taken pains at their last stop to disguise their origins. Bishop Ailin now led the company, a scarlet cope sweeping from his shoulders and his pectoral cross hanging outside his black leather brigandine where it might be seen. A steel cap covered with purple leather also proclaimed his rank.
The episcopal knights he had brought from Valoret backed him, wearing blue and gold surcoats with the device of the See of Valoret on their chests. Tieg rode at his knee dressed as a squire, bearing the banner of Ailin's episcopal arms; Queron had resumed the brown Saint Jarlath's habit he wore at Saint Ostrythe's and rode as Ailin's chaplain. Graham and Sighere and their twenty bordermen rode after the episcopal knights in plain harness, telltale tweeds now hidden away in saddlebags and bedrolls, with Father Derfel and Ansel and his few ex-Michaelines interspersed among them. In all they were perhaps fifty strong; not a great many, but with a bishop at their head and Deryni power to back him—though magic must remain a last resort.
Ailin's authority got them into the city by the east gate.
"I'm Ailin MacGregor, Auxiliary Bishop of Valoret," he told the sergeant who challenged them at the gate. "Why is this gate closed? I've been summoned for the conclave to elect the new Archbishop of Rhemuth, and we heard en route that the king has died."
"Aye, that's true, your Grace. They're burying him right about now," the man replied, giving smart salute and signaling for the gates to be opened. "What you maybe hadn't heard is that some kind of rebellion has broken out in Kheldour; that's where the king died. There's some talk that the Kheldour lords had a hand in his death, and that now they're heading south."
"You don't say!" Ailin gasped.
"Oh, I doubt they'll get this far. The Earl of Carthane has taken a couple of hundred crack troops north along the main road to head them off, if they do come. And even if they did, it wouldn't be for several days."
"It sounds as if we're just in time to be useful," Ailin said aside to his "chaplain." "Thank you, Sergeant. _Dominus vobiscum._ "
He lifted his hand in blessing, then kneed his horse forward through the gate as he signaled his men to follow. At his nod, his "chaplain" fell back to pass the word among the men, remaining at the rear as they penetrated deeper into the city.
The city streets were mostly deserted, approaching the cathedral from this direction, for many folk had gone to the cathedral square to catch a glimpse of their new young king. As the bishop's troops clattered over the cobblestones, nearing the square, Ansel broke off his ex-Michaelines and most of the Kheldour contingent to circle around the side while Ailin continued on to meet any official resistance in the square itself. Graham and Sighere remained with Queron and Father Derfel at the rear and kept their heads down, for Sighere's red hair was distinctive, even under a steel cap, though he had sacrificed his bushy red beard and moustache in the interests of passing unremarked.
The square before the cathedral was crowded, but mostly gathered along the side where the royal procession would leave. The great bell in the cathedral tower had begun tolling, signaling that the service inside was coming to a close, and Ailin had his men rein back to a walk as they entered the square.
The twenty _Custodes_ knights who had escorted the royal party from the castle were formed up ready to return, their heads turning with interest at this unexpected arrival, several pointing at the banner Tieg bore. Men in the livery of Lord Ainslie were holding the horses of those inside. Ailin called his captain to his side and muttered something to him, keeping to a walk, then glanced obliquely at Tieg.
"Son, we're going to ride right up to that _Custodes_ captain and brazen this out," he said. "Just stay by my side and don't look surprised at anything I say."
"Aye, sir," Tieg murmured, and silently sent the warning back to Queron as a _Custodes_ officer broke off from his men and trotted out to meet them. He had already spotted Jesse among Ainslie's men.
"MacGregor of Valoret, Captain," Ailin said, before the man could speak. "We're here to relieve you. We met a galloper on the way in, and you're needed up the north road. You can pick up more men at _Arx Fidei_. Apparently the Kheldour lords are, indeed, headed toward Rhemuth."
"You've come from Valoret?" the man said. "But how—"
"We came by the east road, man," Ailin said. "I was summoned for the conclave to elect the new archbishop. We've been on forced march for nearly three days; you know the terrain on the central route. I can't ask these men to turn right around and ride north again. We'll take over your escort duties, and you can go ahead. I'll explain to the great lords."
The captain nodded, clearly reluctant, but not one to question the orders of his superiors.
"The command is yours, then, your Grace. You can move in right behind us. They should only be another quarter hour, at the most. I think they're just now taking the coffin down into the crypt."
Ailin saluted with his riding crop. "Thank you, Captain."
As the _Custodes_ troop rode out, Ailin led the Valoret knights in right behind them, dispersing twenty of them along a long line facing the cathedral steps as soon as the _Custodes_ men had disappeared. Lord Ainslie appeared in a wicket doorway as Ailin and his remaining ten knights dismounted and bade his men take the extra horses out of the way as he saw Sighere and Graham also dismounting, coming to meet them on the steps.
"Is it true?" he asked Sighere, also flicking a glance at Graham but ignoring the others.
For answer, Sighere pulled out his copy of the codicil and handed it to Ainslie, who made one quick scan and handed it back, grinning.
"Your other men are already in position, my lord. God, but it'll be good to have honest regents in this kingdom! Hubert and the royal party just went into the crypt. We've got maybe ten minutes to secure the area before they come out."
"Aye, guid, let's get started," Sighere murmured, already moving them back inside. "Exactly who is in the royal party? By th' by, this is Bishop Ailin MacGregor. Wi'out his help, this wouldnae be possible. Obey his orders as ye would my own; he knows what he's doin'."
Nodding distracted acknowledgment, Ainslie continued on with Sighere and Graham, Queron and Father Derfel also falling in behind them as Ailin began dispersing his knights inside.
"In the royal party," Ainslie said, ticking them off on his fingers: "The queen and the young king, of course; Hubert, Rhun, Manfred, Tammaron, Abbot Secorim—who's been designated as the next Archbishop of Rhemuth, by the way. Cathan and the _Custodes_ knight who guards him—they've done terrible things to him, Sighere. Oh, and four _Custodes_ monks, who carried the coffin into the crypt. I don't think they'll give you much trouble."
"I dinnae think any o' them'll gie us _much_ trouble," Sighere murmured, loosening his sword in its scabbard. "Let's clear th' cathedral an' get a welcoming committee ready, fer when they come oot."
In the cool and quiet of the crypt below, lit by torches and candles, the rite of interment moved toward its conclusion. As the _Custodes_ monks lowered the king's coffin into the sarcophagus prepared for it, Hubert having blessed the place with holy water, Secorim began censing it, the sweet perfume of the incense smoke only slightly masking the charnel smell of the damp crypt, which eventually stretched nearly the length of the cathedral in a series of interlinked chambers.
" _Ego sum resurrectio et vita_ ," Hubert intoned. I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, even if he die, shall live; and whoever lives and believes in me, shall never die...
As Hubert continued with the Canticle of Zachariah, the monks answering him with the antiphon he had begun, Michaela let her thoughts wander—anything to keep from thinking about the slab of marble that Rhun and Manfred and Tammaron and the monks were slowly closing over the sarcophagus, sliding it into place; anything to keep from thinking about the man who lay in the coffin beneath it, whose lifeless body she had never even seen after it came home—
No. She did not want to remember him like that. Not bloodless and forever stilled, the grey eyes forever darkened, wrapped in his winding sheet and sealed in lead inside that coffin, for the long, hot journey back to Rhemuth from the place where he had died. Not with his hand cut from his body—the strong, graceful hand that should have been free to wield his kingship, the hand that often had pleasured—
She closed her eyes and made herself stop _that_ line of remembering at once, briefly lifting one hand from Owain's shoulder to wipe at the tears from under her widow's veil. Owain stood directly before her, comforted within the circle of her arms, tears runneling down his face as he hugged the Papa knight to his breast. Cathan stood on her right, swaying slightly on his feet, the despicable Gallard de Breffni on his other side.
Beyond Rhysem's tomb were the tombs of three other recent Haldane kings: King Cinhil and now all three of his ill-fated sons. The carved effigies atop the tombs showed the occupants at their best, even the sickly Alroy depicted as a hale, handsome youth, cut off in the flower of his young manhood. She wondered how the artists would show Rhysem, who perhaps had been the bravest of them all...
"Dearest brothers and sisters," Hubert murmured, "let us faithfully and lovingly remember our brother Rhys Michael Alister, whom God has taken to Himself from the trials of this world..."
As all of them knelt for the final prayers, Cathan steadied his hand against the edge of Javan's sarcophagus, leaning his forehead against the cool stone.
That Rhysem, too, should have come to this, and so soon, still seemed so very unfair. Such courage should have enabled him to persevere. Would _nothing_ ever break the stranglehold of the old regents? He blamed it partially on old King Cinhil, for having chosen so unwisely. After Cinhil's death, the fortunes of the Haldanes seemed to have sunk in ever-deepening spirals. He had hoped desperately that Rhysem might be the one to restore the Haldanes to their rightful prominence, after seeing Javan's fate; but even in the very best of circumstances, it would be many years before Rhysem's heir, the young Owain, would be ready to take up his father's dream.
" _Kyrie eleison_... _kyrie eleison... Christe eleison... Pater noster_..."
He could feel the leaden weight of his grief pressing on his chest, heightened by his physical weakness and the drugs they had given him, and a part of him tried to yield to blind, disconsolate weeping; but he used the words of the familiar prayers to force himself back to better balance.
Surely all was not yet lost. Friends were coming. Whether they would get here in time to make any difference remained to be seen; and whether Rhysem's last will could be enforced...
" _A porti inferi._ "
" _Erue, Domine, animam eius._ "
From the gate of hell—deliver his soul, O Lord. May he rest in peace... Amen.
" _Domine, exaudi orationem meam_..." Hubert prayed.
And Cathan echoed the prayer in his own intentions. _O Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come unto Thee. Avenge him, Lord. His enemies sacrificed him for their own ungodly ambitions, working their evil in Thy name. Strike them down, Lord. Give strength to those who would uphold his will and see his crown freed. Make me Thine instrument, Lord. Use my hands to right the wrongs done here. Please, Lord..._
"O Lord, we implore Thee to grant Thy mercy to this, Thy servant, Rhys Michael Alister, which Thou hast commanded to leave this world," Hubert prayed, in words that shortly made Cathan wonder whether the archbishop realized what he was asking for. "May he who held fast to Thy will by his intentions receive no punishment in return for his deeds, but a place in the land of light and peace, in union with the company of angels in Heaven. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."
"Amen," came the response.
"Thou great and omnipotent Judge of the living and the dead, before Whom we are all to appear after this short life, to render an account of our works. Let our hearts, we pray Thee, be deeply moved at this sight of death, and while we consign the body of Thy servant Rhys Michael Alister to the earth, let us be mindful of our own frailty and mortality, that walking always in Thy fear and in the ways of Thy Commandments, we may, after our departure from this world, experience a merciful judgment and rejoice in everlasting happiness. Amen."
"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord," Secorim said, taking over from Hubert.
"And let perpetual light shine upon him."
"May he rest in peace."
"Amen."
"May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace."
"Amen."
The prayers completed, Hubert crossed himself and lumbered to his feet, pulling himself up against the king's tomb as the others rose. Great George continued tolling in the background. Secorim brought an unlit three-branched candelabrum from a side niche and set it on the tomb slab, and Hubert took up a taper and lit it from one of the torches, beckoning Michaela and Cathan to approach with little Owain.
"You may each light one of the candles, your Highness," he murmured, holding out the taper, "adding your prayers to ours."
Composing herself, Michaela folded her veil back over her crown, then bent to pick up Owain, settling him on her hip as she took the taper from Hubert and lit one of the end candles, then put the taper in his hand and guided him to light the center one.
"God bless Papa," she prompted softly. "Keep him safe with the angels. Amen."
"God bless Papa," Owain repeated dutifully, as she passed the taper to Cathan. "Mummy, angels all around here. They come to bring Papa back?"
The innocent words nearly made Cathan drop the taper, but Michaela only went a little paler and shook her head, not daring to acknowledge the flutter of unseen wings but silently thanking them for their presence—and praying that Hubert would not press the point of whether Owain could actually see angels.
"I don't think angels do that, darling," she whispered, under the murmur of Cathan hastily offering up a prayer of his own to cover for her, his hand shaking as he lit his candle. "Sometimes angels come to comfort us when we're very sad—and your guardian angel is always around when you need him. Maybe Papa's guardian angel came to say good-bye."
Owain frowned, but he had caught the mental warning from his mother not to pursue the subject and instead turned his eyes to the other sarcophagi in the tomb chamber as his mother started to set him down.
"We can go back upstairs now," Hubert said, gesturing toward the stair that led back up to the rear of the nave. "I don't know why the bell hasn't paused, so the years can be tolled."
"Mummy, wait," Owain said, holding back as his mother started to lead him toward the stairs. "Why Papa's place doesn't have a king on it?"
"What?"
He pointed at the other tombs. "Grandpapa Cinhil has a king on his place, an' Uncle Javan, an'—"
"I think he means an effigy," Hubert murmured indulgently, almost smiling as he glanced at the others. "Your Highness, the stonecutters must make one for your papa. They haven't had time yet."
Owain's rosy lips compressed in a pout. "My papa should have a king."
"He shall, I promise you—"
"Should have one _now_!"
"Your Highness, that isn't poss—"
"Mummy—"
"I may be able to solve this," Cathan murmured, coming over to scoop Owain into his arms. "Owain, Owain, listen to me, my brave little man. You mustn't cry. Listen to me."
He whispered in the boy's ear for several minutes, Owain's tears gradually subsiding as he listened, shortly beginning to nod his head.
"So, what do you think?" Cathan finally whispered, drawing back a little. "Would that be all right?"
Gravely Owain nodded. "Papa like that."
"All right. Shall I help you?"
At Owain's nod, Cathan carried him the few steps over to the empty tomb slab, where Owain gravely set his Papa knight in front of the candelabrum, facing the candles.
"My Papa knight is a king," he explained, as Hubert looked at him in question. "See his crown? He stay here until Papa gets a big king."
"But darling, won't you miss the Papa knight?" Michaela asked, taking one of his hands in hers and glancing at Cathan. "If you leave him here, he'll have to stay for quite a white—maybe months. If you miss him in the middle of the night, we can't just come down and get him."
"I still have the Uncle Cathan knight at home," Owain reminded her. "Uncle Cathan take care of me now."
"'Uncle Cathan' may have other things to do," Manfred said under his breath, gesturing for Cathan to put the boy down. "Let's go, Drummond. We've been down here long enough. Gallard, take him upstairs."
Sick at heart, Cathan obeyed. He had eased his young nephew's immediate distress, but how long the regents would let him live to take further care of him remained to be seen. He gave his sister a forlorn glance as she took Owain's hand, but he turned dutifully to accompany Gallard up the stairs as the others fell in behind.
He could see the guard of honor drawn up to attention on either side of the stairwell as they ascended, though he did not remember that Hubert had assigned that many knights of his Valoret garrison. It was only as his shoulders came above the level of the top step and strong hands roughly jerked him and Gallard out of the stairwell, hands clapped over their mouths to stifle outcries, that he saw the longed-for faces among the Valoret men—and knew that the next hour would either see the House of Haldane dead or delivered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
But if ye bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be not consumed one of another.
—Galatians 5:15
Manfred drew back with a shout as Cathan and Gallard were snatched from right in front of him. Cursing, he shrank back from a sword thrust and started pushing back down the stairs as men in Valoret livery swarmed into the stairwell with drawn swords. Rhun had been following directly behind and spun to shoulder past Lior with a shove that nearly sent him tumbling backward, sweeping the queen and Owain back into the crypt and shouting for Tammaron.
Neither he nor Manfred could get their swords clear in the close confines of the stairwell, but the swords came out as soon as they had gained the open space of the crypt floor, whirling to confront the unexpected intruders. Tammaron was waiting to back them, sword also drawn, helping Lior hustle the queen and the young king into the hands of Hubert and Secorim, who drew them roughly behind the screen of the six unarmed _Custodes_ monks.
There Hubert restrained the queen with a hand on her arm and Lior presumed to pick up and hold the frightened Owain. As knights in the surcoats of Valoret began pouring down into the crypt with drawn swords, the _Custodes_ men and their hostages eased farther into the open arch of the next chamber, their three "protectors" on guard before them.
"Throw down your weapons!" shouted one of the Valoret knights, of which there were six. Emerging from the stair behind them came an armored, grey-haired man in a scarlet bishop's cope and purple cap, accompanied by Lord Ainslie and two knights in Ainslie's livery.
"MacGregor!" Hubert thundered, as he recognized his subordinate. "What the _devil_ are you doing? Order those men to put away their swords immediately!"
"I can't do that, your Grace," Ailin said, as his knights fanned across the opening to the stair, interspersing themselves among the tombs. Sighere and Graham quietly joined Ainslie behind him, along with two men in priest's attire. "I am acting under the orders of lawful regents of Gwynedd."
" _I_ am a lawful regent of Gwynedd," Hubert said haughtily. "Furthermore, I am your religious superior. You swore me a vow of obedience."
"I also swore to uphold the king and his laws—which includes lawfully executed decrees issued in his name." In his hand that wore the bishop's ring he held up an unfolded parchment document bearing a splotch of crimson sealing wax. "I believe that at least Lord Rhun has seen this in draft. This copy was duly signed and witnessed; I can produce the witness. Another like it has already been recorded in the cathedral archives at Valoret. It appoints Graham of Claibourne and Sighere of Marley as regents of Gwynedd. They have some questions to ask the _other_ regents of Gwynedd, who were directly responsible for the death of the late king."
"That's a lie!" Manfred blustered, gesturing with his sword. "Who dares to say that?"
"I do, my lord." Queron stepped from behind Ailin, hands folded in the sleeves of his brown habit. "And the king himself said it, in his deathbed confession—after having been bled _four times_ in less than a day. The operations were carried out by a _Custodes_ monk called Brother Polidorus, but the king was quite clear that one Manfred MacInnis gave the order. And Rhun of Horthness acquiesced."
"I didn't!" Rhun blurted. "It was Polidorus who wanted it, and Lior—and they had me drugged when I tried to stop them. Ask anyone who was there. The king himself would tell you that, if he were here."
"It is precisely because he is _not_ here that we are having this conversation, my lord!" Ailin said sharply. "These are extremely serious allegations—"
"Serious _lies_!" Lior said breathlessly, as Owain started to squirm in his arms. "Certainly, the king was bled—in accordance with accepted medical practice. His hand was festering; he was racked with fever. When the bleeding did not relieve him, it became clear that the hand would have to come off. Unfortunately, he did not survive the shock of the surgery."
"The king had both his hands when he died," Queron said quietly. "Shall I lay _my_ hand on his grave and swear it?"
"Who is that man?" Secorim demanded of Lior.
"Tell him, Father," Ailin said, before Lior could answer. "Tell him how you brought in Father Donatus to hear the king's last confession, because you and your clergy had placed yourselves in such ill repute that the king would rather risk his immortal soul by dying unshriven than receive the last sacraments from any _Custodes_ priest."
"And is this priest any better?" Manfred said, pointing with his sword. "Can we trust any part of his testimony? What good is the word of a priest who breaks the seal of the confessional?"
"What good, indeed?" Ailin said softly. "Except that the king gave Father Donatus leave to reveal what he had been told, to bring his murderers to justice. Therefore, the seal has not been broken."
"That is not for you to decide!" Hubert said angrily, thrusting the queen into Secorim's grasp as he moved a few steps forward. "You have no authority here—or in any other place!" He stabbed a trembling forefinger at his subordinate.
"Ailin MacGregor, I hereby suspend you from your office and command you, on pain of excommunication, to withdraw these hostile forces from this place and submit yourself to canonical discipline. How _dare_ you presume to judge these men?"
"'Tis _I_ who presume tae judge them, Archbishop," Duke Graham said mildly, setting his hands on his sword belt as he moved beside Ailin. Sighere also stepped forward on Ailin's other side, burly arms crossed on his chest. "As both regent an' duke in this kingdom, I hae the power o' high an' low justice, an' authority tae hear evidence an' render judgment. I charge you, Manfred MacInnis, Earl o' Culdi, an' you, Rhun o' Horthness, Earl o' Sheele, with high treason an' sacrilegious murder—"
"I don't recognize your authority to try me!" Manfred said contemptuously.
"I further find ye guilty o' these crimes an' declare yer lives forfeit," Graham continued. "Throw doon yer arms. Ye cannae escape. An' I wouldnae profane this holy place with yer blood—though 'twould be a fittin' end, here before the tomb o' the king whose sacred blood ye spilled."
" _Several_ kings," Sighere added softly. "King Javan also died beneath the blades o' traitors."
Not a soul dared to move. Into the taut, expectant silence that settled after Sighere's words, not a sound intruded save the harsh breathing of the cornered men, Owain's muted protests as he struggled again in Lior's arms, and a single, stifled sob from Michaela. Then, to everyone's surprise, Rhun contemptuously tossed his sword to the floor, where its clangor reverberated through the stone chamber. He reached next to the dagger at his belt.
"Rhun, what are you doing?" Manfred demanded, gaping at him in astonishment, his sword slowly sinking at his side.
Even as he asked it, Rhun spun to plunge his dagger into Manfred's chest, ripping upward as he wrenched it out. Blood gushed from Manfred's mouth even as Michaela screamed and one of the Valoret knights started forward, but Rhun was already elbowing his way through the line of _Custodes_ monks and grappling Owain from Lior's arms. He slashed the blade across the side of Lior's neck when the priest tried to stop him, bundling the struggling Owain under his arm and sprinting back along the vaulted chambers of the crypt. At the same time, a wild-eyed Tammaron roughly seized the queen by one arm and whirled her in front of him like a shield, laying his sword across her throat from behind.
When Cathan was snatched from the steps to the crypt, his immediate impulse to fight for his life died at once as he recognized Sir Robert Ainslie as his "captor," with other familiar faces of Lord Ainslie's levy pouring into the stairwell to back up those who had followed Bishop Ailin and his men into the crypt. And as Robert released him, though supporting him when his weakness would have made him collapse, he saw that no less a benefactor than his cousin Ansel had Gallard de Breffni in protesting custody, straddling his bent form and twisting one arm up behind him while his other hand clamped over his mouth to prevent him crying out.
"Kill him _now_!" Cathan gasped, eyes wide as he clung to Robert.
"You're sure?" Ansel said, very matter-of-factly.
"He helped hold Rhysem while they bled him," Cathan said, numbly shaking his head to force back the memory. "He's killed many others, over the years. And he would have killed me. Kill him."
Gallard had heard his death sentence and tried anew to struggle free, but the end was quick. Ansel's hands moved almost too quickly to see, twisting the man's head to one side and back with a sharp wrench and a soft, sickening crack. Then Ansel was letting the limp body sag to the floor, wiping his hands across his thighs, already turning to peer urgently down the stairwell. Cathan fought the gorge rising in his throat as another man calmly began dragging Gallard's body out of the way, and looked around gratefully as young Tieg was suddenly at his side, helping Robert ease him to a sitting position against the support of a thick stone pillar.
"I was warned you'd be in pretty bad shape," the young Healer murmured, slipping his hands to either side of Cathan's head. "Let me see you. I think I can help."
It was an order, not a request. A sudden sensation of vertigo made Cathan gasp and close his eyes, perception briefly blurred. Then someone was tipping his head back, pressing something against his lips.
"I want you to swallow this for me," Tieg's voice said softly, as a cool, minty liquid slid down his throat. "That's it. Again. I came prepared for several things they might have given you; this should clear your head and give you a jolt of energy in a minute or two. Your blood loss isn't serious, but the fatigue is. I can counter that temporarily. Just relax."
Cathan was somewhat aware of Tieg's mental touch this time, just before a wave of utter lethargy overcame him, but when he opened his eyes, he could almost imagine that the events of the past few days had never happened, at least so far as his body was concerned. He could feel his head clearing even as Robert helped him sit up, though Tieg was still monitoring with a hand clasped around one wrist.
"Cathan, come over here," Ansel called to him softly, from over nearer the stairwell. Around them and farther back in the cathedral, men in plain brigandines were helping Lord Ainslie's men clear the building. There were a few _Custodes_ bodies here and there, but mostly people were more than willing to leave a place that suddenly had become an unknown battle zone. As Cathan scrambled over to join his half-brother, the great cathedral bell suddenly stopped ringing.
"Good," Ansel whispered. "Someone finally got to the bell platform. Now, who, exactly, is down there besides Mika and the boy?"
Cathan peered down the stairwell. He could only see the backs of Graham and Sighere and Father Derfel, but he pictured the others in his mind's eye, as they had stood during the prayers beside Rhysem's grave.
"Manfred, Rhun, and Tammaron are armed," he replied. "There are six _Custodes_ monks who might have weapons under their robes—knives, maybe. And Hubert and Secorim and Lior. What are they doing?"
"Talking. Arguing." Ansel motioned for one of Lord Ainslie's captains, who came to crouch beside him. "Is there another exit from the crypt?"
"Aye, m'lord. Up to the left of the high altar."
"Any other ways out of the cathedral, besides the main doors and the way I came in?"
"A side door in the south transept, leading into the cathedral close—to the Chapter House, and the archbishop's residence and such. Another door from the sacristy, that also goes—"
From the crypt below came a clang of steel against stone, then the sounds of scuffling and a chorus of exclamations and shouts.
"Rhun has the king!" an anguished shout came from the bowels of the crypt. "He's headed toward the other end! Don't let him get away!"
Cathan was already taking off down the nave, his useless sword hanging against his legs until he steadied it with a hand, praying he would be in time—for Rhun, with his deeds now known and his life already forfeit, had no reason to spare any Haldane, even a four-year-old one.
In the crypt, Michaela trembled against her captor, trying only weakly to twist around to see where Rhun had taken her child, for Tammaron's fingers dug into her shoulder like iron, and the steel of his sword was pressed hard against her throat. Manfred was dead in a smear of his own blood on the floor before them, an expression of astonishment etched indelibly on his bloodless face, and two of the _Custodes_ monks were trying in vain to stanch Lior's wound. The Valoret knights had started forward the instant Rhun stabbed Manfred, but Sighere had called them back sharply as soon as Tammaron seized the queen.
They stood well back now, swords lowered, glancing uneasily at Sighere for direction as he raised both hands toward Tammaron in a placating gesture. Graham had immediately yielded command to his more experienced uncle, shoving Father Derfel back up the stairs to safety, and Ailin was urgently waving back men who would have come down in Derfel's place, frantic not to do anything to trigger further violence on Tammaron's part. Queron had ducked down behind one of the tombs, now hidden from Tammaron's sight and hopefully forgotten in the confusion.
Tammaron looked around wildly at the force arrayed against him, slowly retreating with the queen toward the arch where Rhun had disappeared with the king.
"Just stay back! All of you, stay back!"
"Tammaron, are you mad?" Hubert gasped, backed up against one of the tombs, the china blue eyes wide and horrified. "She carries the next heir!"
"She carries the last Haldane king!" Tammaron replied, hysteria in his voice. "And I'll kill her and the child in her womb before I'll let myself be given over to a traitor's death."
"Tammaron, ye cannae mean tae do this," Sighere murmured, inching closer. "Killin' a pregnant woman is no in yer nature. An' what guid would it do ye, if ye did sich a deed? They'll tak the young king fra' Rhun. Ye cannae escape. It's o'er."
Nodding, wild-eyed, Tammaron inched that much closer to the arch. "Oh, it will be over, all right. I've finally figured it out. The lad is no true prince and therefore no true king—unless a MacInnis dynasty is to replace the Haldane one. Hubert, did your brother ever tell you about that?"
"Wha' d'ye mean?" Graham demanded, as Hubert's jaw gaped.
"Ask the queen," Tammaron said, leaning closer to her ear as the flat of his blade caressed her throat. "What was the threat we made to the king after his coronation, your Highness, to ensure that you and he started producing Haldane heirs?"
"Sweet _Jesu_ , no," she whispered, for she knew full well to what he was referring and that it could not possibly be true.
"It was only known among the Five," Tammaron confided, "that if he did not do his duty, there were ample volunteers to deputize for him."
"No!" she sobbed.
"But the king was stubborn, and Manfred must have gotten tired of waiting. He would have drugged the wine one night. I trust I can leave further details to your imagination?"
Deep in trance, behind the tomb where he hid, Queron Read Tammaron's truth and knew he lied.
"It isn't true!" Michaela sobbed.
"She isn't to blame," Tammaron went on. "She never knew. None of us knew until Manfred came back with the king's body. But why else do you think he let the king be killed, when he knew the codicil existed? Because he knew that the king's death would put his own bastard on the throne! It's Owain MacInnis that Rhun's taken out of here."
_It isn't, Mika_ , Queron's mind spoke in Michaela's. _It's Owain Haldane, and you know it. Could Manfred's bastard have assumed the Haldane potential? Tammaron's every word is a lie, the fabrication of a madman, and you're the only one who can stop him, and refute the lie_.
_How?_
Under cover of the mutterings and shiftings of feet that accompanied Tammaron's incredible revelation, Queron eased closer to the appalled Bishop Ailin, a part of his mind reaching out to controls he had set before, seeing through Ailin's eyes as his dialog continued with Michaela.
_Kill him, Mika. You're the only one who can, before he kills you_ — _and destroys your other son by killing his good name_.
_I don't know how_ , came her numb reply. _Queron, can't you_ — _?_
_I can't touch him, because I never_ have _touched him_ , Queron sent back sharply. _But you're right there, with his arms around you and his sword at your throat, as close as a lover's kiss. You have the power. All you have to do is reach out with your mind..._
_I can't_ —
_I'm going to set a scenario through Bishop Ailin. No one will suspect there's been magic. Just follow his lead_.
"Tammaron, you're a liar," Ailin said coldly. "That's the most ridiculous accusation I've ever heard. One only has to look at the boy to see that he's true Haldane."
"He's a bastard," Tammaron repeated. "He's Manfred's bastard, and he'll never sit on the throne. Rhun will see to that—and _I'll_ kill the true heir before he can ever be born, if you don't give me safe conduct out of here with the queen."
"An' what then?" Sighere demanded. "D'ye think ye could rule as regent, after this? Ye might have possession o' the bairn, but that's no all that makes a king."
"I'll be regent, or there'll be no one to be regent _for_ ," Tammaron muttered, shifting back another step with the queen, his blade still pressed hard against her throat. "I'll kill her—I swear I will."
"That you will not," Ailin said quietly. "God will not suffer this to happen."
"Will He not?"
"His wrath will fall upon you, Tammaron. The Haldanes are beloved of the Lord, divinely appointed."
"Pious propaganda, Bishop."
"If you harm one hair on the head of the queen, who carries one of His chosen kings, you will die."
"You can't know that!" Hysteria tinged the voice again, and the eyes had gone wide with fear.
"You will die!" Ailin repeated, stabbing an index finger at the quaking earl. "You commit sacrilege by even laying hand on the queen, especially in this place. God will strike you down, Tammaron! You will die!"
_Now, Mika!_ Queron sent. _Reach your mind into his chest, and clasp his heart_.
Suddenly her focus came. She knew how to do it. But to take a life—
_Do it, Mika—for Owain, for Rhysem, for Javan, for the child you carry. He deserves to die. It's an execution_.
_An execution_...
Closing her eyes, as if she grew faint, she turned her mind to what must be done, reaching out, feeling the tendrils of thought curl around his heart.
"You will die, Tammaron!" she heard Ailin repeat.
And as she closed the fist of her thought, he did.
Cathan pounded down the nave, his sword banging against his legs, Ansel and half a dozen of his men right on his heels. Tieg's drug and his spell permitted the exertion, but Cathan knew he would pay, if he survived whatever he must do to stop Rhun. He and his pursuing band approached the transept crossing just in time to see Rhun burst from the other entrance to the crypt and dash toward the north transept, an indignantly struggling Owain under one arm and a bloody dagger in his free hand. Rhun cursed as he saw the would-be rescuers and disappeared into the transept, but when Cathan reached the spot, Rhun was nowhere to be seen.
"God damn, where did he go?" Ansel gasped, looking around wildly as his men fanned into the transept to begin searching in side chapels and behind pillars and piers, and Cathan stared mutely at the deserted transept.
From back up the nave, Robert came bounding breathlessly to a halt beside Cathan, also casting a glance around.
"He killed Manfred and wounded Lior, and Tammaron's got the queen."
"And Rhun's got the king," Cathan murmured. "But _where_?"
"Not here, m'lord," one of Ansel's men called, as Ansel himself poked under altar cloths with his sword, more and more frantic, and others also called out, "Nothing here."
But Cathan's attention had been suddenly diverted to a burly man investigating a little door standing ajar in the main support pier, at the northwest corner of the crossing. He was already trotting toward it with Robert, tugging at his sword belt, his eyes searching the arched colonnade of the triforium level high above, whose narrow access walk looked to run all around the transept and back along the length of the nave.
"Up there?" Robert asked, following his gaze, accepting the sheathed sword that Cathan thrust into his hands and surrendering his dagger—for Cathan had none of his own. The man investigating the doorway backed out at Cathan's approach, for his bulk had already prevented him from going any farther.
"He's mine," Cathan murmured, peering upward, hefting the dagger as he pressed past the fellow and set his foot on the first of the narrow treads.
The little spiral stair was very steep and very narrow, only dimly lit by occasional slits that looked down into the cathedral, invisible amid the carving that adorned the vast supporting pier. From somewhere above him, Cathan could hear the scrabble of booted feet and an occasional whimper, magnified by the sounding column of the tunnel of stone he climbed.
He was breathing hard by the time he reached the level of the triforium walk and cautiously poked his head out of the little stair to look left and right. There was no one in the long stretch of narrow colonnade that extended west along the nave, but just where the transept walk turned to cross the north transept end, he caught just a glimpse of moving black shadow. He launched himself in that direction, scrabbling half-sideways in the narrow passage, his dagger held along his thigh, straining for some further glimpse of Rhun and Owain.
He reached the northwest corner; they were waiting for him in the northeast corner, Owain sitting in one of the arched openings of the colonnade with his legs dangling over the edge, his back against Rhun's chest, Rhun's blade at his throat. He had lost his cap and coronet in the scuffle. He looked more affronted than afraid, but Cathan's heart sank at the thought of the forty- or fifty-foot drop below him, onto the unyielding marble mosaic of the floor below.
"You're very troublesome, Drummond," Rhun said, as Cathan began cautiously moving across the north end of the transept. "I should have killed you years ago, when I had the chance."
"Aye, you should've done," Cathan replied, trying to catch his breath, hoping he could keep Rhun talking while he figured out what he was going to do.
Something was not right about this scene, not right about how Rhun had acted down in the crypt. Manfred and Rhun had been close friends, despite their difference over whether to kill Rhysem. Part of that difference undoubtedly had been caused by Rhysem himself, as a result of the compulsions he finally had dared to set—subtle compulsions, that would not require Rhun to act too far out of character, lest someone suspect Deryni interference.
Until today. What happened in the crypt had been totally out of character. And it was not the first time, though it was the most blatant. The old Rhun would have had no qualms about having Rhysem bled to death, if it would further his power as a regent—but Rhun had tried to prevent it.
And then Cathan began to make the connection. It had to stem from that night when Rhysem had told Rhun of the codicil, to keep from being bled; and afterward, seizing the opportunity to take control of Rhun at last, he had spent quite a long time working deep in Rhun's mind. He had never revealed to Cathan precisely what he had done; but nothing he had ordered could possibly have permitted killing Owain.
"Rhun, you can't kill the boy," Cathan whispered, now certain he was on the right track. "You can't kill him. The king forbade you to let _him_ come to harm, and you know he meant that for his son as well."
Rhun's eyes darted to the boy's black hair, just under his chin, at the little legs dangling over the parapet, at the blade along the boy's throat.
"Pull him in and let him go, Rhun," Cathan whispered "What was it the king ordered you to do? Did he tell you to kill the other regents when you got the chance?"
Rhun looked at him sharply, bewilderment suddenly in his eyes.
"I—killed Manfred. I didn't want to, but—I had to."
"But, didn't he deserve to die? He kept you from saving the king, when the _Custodes_ decided to bleed him to death."
"I—I tried to stop them," Rhun whispered.
"I know. I was there. I couldn't stop them either."
Rhun swallowed, nervously turning the dagger against Owain's throat. Somehow the boy knew to keep very still and very quiet. Cathan wondered how much he understood of what he was hearing. Far below, a crowd was gathering, upturned faces white and anxious—Ansel, Robert, Lord Ainslie, Sighere, and Graham—all of them very quiet, bunching together beneath where Owain dangled, to try to break his fall if Rhun let go.
"You can stop _this_ , Rhun, even though we couldn't stop the other," Cathan went on softly. "The boy doesn't have to die. If you let him live, God will not forget."
"I'll be already damned," Rhun whispered, turning his face away, knuckles whitening on the hilt of the dagger. And suddenly Cathan guessed what Rhysem's last instruction had been to Rhun.
"Rhun, did the king order you to kill yourself, after you'd killed as many of the other regents as you could?"
Rhun hugged the boy closer, burying his face in the black hair, the knife hand going farther around his neck, the blade no longer touching flesh.
"My own boy is ten," Rhun whispered. "I would have liked to see him grown up."
_So would Rhysem_ , Cathan thought to himself, though he only said, "It's difficult for a boy without a father. I—hope to be a father to Owain. If you'll let me."
Slowly Rhun lifted his head to look at Cathan, a flash of the old cunning rekindling in his gaze.
"I might just give you that chance," he said softly. "There would be a price, of course."
"Name it."
Rhun compressed his lips, considering, then pulled the boy back in from the parapet and set him on the floor in front of him, though the dagger remained near his throat, his other hand firmly on the boy's shoulder.
"You claim to serve the king's justice, do you not?"
Cathan nodded, wondering whether he dared try to grab Owain and yank him to safety before Rhun could cut his throat.
"And the king's justice demands my death, doesn't it, even though I've saved you having to execute Manfred and Lior?"
Again Cathan nodded.
"Well, I won't kneel down at the block or put my neck through a noose. I won't be taken, but I _will_ try to take you with me. That's my price, if I let the boy go."
Cathan drew a deep breath, knowing he must accept but wondering whether he had any chance at all. Tieg's drag and spell were still working strongly in him, and he was half Rhun's age—which should make him quicker—but Rhun's extra years were years of experience, and Rhun outweighed him considerably, none of it flab.
"Let him go," he said evenly.
Smiling the old Rhun smile, the earl pulled Owain around behind him and gave him a shove.
"Get back out of the way, son," he said. "Uncle Cathan and Uncle Rhun are going to fight."
Cathan knew he was outclassed as soon as they closed. After Rhun blooded him the second time, he knew he was going to lose. He fought gamely on, though, because he had no choice; because there was always a chance that Rhun might make a mistake. But he never did.
Ducking to avoid a particularly vicious thrust, Cathan recoiled so hard that part of the stone colonnade gave way, opening a gap nearly as long as a man and sending debris raining over the edge to shatter on the marble below, scattering the onlookers. Cathan nearly followed it, but Rhun caught his sleeve and yanked him around to face another vicious upthrust, only just parried.
An immediate counterattack drew his blood again, more seriously than the previous two times. He tripped and went down, sprawled on his back and precariously near the edge—and Rhun was suddenly on top of him, driving his dagger toward Cathan's throat as Cathan tried desperately to block it, to slow it, his own knife hand pinned by Rhun's.
Except that suddenly Rhun's hand was releasing his knife hand, shifting to grab a handful of his hair and jerk his head back to expose his throat. Most incredibly, it left Cathan's knife free to thrust upward unimpeded, directly under the arm, full to the hilt.
Somehow Rhun did not even seem surprised. He made no sound save a faint, bubbling gasp. His whole body tensed, as if trying to arch away from the blade, but a faint smile curved at his lips as the blade poised at Cathan's throat fell from nerveless fingers, and his other hand relaxed its grip on Cathan's hair, the light dying in his eyes as his full weight collapsed across Cathan's chest.
For a few heart-pounding seconds Cathan merely lay there, hardly daring to breathe, astonished both at what Rhun had done and that he himself was still alive. When, at length, he summoned the strength to try to shift free from under Rhun's weight, he had to push the body toward the edge, for the wall was close along his right side. The shift of weight pulled the body over—one leg was already over the edge—to fall like a sack of feed to the floor far below.
As Cathan rolled breathlessly onto his side to look down at the men crowding around the body, Owain came running to him with a squeal of relief, to fling his arms around his neck and bury his little face against Cathan's chest without regard to Rhun's blood.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
And those which remain shall hear, and fear, and shall henceforth commit no more any such evil among you.
—Deuteronomy 19:20
With only Hubert left alive of the original regents who had set out to make puppets of Gwynedd's kings more than a decade before, the two regents appointed at such cost by the late king immediately set about consolidating a new regency that would provide responsible guidance for the king's young heir as he grew into manhood. They chose to ignore any element of magic that might have contributed to Tammaron's sudden death—or if they did not precisely ignore it, they imputed such intervention to the priest calling himself Donatus, who melted away into the confusion even as Bishop Ailin exhorted thanksgiving for God's mercy—and simultaneously secured his own place in Gwynedd's future. Obedient to the late king's instruction, Graham of Claibourne and Sighere of Marley summoned Sir Cathan Drummond back to the crypt and took his oath as regent on the very tomb of his late brother-in-law. His sister looked on in joy and relief, and his young nephew held the Papa knight in witness—though he left it on the tomb when they headed back to the castle, for he still thought it proper that his father should have a king on his tomb like his grandfather and his uncles.
Archbishop Hubert MacInnis was taken into custody and eventually tried before the same council of bishops that soon suspended him from office and eventually confirmed Ailin MacGregor as his successor. As Archbishop and Primate, Ailin gained an immediate seat on the new Regency Council, to the great satisfaction of his fellow regents. One of his first acts as archbishop was to quietly bring back Bishop Dermot O'Beirne as his auxiliary in Valoret—for it was Dermot who had kept the lines of communication open during those years of planning for the crown's liberation from the great lords. Ailin dared not restore the Deryni Niallan, but those Deryni aware of Ailin's courage in even bringing back Dermot slept a little easier in their beds in the years that followed.
The outcome of Hubert's trial was rather less satisfying. Though most of his fellow bishops quickly became convinced of his treason, as the evidence mounted, they were loath to sully the titles and office he had borne by turning him over to secular authorities for certain execution—though several felt execution far too lenient. In the end, he was banished to close confinement in a distant religious house whose name and location were never made public, there to submit himself to a regimen of fasting and penance from which there was no earthly appeal, allowed no human contact save with a confessor and certain spiritual directors. He died in his bed within the year—peacefully, it was said, nearly half his former weight and bulk—never having repented any of his deeds.
Of the _Custodes Fidei_ implicated by Cathan in the king's murder, only two came to trial. After a hearing before the bishops, Brother Polidorus and Father Magan were handed over to a secular court, tried, convicted, and eventually hanged; Lior had escaped trial by dying of the wound dealt him by Rhun.
Master Stevanus would have been pardoned, but was found to have died while in retreat at the Order's Mother House in Ramos, the result of overzealous indulgence in certain privations and disciplines customary within the Order—voluntary, of course, or so the abbot said. Four _Custodes_ knights who had gone into retreat at about the same time also died under curious circumstances, but the abbot similarly declined to discuss the causes, invoking the confidentiality of the confessional to justify his silence. The abbey at Ramos was dissolved, its abbot given into the custody of the spiritually sound _Ordo Verbi Dei_ for rehabilitation; the rest of the Ramos brethren were dispersed to the remaining houses of the Order.
The _Custodes_ abbey at Rhemuth suffered a similar fate. Its former abbot, Father Secorim, expecting momentary confirmation as archbishop, was happy to settle for the auxiliary bishop's post under the circumstances, gladly giving his obedience to Alfred of Woodbourne, who had always been the previous archbishop's choice as successor. Cathan was dubious about letting Secorim remain at all, but nothing could be proven against him other than ill judgment in his choice of associates; and Secorim argued fairly eloquently that he could hardly be held responsible for being singled out by his previous superior for favor.
With the bishops' promotion of Secorim came their farthest-reaching decisions about the _Ondo Custodum Fidei_. Though they did not demand its total dissolution, the Order's ecclesiastical knights were disbanded and forbidden to re-form. To replace Paulin, the bishops designated the office of chancellor-general henceforth to hold the governing of the Order and confirmed Father Marcus Concannon in that office, charging him to refocus the Order to more accurately reflect their original purpose as guardians of the Faith.
To that end the Order would be permitted to retain its schools and other institutions of education. More particularly, _Arx Fidei_ and the several other seminaries under its aegis were to continue; for on sober reflection, the current generation of the Church's hierarchy remained unconvinced that Deryni should be permitted priestly or episcopal authority, notwithstanding the more moderate opinions of Ailin and Dermot. Though many other of the Statutes of Ramos were rescinded in the months and years to follow, those laws forbidding the priesthood to Deryni were to remain in force for another two centuries, even when other excessively restrictive statutes against the Deryni eventually began to be ignored.
In the secular realm, the new Regency Council of Gwynedd likewise set about the necessary housecleaning. Lord Ainslie and his son Robert were appointed to the council by summer's end. Robert also married his "Liesel," thereby ensuring a quiet Deryni presence at Court for the foreseeable future. Sir Fulk Fitz-Arthur was recalled from his brother's court at Cassan, testified at the trials of the king's murderers, and was appointed a royal equerry in time to attend on the young king at his coronation in September. None of the other heirs of the former great lords were retained in royal service, but neither did they suffer the attainder and confiscation of their estates that might have followed on the crimes of their fathers. Harsher reprisals might have been more prudent.
Young Owain Haldane was crowned on Michaelmas, the sixth anniversary of his father's coronation and what would have been his father's twenty-second birthday, on the first day of a weeklong celebration the likes of which had not been seen since the coronation of his Uncle Alroy, more than a decade before. Neither Torenth nor Tolan sent an envoy, but the ten-year-old Duke of Cassan came with his parents to pledge his fealty to the new king, embarking upon a friendship with his new liege lord that would become both famous and tragic in years to come.
Richard Murdoch declined to attend, pleading indisposition, but most of the other heirs of the former great lords came and at least paid lip service to the new king and his regents. The coronation was also witnessed by many of the remaining heirs of Saint Camber, though none came openly, for the laws of Ramos were still in force. Not for nearly two centuries would so many Deryni again set foot in Rhemuth Cathedral.
Almost three months after Owain's coronation, on a snowy Saint Stephen's Day morn—seventh anniversary of the day a Haldane prince had led his new bride before the high altar to have their wedding vows made public—Gwynedd's widowed queen came privately to Rhemuth Cathedral, gowned and cloaked in black, heavily pregnant with the child her dead husband would never see. Atop her widow's veil she wore the silver coronet her husband had placed on her head on that long-ago day, and her hands bore a circlet of holly and ivy like her wedding wreath. Only her brother, her young son, and Archbishop Ailin accompanied her as she made her way into the crypt where half a year before they had laid her husband to rest in a featureless tomb.
"Mummy, look, there's a king in Papa's place!" Owain cried, as they reached the bottom of the steps.
She smiled as her son raced over to the tomb, which now bore a recumbent, life-sized figure carved out of warm alabaster, the raiment painted in bold heraldic colors—crimson and gold and sable. Owain had grown a hand-span in the last six months, but he still had to crane to see, stretching determinedly on tiptoes and trying to pull himself up until Cathan came to his rescue. He laughed with delight to see his Papa knight standing guard just at the figure's shoulder, and he retrieved it from its lonely vigil and clutched it to his breast as he gazed with satisfaction at the alabaster face, feasting his eyes on the crown, the sweep of crimson robe with the Haldane lion painted on the breast, and the carved sword lying quiet and potent under the folded hands.
"It looks like Papa," Owain whispered, his grey eyes shining. "Papa has a proper king now, just like Grandpapa Cinhil and Uncle Javan and Uncle Alroy. Take me to see them, too, Uncle Cathan. I want to see if they're as fine as my papa's."
Nodding his agreement, Cathan took him over to look at his grandfather's effigy, urging him to bow his head and say a prayer as his mother moved closer to her husband's tomb and Archbishop Ailin hung back to give her privacy. There was a _prie-dieu_ on the other side, and she went to it and eased her ponderous body onto its cushioned kneeler, bowing her head over the bridal wreath for a moment before reaching out a hand to rest on his.
It was a good likeness. His face had never been so still or stern in life, but the black hair beneath the carved crown framed a visage undoubtedly Haldane. A glint of red and gold peeped from the hair at his right ear, and the sculptor had carved the Haldane brooch at his throat as well. She let her fingers feel the sleek coolness of it, shifting then to lightly brush an alabaster cheek.
_My Rhysem_ , she spoke to him in her heart. _It's a fitting tribute. I wish they'd let you be the king you wanted to be. I wish_ —
But it did no good to wish. All the wishing in the world could not bring him back. Rhys Michael Alister Haldane was dead, but his hopes and dreams must live on in the boy leaning down to pat the carved hand of another King of Gwynedd, the martyred Javan. Perhaps they would live as well in the other son she carried beneath her heart.
She smiled and laid a hand protectively on her abdomen, then set the wreath of holly and ivy on the folded hands of the effigy.
_Sleep in peace, my darling_ , she whispered in her mind, as she touched her fingertips to her lips and then to his, in gentler farewell than circumstances had allowed the last time she left him here. _You gave me your love and your Haldane princes to mold into kings. With God's grace, the Haldane crown that you died to free will remain free upon Haldane brows for as long as there is a Gwynedd. God keep you, my love_.
She smiled as her son came running back to hug her, and had a smile, too, for Cathan and the archbishop as they gave ready hands to lead her out of that place of death and into a more hopeful future.
APPENDIX I
INDEX OF CHARACTERS*
AGATHA—a maid at Rhemuth Castle.
AGNES Murdoch, Lady—wife of Rhun of Horthness, Earl of Sheele, and daughter of Murdoch of Carthane.
AILIN MacGregor, Bishop—Hubert's Auxiliary Bishop at Valoret.
AINSLIE, Lord—a royal commissioner.
AINSLIE, Sir Robert—son of Lord Ainslie.
ALBERTUS, Lord—Grand Master of the _Equites Custodum Fidei_ ; formerly Peter Sinclair, Earl of Tarleton; brother of Paulin of Ramos and father of Bonner Sinclair, the present earl; Earl Marshal of Gwynedd.
ALFRED of Woodbourne, Bishop—Auxiliary Bishop of Rhemuth; onetime confessor to King Cinhil.
ALISTER Cullen, Bishop—Deryni former Vicar-General of the Order of Saint Michael; Bishop of Grecotha and Chancellor of Gwynedd under King Cinhil; briefly, Archbishop of Valoret and Primate of All Gwynedd; alternate identity of Camber MacRorie.*
ALROY Bearand Brion Haldane, King—King of Gwynedd 917–921; elder twin of King Javan.*
ANGELICA, Mother—a midwife at Lochalyn.
ANSEL Irial MacRorie, Lord—grandson of Camber and a prime mover in the resistance against the former regents.
ARIELLA of Festil, Princess—slain (905) elder sister of the late King Imre and mother of his son, Mark or Marek.*
ARION of Torenth, King—Deryni King of Torenth and elder brother of Prince Miklos and Princess Charis.
ASCELIN, Father—a _Custodes_ priest.
BONNER Sinclair, Lord—Earl of Tarleton; son of Lord Albertus and nephew of the Abbot-Bishop Paulin.
BORG—an archer in service of Manfred.
CAMBER Kyriell MacRorie, Saint—Deryni former Earl of Culdi; father of Joram and Evaine, grandfather of Rhysel and Tieg; canonized as Saint Camber in 906; sainthood rescinded by Council of Ramos in 917.
CAMLIN (Camber Allin) MacLean—young kinsman of Camber who survived crucifixion at Trurill now part of Joram's underground.
CASHEL Murdoch, Sir—younger son of Murdoch of Carthane.
CATHAN Drummond, Sir—brother of Michaela and half-brother to Ansel; junior aide to Rhys Michael.
CHARIS, Princess—wife of Marek of Festil and mother of his son and heir.*
CHARLAN Kai Morgan, Sir—former squire and principal aide to King Javan, slain at his side in 922.*
CINHIL Donal Ifor Haldane, King—late King of Gwynedd (904–917); father of Alroy, Javan, and Rhys Michael.*
CLOYCE de Clarendon, Sir—a _Custodes_ knight.
COLUMCILLE, Father—a priest at Lochalyn.*
CONCANNON, Father Marcus— _Custodes_ chancellor-general in charge of seminary training for Gwynedd.*
CORBAN Howell, Lord—husband of Stacia of Eastmarch.
CORIS, Sir Sean—see _Sean Coris, Sir_.
COSIM—Miklos' personal physician/Healer.
CULLEN, Bishop Alister—see _Alister Cullen_.
CUSTODES FIDEI— _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ , the Guardians of the Faith; religious Order founded by Paulin of Ramos to replace the Michaelines and reform ecclesiastical education in Gwynedd for the exclusion of Deryni. Mandate later extended to ferret out and eliminate Deryni by whatever means.
DAITHI, Father—a _Custodes_ priest at Rhemuth; official King's Chaplain after Father Faelan.
DECLAN Carmody—a slain Deryni.*
DE COURCY—see _Etienne_ and _Guiscard de Courcy_.
DEINIOL, Brother—assistant to Brother Polidorus.
DERFEL, Father—chaplain at Lochalyn Castle.
DERYNI (Der-ín-ee)—racial group gifted with paranormal/supernatural powers and abilities feared by many humans.
DIMITRI, Master—Deryni agent in Paulin's service.
DONAL, Master—a scribe at Rhemuth Castle.
DONATUS, Father—an alias of Dom Queron Kinevan.
DROGO de Palance, Sir—Rhun's castellan at Sheele.*
DRUMMOND—see _Cathan, Elinor, James_ , and _Michaela Drummond_.
EDWARD MacInnis, Bishop—young Bishop of Grecotha; son of Earl Manfred and nephew to Archbishop Hubert.
EITHNE—a maid at Rhemuth Castle.
ELGIN—an Eastmarch captain.
ELINOR MacRorie Drummond—widow of Cathan MacRorie and mother of Ansel and Davin by him; mother of Michaela and Cathan by second marriage to James Drummond.*
ELSPETH—a maid at Rhemuth Castle.
EMBERT, Brother—a _Custodes_ monk-physician.
EQUTTES CUSTODUM FIDEI—Knights of the Guardians of the Faith; military arm of the _Custodes Fidei_ , intended to replace the Michaelines.
ESTELLAN MacInnis, Lady—Manfred's wife and Countess of Culdi.
ETIENNE de Courcy, Baron—a southern lord, secretly Deryni, sent by Joram to infiltrate the Haldane Court in preparation for Javan's accession.*
EUGEN von Rostov—a herald in service of Prince Miklos of Torenth.
EVAINE MacRorie Thuryn, Lady—Deryni adept daughter of Camber, sister of Joram; widow of the Healer Rhys Thuryn; mother of Rhysel and Tleg.*
EWAN, Duke—Second Duke of Claibourne, treacherously deposed as one of original five regents of young King Alroy and slain; brother of Sighere and Hrorik, father of Graham.*
FABIUS, Brother—a _Custodes_ monk at Saint Cassian's.
FAELAN, Father—murdered former confessor to King Javan.*
FANE Fitz-Arthur, Lord—eldest son of Earl Tammaron and husband of Richeldis, Heiress of Kierney.*
FITZ-ARTHUR—see _Fane, Fulk, Nieve, Quiric_ , and _Tammaron Fitz-Arthur_.
FULK Fitz-Arthur, Sir—Rhys Michael's senior aide, son of Earl Tammaron.
FURSTAN—dynastic name of the ruling House of Torenth.
GABRILITES—priests and Healers of the Order of Saint Gabriel, an all-Deryni esoteric brotherhood founded in 745 and based at Saint Neot's Abbey until 917, when the Order was suppressed and many of its brethren slain; especially noted for the training of Healers.*
GALLARD de Breffni, Sir—a _Custodes_ knight.
GIESELE MacLean, Lady—Co-Heiress of Kierney, sister of Richeldis; smothered to death at age 12.*
GRAHAM MacEwan, Duke—Third Duke of Claibourne; son of Ewan and nephew of Earls Hrorik and Sighere.
GUISCARD de Courcy, Sir—Deryni son of Baron Etienne, sent by Joram to infiltrate the Haldane Court in preparation for accession of Javan; aide to Javan and slain with him in 922.*
HALDANE—surname of the royal House of Gwynedd.
HALEX, Father—Abbot of _Arx Fidei_ Abbey, a _Custodes_ House.
HENRY of Rutherford, Sir—a knight in Rhun's service.
HOMBARD of Tarkent—Torenthi envoy in service of Prince Miklos.
HRORIK of Eastmarch, Lord—Earl of Eastmarch; middle son of Duke Sighere, uncle of Duke Graham, husband of Sudrey, father of Stacia.*
HUBERT MacInnis, Archbishop—Primate of Gwynedd and Archbishop of Valoret, one of Alroy's former regents; younger brother of Earl Manfred and uncle of Bishop Edward.
IMRE, King—fifth and last Festillic King of Gwynedd (900–904); father of Marek of Festil by his sister Ariella.*
IMRE of Festil, Prince—infant son of Marek and Princess Charis of Torenth.*
IOSIF—a guard at Rhemuth Castle.
IVER MacInnis—son of Manfred; Earl of Kierney by right of his wife, Lady Richeldis MacLean.
JAMES, Master—a Court physician.
JAMES Drummond, Lord—deceased father of Michaela and Cathan Drummond.*
JAVAN Jashan Urien Haldane, King—clubfooted younger twin of King Alroy, whom he succeeded; reigned 921–922. Treasonously slain in battle and succeeded by his younger brother, Prince Rhys Michael.*
JERVIS—household steward at Lochalyn Castle.
JESSE MacGregor, Sir—Deryni adept, eldest son and heir of Gregory of Ebor; part of Joram's underground.
JORAM MacRorie, Father—Deryni adept and youngest son of Camber; brother of Evaine; priest and Knight of the Order of Saint Michael; now coordinating resistance to the former regents and plotting to restore independence of the Haldane crown.
JOSHUA Delacroix, Lord— _Custodes_ captain-general at Ramos.
KENNET of Rhorau, Sir—nephew of Termod of Rhorau and brother of Sudrey; killed with Duke Ewan's party in 918.*
KENNET Howell—infant son of Stacia of Eastmarch and Corban Howell.
KIMBALL, Father— _Custodes_ Abbot of Saint Cassian's.
KINEVAN, Dom Queron—see _Queron Kinevan, Dom_.
KYLA, Lady—a poet.*
LIESEL—alias used by Rhysel Thuryn.
LIOR, Father—Inquisitor-General of the _Custodes Fidei_.
LIRIN Udaut, Lady—daughter of Constable Udaut; wife of Richard Murdoch, Earl of Carthane.
LORENZO, Brother—a bookbinder.*
MACGREGOR—surname adopted by Jesse, son of Gregory of Ebor.
MACGREGOR, Bishop Ailin—see _Ailin MacGregor_.
MACINNIS—see _Edward, Hubert, Iver_ , and _Manfred MacInnis_.
MACLEAN—see _Camlin, Giesele_ , and _Richeldis MacLean_.
MACRORIE—surname of Camber's family. See _Ansel, Camber, Evaine_ , and _Joram_.
MAGAN, Father—a young _Custodes_ priest, assistant to Lior.
MANFRED MacInnis, Lord—Earl of Culdi of second creation; a former regent; elder brother of Archbishop Hubert and father of Iver and Bishop Edward.
MARCUS Concannon, Father—Chancellor-General of the _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ , in charge of all seminaries and other institutions of education in Gwynedd.
MAREK of Festil, Prince—Deryni posthumous son of Imre and his sister Ariella, and carrier of the Festillic line after his parents' deaths.
MICHAELA Drummond, Queen—daughter of Elinor and James, sister of Cathan; wife and queen of Rhys Michael Haldane; mother of Prince Owain Haldane.
MICHAELINES—priests, knights, and lay brothers of the Order of Saint Michael, a militant fighting and teaching Order, predominantly Deryni, formed during the reign of King Bearand Haldane to hold the Anvil of the Lord against Moorish incursions and defend the sea-lanes; suppressed under the Regency of King Alroy and outlawed thereafter.
MIKLOS von Furstan, Prince—Deryni younger brother of King Arion of Torenth, ally of Marek of Festil.
MURDOCH of Carthane, Lord—slain father of Richard Murdoch, Earl of Carthane; formerly a regent of King Alroy.*
MURRAY—an Eastmarch captain.
NIALLAN Trey, Bishop—outlawed Deryni Bishop of Dhassa; a confidant of Father Joram MacRorie.
NICHOLAS—a retainer at Lochalyn Castle.
NIEVE Fitz-Arthur, Lady—Tammaron's countess and mother of four sons by him; widow of the late Earl of Tarleton, by whom she bore Peter (later known as Lord Albertus) and Paulin (of Ramos).
O'NEILL, Lord Tavis—see _Tavis O'Neill, Lord_.
ORDO CUSTODUM FIDEI—see _Custodes Fidei_.
ORDO VERBI DEI—Order of the Word of God.
ORIEL, Master—a Healer in the forced service of the great lords, slain during palace coup of 922.*
ORISS, Archbishop Robert—Archbishop of Rhemuth and member of royal council.
OWAIN Javan Cinhil Haldane, Prince—four-year-old Crown Prince of Gwynedd, son of Rhys Michael and Michaela.
PAULIN (Sinclair) of Ramos—younger son of the Earl of Tarleton and stepson of Earl Tammaron; briefly Bishop of Stavenham before his resignation to head the _Ordo Custodum Fidei_ ; brother of Albertus (Peter Sinclair), the Order's first Grand Master.
POLIDORUS, Brother— _Custodes_ infirmarian at Saint Cassian's Abbey.
QUERON Kinevan, Dom—former Gabrilite Healer-priest and founder of the Servants of Saint Camber; confidant of Joram.
QUIRIC Fitz-Arthur—a squire at Court, son of Tammaron.
REGINA, Sister—a nun at Saint Ostrythe's.
REVAN, Master—human charismatic preacher working with a Deryni faction to save Deryni by blocking their powers via a kind of "baptism." Slain in 922 by his own former followers.*
RHUN of Horthness, Lord—called the Ruthless; Earl of Sheele of second creation and a former regent for King Alroy; husband of Agnes Murdoch; Vice-Marshal of Gwynedd.
RHYSEL Thuryn, Lady—daughter of Rhys Thuryn and Evaine MacRorie; as "Liesel," sent secretly to infiltrate Court as a maid to Queen Michaela.
RHYS MICHAEL Alister Haldane, King—youngest of King Cinhil's three sons; succeeded his brother Javan as King Rhys (reigned 922–928); husband of Michaela Drummond and father of Prince Owain.
RICHARD Murdoch, Lord—Earl of Carthane, eldest son of Murdoch.
RICHELDIS MacLean, Lady—Countess of Kierney in her own right, wife of Iver MacInnis.*
RICKART, Dom—Healer to Bishop Niallan and part of Joram's staff.
RONDEL, Sir—aide to Manfred.
SECORIM, Father—abbot of the _Custodes_ chapter at Rhemuth.
SEAN Coris, Sir—son of Sighere, Earl of Marley.
SIGHERE, Lord—Earl of Marley; brother of Hrorik and uncle of Duke Graham; father of Sir Sean Coris.
SINCLAIR—surname of the Earls of Tarleton.
STACIA, Lady—daughter of Hrorik and Sudrey; Heiress of Eastmarch; wife of Corban and mother of Kennet.
STEVANUS, Master—a _Custodes_ battle surgeon.
SUDREY of Rhorau, Lady—widow of Hrorik of Eastmarch; niece of Termod of Rhorau and therefore a distant cousin of Marek of Festil; mother of Stacia.
TAMBERT Fitz-Arthur-Quinnell, Duke—First Duke of Cassan, now ten; son of Fane Fitz-Arthur and Princess Anne Quinnell.*
TAMMARON Fitz-Arthur, Earl—Chancellor of Gwynedd and a former regent for King Alroy; father of Fane, Fulk, and Quiric and grandfather of Duke Tambert.
TAVIS O'Neill—former Healer to Prince Javan and one of the few Healers able to block Deryni powers.*
TIEG Thuryn—Healer son of Rhys Thuryn and Evaine MacRorie.
TOMAIS d'Edergoll, Sir—former aide to Prince Rhys Michael, slain during coup of 922.
UDAUT, Lord—Constable of Gwynedd; father of Lirin.
VALENTIN—Marek's most senior captain.
WINIFRED, Sister—a nun at Saint Ostrythe's Convent.
* An asterisk indicates a character mentioned only in passing, possibly deceased.
APPENDIX II
INDEX OF PLACES
ALL SAINTS' CATHEDRAL—seat of the Archbishop of Valoret, Primate of All Gwynedd.
BELDOUR—capital of Torenth.
CAERRORIE—formerly Camber's principal residence as Earl of Culdi, a few hours' ride northeast of Valoret; now the seat of Manfred MacInnis, Earl of Culdi of the second creation.
CARTHANE—Richard Murdoch's earldom, south of Rhemuth, whose capital is Nyford.
CASHIEN—episcopal see to the west of Rhemuth.
CASSAN—former petty princedom ruled by Prince Ambert Quinnell; now a duchy of Gwynedd under its first duke, Tambert Fitz-Arthur-Quinnell.
CLAIBOURNE—principal city of Old Kheldour and first duchy of Gwynedd; seat of Graham, Third Duke of Claibourne.
CONNAIT, The—barbarian kingdom to the west, famous for its mercenaries.
COR CULDI—hereditary ancestral seat of the Earls of Culdi, near the city of Culdi, on the Gwynedd-Meara border.
CULLIECAIRN—Haldane stronghold—castle, town, and garrison—guarding the Coldoire Pass between Eastmarch and Tolan.
DESSE—port town south of Rhemuth.
DHASSA—traditionally neutral episcopal see east of Rhemuth, in the Lendour Mountains.
EASTMARCH—earldom held by Hrorik, middle son of Duke Sighere of Kheldour.
EBOR—earldom north of Valoret, now in abeyance, formerly held by Gregory, Jesse's father.
GRECOTHA—university city, former site of the Varnarite School; seat of the Bishop of Grecotha.
GWYNEDD—central of the Eleven Kingdoms and hub of Haldane power since 645, when the first Haldane High King began to unify the area; seat of the Festillic Dynasty, 822–904; restored to the Haldane line in 904 with the accession of Cinhil Haldane.
HORTHNESS—Barony of Rhun the Ruthless.
HOWICCE—kingdom to the southwest of Gwynedd; loosely allied with Llannedd.
KHELDISH RIDING—viceregality broken off Kheldour after its annexation by Duke Sighere and King Cinhil in 906.
KHELDOUR—small kingdom north of Gwynedd, now comprising the Duchy of Claibourne and the Earldoms of Marley and Eastmarch.
KIERNEY—earldom north of Culdi.
LLANNEDD—kingdom southwest of Gwynedd; loosely allied with Howicce.
LOCHALYN CASTLE—seat of Hrorik, Earl of Eastmarch.
MARBURY—episcopal see in the earldom of Marley.
MARLEY—small earldom carved out of Eastmarch for Sighere, youngest son of Duke Sighere.
MARLOR—barony of Manfred MacInnis.
MEARA—kingdom/princedom northwest of Gwynedd; nominally a vassal state of Gwynedd.
MOORYN—province at the far south of Gwynedd, including Carthmoor and Corwyn.
NYFORD—port city south of Rhemuth, seat of the Earls of Carthane; episcopal see for Carthane.
RAMOS—abbey town southwest of Valoret, where the Council of Ramos convened, winter of 917/918.
RHEMUTH—ancient capital of Gwynedd under the Haldanes; abandoned during Festillic Interregnum; restored under Cinhil and Alroy; secondary archbishopric for Gwynedd, junior to Valoret.
RHENDALL—lake region north of Gwynedd; territorial title given to the heir of the Duke of Claibourne.
SAINT CASSIAN'S ABBEY—a _Custodes_ House on the Plain of Iomaire.
SAINT JARLATH'S ABBEY—Mother House of the Order of Saint Jarlath, on the southwestern edge of the Plain of Iomaire.
SAINT MARK'S ABBEY—monastery near Valoret.
SAINT NEOT'S ABBEY—stronghold of the Order of Saint Gabriel the Archangel, an all-Deryni esoteric Order specializing in the training of Healers; located in the Lendour highlands; destroyed by troops led by the Regent Rhun on Christmas Eve, 917.
SAINT OSTRYTHE'S CONVENT—small religious house lying between Ebor and Sheele.
SHEELE—seat of the Earldom of Sheele, north of Valoret.
STAVENHAM—episcopal see in the far north of Kheldour.
TOLAN—marriage portion of Princess Chans of Torenth, who married Marek of Festil; now a duchy.
TORENTH—powerful kingdom to the east of Gwynedd; origin of the Festillic line, who were rulers of Gwynedd 822–904; currently ruled by King Arion.
VALORET—Festillic capital of Gwynedd, 822–904, from which springs the primacy of its archbishop.
About the Author
Katherine Kurtz was born in Coral Gables, Florida, during a hurricane. She received a four-year science scholarship to the University of Miami and graduated with a bachelor of science degree in chemistry. Medical school followed, but after a year she decided she would rather write about medicine than practice it. A vivid dream inspired Kurtz's Deryni novels, and she sold the first three books in the series on her first submission attempt. She soon defined and established her own sub-genre of "historical fantasy" set in close parallels to our own medieval period featuring "magic" that much resembles extrasensory perception.
While working on the Deryni series, Kurtz further utilized her historical training to develop another sub-genre she calls "crypto-history," in which the "history behind the history" intertwines with the "official" histories of such diverse periods as the Battle of Britain ( _Lammas Night_ ), the American War for Independence ( _Two Crowns for America_ ), contemporary Scotland (The Adept Series, with coauthor Deborah Turner Harris), and the Knights Templar (also with Harris).
In 1983, Kurtz married the dashing Scott MacMillan; they have a son, Cameron. Until 2007, they made their home in Ireland, in Holybrooke Hall, a mildly haunted gothic revival house, They have recently returned to the United States and taken up residence in a historic house in Virginia, with their five Irish cats and one silly dog. (The ghosts of Holybrooke appear to have remained behind.)
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1994 by Katherine Kurtz
Map copyright © 1994 by Shelly Shapiro
Cover design by Michel Vrana
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3128-8
This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Better this, the raven's croak.
Heedless of her hair unbound.
To the starved of common food.
O beloved youth! my lover!
By this oath of more than wife!
Learning shame ere it can think.
Daring twist beneath his paw.
'Tis the woman's coin of gold.
Honour first did plant the fence.
Mixed to write them saint or snake.
What the bloom is, what the rose.
Captaincy it yields to head.
See for you this fair one bleed.
She might lie, and ceased her prayer.
Man in metal was the blade.
If you liked "A Preaching From A Spanish Ballad poem by George Meredith" page. You should visit the pages below. | {
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If you win one of golf's majors, you might want to celebrate by opening a great bottle of red wine. On the other hand, if you win nine of them, as South African Gary Player has done, you might want to celebrate by launching your own series of commemorative wines.
This winter saw the release of the first of these bottlings, the 2003 Gary Player Major Championship Series Muirfield '59 ($80, playerwine.com), in honor of Player's win at the British Open in Muirfield, Scotland, in 1959, the first major of his storied career.
Player and his son, Marc—the wine lover in the family, as Player rarely drinks—enlisted South Africa's Quoin Rock Winery to produce the Player wines. There will be nine releases bottled by the winery, each celebrating one of Player's majors (with a further nine provisionally planned for his victories on the Champions Tour).
The 2003 Muirfield '59 is a savory, full-bodied Bordeaux-style red—a blend of merlot, cabernet sauvignon, pinotage and shiraz—with an aroma that recalls the smoky intensity of Lapsang souchong tea. Sourced from vineyards in both the Cape Agulhas and Stellenbosch wine regions, it drinks superbly now, but thanks in part to the terrific 2003 vintage in South Africa, it's powerful and complex enough to improve over at least a decade in the cellar. | {
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To obtain a refund, you must contact our office for a Return Merchandise Authorization Number.
You will need to Submit a Ticket with the subject line "Return Merchandise" to obtain a Return Merchandise Authorization Number (RMA).
As soon as our return center receives your return shipment and inspects the contents of the box, we'll refund the purchase price (less any shipping and handling charges) within 2 to 5 business days. We'll send you email to let you know that we've processed your return. | {
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What Might Your Herpes Outbreak Be Telling You?
Are you a pregnant mamma living with herpes?
Are you terrified that you might transmit the virus to your baby?
Have you even told your healthcare provider you have herpes?
As a doctor, woman and carrier of the herpes virus for many years, I can totally relate to all of your fears related to pregnancy and herpes.
I am the mother of a healthy, happy girl and I was able to effectively manage my herpes and deliver her all naturally. It CAN be done!
Take a DEEP BREATH, because what I'm about to share with you might come as a surprise.
The good news is that the statistics are on your side.
One third to one fourth of all pregnant women have herpes and yet 90% don't know it.
But before we go any further, if you are pregnant and you know you have herpes, then you need to tell your healthcare provider. There is NOTHING to be shameful of. Disclosing your status to your healthcare provider will further diminish any risks of transmission.
The CDC is a branch of our public health system whose sole purpose is to monitor diseases worldwide. If the CDC does not list neonatal herpes as a reportable disease, then I think it is fair to say that you do not need to be overly concerned about the potential of a newborn dying from genital herpes. However, neonatal herpes is something you need to be educated about so that you can decrease the likelihood of transmission. | {
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Best Historical & Heritage Destinations Around Bhopal
27 Best Historical Places & Heritage sites near Bhopal
Show All Destinations Beaches Historical / Heritage Hill Stations Pilgrimage Waterfalls Wildlife Adventure / Trekking Lakes / Backwaters Nature Museum / Gallery Cities
Show All States Andhra Pradesh Delhi Haryana Himachal Pradesh Karnataka Kerala Maharashtra Rajasthan Tamil Nadu Telangana Uttarakhand Uttar Pradesh
Show tourist places
close to this driving route
within 5 km
1. Gwalior
Historical & Heritage
At a distance of 121 km from Agra, 174 km from Mathura, 268 km from Kanpur, 330 km from New Delhi, 334 km from Lucknow, 346 km from Jaipur, 448 km from Bhopal and 459 km from Allahabad, Gwalior is a historical city situated in the central Indian state of Madhya Pradesh. It is one of the important tourist places near Agra and also one of the top tourist destinations in Madhya Pradesh.
One of the most beautiful cities of Madhya Pradesh, Gwalior is very famous for its glorious history and rich cultural heritage. After being founded by Maharaja Suraj Sen in 8th century AD, Gwalior Fort was described as the pearl amongst fortresses in India. The city and its fortress have been ruled by several historic northern Indian kingdoms. From the Tomars in the 13th century, it was passed on to the Mughal Empire, then to the Maratha in 1754, followed by the Scindias in 18th century AD.
Well-known for its ancient temples, marvelous palaces and alluring monuments, Gwalior is the tourist capital of Madhya Pradesh. Gwalior is best known for being the birthplace of the great musician, Tansen. And apart from all this, Gwalior was also one among the five princely states that got the honor of 21 gun salute during the British rule. Gwalior Fort, Jai Vilas Mahal, Teli ka Mandir, Sun Temple, Gujari Mahal, Sas Bahu Temple, Man Mandir Palace are some of the popular places to visit in Gwalior. Gwalior ...
Distance from Bhopal: 448 Kms
Gwalior Attractions
2. Khajuraho
Historical & Heritage | Pilgrimage
At a distance of 47 km from Chhatarpur, 118 km from Satna, 179 km from Jhansi, 223 km from Kanpur, 265 km from Jabalpur, 283 km from Gwalior, 283 km from Allahabad, 388 km from Bhopal and 624 km from Delhi, Khajuraho is a historical town located in Chhatarpur district of Madhya Pradesh. Khajuraho is one of the top places to visit in Madhya Pradesh and among the must include places in your Madhya Pradesh tour packages.
Earlier, Khajuraho was the cultural capital of Chandela Rajputs who ruled this part of India during 10th to 12th centuries AD. Khajuraho Temples were built by the Chandela monarchs over a span of 200 years, from 950 to 1150 AD. After the fall of Chandela rulers, these temples were abandoned and long-forgotten until rediscovered by British Captain T.S. Burt, in 1838 AD. Known around the world for its stunning temples adorned by erotic carvings, the Khajuraho group of monuments has been listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and is considered to be one of the seven wonders of India.
The marvelous architecture and erotic carvings are the best and most notable aspects of Khajuraho temples. There were originally over 80 Hindu temples, of which only 25 now stand in a reasonable state of preservation, scattered over an area of about 8 square miles. The temples also have numerous other sculptures depicting the life of a common man in that era. Khajuraho ...
Khajuraho Attractions
3. Orchha
Orchha or Urchha is a small ancient town in Tikamgarh district of Madhya Pradesh, India. About 123 km from Gwalior, 237 km from Kanpur, and 352 km from Bhopal, it is one of the popular tourist places in India, and among the must include places in Madhya Pradesh tour packages.
Orchha, means a 'hidden place', is situated on the banks of Betwa River and is blessed with an abundance of natural beauty. It is one of the popular heritage places to visit near Gwalior and Kanpur. Orchha was established in 1501 AD by Bundela king Rudra Pratap Singh, who became the first emperor of Orchha, (1501-1531) and also built the Orchha Fort, must visit places as part of Orchha packages.
Besides Orchha Fort, Chaturbhuj Temple, Chhatris, Lakshmi Narayan Temple and Orchha Wildlife Sanctuary are some of the famous tourist places in Orchha. It can be visited along with Jhansi tour packages.
Orchha Attractions
4. Sanchi
Famous worldwide for its Buddhist monuments, Sanchi is one of the popular places of heritage in Madhya Pradesh. It is located about 21 km from Raisen, and 46 km from Bhopal.
Among the top places to visit near Bhopal, the town of Sanchi is the center of a region with innumerable age-old stupas, monasteries, temples, monolithic pillars, and other remnants of the rich Buddhist culture. The monuments of Sanchi are probably the best-preserved group of Buddhist monuments in India, and among the must-visit places as part of Sanchi holiday packages.
A renowned UNESCO World Heritage site, the Great Stupa is one of the oldest stone structures in India and was installed by Emperor Ashoka of the Mauryan dynasty in the 3rd century BC. This Greco-Buddhist-style monument is believed to hold the bones and beads of some of the closest disciples of Buddha. Besides, Ashoka Pillar, the Great Bowl, Sanchi Museum, Gupta Temple, and Udayagiri Caves are the other tourist places in Sanchi.
Distance from Bhopal: 46 Kms
Sanchi Attractions
5. Bhimbetka
The archaeological site of Bhimbetka is one of the popular places of heritage in Madhya Pradesh, and among the top tourist places in Madhya Pradesh. About 45 km from Bhopal, it is situated inside the Ratapani Wildlife Sanctuary, embedded in sandstone rocks, in the foothills of the Vindhya Range.
The site consists of around 750 rock shelters distributed over 10 km (6.2 mi) which are the must-visit attractions of Bhimbetka holiday packages. The Bhimbetka group contains 243 of these, while the Lakha Juar group nearby has 178 shelters. The Bhimbetka site has the oldest-known rock art in India. Among all other caves, Auditorium Cave is one of the significant features of the site. Bhimbetka can also be visited along with Bhopal tour packages.
Out of the 750 rock shelters, 500 are adorned with interesting paintings and the earliest are about 30,000 years old. However, only 15 caves are opened for visitors. The paintings in the caves are completely diverse in nature as the caves have been around for millennia, and are executed with themes taken from the everyday events of the people who lived in the caves.
Bhimbetka Attractions
6. Chanderi
Chanderi is a historical town positioned beautifully along the River Betwa in Madhya Pradesh. About 207 km from Gwalior, and 218 km from Bhopal, it is one of the popular places to visit in Madhya Pradesh, and among the must-include places in India tour packages.
Surrounded by magnificent hills, forests, and beautiful lakes, Chanderi boasts of a kind of scenic beauty that should be experienced by travellers of all sorts as part of Chanderi packages. This small town is located along the Betwa river, further, making it an amazing option to explore. Chanderi is also famous for its vibrant weaving industry and one can find a variety of weaves right from Chanderi cotton-silk to pure Chanderi silk here and every weave is exemplary in itself. It is one of the top places to visit near Bhopal.
Tourism in Chanderi consists of a mix of forts, monuments, lakes, and temples. Chanderi Fort, Koshak Mahal, Badal Mahal Gate, Kati Ghati Gateway, Chanderi Museum, Rajghat Dam, Jauhar Monument, etc. are some of the prominent tourist places in Chanderi.
Chanderi Attractions
7. Mandu
Mandu is an ancient fort city located in the present-day Mandav area of the Dhar district, Madhya Pradesh. Also called Mandavgad, it is one of the popular places to visit in Madhya Pradesh and among the must-include places in India tour packages. It is about 98 km from Indore, and 286 km from Bhopal.
Declared as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, Mandu or Mandavgad , the epitome of architectural excellence,is one of the prominent places to visit near Indore. The city sits over a plateau and is surrounded by walls of stones and dotted with 12 gateways. The beauty of Mandu is visible in its palaces, monuments, and widespread lawns, among the prime attractions of Mandu packages.
Dotted with palaces, mosques, tombs, and gardens, Mandu was a pleasure resort under the Mughal empire and is a testament to the romance between Baz Bahadur and Rani Roopmati. Jahaz Mahal, Rani Roopmati Pavillion, Hindola Mahal, Hoshang Shah's Tomb, Baz Bahadur's Palace, Hathi Mahal, Bagh Caves, Jami Masjid, Rewa Kund, etc., are some of the major and top tourist places in Mandu.
Mandu Attractions
8. Maheshwar
Maheshwar is a temple town located in the Khargone district of Madhya Pradesh. About 90 km from Indore, and 279 km from Bhopal, it is one of the popular places to visit near Indore and among the must-include places in India tour packages.
Maheshwar is largely referred to as the temple town of Madhya Pradesh,and one of the best places to visit in Madhya Pradesh. The town is famous as the place ruled by the legendary Maratha Malwa queen Maharani Ahilya Bai Holkar. Situated on the banks of river Narmada, the town possesses a treasure trove of beautiful temples, gorgeous ghats, and forts. Rajeshwar temple is the main. Narmada Ghat, Kaleshwara Temple, Rajarajeshwara Temple, Ahalyeshwar Temple, and Maheshwar Fort are some of the top tourist places in Maheshwar. Besides, the town is famous for Maheshwari Sarees, and locally manufactured brass utensils.
Nimar Utsav is one of the major events held every year at Maheshwar around Kartik Purnima (November). Apart, Maha Shivratri is also an important festival where thousands of people spend the night on the Ghats and worship the multitude of Shivalinga's as part of Maheshwar packages.
Maheshwar Attractions
9. Ajanta Caves
Ajanta Caves are one of the oldest UNESCO World heritage sites in Maharashtra, and among the most prominent Maharashtra tourist places. One of the most visited ancient monuments in India, these caves are situated about 98 km from Aurangabad, 326 km from Pune, and 443 km from Mumbai.
Carved between 2nd Century BC and 6th Century AD, Ajanta Caves are excavated in a horseshoe-shaped bend of rock surface nearly 76 m in height overlooking the Waghur River. The complex consists of 29 rock-cut cave monuments built during the Satavahana period and the Vakataka period. The caves at Ajanta are famous for beautiful mural paintings and sculptures that depict tales of Jatakas. The world-famous paintings at Ajanta also fall into two broad phases. The earliest is noticed in the form of fragmentary specimens in Cave 9 & 10, which are among the must-visit places as part of Ajanta holiday packages. The second phase of paintings started around the 5th - 6th centuries and the specimen of these exemplary paintings could be noticed in Cave 1, 2, 16, and 17.
Various incidents from the life of Gautama Buddha and the Jataka Tales are represented and recreated on the walls of these caves. It can be visited along with Aurangabad tour packages.
Ajanta Caves Attractions
10. Jhansi
Jhansi is a historical city lies in the Bundelkhand region of Uttar Pradesh. About 102 km from Gwalior, 235 from Kanpur, and 314 from Lucknow, it is one of the top places to visit in India, and among the must-visit places as part of Uttar Pradesh tour packages.
Situated between Betwa and Pahunch Rivers, Jhansi is one of the top places to visit near Gwalior. Earlier known as Balwant Nagar, Jhansi was the seat of the Chandela dynasty and flourished under their rule. The region got its name from the fort built by Raja Bir Singh Deo, in 1613 CE, one of the must-include places in Jhansi packages.
The artistic grandeur of the Chandela rulers is still evident in the monuments and other ancient structures standing in the city. Jhansi Fort, Rani Jhansi Museum, Parichha Dam, Rani Lakshmi Bai Park, Barua Sagar, Rani Mahal, and Cenotaphs of Gangadhar Rao are the top tourist places in Jhansi.
Jhansi Attractions
11. Chittorgarh
Chittorgarh or Chittaurgarh is a historical city and municipality located on the banks of river Gambhiri and Berach in Rajasthan, India. About 117 km from Udaipur, and 620 km from Delhi, it is one of the top heritage places in Rajasthan, and among the must include places in Rajasthan tour packages.
Chittorgarh is the former capital of the Sisodia dynasty of Mewar, and this fascinating destination can be visited along with Udaipur packages. Chittorgarh is mainly known for its beautiful forts and temples. The Chittorgarh Fort is one of the largest forts in India and among the prime places to visit as part of Chittorgarh packages.
Kirti Stambh, Padmini's Palace, Rana Kumbha Palace, Vijaya Stambh, Gaumukh Reservoir, Kalika Mata Temple, Meera Temple, Shyam Temple are some of the prominent tourist places in Chittorgarh. Gangur and Jauhar are the popular festivals celebrated in Chittorgarh, followed by other festivals like Diwali and Holi.
Chittorgarh Attractions
12. Raisen Fort
At a distance of 24 km from Sanchi, and 44 km from Bhopal Junction, Raisen Fort is a historical edifice located in the town of Raisen, Madhya Pradesh. Situated atop a hill, it is one of the ancient forts in Madhya Pradesh, and among the popular places to visit near Bhopal.
Built-in 11th Century AD, Raisen Fort was an important center of administration from the period of its foundation from Hindu times. In the 15th century CE, this fort was ruled by the Sultans of Mandu, from whom it passed to the Rajputs. In 1543, Shershah Suri captured th fort from Puranmal. In Akbar's time, Raisen was the headquarter of a Sarkar in the Subah of Ujjain in Malwa. Fiaz Mohammad Khan, the third Nawab of Bhopal State occupied the fort in about 1760, later got himself recognized as Faujdar of Raisen by Emperor Alamgir II. Now, this fort is protected by the Archaeological Survey of India.
The Raisen Fort is spread over ten sq. km on a hill of more than 1500 high. The fort has a massive stone wall pierced with nine gateways. Adorned with a large courtyard and a beautiful pool in the middle, the Raisen Fort has four palaces namely Badal Mahal, Rohini Mahal, Itradaan Mahal & Hawa Mahal within its boundaries. The ancient fort also houses a temple dedicated to Lord Shiva and a shrine dedicated to Muslim saint Hazrat Peer Fatehullah Shah Baba. The doors of the temple open every year on the occasion of Shivratri. The fort also had well-maintained ...
Raisen Fort Attractions
13. Bateswara Group Of Temples-Morena (Near Gwalior)
At a distance of 35 km from Gwalior Junction and 28 km from Morena, Bateshwar Temples are a group of historical temples situated in Morena district of Madhya Pradesh. Bateshwar is one of best heritage place in Madhya Pradesh and also one of the prominent places to visit in Gwalior. It is maintained by Archaeological Survey of India.
Bateshwar complex is home to about 200 sandstone temples. Spread over an area of 25 acres in the ravines of Chambal, Bateshwar Temples were constructed during 8th to 11th century CE by the Kings of Gurjara - Pratihara dynasty. Most temples are dedicated to Lord Shiva while some are dedicated to Lord Vishnu. The temple complex was ruined due to the earthquake in the area.
The Archaeological Survey has begun the restoration work in 2005. More than 100 temples have been restored till now. Bateshwar Temple Complex is wonderful with its stone architectures, intricate sculptures and overall design shows their passion towards art. It is more amazing to see so many temples spread in one place.
Padhavali temple is another historical temple situated about 2 km from famous Bateshwar temple complex. Located inside an old fort, this magnificent temple is known purely for its classic architecture and exquisite stonework. The temple, particularly its roof, depicts ten incarnations of Lord Vishnu, Ram Leela, Krishna Leela, marriage of Lord Shiva, samudra manthan ...
Bateswara Group Of Temples-Morena Attractions
14. Mandleshwar (Near Maheshwar)
At a distance of 8 km from Maheshwar Bus Station, Mandleshwar is a town and Nagar panchayat in the Khargone district, Madhya Pradesh. Situated on the banks of the Narmada River, it is one of the popular heritage places in Madhya Pradesh, and among the top places to visit near Indore.
Mandleshwar is a 'Pavitra Nagri' as termed by the government of Madhya Pradesh, as it is an ancient town. It is the education center as well as the political center of Maheshwar block, the location of the district court and district jail of Khargone. The 8th-century philosopher Mandana Misra reportedly lived in the town and debated with Aadya Guru Shankaracharya at the Gupteshwar Mahadev Temple. Mandleshwar was the headquarters for the Nimar Agency and cantonment from 1819 to 1864.
The town is well-known for its temples, fort complex, and bathing Ghats. The temples and fort of Mandleshwar have a remarkable charm due to the grandeur of its wonderful architecture that attracts many tourists. Shree Gupteshwar Mahadev Mandir, Chhappan-Dev, Shree Ram Temple, Shree Datta Temple, Ganga-Zira, and Kaashi Vishweshwar Temple are the popular temples situated in Mandleshwar. Dhawal-kunda and Hathani (islands), Sahastradhara, and Ram Kund are other places of historical significance. A flight of 123 steps leads down to the river and expands into the Ram Ghat, where the Ram, Hanuman, Dattatraya, and Ratneshwar Temples are located.
Besides, ...
Mandleshwar Attractions
15. Ajaygarh Fort (Near Khajuraho)
At a distance of 33 km from Panna and 65 km from Khajuraho, Ajaygarh Fort is an ancient fort situated at Ajaygarh in Panna district of Madhya Pradesh. Ajaygarh Fort is listed among the top attractions of the region.
Built at a height of 688 meters, Ajaigarh or Ajaygarh Fort stands on a flat-topped projection of Vindhya ranges. It was the capital of the Chandelas in their declining years. The fort is bordered by beautiful Vindhya Hills and provides absolutely stunning views of the Ken River. This grand fort is noted for its rich historical past and architectural beauty, which speaks volumes about the Chandela dynasty.
There is plenty to explore in the fort, which makes it a treat for history lovers. Ajaigarh Fort originally had five gates, but now only two gates are survived. There are two temples and two rock-cut tanks present inside the fort. These tanks have been named as Ganga and Yamuna. Close to it is a ruined Chandela temple, dedicated to Raja Parmardi deva. Three ruined Jain temples built in Khajuraho style have been traced here. The fort walls have been constructed with large, dressed, stones and no visible mortar.
One has to climb 500 steep steps to reach the fort entrance. There are no signboards, maps, info sources, human habitation at the top. It is not a well-developed place so one needs to carry water and food.
Timings: 6 AM - 6 PM
Ajaygarh Fort Attractions
16. Kalinjar Fort (Near Khajuraho)
At a distance of 58 km from Panna and 104 km from Khajuraho, Kalinjar Fort is a historical fort situated at Kalinjar in Banda district of Uttar Pradesh. It is one of the ancient forts in Madhya Pradesh and also one of the popular attraction not to miss in a Khajuraho tour Packages.
Kalinjar Fort is located on an isolated flat-topped hill in the Vindhya Range, with a height of 244 m above the plains. It is one of the eight famous forts built by Chandela kings. It served many ruling dynasties in the region, from Guptas to Solankis to the Chandela dynasty. Although many rulers fought fierce battles to win this fort, the Chandelas managed to control it for a long time. Mughal invader Babur was the only commander in history to have captured the fort in 1526 CE. It was also the place where Sher Shah Suri met his death in 1545 CE. Kalinjar played a prominent part in history down to the time of the Revolt of 1857, when it was held by a small British garrison.
Kalinjar Fort is a treasure trove for history lovers with its rich collection of monuments, temples and artefacts. The main body of the fort lies from east to west, oblong in form, being nearly a mile in length by half a mile in breadth. The fort has a height of 30-35 meter and 8 meter wide. Big sand stone and granite pieces are used to build the fort. The name of the fort was coined by using Kalinjar, which is related to the incident of Lord Shiva consuming the ...
Kalinjar Fort Attractions
17. Navdatoli (Near Maheshwar)
At a distance of 24 km from Maheshwar, Navdatoli is an archaeological site located in Maheshwar, Madhya Pradesh. Situated on the opposite side of the shores of River Narmada, it is one of the important places of heritage near Indore, and among the top places of sightseeing in Maheshwar.
Discovered in 1950, it is regarded as a pre-historic site, which used to be the home for the various cultures starting from the Paleolithic period till the 18th century. The third period of occupation has been dated between 1500 BC and 1200 BC. Artifacts such as painted pottery of a forgotten age as well as many microliths were found on this site during the excavation. The site was excavated between 1957 and 1959 over two seasons.
The ruins of the ancient houses found here were either rectangle in shape or circular of around 3 m in circumference. These houses had bamboo walls and the roof was made of mud. Most houses had a fireplace and a stone slab that was used for grinding and mashing grain. Pottery of varying styles including Malwa, Jorwe, Black and Red Ware, Cream-Slipped Ware, and Grey-Ware were also commonly found within the houses. Similarities between Navdatoli pottery and certain Iranian ceramics have led some to believe the area was colonized by immigrants from the Northwest. It is estimated that on average roughly 150 individuals lived in the village in its earliest stage. Evidence of domestic ...
Navdatoli Attractions
18. Dhar Fort (Near Mandu)
At a distance of 36 km from Mandu, and 65 km from Indore, Dhar Fort is a historical fort situated in the Dhar city of Madhya Pradesh. It is one of the top heritage sites near Indore, and among the must-visit places as part of Mandu holiday packages.
Dhar is an important medieval town and the erstwhile capital of Malwa Kingdom ruled by the Parmar dynasty from 800 - 1327 AD. Raja Bhoj, the most illustrious of the Parmaras shifted his capital from Ujjain to Dhar, where he established a university for Sanskrit studies, known as the Bhoja Shala. During the time of King Bhojdev (1010-1055), this fort was known as Dhar Giri Lilodyan. When Alauddin Khalji ascended the throne of Delhi, Islamic influence began to spread in Dhar, as a result of which in 1305 Ainul Mulk Multani, the general of Alauddin Khalji, attacked Malwa and killed the Parmara ruler Mahalakdev and ended the Parmar dynasty. Captured later, he renovated the fort and completed the work of fortification. In 1346, Muhammad bin Tughlaq also stayed for some time in this fort while going to Devgiri.
The Pawar dynasty captured this fort in 1732 AD and used it as a royal palace. During the Maratha struggle, Raghunath Rao's wife Anandi Bai took shelter here, and she gave birth to Peshwa Bajirao II at this place. Dara Shikoh, the eldest son of Shah Jahan, also took refuge in this fort during the war with Aurangzeb. During the Revolt of 1857, Dhar ...
Dhar Fort Attractions
19. Budhi Chanderi Digamber Jain Temple (Near Chanderi)
At a distance of 19 km from Chanderi, Budhi Chanderi is a historical site located at Nidanpur near Chanderi, Madhya Pradesh. It is one of the most popular places of heritage in Madhya Pradesh, and among the must-visit tourist places near Chanderi.
Situated on the right bank of the Urr River, Boodhi Chanderi was a large settlement of the Gurjara Pratiharas and possibly their capital. Earlier called Chandrapuri, it was first discovered in 1865 by Alexander Cunningham, the first director of the Archaeological Survey of India. Later, the German traveler Claus Boone also visited the place. The ASI Museum of Chanderi was associated with the place of Budhi Chanderi.
The site consists of the ruins of around 55 Jain temples, most of which are in ruins. The temples here are believed to have been built between the 9th - 11th centuries by the Pratihara kings. The architecture is similar to that of the Badoh Pathari Jain temple. Surprisingly, some of the structures possibly saw restoration during the Bundela period as some of the superstructures have features of the Bundela architectural style. One inscription, dated to the beginning of the 16th century, has been found carved on a sati pillar which mentions the name of the place as Nasirabad, after the ruler Nasiruddin Khilji. This implies that a small settlement might have existed even during the Muslim rule and it might not have been as abandoned as it is today.
The ASI has collected more than 2500 artifacts from Budhi ...
Budhi Chanderi Digamber Jain Temple Attractions
20. Chausath Yogini Temple (Near Jabalpur)
At a distance of 21 km from Jabalpur, Chausath Yogini Temple is a Hindu temple situated at Bhedagaht near Jabalpur, Madhya Pradesh. Situated near Dhuandhar Falls, it is one of the oldest heritage sites in India, and among the must-visit places as part of Jabalpur packages.
Mainly dedicated to Goddess Durga, the Chausath Yogini Temple was built in the 10th century by the Kalachuris kings and it still stands tall atop a hill, enticing tourists and devotees from different parts of India. As the name ('Chausath' meaning sixty-four) suggests, the temple has 64 shrines built along the walls of its circular premises, each containing a carved figure of a Yogini, and a central shrine dedicated to Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati.
The Kalachuri-built structure had only the Yoginis while the central shrine dedicated to Lord Shiva and his consort Goddess Parvati was built around two years later. According to the inscriptions, Queen Alhanadevi, the widowed wife of Kalachuri King Gayakarna built the Gauri-Shankara temple in 1155 CE during the rule of her son Narasimhadeva. However, in the later centuries, with the advent of Islamic rulers, like many other Hindu temples of India, the Chausath Yogini Temple also went through partial destruction and disfiguration of idols. However, the central shrine remains unblemished.
The architecture of the temple is simple and bears a similar ...
Chausath Yogini Temple Attractions
21. Asirgarh Fort (Near Burhanpur)
At a distance of 27 km from Burhanpur, Asirgarh Fort is a historical fort situated at Asirgarh village near Burhanpur. Located on Asha Devi Road, it is one of the major places of heritage near Indore, and among the prime places to visit as part of Burhanpur packages.
Stands impregnable in the Satpura Ranges, Asirgarh Fort is said to have been built by a king named Asa Ahir in the early 15th century. He was murdered by Nasir Khan of Khandesh. Nasir Khan's descendant Miran Bahadur Khan (1596-1600) declared independence and refused to pay homage to Mughal emperor Akbar. Enraged, Akbar marched Burhanpur in 1599 and captured the entire city. He then also besieged the fort and captured it in 1601. The fortress was later held by the Marathas, and it was twice captured, in 1803 and 1819, by the British. This fort has been deserted following the departure of the British.
This is the fort where Mughal Emperor Jahangir imprisoned his eldest son, the rebellious Prince Khusraw after blinding him, and he was allegedly murdered by Prince Khurram, the third son of Emperor Jahangir. History came haunting back when Shah Jahan's beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal died here while giving birth to her fourteenth child. Mumtaz Mahal was first buried in Burhanpur, before ultimately finding a place to rest at the inimitable Taj Mahal. Asirgarh was also the seat of Emperor ...
Asirgarh Fort Attractions
22. Bhojpur Temple (Near Bhimbetka)
At a distance of 30 km from Bhopal Junction, and 34 km from Bhimbetka, Bhojpur Temple is an ancient Hindu temple located at Bhojpur in Madhya Pradesh. Also known as Bhojeshwar Temple, it is one of the beautiful shrines located near Bhimbetka and among the popular places to visit as part of Bhopal Tour Packages.
Dedicated to Lord Shiva, the Bhojeshwar Temple is an incomplete Hindu temple believed to have started in the 11th century CE, during the reign of the Paramara king Bhoja. The Jain writer Merutunga, in his Prabandha-Chintamani, states that Bhoja constructed 104 temples in his capital city of Dhara alone. However, the Bhojpur temple is the only surviving shrine that can be attributed to Bhoja with some certainty. The construction was abandoned for unknown reasons, with the architectural plans engraved on the surrounding rocks. The temple has been protected and maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI).
Bhojpur Mandir is a simple square with an outside portion of 66 feet. Although the temple is incomplete, it has a magnificent soaring strength of line and is supported by four pillars. The doorway is richly carved and, has two exquisitely sculpted figures on either side. The other three sides are balconies each supported by massive brackets and four intricately carved pillars.
Also known as the 'Somnath of North India', the Bhojpur Temple houses a 7.5 feet (2.3 m) high Shivalingam, carved out of a single rock. Set upon a massive platform of ...
Bhojpur Temple Attractions
23. Udayagiri Caves (Near Sanchi)
At a distance of 7 km from Vidisha, and 10 km from Sanchi Railway Station, Udayagiri Caves or Udaigiri Caves are a group of rock-cut caves located at Udaigiri village in Madhya Pradesh. It is one of the most important archaeological sites in India, and among the must include places in Sanchi Tour Packages.
Udayagiri, literally means the 'sunrise mountain', was a Buddhist and Hindu site by the 2nd century BCE. The place is also referred to as Visnupadagiri which means the hill at 'the feet of Vishnu'. The Udayagiri Caves are a group of 20 rock-cut caves near Vidisha from the early years of the 5th century CE. They contain some of the oldest surviving Hindu temples and iconography in India. Besides, these caves have rock-cut water tanks, and some have shrines and monuments on top.
Out of 20 caves, one is dedicated to Jainism, while others to Hinduism including Vaishnavism, Shaktism, and Shaivism. The Jain Cave is notable for one of the oldest known Jaina inscriptions from 425 CE, while the Hindu caves feature inscriptions from 401 CE. Cave 1 is the southernmost cave which is also considered to be a false cave since the side and the front were added later on. There are four pillars and the back wall has a deity carved onto it. Cave 2 is located north of Cave 1 but is still in the southern group and has traces of two pilasters. And there is also evidence of a structural mandapa underneath its roof.
Cave 3, also known as Skanda Temple, is the first one of the ...
Udayagiri Caves Attractions
24. Sonari Buddhist Stupas (Near Sanchi)
At a distance of 11 km from Sanchi, Sonari is an archaeological site of an ancient monastic complex of Buddhist stupas in Madhya Pradesh. Positioned on a hill, it is one of the must include places in the Buddhist Circuit of Central India, and among the top places to visit near Sanchi.
Like Sanchi, Sonari is again a complex of Buddhist stupas comprising two large and five smaller stupas. The stupas were excavated around 1850 by Alexander Cunningham, who discovered two boxes containing relics. One of the reliquaries, which is very ornate, is visible nowadays at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.
The date of construction of Stupa 1 and Stupa 2 must therefore be equivalent to those of Sanchi Stupa No.2, i.e. 125-100 BCE. About 15 meters in diameter, Stupa No.1 is a solid hemisphere of dry masonry and is the largest stupa in the complex. It is made over a cylindrical plinth of about four feet high with fragments indicating traces of railings. The stupa contained a miniature soapstone reliquary.
Alexander Cunningham and FC Maisey searched Stupa No.2 in 1851. The stupa contained three miniature reliquaries, two in soapstone and one in rock crystal, as well as a certain amount of bone ash and a piece of wood. The main reliquary is shaped to resemble a lotus bud, with incised petals decorating the lower half of the reliquary. It was turned on a lathe and then carved in bas-relief. The reliquary of Stupa No.2 presents has inscriptions in Brahmi mentioning the ...
Sonari Buddhist Stupas Attractions
25. Satdhara Buddhist Stupas (Near Sanchi)
At a distance of 14 km from Sanchi, Satdahara is an archaeological site of an ancient monastic complex of Buddhist stupas in Madhya Pradesh. Overlooking Halali River, it is one of the must include places in the Buddhist Circuit of Central India, and among the top places to visit near Sanchi.
As the Buddhist community flourished around Sanchi, new settlements of worshippers appeared in the region. Although these settlements had a physical and spiritual link to Sanchi, they also built their stupas and monasteries. There are four groups of stupas surrounding Sanchi within a radius of 20 km - Bhojpur and Andher to the southeast, Sonari to the southwest, and Satdhara in the west. Further south, about 100 km away, is Saru Maru.
There are 8 stupas spread across 28 acres of land on the banks of Halali River. The main stupa is almost as large as the Great Stupa of Sanchi and would have also been built during Emperor Ashoka's reign. The main Stupa of the site is similar to that of Sanchi having remains of railings. It is 13.65 m high excluding the platform with a diameter of 32.80 m. Recent excavations have revealed brick pradakshinapatha & staircase of the Stupa.
There are some ruins near the stupa comprising a monastery and temple remains which are collectively called siddh ka makaan which is indicative of Satdhara's most enlightened monks once having lived there.
Entry: Free
Satdhara Buddhist Stupas Attractions
26. Murel Khurd / Bhojpur Stupas (Near Sanchi)
At a distance of 19 km from Sanchi, Murel Khurd is an archaeological site of an ancient monastic complex of Buddhist stupas in Madhya Pradesh. Also known as Bhojpur Stupas, it is one of the must include places in Buddhist Circuit in Madhya Pradesh, and among the top places to visit near Sanchi.
As the Buddhist community flourished around Sanchi, new settlements of worshippers appeared in the region. Although these settlements had a physical and spiritual link to Sanchi, they also built their own stupas and monasteries. There are four groups of stupas surrounding Sanchi within a radius of 20 km - Bhojpur / Murel Khurd and Andher to the southeast, Sonari to the southwest, and Satdhara in the west. Further south, about 100 km away, is Saru Maru.
The Bhojpur Stupas, also called Murelkhurd Stupas are a group of about 37 stupas located at Bhojpur (Pipalia) near Murelkhurd on the top of a hill. All these stupas were discovered in the 19th century by Major Cunningham. The biggest stupa at the site has a 2.3 m hemisphere. The center of the stupas was hollow to accommodate small relics, and the stupa would have been wearing an umbrella. These stupas probably date from the 1st century BCE.
The stupas have had adorned relic caskets with relics of Buddhist educators and senior disciples. One of the reliquaries is made of rock crystal and comes in the form of a Buddhist stupa. Rock crystal, a material of extreme purity, was often used to make containers for sacred relics. ...
Murel Khurd / Bhojpur Stupas Attractions
27. Andher Buddhist Stupas (Near Sanchi)
At a distance of 13 km from Murel Khurd, and 30 km from Sanchi, Andher is an archaeological site of an ancient monastic complex of Buddhist stupas in Madhya Pradesh. It is one of the must include places in Buddhist Circuit in Madhya Pradesh, and among the top places to visit near Sanchi.
The Andher Stupas are a group of three stupas perched atop a hill near Karhod village in Raisen district of Madhya Pradesh, India. The site overlooks the magnificent Murel Khurd Stupas or Bhojpur Stupas. The Stupa No. 1 is dated to about 150 BCE and is the largest of the 3 stupas. This stupa has a railing that now has the remains of a barrier of stone surrounding it. Stupas No. 2 and No. 3 have inscriptions in the Brahmi script with the names of the same monks whose relics were found in Sanchi Stupa No. 2 and Sonari. Just like other Buddhist sites, stupas here also revealed the inscribed relic caskets but surprisingly all were empty.
Andher Buddhist Stupas Attractions
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Louis XI
king of France from 1461 to 1483
(Redirected from Louis XI of France)
Louis XI (3 July 1423 – 30 August 1483), called "Louis the Prudent" (French: le Prudent), was King of France from 1461 to 1483. His father was Charles VII and his mother was Marie of Anjou.
Louis XI the Prudent
Louis XI wearing his Order of Saint Michael
King of France
22 July 1461 − 30 August 1483
15 August 1461, Reims
Charles VII
Charles VIII
Bourges, Berry, France
30 August 1483(1483-08-30) (aged 60)
Château de Plessis-lez-Tours, France
Notre-Dame de Cléry Basilica, Cléry-Saint-André, near Orléans
Margaret of Scotland
(m. 1436; died 1445)
Charlotte of Savoy
Anne, Duchess of Bourbon
Joan, Queen of France
Charles VIII, King of France
Charles VII, King of France
Marie of Anjou
Born in Bourges, France, Louis was married to Margaret Stewart, daughter of James I of Scotland.
Louis rebelled against his father in 1440 as head of the Praguerie. Despite this, he was forgiven. Louis gave him the management of an area of south-east France known as the Dauphiné. There, Louis led his own political establishment and married Charlotte of Savoy, daughter of Louis, Duke of Savoy. His father did not approve of the marriage and sent an army, but Louis fled to Burgundy, where he was hosted by Charles' biggest enemy Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy.
When Charles VII died in 1461, Louis became King of France. He earned the nicknames "the Cunning" (Middle French: le rusé) and "the Universal Spider" (Middle French: l'universelle aragne), as his enemies accused him of spinning webs of plots and conspiracies.
In 1472, the next Duke of Burgundy, Charles the Bold, fought against Louis in the Burgundian Wars. However, Louis was able to separate Charles from his English allies by signing the Treaty of Picquigny (1475) with Edward IV of England. The treaty officially ended the Hundred Years' War. With the death of Charles the Bold at the Battle of Nancy in 1477, the dynasty of the Dukes of Burgundy ended. Louis took advantage of the situation to seize numerous Burgundian territories, including Burgundy itself and Picardy.
Without direct foreign threats, Louis was able to get rid of his rebellious vassals, expand royal power, and strengthen the economic development of his country. He died on 30 August 1483, and was succeeded by his son Charles VIII.
Retrieved from "https://simple.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Louis_XI&oldid=8303753" | {
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We are a group of rescuers who volunteer at/with local shelters, love dogs, are thankful to work with others that want the very best for homeless dogs. We work with local shelters and street dog organizations to help find the perfect home for dogs in our care. 4Paws2Love believes in animal education, spay/neuter, and animal advocacy. We strive to provide you with excellent customer service in selecting a fur-friend that matches your lifestyle and needs. We are excited to touch the lives of those in our care and do our best to serve the animals in our community. Our goal is to help lower euthanasia rates by supporting local shelter, organizations, and street dog rescue groups. 4Paws2Love places homeless dogs into foster homes, works to help prepare the dog for their forever home by fully vetting the animal and working to teach them what real love is in a home. Our goal is to match lives and hearts.
4Paws2Love is a non-profit 501(c)3 that began in February 2015. 4P2L is an all volunteer rescue group and operates through support of fosters, volunteers, and donors. We would love for you to join our rescue and help change the future of the animals in our care. Please email [email protected] for more information.
We will work to find the right dog that matched your family and life. If we do not have the right dog, we will work to find you the right dog.
Our dogs will be fully vetted based on age/medical.
We will do our best to disclose all animal information that we have in order to help you make an informed, educated decision and find a perfect match.
Our volunteers seek to provide excellent customer service and work to match the perfect heart for your household and lifestyle. | {
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A forward looking student body is bound to overlook a lot: student protests, performers, missing sculptures, and a deteriorating campus climate.
I look away, hoping they don't notice. Our gazes miss narrowly—in fact, so narrowly I swear I can feel the weight of their eyes on the side of my head. I hurry off to class, a slight feeling of annoyance creeping down my spine. My thoughts soon drift elsewhere, away from the small protest staged in the Quad. I spend little energy assessing the matter, and it's only later that I try to imagine what these six or seven students might have told me, had I the consideration to stop. The scene of students, picketing in Chestnut Hill, Mass. and demanding action on climate change or whatever—it was familiar enough, and to be fair to the demonstrators, it was slightly less disruptive than last semester's pretend oil spill in front of O'Neill.
For all our talk of setting the world aflame, hundreds of students must have passed that demonstration on the way to class that day, very much unmoved.
There's a second "BC Lookaway," one we seldom talk about. It's what we do when someone has the nerve to play that out-of-tune piano in Eagles Nest. It's what we do when someone's pushing fliers for God-knows-what in the Quad. It's what we do when we're passing through the Mods in the morning, and notice a woman, collecting empty beer cans to deposit for cash.
People can be an incredible time constraint. The more you ignore them, the more freedom you have to go about your day. Music, too, can be a pain, and if you stopped every time you saw a street musician, you'd never get too far.
I can't help but notice how our campus is physically designed to promote this sort of efficiency of travel and thought. The main academic Quad was once a marketplace of ideas, music, and thought, with carefully crafted banners strung on either side, communicating details on events and causes.
Now, a diagonal path runs through it. On your walk to class, the only banner you'll pass is a massive three-story advertisement for Espresso Your Faith Week. The bizarre sculptures that were once icons of the Quad have disappeared, and the most activity you'll see on it is that of the University, laying out new grass.
The arts have found odd enclaves on campus—Robsham Theatre, the photo labs in Devlin's basement, the fine arts department on the top floor. A few times a semester, we might make some time to see a friend's a cappella group, but in most cases, there's no real benefit in shaping our weekends around such events.
At our four years' end, there will have been a world of activity we'll just barely notice. Those years will pass quickly—so quickly that in our periphery the protesters in the Quad will begin to blur into all the other things we looked away from, and when we arrive where we're going, we'll hardly remember the walk there at all.
Those protestors were not the distraction, just like those sculptures in the Quad were not the distraction—and when we don't stop to notice these things, they tend to disappear around here. There's a pervasive attitude here at BC, suggesting wherever we're going is where we so desperately need to be, and whatever we're doing is what we so desperately need to do. We look for utility in everything we do, and indeed, it's this forward-looking approach that helped most of us get here in the first place.
But in some cases, this "forward-looking approach" means we're not stopping to look around. It can make it difficult to empathize with other people, or appreciate strange music in the Eagles Nest, for that matter. We might not notice a sculpture disappear, or see that random banner cut down.
We might not notice anything change at all around here. In the morning, we'll catch the landscaping crew, laying down fresh grass.
Nice article, very much in agreement. Has anyone noticed that construction at St. Mary's led to the huge Christmas tree being taken out? I noticed a big emptiness in that area of the O'Neill quad a few weeks ago and really hope that it's not permanent. The Christmas tree lighting ceremony every December is a really great BC tradition that we shouldn't do without. Maybe they preserved the tree somewhere so that it can be replanted soon! | {
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Tag Archives: EGC
September 7, 2012 by marcelgomessweden
Gnostic Catholic Mass In Gothenburg
The altar at Sekhet-Maat Lodge in Portland, Oregon, with Graal and Paten.
This sunday i will attend mass at the Homo Est Deus Lodge and local Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica congregation in Gothenburg.
It will be quite a thing that i have been looking forward to.
Despite having been a Thelemite since decades i havent recieved the Eucharist since 96.
I will look into baptism and Confirmation too.
An unofficial Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica seal
Design by R. Labhart
Posted in Culture, Lifestyle, Mythology, Mythopoeia, Occult, Personal, Philosophy, Religion, Ritual, Sacral, Sub Culture, Syncretic, Thelema, Theurgy
Tagged Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica, EGC, Göteborg, Gnostic Catholic Mass, Gnostic Mass, Gothenburg, Homo Est Deus Lodge, Mass, Ordo Templi Orientis, OTO, Sverige, Sweden
Liber XV, The Gnostic Mass
Aleister Crowley wrote The Gnostic Mass — technically called Liber XV or "Book 15" — in 1913 while travelling in Moscow, Russia. In many ways it is similar in structure to the Mass of the Eastern Orthodox Church. However, the comparison ends there, as Liber XV is a celebration of the principles ofThelema. It is the central rite of Ordo Templi Orientis and its ecclesiastical arm, Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica.
The ceremony calls for five officers: a Priest, a Priestess, a Deacon, and two acolytes, called Children (though current practice is that the part is usually performed by adults). The end of the ritual culminates in the consummation of the eucharist, consisting of a goblet of wine and a Cake of Light, after which the congregant proclaims "There is no part of me that is not of the gods!"
Crowley explains why he wrote the Gnostic Mass in his Confessions:
While dealing with this subject I may as well outline its scope completely. Human nature demands (in the case of most people) the satisfaction of the religious instinct, and, to very many, this may best be done by ceremonial means. I wished therefore to construct a ritual through which people might enter into ecstasy as they have always done under the influence of appropriate ritual. In recent years, there has been an increasing failure to attain this object, because the established cults shock their intellectual convictions and outrage their common sense. Thus their minds criticize their enthusiasm; they are unable to consummate the union of their individual souls with the universal soul as a bridegroom would be to consummate his marriage if his love were constantly reminded that its assumptions were intellectually absurd.
I resolved that my Ritual should celebrate the sublimity of the operation of universal forces without introducing disputable metaphysical theories. I would neither make nor imply any statement about nature which would not be endorsed by the most materialistic man of science. On the surface this may sound difficult; but in practice I found it perfectly simple to combine the most rigidly rational conceptions of phenomena with the most exalted and enthusiastic celebration of their sublimity
There are four main pieces of furniture in a Gnostic Mass temple:
The High Altar: the dimensions are 7 feet (2.1 m) long by 3 feet (0.91 m) wide by 44 inches (1,100 mm) high. It is covered with a crimson cloth. It is situated in the East, or in the direction of Boleskine House–Crowley's former estate—on the shores of Loch Ness in Scotland ("Temple East"). The two-tiered super-altar sits on top of the High Altar. It all holds 22 candles, the Stele of Revealing, the Book of the Law, the Cup, and two bunches of roses. There is room for the Paten, and the Priestess to sit.
The High Altar is contained within a great Veil, and sits on a dais with three steps. On either side of the High Altar are two pillars, countercharged in black and white.
The Altar of Incense: to the West of the Dais is a black altar made of superimposed cubes.
The Font: this is a small circular item which is able to contain or hold water.
The Tomb: this is generally a small, enclosing space with an entrance that is covered by a veil. It should be big enough to hold the Priest, Deacon and the two Children.
There are six component ceremonies within the Gnostic Mass:
The Ceremony of the Introit
The congregation enters the temple, the Deacon presents the Law of Thelema, and the Gnostic Creed is recited. The Priestess and the Children enter from a side room. The Priestess raises the Priest from his Tomb, then purifies, consecrates, robes and crowns him.
The priestess consecrating the priest after resurection
The Ceremony of the Rending of the Veil
The Priestess is enthroned at the High Altar and the veil is closed. The Priest circumambulates the temple and he ascends to the veil. The officers give their orations, including theCalendar by the Deacon. The Priest then opens the veil and kneels at the High Altar.
Priest kneeling before Priestess and High Altar
The Collects
Eleven prayers addressed to the Sun, Moon, Lord, Lady, Gnostic Saints, Earth, Principles, Birth, Marriage, Death, and The End.
The Consecration of the Elements
The preparation of the Eucharist.
Of the Anthem, Crowley writes in Confessions:
During this period [i.e. around 1913] the full interpretation of the central mystery of freemasonry became clear in consciousness, and I expressed it in dramatic form in The Ship. The lyrical climax is in some respects my supreme achievement in invocation; in fact, the chorus beginning: "Thou who art I beyond all I am…" seemed to me worthy to be introduced as the anthem into the Ritual of the Gnostic Catholic Church.
The Mystic Marriage and Consummation of the Elements
The Eucharist is perfected and consumed. The Priest gives the final benediction. The Priest, Deacon, and Children exit. The People exit.
The narrative of the Gnostic Mass
The People enter into the ritual space, where the Deacon stands at the Altar of Incense (symbolic of Tiphareth on the Tree of Life). She takes the Book of the Law and places it on the super-altar within the great Veil, and proclaims the Law of Thelema in the name of IAO. Returning, she leads the People in the Gnostic Creed, which announces a belief (or value) in the Lord, the Sun, Chaos, Air, Babalon, Baphomet, the Gnostic Catholic Church, the communion of Saints, the Miracle of the Mass (i.e. the Eucharist), as well as confessions of their birth as incarnate beings and the eternal cycle of their individual lives.
The Virgin then enters with the two Children, and greets the People. She moves in a serpentine manner around the Altar of Incense and the Font (symbolizing the unwinding of theKundalini Serpent which is twined around the base of the spine) before stopping at the Tomb. She tears down the veil with her Sword, and raises the Priest to life by the power of Iron, the Sun, and the Lord. He is lustrated and consecrated with the four elements (water and earth, fire and air), and then invested with his scarlet Robe and crowned with the golden Uraeus serpent of wisdom. Finally, she gently strokes his Lance eleven times, invoking the Lord.
The Priest lifts up the Virgin and takes her to the High Altar, seating her upon the summit of the Earth. After he purifies and consecrates her, he closes the Veil and circumambulates the temple three times, followed by the remaining officers. They take their place before the Altar of Incense, kneeling in adoration (along with all the People), while the Priest takes the first step upon the Dais before the Veil. In this symbolic crossing of the Abyss, the Priest begins with his first oration, invoking Nuit, the goddess of the infinite night sky. The Priestess calls to him as Nuit, enticing the Priest to ascend to her. He then takes the second step, and identifies as Hadit, the infinitely condensed center of all things — the Fire of every star and the Life in every person. The Deacon has the congregation rise and he delivers the Calendar. The Priest takes his third and final step, invoking Ra-Hoor-Khuit, the Crowned and Conquering Child of the New Aeon. With his Lance, he parts the Veil, revealing the now-naked Priestess who sits upon the High Altar. He greets her with the masculine powers of Pan and she returns it with eleven kisses on the Lance. He kneels in adoration.
The Deacon then recites the eleven Collects, which include the Sun, Moon, Lord, Lady, Saints, Earth, Principles, Birth, Marriage, Death, and the End.
The Elements are then consecrated by the Virtue of the Lance, transforming the bread into the Body of God and the wine into the Blood of God. Of these, the Priest makes a symbolic offering to On, being our Lord the Sun.
The Priest and all the People then recite the Anthem, which was taken from Crowley's allegorical play "The Ship", and represents the legend of the Third Degree of Masonry.
The Priest blesses the Elements in the name of the Lord, and also states the essential function of the entire operation, which is to bestow health, wealth, strength, joy, peace, and the perpetual happiness that is the successful fulfillment of will. He breaks off a piece of one of the hosts, and, placing it on the tip of the Lance, both he and the Priestess depress it into the Cup, crying "Hriliu" (which Crowley translated as "the shrill scream of orgasm").
The Priest entreats Baphomet — "O Lion and O Serpent" — to be "mighty among us." He then declares the Law of Thelema to the People – "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law" – who return with "Love is the law, love under will." He finally partakes of the Eucharist with the words, "In my mouth be the essence of the life of the Sun" (with the Host) and "In my mouth be the essence of the joy of the earth" (with the Wine). He turns to the People and declares, "There is no part of me that is not of the Gods."
The People then follow in Communication, one at a time, much as the Priest did, by partaking of a whole goblet of wine and a Cake of Light. They make the same proclamation of godhood as did the Priest. Afterwards, the Priest encloses the Priestess within the Veil, and delivers the final benediction:
+ The LORD bless you.
+ The LORD enlighten your minds and comfort your hearts and sustain your bodies.
+ The LORD bring you to the accomplishment of your true Wills, the Great Work, the Summum Bonum, True Wisdom and Perfect Happiness.
The Priest, Deacon, and Children then retire to the Tomb and return the torn veil. The People exit.
Pictures by:
Circle of Stars Sanctuary
http://hermetic.com/egc/1stlook.html
Thelema Lodge
http://people.tribe.net/lashtal/photos/9a053aba-1754-45f1-b9a6-38ba24a7b511
http://www.oguiadacidade.com.br/video/Catholica+Ecclesia/
Gnostic Church LVX
http://www.gclvx.org/mass.html
Gnostic Mass
http://wn.com/Gnostic_Mass
Hygienehost
http://www.flickr.com/photos/haines/100551364/
T Polyphilus, Ep. Gn.
http://hermetic.com/dionysos/1stlook.htm
Posted in Mythology, Occult, Philosophy, Poetry, Religion, Thelema
Tagged Alchemy, Aleister Crowley, Ceremony, Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica, EGC, Esoteric, Gnostic Mass, Magic, Magick, Mass, Occult, Ordo Templi Orientis, OTO, Religion, Ritual, Thelema | {
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Manager of Video Production for the Phillies for the past 32 years, Stephenson says he loves telling the story of one of America's most historic baseball teams. The Merchantville, New Jersey native films everything on the field, off the field, and behind the scenes with the Phillies. He has also written and produced more than twenty documentaries and received a Mid-Atlantic Regional Emmy Award for his work.
Even on a bad day when the Phillies lose a game, Stephenson says he still has the greatest job in the world.
Be sure to tune into Eye Opener Philly weekly from 6 to 8 am to catch more Phillies Friday segments and visit us on Facebook and Twitter @EyeOpenerPhilly!
PHL17 is the proud home of the Philadelphia Phillies. Check out PHL17.com for a full schedule of broadcast games. | {
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Samsung Electronics Co. marking its seventh year sponsoring ICT and science projects through Samsung Science & Technology Foundation has announced 44 projects that will receive its research grants in the first half of this year.
The 44 projects - 16 in basic science, 11 in materials science, and 17 in information communication technology – will be financed combined 61.7 billion won ($54 million), according to Samsung Electronics on Wednesday.
The electronics behemoth in 2013 launched the fund to help hone national science and ICT R&D capabilities. It picks promising projects in the fields of basic science, materials science, and ICT and gives out research funds three times a year. So far, a total of 517 research projects from universities and public research institutes in Korea have benefited from the program with the grant totaling 557 billion won.
The beneficiaries of this year's first research grant package include an Ulsan National Institute of Science and Technology's team that studies human cell's restoration mechanism to develop cancer treatment and a Sungkyunkwan University team for developing multi-function water filters. For the ICT area, a Yonsei University team designing communication technology for the hearing impaired was picked among others.
Separately, the company announced that the board members of Samsung Science & Technology Foundation on Tuesday elected Kim Seong-keun, chemistry professor at Seoul National University and a fellow of the United Kingdom's the Royal Society of Chemistry, as the new chairman of the foundation. His official appointment will be made after the Korean science and ICT ministry's approval. | {
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With Labor Day on the horizon, it's time to start planning your family's celebration. If that includes a backyard barbeque or park-side picnic, check out these fun kid-friendly recipes that all have to do with the theme of the day — labor!
You've heard of a dirt sundae. But what about a construction dessert? Add a layer of dirt/soil to the top of ice cream by crushing a mix of chocolate cookies and graham crackers. Place a small-sized toy construction truck or a construction-themed cake topper on the dirt.
Decorate plain sugar cookies to look like tools that different types of workers use. Add licorice strands to create a doctor's stethoscope, combine rectangle-shaped cookies to make a construction worker's hammer or frost long thin cookies to make them look like a teacher's pencil. | {
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Hot stamped hang tags are created using the same methods of our hot stamp post-printing - with a die, hot press, and foils - just on a smaller scale. With many foil colors and label material colors, your options are endless! Each tag comes with a string - other upgrade options are available. | {
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God Switch; Chapter 1: The Past and Present of Steve Rogers
August 29th, 2013 (10:38 pm)
Tags: character: bruce banner / hulk, character: clint barton / hawkeye, character: j.a.r.v.i.s., character: natasha romanoff/black widow, character: steve rogers/captain america, character: tony stark / iron man, fandom! crossover / fusion, fandom: avengers (mcu), fandom: matrix, series: creator
Story Info
Title: God Switch
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Fandoms: Iron Man & Captain America & The Avengers (MCU) / The Matrix
Genre: Action, sci-fi, drama
Rating: M / FRM
Characters: Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, Loki, Steve Rogers (Captain America), Natasha Romanoff, Betty Ross, Tony Stark (Iron Man), Thor.
Guest appearances: The Architect, Emil Blonsky, Phil Coulson, JARVIS, The Merovingian, The Oracle, Persephone, Thaddeus Ross, Sati, Erik Selvig, Seraph, Samuel Sterns, Glenn Talbot.
Pairings: Betty/Bruce, Clint/Darcy/Natasha, Jane/Thor, implied Merovingian/Persephone
Summary: The Truce between men and Machines is threatened by a radical group called 'the Cleansers'. Steve Rogers, the captain of a hovercraft named 'The Avenger', takes his crew to find the ultimate weapon the Cleansers are looking for, and reunites with an old friend whom he'd thought long dead. How is Tony Stark connected to their mission, and does a weapon exist that could destroy the Machines?
Complete. Sequel to "Creator".
Written for: Science Fiction & Fantasy Big Bang's ( scifibigbang) Round 5.
Also fills the "free space" square on my card in Trope Bingo's Round 2 (used trope: "au: fusion").
Artist: raktajinos (AO3/LJ) – see banner HERE.
Warnings: Language, canonical violence.
Disclaimer: Iron Man, Captain America, The Avengers & Marvel Cinematic Universe, including characters and everything else, belong to Marvel, Marvel Studios, Jon Favreau, Shane Black, Joss Whedon, Joe Johnston, Paramount Pictures and Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. The Matrix franchise belongs to siblings Wachowski, Warner Bros. Pictures and all other involved parties. In short: I own nothing; this is pure fiction created to entertain likeminded fans for no profit whatsoever.
Beta: Mythra ( mythras_fire)
Feedback: Very welcome indeed, seeing as I'm only playing with The Matrix for the second time.
About God Switch: This is a fusion story, far as I understand the term.
To clear things up: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers come with their original backgrounds, being Iron Man and Captain America, respectively. (At this point I urge you to read my other fic, "Creator", because that explains some things concerning the backstory.) The other Avengers don't "exist" in this verse – however, they shall be implanted and integrated into the story in other ways (without powers).
Chapters and statuses: Below you see the writing process of the story's chapters. If there is no text after the chapter's title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.
Chapter 1: The Past and Present of Steve Rogers
Chapter 2: The Avenger
Chapter 3: The Cleansing
Chapter 4: The Oracle
Chapter 5: What Is or Isn't in Malibu
Chapter 6: The Map to Machine City
Chapter 7: Plan of Attack
Chapter 8: Family Reunions
Chapter 9: The Merovingian
Chapter 10: The Weapon
Chapter 11: Negotiations
Chapter 12: Dreaming the Morrow
Steve couldn't remember the exact time period in which Man had mastered the creation of fire. Back when they'd still lived in caves, probably, and perhaps that's why he remembered it now, looking at the tiny flickering flame casting large shadows on the walls of his hideout that was little more than a cave. It had been a while since he'd been able to find something to burn, to banish the darkness, and it hurt his eyes a little, but at the same time it sparked that old glimmer of hope in his chest.
The flickering flame would give him strength to go on until he found something edible. After all, the light always reminded him of the old days, and he could spend hours upon hours reminiscing, sinking deeper into what had been before the world fell into darkness. More often than not he thought about the time before the ice; not because it was clearer in his mind, but because it was easier.
Steve Rogers had lived three lifetimes.
The first lifetime was before and during World War II, when he had first become a hero. A soldier. He had been transformed from a weakling into a super-soldier; he'd fought Nazis, HYDRA, and eventually gave his life to protect the world from Red Skull's master plan.
He had ended up in the ice for almost seven decades, after which he awoke to his second lifetime in the twenty-first century. Steve was still Captain America, but unlike in wartime when he had been a solider among others, in the new century he became a full-fledged superhero; he had continued to fight the good fight to protect humanity and defend the weak and hunt down the wicked.
He hadn't been alone in that fight: Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, had fought alongside him, wearing his high-tech armor and trying to make the world a better place. They had clashed, due to personal differences, but eventually became friends – for which Steve was glad as the years rolled by and the people he had come to know after the ice passed away, one after another.
Tony, however, had inserted into himself a nanotechnology called Extremis, which enabled him to do something people called 'technopathy'. Steve hadn't been sure what it meant, even then, but Tony had always felt connected to machines and technology, and the Extremis enabled him to communicate with them. It had also given him regenerative powers, and one perk among many was that Tony no longer aged.
As the world moved on, Tony and Steve stayed the same, standing side by side; Captain America and Iron Man…
Steve huffed, looking at the small flame. He could remember Tony's laugh if he tried hard enough; he recalled the smile on his face, the quirk of his brow, the lines on his skin that marked the hardships he had gone through. He held onto the memories for a while, taking himself back in time, into the sunny space of Tony's home where they had often sat, reminiscing about the past and people they had met – and lost – trying to look ahead.
To convince themselves that they had been fighting the good fight.
It had been in those days that the AI was created, to brighten humanity's future and aid their endeavors. They had been little more than robots in Steve's eyes; smarter, perhaps, than the robots that had already existed, but Steve had had the privilege to interact with Tony's personal AI, JARVIS, and he knew the new Artificial Intelligence was far from JARVIS' abilities. Of course, if he had broached the subject with Tony, he would have either gotten an extensive lecture on how the new AI was still evolving – or troubled silence because Steve had known, even then, that Tony never told anyone what he really thought of the new AI, and his own involvement in its creation.
That had been the beginning of his third lifetime.
The Machine War had loomed on the horizon.
Steve had lived through the things that preceded it: the fight for Machine rights, the rise of their own city, the tilt in infrastructure and the bombing of Machine City.
Before the bombs had been dropped, Steve had carefully watched Tony for reactions, knowing the man had insights that their world leaders could only hope for. While no one had asked for Tony's input or opinion, it had been clear he opposed the direction humanity was taking against the Machines, and Steve had steered clear of the approaching battle.
Then Tony had gone to visit Zero One just before the nuclear attack vaporized Machine City, and was never to be seen again. JARVIS had gone silent in the aftermath, and Steve had been forced to admit defeat: his best friend was gone.
The war that followed had been brutal: the Machines had withstood the attack on their city and replied in kind. The humans had torched the skies in desperation, but the tide had inexorably been turned against them. Billions had died. Thousands had been taken by the Machines, experimented on. Steve had been one of the few survivors who hid and sometimes rebelled, but with dwindling resources many of them had been hunted down and efficiently destroyed.
Steve knew he could have made a stand. He could have rallied up the troops behind him, because Captain America still meant something to the people. He hadn't; before the war, he had told anyone who listened that the right course of action did not lead to another war. They had not listened. Instead he had tried to protect those few who remained with him, but one by one they fell, from malnutrition, injuries and maladies.
Steve had pushed on.
He had seen the power plants rise; fields of humans used as a new power source for the Machines.
Eventually, he had found survivors, and the city far beneath the Earth's surface: Zion. That had been when he first heard of the Matrix. Those who had escaped it had a hard time describing it, other than as a lie thrown across their eyes that was almost perfectly believable. A dream.
At the time Steve had wished, like so many others, to save those who remained locked within the Matrix, and to lead them to the real world. However, seeing as he was missing the headjack – a component all the people released from the Matrix had inserted into the backs of their heads – he couldn't do that.
So instead Steve had helped the best he could, and at one point it had seemed like humanity was winning when the One was discovered – a man with a deeper connection to the Matrix, tilting the balance in their favor. They had dreamt of saving humanity back in those days, and of overthrowing the Machines.
Not much later, the Machines had come and destroyed Zion and its population.
The One was lost.
Steve had escaped with his life and very few others. The group split up due to differences, and eventually Steve had once again been the lone survivor of his own group and wandered the wasteland for a time before heading back to see whether anyone else had made it and deemed it safe to return to where Zion had once stood.
There had been people there, and the rebuilding of Zion had already begun. Steve had gladly joined them.
Then more escapees from the Matrix had arrived, and Steve felt a strange sense of déjà-vu: it was the same as before, all over again; as if their past struggles to free people had been for naught, as no one could remember it. Zion had been growing and strengthening, however, so Steve had let it go and enjoyed the life he had.
His suspicions had grown exponentially when another One was discovered – a man who once again led the people in a struggle against the Machines. And just like before, Zion had eventually come under a direct attack from the Machines.
Steve had almost died that time.
He'd also lost his shield, which he had managed to cling to until then.
When he'd crawled into the darkness of long-abandoned tunnels that couldn't fit the Sentinels, he had considered his options. When he'd grown stronger, he had wandered on his own, but eventually his weakness had grown and he returned to Zion – finding it once again rebuilt and inhabited.
Steve had found the ones in power and told them that he'd already seen this happen twice before. However, his words had not been met with kindness, and as the years rolled by, Steve had felt the impending sensation of doom. Then the One had been discovered once more, and he had left; Steve had refused to see Zion destroyed for a third time.
Whenever Steve had given into the weakness and returned, he found the cycle repeating itself. Some people he spoke to believed him, but not those who mattered. Perhaps it was human nature, wanting to believe they had a choice in the matter; that their lives weren't part of a pattern. That once they escaped the Matrix, they were free.
Five times, he counted.
He hadn't been there for all of them, not at the crucial moment, but he could do the math. It was like a horrible game for the Machines, yet each time Steve hoped it would end differently. That mankind would triumph in the final battle.
They never did. Thousands were killed and life was rebooted to start all over again.
As much as the isolation hurt him, Steve guessed exile was better, because how could he live with himself when he failed over and over again to convince the leaders of Zion that their lives were meaningless unless they changed the pattern?
He was once again nearing the time when he itched for company; when he would break down and make his way down to Zion, one agonizing mile at a time, knowing that he would find a place there if he told no one of the life he had lived. After all, if he told them he remembered the time before the Machines, they would not believe whatever he said next.
Steve told himself he would be stronger this time. He didn't need to see Zion destroyed or another senseless war taking place. He didn't want to get to know people he couldn't protect, couldn't save. Sure, he entertained the idea that he could gather a close circle of friends and lead them away from the city when the time grew near to Zion's destruction. To build a place of their own. After all, he had traveled far and wide in his time, and while the skies were still black, the Machines did not move far from the new city they had built on top of the ruins of the old one. If they went far enough, perhaps they could establish a community that wasn't part of the system the Machines had clearly created with Zion.
The small flame flickered and went out, startling him. He felt a draft against the skin of his ankle, and somewhere far beneath him, something crashed. The floor shook. Steve knew he wasn't close enough for usual Machine activity, which meant the possibility of a lost vessel, or something out of the ordinary.
He picked up his pack, worn but still able to carry his meager belongings, then left the shelter which may have once been the sub-basement of a building. Steve picked a path through the darkness, his eyes used to it, hands and feet moving with agile grace along the nooks and crannies in the walls of the sewers that provided pathways to follow. He didn't want to count the number of years he had spent walking around while his body struggled to survive without proper nourishment, and he wished to see the sun more than anything. For years he had traveled paths like this, and he knew how to navigate them silently and make sure he had several exists in case he was faced by Machines.
Ending up at a wider tunnel, he looked around. Far away in the darkness, beyond a curve, he saw something blue-ish sparkle. He made his way towards it, looking for a weapon as he went. The air was not as clear as above, almost as if unwilling to fill his lungs, but his body adapted as he moved forward, silent and unnoticed.
As he moved around the curve, he could see the somewhat familiar shape of a hovercraft. He had traveled in one numerous times, and they had changed very little over time. Another reminder that the cycle repeated, over and over…
He saw movement and pressed himself against the wall immediately. Something… someone moved near the ship, not very silently, which meant they knew they were far enough away from Machine territory to feel free to make such a ruckus. "Goddammit," a male voice swore, then there was a slight beep. "We lost the pads on one side. All of them. I told them we wouldn't be able to make that turn!"
"There's no point arguing about it now. Can we fix enough of them to limp back home?" a female voice asked through something that might be a radio, the voice echoing off the walls.
"Did you hear me when I said we 'lost' the pads?" the man outside snarled into the communicator device. "Where's the technician?"
"Dead," the woman replied.
"Seriously?" The man paused. "Any other casualties?"
"I haven't done a full round, but it would seem… it's pretty ugly in here. I'm sure you see the dent in the hull? Caused an explosion in the rear."
"Who's left?"
"You and me… and Bruce. That's about it. Bruce dragged Jasper out of the wreckage that's now the engine room, but he bled out a few minutes ago."
"Fuck," the man outside the ship swore and Steve saw him lean against the hull – then whirl angrily and kick at the nearest object, which was probably a piece from the ship. "Fucking hell!"
Steve pulled away from the wall and slowly approached. When the other man didn't notice him, stating into the darkness, Steve made a point of shoving a piece of metal with his foot. The other man whirled around and raised something – a gun – towards him, as well as a flashlight.
"Hi," Steve said slowly. "I'm not a threat. I… heard you crash."
The weapon didn't move, but the light did, pointing at his face. Steve stopped and waited. He didn't want to get shot, on top of everything. From the side he heard something – shuffling steps – and then another person appeared in the flickering lights from the working pads of the hovercraft. It was a man with a blood-stained face and curly brown hair. He looked at Steve and then seemed to realize Steve shouldn't be there and jumped a little. "Who's he?"
"No idea," the man with the gun growled. "Who are you?"
"My name is Steve," Steve said. Surnames had stopped existing a long time ago. "I heard you crash," he repeated. "I came to see if I could help."
"Heard us crash?" the second man asked, stepping towards him. Steve could make out a frown on his face. He guessed this was Bruce. "Is there another ship?"
"No, just me," Steve told them. "Would you put that down?" he asked the man with the gun. "Unless you would rather not, since I'm the intruder here."
"If there's no other ship then where the hell did you come from?" the first man asked him, shifting the gun to better point at Steve's chest.
"The surface," Steve shrugged.
"There's nothing on the surface," Bruce argued.
"There's not much here, either," Steve pointed out and looked at them both – then registered the sound of someone else exiting the damaged hovercraft; the woman he had heard on the communicator, no doubt.
"Who's he?" she asked.
"No idea," the man with the gun replied.
"I'm Steve," Steve offered again.
"Where did he come from?" the woman repeated the big question.
"Surface, he says," Bruce mused, still frowning.
"Are you from Zion?" Steve asked in return, wanting to bring something familiar into the discussion – something familiar to these people. Not that he expected them to be from anywhere else, and he briefly wondered at which point during the history-repeating-itself cycle they were living in.
"Yeah," the man with the gun admitted, lowering the weapon slightly, but not enough to not be able to shoot Steve if he felt the need. "Where else?"
"Good point," Steve agreed.
"Are you not from Zion?" Bruce asked. Clearly, he wasn't stupid, and the way he kept studying Steve's face felt like he was being dissected and reassembled.
"Sort of," Steve answered. "It's… complicated. I can lead you to the nearest access-point to more frequently used tunnels if your communications are down."
"What's in it for you?" the man holding the gun asked and lifted the weapon slightly once more.
"Well, if you have any extra provisions, those would be welcome. Like you said, there's nothing on the surface. Any food you have, I'm happy to take, but if not, I'll still lead you to a place where you can hopefully contact your people."
"Our people?" the woman repeated. "I'm not sure I trust you. Easier to have Clint here put a bullet in you and go off on our own. We know which way to go."
"I know shortcuts," Steve offered.
"I vote for the bullet," the man, Clint, stated.
"You know of Zion, but I haven't seen you there," Bruce mused. "Not that I know everyone there, but… Why would you rather stay out here? There's… nothing out here," he motioned at the dark tunnel.
"Like I said, it's complicated."
"Then un-complicate it," Clint suggested.
"Or you'll shoot me?" Steve confirmed. He didn't sound as scared as he should, and the woman immediately picked up on that fact.
"He's holding a gun at you and you're not afraid. Why? Do you have friends waiting, ready to pillage the ship?"
"I'm alone," Steve stated as genuinely as he could, and allowed himself a sad little laugh. "I've been alone for so long it's probably not healthy for a human being, because isolation is… not a condition we handle very well."
"But it's better than living in Zion?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"For a time."
"And when the time's up?"
"I usually migrate back to Zion and make myself useful there."
Clint still didn't buy it, or the woman, but Bruce held up a hand at them. "Okay, Steve," he said. "If we can't get the ship fixed, or the communications, we'll take you up on your offer to show us to the nearest tunnel that the other ships may be using. Maybe we can even cook up a transmission device and send for help. You're welcome to the resources we have after we've taken what we need for our journey back."
"Why are you offering him anything?" Clint asked. "We don't know him."
"He's a human being. Besides, I get a good vibe from him," Bruce shrugged and turned. In the weak light, Steve could see the familiar black dots on his skin, the most prominent ones half-hidden by his hair at the base of his skull.
Clint lowered his gun and scowled at him, then shrugged. "Whatever. If you try to murder us in our sleep, I'll have Natasha here give you the most memorable goodbye of your life – or what's left of it, at that point."
Steve nodded. "Fair enough."
They all returned to the ship, and Steve looked around. Memories flooded his mind, but he locked them away, taking a good look at his new friends instead. All of them carried the familiar marks of the pods on them. "You're all Redpills," he noted as they moved around, gathering items and checking on the ship's systems. A burnt smell hung in the air, and there might have been fires burning still, further inside the vessel.
"What do you know about that?" Clint asked as he tugged a panel off the wall and peered inside at the wires and flashing lights.
"I know what the Matrix is, although I've never been there, obviously," Steve noted. He looked up as Bruce came by, dragging along a dead body; one of their crewmembers, no doubt. He moved to give him a hand.
"You make it sound like you'd like to visit the Matrix," Bruce noted as they set the body down in a separate room. "You're also not squeamish about a dead body," he added, as if that was more important.
"I've… fought in a war. I've seen plenty of bodies," Steve admitted. "Eventually, you just stop paying attention to how they make you feel." He looked at the other man. "Yes, I'm curious about the Matrix. After all this time… I mean, it's like this place everyone else has been to, but not you, and you never get the inside jokes."
Bruce gave him a half-hearted smile. "You make it sound like a vacation."
"I've met people who wanted to go back," Steve noted as they moved back to the hallway and approached the mess. There were items all over the floor, just like elsewhere on the ship, from the crash landing. Bruce reached up to a cabinet and discovered a mug on a shelf, then placed it under a dispenser and squirted some rather disgusting looking pale substance in it. He found a spoon on the floor and offered both to Steve, who took them without hesitation. He recalled what the food on board the hovercrafts had been like when he was last living in Zion, and he was too hungry to care about its appalling appearance.
"It would seem you've done a lot of things," Bruce mused.
Steve gave him a nod and continued to shovel in the food. With no next meal in sight, his starving body embraced every drop; half the time he was amazed he hadn't simply fallen into a coma in between intakes of sustenance, but the super-soldier serum kept him going even though it didn't remove the bottomless pit of hunger.
"Would you like to come back to Zion with us?" the other man asked at length, after Steve had polished off the mug. Bruce reached out his hand and Steve handed the mug over with some regret – only to have it returned to him full of the same gelatinous substance.
He gave Bruce a smile and dug in. "Maybe," he said between spoonfuls. "It's been a while since I saw another person. Guess I'm a little starved for both food and company."
"You know it's really suspicious that you're out here on your own," Bruce pointed out.
"You don't know why I'm here," Steve noted, then met the serious eyes and guessed he might as well ask: "Have they discovered the One yet?"
Bruce blinked, and for a moment Steve guessed they hadn't. He had lost count of the days and years, and the last time he had visited Zion, there had only been prophesies of the coming of the One.
"You mean Neo?" Bruce replied suddenly, startling Steve out of his musings. "That was… a long time ago. You know there's a truce, right? Between humans and Machines?"
Steve would have dropped the mug, but his body craved the food so much he didn't think he could let go of the half-full dish even if he wanted to. "A truce?"
Bruce nodded. "Neo went to Machine City, when the Machines attacked Zion. He brokered for a truce. There's been peace ever since."
"You mean Zion wasn't destroyed?"
Bruce's frown returned. "Well, I know a lot of people thought that would happen, but… no. I'm not saying there's absolute peace, but we don't bother them, and they don't bother us, and whoever wants to leave the Matrix is allowed to do so."
Steve's head reeled. The circle had been broken. This… Neo… had done what the others could not: instead of leading Zion to destruction despite the promises and prophesies, he had managed to save Zion.
"Yes," Steve finally managed. "I would like to come to Zion with you." Perhaps after all this time, he could find a little peace of his own.
Steve finished his dinner, and Bruce filled his mug for a third time, then led them out of the mess. Clint and Natasha had taken apart half the cockpit, it seemed. The pads were all turned off, leaving the tunnel in full darkness, while inside the lights were on low.
"I think we managed to construct a beacon to send a message back to Zion," Clint announced. "We'll give it time to work, and then hike back if it doesn't."
"Sounds like a plan," Bruce admitted.
Natasha looked at the two of them and stared at Steve eating his third portion. "I've never seen anyone enjoy that sludge as much as you are."
"Try going without food for a few months," Steve countered; he was in too good of a mood to censor himself.
All three gave him weird looks, then unanimously seemed to decide he was joking. Bruce tugged on Steve's sleeve. "Unless you can help them, let's go pack up my lab."
"Your lab?"
"Yeah," Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. "I was a scientist in the Matrix and I guess that carried over." They entered a room situated behind and to the left of the cockpit, which looked just as messy as everywhere else, but at least there were no bodies or signs of explosions. There were, however, gadgets and tools that took Steve's mind back to Tony Stark's lab for a moment, and he just stared. "It's the best collection of tools I've been able to collect, and I won't be leaving all of it behind if we have to go on foot," Bruce said resolutely. He sat at a computer terminal and switched on the screen, then started tapping commands.
"What's your field?" Steve asked, proud of himself that he selected such an appropriate word after all these years.
"In the Matrix, radiation. Here… well, I've done this and that. I especially like to study the connection between the human body and the Matrix – you know, after you've been redpilled," he replied. "You can't just hook up your body to a machine and think that your mind is the only thing that is affected. Just like if you die out there, you die here, and… you probably don't want to hear about that," he added, looking at Steve. "I know most natural-born aren't into it, although they work with Redpills all the time. They like knowing how to make things click, but that's it."
Steve slid a hand over one of the tables. "Theoretically speaking, could you install a headjack into a person who doesn't have one?"
"Theoretically… Well, the Machines did that, so, yes," Bruce replied.
"So, then… you could maybe give me one?" Steve went on.
Bruce turned his chair around to look at him and Steve met his eyes. "Was that really a rhetorical question?"
"I've always wanted to see it. The Matrix." Steve wished to live in a world he had been forced to leave behind, instead of the barren wasteland and the dark skies.
"It's not worth it," Bruce noted.
"We could have a debate over that. You've been there. You've… had that life."
"And I'm glad I'm away from that life. It's a lie, Steve."
"I like to think of it as a memory," he shrugged. "It's…"
"Complicated?" Bruce frowned. "Is that why you're staying away from Zion? Said the wrong things to the wrong people?"
"No," Steve shook his head. "You're the first person I've ever posed that question to – because you're the only person who's clearly spent time studying the subject." He nodded at all the drawings and schematics on the walls, detailing the headjack and its connection to the human brain.
"The Matrix… Even if it were possible, physically, no one could survive the procedure. I'm pretty sure even the Machines have to build them into the fetuses…"
"They experimented, in the beginning," Steve corrected him. "On humans of all ages, from babies to adults; tweaked and tried to find the perfect balance as they mapped the humans' response to stimuli. That was before the pods, and the fields."
"You know you sound insane, right?"
"But you sound like you want to believe me." Steve met his eyes. "I met you, for the first time, less than an hour ago. You're already having an internal debate over whether you'll be able to convince me to lie down on a table and go through with it."
"No," Bruce shook his head and jerked back against the table behind him, but he didn't spring up from his chair and escape the room.
"Yes," Steve insisted. "And I will, if you know what you're doing." He looked at the drawings on the walls again. "I want to see it. I want to live the lie, even for a moment, to survive another couple centuries here. I… want to pretend the life I remember is still there, for a few seconds."
"The life you remember…"
"I was born on the fourth of July, 1918, in Brooklyn, New York. I fought in World War II – which I'm not sure the Matrix told you about – and then spent almost seventy years asleep in the ice before I was rediscovered. I saw the creation of the Artificial Intelligence that later took over the world and made humanity into its own personal fuel cell. I've seen… I've been to Zion, lived in Zion, for longer than you've been alive."
The other man stared at him in absolute silence. Steve didn't interrupt whatever thought process was taking place in Bruce's brain. "You know that's… impossible, right?" the scientist finally spoke up, sounding a little choked.
"I've never met a person who knows what year it actually is," Steve countered. "Not that I know, either. The days sort of blur into months, and months into years, when you have no calendar to hold onto, or a sun to look at." He glanced towards the ceiling. "I miss the sun. I wonder if the one in the Matrix is similar to the real thing. The people who have described it never understood what I was really looking for when I asked them about the Matrix."
Bruce blinked and leaned forward in his chair, elbows propped on his knees and fingers curling together under his chin. "I've seen some messed up people who didn't exit properly. Brain damage. False memories. Sometimes the Matrix glitched, and… None of them sound like you. I mean, they believe it, but you… are different."
"I would ask if you believe in superheroes, but I already know the Matrix was pretty strict about that part of the history."
"Superheroes?"
"Yeah. People with… special abilities."
"Like the One?"
"A bit. Just, different, depending on the person. Not that there were many of us," he noted.
"Us?" Bruce repeated. "You think you're a superhero?"
"Do I look like someone who hasn't been eating properly for decades?" Steve pointed at his body. Sure, he wasn't in peak condition, but none of the people on this ship were a match to his physique.
"I'm starting to think you're a talented liar," Bruce countered and leaned back in his chair, giving him a speculative look.
"Or a madman," Steve offered. "After all, I have blind faith that my story is a true one. Those are the ones you should be really worried about."
"But they don't usually realize their condition, since their version of the truth is the one they live in," Bruce met his challenge.
"Thus, I must be the real deal," Steve noted dryly. "Not that I think you'll believe me, but…"
"It doesn't matter whether I believe you or not," Bruce countered. "How about this: if we get back to Zion and you come with us – instead of slaughtering us all before the rescue gets here – we'll see about that very controversial operation to give you a data port. Which will probably kill you, but since you're already insane, I'm not sure if letting you live this horrible fantasy is more merciful than ending it."
"Deal," Steve smiled tightly, and they shook on it. And Bruce was right: Steve had seen enough. If the experiment failed, he could finally enjoy the dreamless sleep of death. If it was a success… he would get to glimpse the world the Machine had built, and if it resembled anything like his past, Steve would be happy to stay there for a while. | {
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Newspapers are good at throwing share buttons and sidebars and embedded widgets and image carousels and lists of related items into their story pages online. News design isn't pretty, and the consumption experience online is often distracting and disjointed if you're not using an RSS reader.
Now there's a new tool that wants to fix that by "de-templatizing" news design. It's called Scroll, and its brought to us by familiar faces Kate Ray and Cody Brown, who also created Nerd Collider and Kommons.
In print, designers have more than a century's worth of experience building visual structures to please the eye. Different stories get different placement on the page, different headline treatments, different kinds of accompanying art — even within the daily grind of newspaper production, there's room to spend a little time matching a reading experience with a visual one.
As you can see in the video above, the site will let people layout pages without needing to know code or CSS. It's more flexible than a WYSIWYG editor and has the potential to really change the way we think about news design. Scroll is currently in invite-only mode. We'll bring you a full review and features list after we get an invite. Request an invite here. | {
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I took a few more photos of my space, to give you a better look at how I have it currently organized. Maybe you'll find some ideas for yours or just enjoy the peek.
I don't have a very big stash - what you can see here and another pile on the next shelf up. For now I usually use fabric as I buy it; stuff on my shelf I fell in love with in a quilt store or was given as gifts. I'm slowly working at using this up!
Beside the book case is my sewing table. It's a wide shelf on legs we bought in a hardware store. Originally we made this table when we had a booth at a farmer's market selling fair trade coffee.
Under the printer end of the table (with a Selvage Joy Pillow cover on it) is a sewing storage box that my mom gave me. I'm pretty sure it's from someone in the family. I put the cover on it so my cat can sit there!
You can see my design wall which is a large flannel sheet, my sewing machine, and the stool I currently sit on when I sew.
In the corner is my plastic tub that holds fabric for special projects.
To the right of my sewing machine is all the little stuff that needs to stay close - my pincushion, my hello kitty notepad, Aurifil thread, bobbins in a mint tin, my monchichi and the corner basket that holds my camera, measuring tape and safety pins. And my bird scissors on a lime green lanyard!
My ironing board wall is viewable from the opposite end of the room which is our family TV room. I tried to make this wall more "pretty" and not all function!
You can see my orange desk (with my colour printer on its bottom shelf). This wall has one of my free outlets so my iron, printer and computer all take turns plugging in!
The far wall has a cabinet where I display more quilts. My orange desk rolls out of the way when I want to get into the far door beneath where all my quilt magazines are stored. The basket bin on top of my filing cabinet holds all the cords I need for charging all my devices.
The near door holds my selvages in shoeboxes, ribbons and books. I keep my handstitching supplies in here as well.
My new storage unit is great! I can't believe I had enough different little things to put in the drawers - a drawer of sticky notepads, really!
This is the top of my new storage unit - again trying to have some pretty, inspiring things on display.
This is my final storage cabinet. It has doors so that lets me keep it a little bit messy - and hide projects and presents inside! The bottom shelf has my quilt tops - the bin is my daughter's stash. The second from bottom shelf has my UFOs in plastic bags and a fabric bin that has project leftovers that I've kept.
These leftovers were used when I made my Soul Art day quilt.
In the middle of my space is my most special piece - my cutting table that my husband made me in woodworking college. It's beautiful, inspiring and functional!
My hello kitty soft sided toy box holds more quilt projects - my Halloween 1904 blocks are in here - as well as my batting.
I love how the divider fits and helps me keep it organized. My ruler and sewing pencil I use to draw lines on my half square triangle units gets stored in here too.
It is amazing how much stuff we quilters need, isn`t it!!
great space and you have it so well organized. That cutting table makes me a bit green with envy, it is so nice. Lucky you. | {
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Author Chat with Kaitlyn Narvaza
Interview Contributed by Angela Blount
Greetings, YABC! Today we are pleased to welcome webcomic author and artist, Kaitlyn Narvaza (a.k.a. Intantmiso). Her debut YA graphic novel, Where Tangents Meet, has been viewed over 9 million times since it released in April of 2015. Kaitlyn's latest project, Siren's Lament, is a YA urban fantasy romance with a distinct manga feel. The comic is delivered in a continuous scrolling format, and each installment comes complete with an original piano-based soundtrack. Kaitlyn was kind enough to answer a few questions about her FREE online comic.
Link to Siren's Lament: http://www.webtoons.com/en/romance/sirens-lament/list?title_no=632
Angela Blount: What gave you the idea for Siren's Lament?
Kaitlyn Narvaza: When making new ideas for a story, I usually start by thinking of things that I really enjoy and love. I've always lived close to the ocean, so I thought it would be fun to make a story with a similar setting that reminded me of home. My sisters and I have also always been fascinated by fairy tales and the classic story of "The Little Mermaid," so I was inspired to write a fantasy with a twist.
AB: Your first graphic novel, Where Tangents Meet, finished out at 40 chapters. Do you currently have any projections for how many comic episodes it will take to bring Siren's Lament to completion?
KN: I'm definitely aiming to make Siren's Lament much longer than my previous comic. Since I'm building my own fantasy setting in this story, I feel like this series will be much more flexible to work with. I'm very excited to test my limits with Siren's Lament and see how much of this fantasy world I can bring to life.
AB: How many hours would you estimate it takes you to storyboard and complete the artwork for each individual episode/chapter?
KN: I haven't quite timed myself since I am also a full time student, so I'm constantly shifting back and forth working on the comic and schoolwork. However, I would say that one episode takes roughly three to four days to produce. If I had to make an estimate, I'd say that I spend about 48 hours or more on an episode in a full week.
AB: What would you say have been your strongest influences; both in a graphic art and literary sense?
KN: My strongest influences in graphic art have always been Eastern-styled comics (Japanese manga) and Disney animations. I was fortunate enough to have grown up being exposed to both equally, so I really feel that they are two of my greatest inspirations. My literary influence comes from the genres of books that I enjoy. I grew up reading lots of fantasy series, including Harry Potter and the Chronicles of Narnia. In more recent years, I've found myself inspired by young adult romance books. For instance, I've really enjoyed reading some of John Green's works.
AB: Siren's Lament features beautiful and mood-setting background music by @KennyComics. How is it you came to be connected with him and his work?
KN: Along with being a music composer, Kenny is also a fellow comic creator. We actually started collaborating in my first series, Where Tangents Meet, when he let me listen to some of the songs he composed. He surprised me one day by presenting me with a song for a specific episode of WTM and I was absolutely thrilled! We continued to work together since then and even into the next series, Siren's Lament. I feel that I enjoy drawing just as much as he genuinely enjoys composing music, so the harmony of both of our works really fit.
AB: It is incredibly generous of you to offer your work up for free to readers through LINE Webtoon. Do you have any plans for making your comic available in hardcopy format at any point in the future?
KN: Rather than "generous," I would consider myself very "fortunate" to have the opportunity to share my works to anyone and everyone for free! Growing up as a comic-loving kid, I remember being limited to hardcopy comics since digital comics weren't a thing back then. I think it would be a cool bonus to make hardcopies of Siren's Lament, but as of right now, I'm content with publishing the series digitally.
AB: What can readers—who also happen to become fans—possibly do to help support you and your unique mode of storytelling?
KN: Readers and fans can provide support by simply reading Siren's Lament on the LINE Webtoon site! Liking, subscribing, commenting, and sharing the comic on social media also helps support all LINE Webtoon creators.
Kaitlyn's newly debuted series, Siren's Lament follows Lyra, a young florist who, following heartbreak, meets a mythical sea creature known as a siren who offers to take all her troubles away by transforming her into a siren. She accepts, but something goes wrong and they are instead transformed into creatures neither fully human nor siren who can live on both land and sea. Working together, they must each adapt to their new lives as both a human and a siren, while also trying to undo the dark forces behind the curse.
Kaitlyn Narvaza was born in San Diego, California. She started her personal hobby of comic making at the age of 4, but never aspired to be anything more than a hobbyist. Seventeen years later, while studying at San Diego State University, she started her first published work Where Tangents Meet. Where Tangents Meet has been read over 9 million times. The creation of the digital comic rekindled her passions and inspired her to pursue comic making. She is currently attending school while simultaneously creating Siren's Lament with the goal of following her dreams and creating more stories to share.
Angela N. Blount is a Minnesota native, transplanted to the deep South–where she currently resides with her understanding husband, their two children, and a set of identity-confused cats. She is a staff book reviewer for Young Adult Books Central, an underwriter for LitPick, a memoirist, sporadic poet, and webcomic artist. In her spare time, Angela enjoys painting, reading, coffee shop loitering, questionable attempts at horticulture, and all things geeky.
THE JUNGLE BOOK - Review
Author Chat with Jesse Jordan | {
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In 1995, Jared and Betsy Saul were frustrated by what they saw as a failure to exploit the Internet's potential, and they made a New Year's resolution to implement a project for some social good. Betsy's previous volunteer work with a local rescue made her aware of the plight of unwanted animals, so that's where the Sauls devoted their energy. They decided to create a Web site where shelters could list their animals for prospective adopters and increase the number of people that were able to see them. The Sauls approached shelters in their home state of New Jersey, but most were initially skeptical, concerned about exposing their animals to danger, and unsure if it would work.
They continued to contact shelters as part of a grassroots effort, and eventually some of them signed on. Jared built the Web site while he was in medical school. Since most shelters still didn't have computers, they faxed their lists to the Sauls' neighbor, who slid the lists under the door. After coming home from her job as a ground water hydrologist, Betsy uploaded the animal's descriptions to the site.
From the beginning, the Sauls paid close attention to their constituents. They knew that they needed a fast, simple user-friendly site, because their members were chronically overworked and often not very familiar with new technology.
When the idea spread and a few sponsors signed on, Betsy Saul quit her day job to devote herself to Petfinder full-time. In 1998, the site went national, and in 2000, it became an international group with the addition of Canada.
The business model of Petfinder has been similar to that of a nonprofit agency, but Petfinder is not a nonprofit group. The founders say they made this decision because they wanted the ability to seek corporate sponsorship, rather than compete with their constituents for nonprofit dollars. In 2003, Petfinder established the Petfinder.com Foundation, a public charity designed initially to assist with natural disasters. In late 2006, Discovery Communications acquired Petfinder.
Next, we'll take a look at the facts and figures behind Petfinder -- just how many servers does it take to find homes for so many animals?
The Petfinder.com Foundation gives grants to assist rescue groups afflicted by natural disasters. In the aftermath of Hurricane , Petfinder staff mobilized to help both affected members and private citizens who had to abandon their pets. Working around the clock, Petfinder programmers created a database of animals as they recovered them, allowing displaced owners to locate their pets. Petfinder estimates that this effort reunited about 3,000 animals with their owners. The Petfinder.com Foundation also offered financial assistance to rescue groups that took in and treated pets made homeless by the disaster. | {
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If you have a hole in your motorcycle or car gas tank, you don't have to necessarily replace it. Here, I discuss some ways in which you can undertake their repair.
Having a hole in your car or motorcycle gas tank can be a serious problem and a potentially dangerous situation to have. It is absolutely essential that you go for repair, as soon as possible, to avoid fire hazards and prevent fuel loss. You do not have to go for a replacement, if the damage is in small proportions. The repair can be done using epoxy sealing chemicals. Many people carry out such repair jobs on their own, using kits. It cuts down the cost and is quite an easy fix.
How to Repair a Gas Tank?
It is difficult for a leaking gas tank to go unnoticed. Not only can it cause a loss of fuel but it is also a potential fire hazard in the making. As soon as you notice or suspect a tank leak, it is essential that you go for a repair, as soon as possible. Here is how you can fix small holes in these tanks.
First part of repair is removing the gas tank and draining all the gasoline fuel out of it. To get the tank thoroughly cleaned of any remaining fuel, add a pint of acetone or lacquer thinner. Then, you must rotate the tank to make sure that all of its inside parts are cleaned with acetone. Once you have thoroughly rinsed the tank, you can dispose the fluid inside and let the tank dry for a while. Locate holes in the tank and mark them clearly.
Next part is sealing the holes using epoxy sealers from inside. Before doing that, you should apply masking tape over the small holes so that the sealer poured inside, does not leak out. It is essential that the tank outlets are also sealed with putty. Mix two parts of the epoxy sealer in a plastic container for some minutes and then pour it inside the tank.
The filler hole of the gas tank should be sealed using rubber band and plastic wrap, after pouring the epoxy sealer in. Then, the tank should again be subjected to rotation so that the epoxy sealer coats itself evenly on the inside surface of the tanks, which will seal the holes. After rotating it for some time, remove the plug on the filler outlet and let the remaining amount of epoxy sealer drain out. Scrape out any extra deposits. Then, leave the tank to dry and give time for the sealer to harden. Once the tank is dry, test for leaks; after which your job is done. You can install the tank back again in place.
It is important that holes in a motorcycle tank be repaired as soon as possible. Make sure that you have the complete epoxy sealer based kit for fixing tank leaks in motorcycles.
The procedure is similar to car gas tank repair. Remove the tank from the bike and pour out any of the fuel left inside. Rinse the tank thoroughly and let it dry. Then, using a duct tape and putty, cover the holes from outside. Pour in the mixed epoxy sealer, after mixing its two parts together. Seal filler holes and rotate the tank. Let the sealer cover the insides thoroughly. Then, pour out the remaining sealer and leave the tank to be cured. That finishes the job of sealing holes in motorcycle tanks.
First thing to do is remove the tank and completely empty the fuel inside it. Rinse it and let is dry for some time. Locate the holes in the tank and roughen the area around them with sandpaper. This will help the epoxy sealer to stick in place and plug the holes effectively.
Mix the two different chemicals of the epoxy sealer for some time and then apply them on the holes formed in the tank. In case, the holes formed in the tank are too big, plug the fiberglass mesh, supplied with the kit in the hole before applying the epoxy sealer. Ensure that the epoxy coating is smooth and leave it to be dried and hardened for some time. With that, your job is done. Just check for any leaks before you install the tank back again.
These kinds of fixes work best for small holes in gas tanks. In case the tank damage is too high and there are dents, then it is best to get the tank replaced or repaired from a body shop. | {
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"Little Wallis" in the russian tundra.
b) the approaching helicopter for the pickup….
But on August 2018, 1st this was the sign for Benjamin, Joel, Kevin, Robin and Sascha (5 highly motivated swiss tundra-greenhorns) and me, their groupleader Christoph to celebrate the national celebration day of swiss confederation at 1291 in front of our tent camp at Oset Kharlovka, where we spent a whole week without midweek change because of the low water conditions of the Litza.
Group A (left to right: Joel, Robin, Benjamin, Christoph, Sascha, Kevin) with Wallis flag.
Benjamin with Browntrout (BT) 3kg.
Noteworthy the extreme weather conditions weren`t able to discourage our avid group despite lacking any hatches or constantly rising trouts and despite the irregular fishing conditions (p.e. more or less no active fish in the famous pool-tails at Oset, water temperature up to 23 °C).
Probably the early run of salmons changed the game too. It took us steady efforts to locate the trout in the pockets of rapid water between the big pools, where the salmon were rolling at the surface. Only at Dream Kharlovka, whose famous big fish hotspots we visited every second day of the week to spread out the fishing pressure, the well shaped browntrout-beauties were aligned along the V`s and pool tails in a classical manner. Fish rose to the allpurpose-weapon Chernobyl Ant but also to natural caddis imitations (cdc-caddis) and patterns like Dyret or Superpuppan in the surface film.
Robin with Browntrout (BT) 2,7 kg.
Dead drift seemed to be more seducing than the stimulation by movement of the fly. Most of our 55 trouts above 1 kg were caught by dryfly but the experienced guys tried alternative methods (streamer, nymphing) with satisfying success. Finally the biggest fish had 3 kg (2x) and additionally many between 2 and 3 kg. Browntrout-PB achieved three of the group.
Sascha with Browntrout (BT) 2,7 kg, PB.
Kevin with Browntrout (BT) 2,3 kg.
Joel with Browntrout (BT) 2,2 kg, PB.
Christoph with Browntrout (BT) 3 kg.
The Chernobyl Ant was attacked by starved pike as well as by aggressive salmons. Therefore it was small wonder that all of us had contact with big fish. The unequal battle usually was finished by smashed tippet, straightened hook-bends or simply because of the inability to land the king of salmonids with the undersized net. But already in the first day`s evening session Benjamin defeated a 7kg salmon in the first big pool upstream homepool Oset (between the two rocks ). It was an epic fight with his troutfishing setup (0,22 tippet) but finally happy end and a liberating scream of triumph broke through the tundra silence.
Benjamin with Salmon (7,5kg and 90 cm).
A feeling of a "tundra cinema" presenting a flyfishing film festival was created when Joel got in fight with an even bigger fish at the same spot only 10 minutes later. In front of the whole group of enthusiastic fishermen he landed and released a male salmon of 9,5kg (8 weight rod and 0,30 tippet), which obviously had been in the freshwater already a longer period of time.
Joel with Salmon (9,5kg and 102 cm).
The intense sessions of fishing only were disrupted by the delicious tundra meals (I think Igor never got back a pot without being wiped out completely to get even the tiniest splash of sauce), short breaks for sleeping until the tent was broodingly hot and the tremendous marches through the endless seeming tundra. With withered throat and the tongue sticking to the palate it was an explosion of aroma to taste the numerous northberries (Rubus chamaemorus) and blueberries which where glittering in the sunlight like little jewels along our hiking trail.
Despite the demanding circumstances we all have been happy to live the tundra dream. Once more the perfect service of the hosting ASR team was amazing (p.e.midweek helicopter flight to restore the water supply). Last but not least this report would be incomplete without our honest thanks to pukka destinations / Carsten Dogs. His perfect background organization and his authentic advices concerning each detail of his trip portfolio framed the great overall-experience.
Now the ambassadors of Wallis are returning to their crystal clear alpine creeks and deep mountain lakes infected with the addiction to the tundra feeling. Kola`s treasures will always stay in their minds. Hope to see you again guys! | {
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An F-35B begins a short takeoff from the deck of the USS Wasp on Aug. 16, 2013.
ARLINGTON, Virginia — On Monday, the F-35 Joint Program Office released the finalized price for the most recent production contract for America's fifth generation stealth fighter.
After a little more than 14 months of negotiations between the Department of Defense and Lockheed Martin, the ninth Low Rate Initial Production (LRIP-9) contract for 57 F-35 jets was valued at $6.1 billion.
The LRIP-9, which is essentially the ninth batch of jets, includes 34 jets for the US and 23 for five international countries.
All three F-35 variants at Edwards Air Force Base.
By comparison, in the previous contract, LRIP-8, the government paid $108 million for the Air Force's F-35A, $134 million for the Marine Corps' F-35B, and $129 million for the Navy's F-35C.
While the price for the Air Force and Marine Corps' variants saw a reduction of $5.9 million and $2.4 million respectively, the Navy model saw an increase of $3.2 million.
"Why did that happen?" asked Lt. Gen. Chris Bogdan, head of the F-35 Joint Program Office, during a briefing with reporters. "That happened because in lot nine the Navy bought two C models and in lot 8 the Navy bought four models."
Meanwhile, the 57 aircraft in LRIP-9 are in various stages of production at Lockheed Martin's facility in Fort Worth, Texas. Deliveries for these aircraft are slated to begin in the first quarter of 2017. | {
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Charlie and the Rays
Seattle-based FOLK-RHYTHM AND BLUES
Charlie and the Rays's tracks
Away for the Weekend by Charlie and the Rays
Babe, It's Time To Go by Charlie and the Rays
Tell Me When by Charlie and the Rays
Little Kitty by Charlie and the Rays
Blossom Child by Charlie and the Rays
Ain't No Way To Know by Charlie and the Rays
Words by Charlie and the Rays
I've Got A Feeling by Charlie and the Rays
Charlie and the Rays's likes
Charlie and the Rays's playlists
Charlie and the Rays's tracks
Charlie and the Rays's comments | {
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Yugioh episode the darkness returns
Yugioh episode the darkness returns. List of Yu 2019-04-02
Tuesday, April 02, 2019 6:02:11 PM Harold
Is Yu
The defeat returns Aigami to normal and destroys the Millennium Ring. They meet with him and make an agreement to combine their powers to fight. This movie follows the plot line developed in 3 of the franchise's anime series , ,. Yugi and Kaiba duel, with Yugi completing the Millennium Puzzle midway through after Kabia refuses to believe Atem's soul is no longer in the Puzzle. The Passionate Battle of Friendship. In the Japanese Dub, the movie takes place 6 months after the conclusion of the manga. With a few simple steps you can be watching Yu-Gi-Oh! August 25, 2004 2004-08-25 May 6, 2006 The Final Duel No.
The movie is about a boy named Shougo Aoyama, who is too timid to duel, even after he got a powerful rare card in his deck, the legendary Red-Eyes Black Dragon. He also possesses the Pyramid of Light, a corrupted version of the Millennium Puzzle, which also has a card version. This movie follows the plot line developed in the first three seasons of the second anime series. . Paradox plans to erase the creation of Duel Monsters by disposing of Maximillion Pegasus in the past. The evil sorcerer possesses the cards Andro Sphinx and Sphinx Teleia, which can be merged into Theinen the Great Sphinx. His plans to obtain his revenge by using Kaiba to defeat Yami Yugi, in order to completely revive as the King of Destruction and annihilate mankind.
The franchise has since has spawned five spin-off series , , , , and , as well as four animated films , , , and. Later, Kaiba uses the Quantum Cube to duel Pharaoh Atem in the afterlife. Their duel is interrupted by Aigami who has been engulfed by the Millennium Ring's evil, as it was unearthed along with the Puzzle. What you need is a system that lets you change your Netflix country. This movie follows the plot line developed in the first anime series.
Finally, was a twelve-episode, anime-exclusive miniseries commissioned by for broadcast in the , where it aired from September 9 to November 25, 2006. Yugi tries to bring Shougo's courage out in a duel with Seto Kaiba, who has his eyes on Shougo's rare card. Kaiba reclaims one, but he must get the other by defeating Yugi. In pursuit of Paradox, Yusei and Jaden travel to the times of the legendary duelist, Yugi Muto. We'll keep checking Netflix South Africa for Yu-Gi-Oh! The original was produced by and was broadcast in from April 4 to October 10, 1998, running for 27 episodes.
Yusei goes through a time slip and reaches Jaden Yuki, one capable of using the power of Card Spirits. What's New on Netflix South Africa Copyright © 2018 WhatsNewOnNetflix. Season 1 Theme 1 - 55, 122 - 224 Yu-Gi-Oh! Aigami shows up with the Quantum Cube and steals two of the pieces. Yugi and Kaiba team up to defeat him, with Pharaoh Atem's spirit eventually showing up to win the duel. Kaiba, obsessed with defeating Pharaoh Atem in a rematch, gathers the pieces of the Millennium Puzzle, planning to reassemble it. In the movie, a new threat arises when the Millennium Items are unearthed. With a few simple steps you can change your Netflix region to a country like Germany and start watching German Netflix, which includes Yu-Gi-Oh! We are simply giving you the best information on what is new on Netflix around the world! August 27, 2002 2002-08-27 April 17, 2004 Enter the Shadow Realm No.
We are not associated with Netflix, nor do we pretend to be. Get in touch: Everything in this website is unofficial and may be horrifically wrong. To stop Paradox's plans and retrieve Stardust Dragon, Yugi, Jaden, and Yusei's grand duel with Paradox unfolds. The theme is composed by Wayne Sharpe and John Siegler. . | {
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plan preserves kensington's assets while fixing its problems
10400 Connecticut Avenue, one of several unloved buildings in Kensington's town center. Photo by Jomo on Flickr.
For the past year, Kensington Town Councilmember Lydia Sullivan has been making fun of snobby suburbanites with Snoburbia, a T-shirt company and blog. But she's not laughing at plans to allow redevelopment along a stretch of Connecticut Avenue that's seen better days.
Sullivan and some of her neighbors have written up a website, called KensingtonDevelopment.info, to oppose the Kensington Sector Plan, which is currently working its way through the Montgomery County Planning Department for a second time. Planners and town officials say it'll bring much-needed amenities to the area while making it more attractive, but Sullivan's concerned it'll allow too many apartments, ruining Kensington's "sense of place."
"We are just battling for the soul of a place that *already* is different from the surrounding area," she writes in one of many e-mails we exchanged over the past month. "Seriously, how many more generic, developerville town centers do we need in Montgomery County?"
A local hardware store, located in a strip mall in Kensington. Photo by MoHotta18 on Flickr.
The Sector Plan seeks to give Kensington something Sullivan says it already has: small-town character. They propose adding trees and wider sidewalks to Connecticut Avenue in the hopes of slowing cars down; by creating new parks and plazas were people can gather, and by using the new CR or Commercial-Residential zone, which will allow a mix of housing, shops and offices.
Nonetheless, the plan's been very controversial, particularly its allowance of taller buildings up to 75 feet on Connecticut Avenue and 45 feet on adjacent blocks. KensingtonDevelopment is especially concerned with the number of apartments that could be built. "Montgomery County wants density and more moderate-income housing in downcounty areas like Kensington. (But is this good for people in and near Kensington?)" asks one page. "For the first time in many decades, developers could build apartment buildings in sought-after Kensington," says another. "The Plan could add between 501 – 1,410 multi-family units to a historic, single-family Town," reads the homepage.
To Sullivan, who's lived in Kensington for 18 years, the town is "Mayberry," she says, where its "tone of small-town friendliness" has been unchanged for over a century. In an e-mail, she told me a story about running errands with her 11-year-old son one Saturday morning. "I was out maybe an hour – and saw 10 people I knew – because that is what it is like to live here," she writes, adding that she doesn't "expect me to understand."
View Larger MapThe intersection of Connecticut Avenue and University Boulevard in Kensington.
Actually visiting Kensington, meanwhile, tells a different story. The century-old railroad town, laid out by Brainard Warner in the 1890's and named for a fashionable district in London, has become one of the most sought-after suburbs in Greater Washington. Yet in the 1950's, two state highways, Connecticut Avenue and University Boulevard, were rammed through the town, bringing with them a mess of strip malls and office buildings that's started to look quite shabby. Though both roads see thousands of people each day, they're a distraction from the gorgeous, intact Victorian homes that sit just a block away.
You can see it in the pictures people take of Kensington: search for "kensington md" on Flickr and you'll find pictures of the Mormon Temple, not of the town's adorable Antique Row. The Planning Department held a a photo contest for Kensington residents to find what they liked about their community, and almost all of them are of kids or flowers.
Mayor Pete Fosselman, who supports the Sector Plan, is eager to see the Connecticut Avenue corridor fixed up. "With our six gas stations and now a pawn shop, zero night life, lack of pedestrian connections, automobile dependent state, deficient open space, and no architectural oversight, Kensington is due for a makeover," he writes in an e-mail to JUTP. Fosselman has the support of other councilmembers, local businesses, and town residents, who say Sullivan's part of a "vocal minority".
Recently, Sullivan's taken the fight to Snoburbia's blog, where she wrote about how places develop character:
Think about some of the places that are revered, that have been for many years. Think: Georgetown, Rhinebeck, Telluride, Santa Barbara, Athens, Burlington and many others like them. They don't need "mixed use town centers" or manufactured "green space" and "pocket parks." We don't know why, but we feel at home in these places. We walk on uneven sidewalks. We walk by imperfect windows filled with objects arranged (without a chart!) by local owners who know their customers. The downtowns were built slowly, over time, by locals.
That's not the whole story, however. Places like Georgetown were built over time, but they're also very dense, urban places. Georgetown has a street grid. It's easy and pleasant to walk there. There are shops and offices, apartments and mansions, 19th-century factories and 21st-century embassies, all mixed together. You can live there if you're a student or a Kennedy. This community formed because people live close together. But the urban form also allowed Georgetown to weather two hundred years of social and economic changes.
Georgetown isn't just the way it is because it was built over time. It's a dense, urban, walkable place as well.
Kensington's had over a hundred years to age, but it lacks the urban form, the density, or the diversity of a Georgetown. Sullivan doesn't like "generic developervilles" like Downtown Silver Spring or Bethesda Row, but they're a lot closer to Georgetown than Kensington is. Beyond the chain stores and new buildings are all of the things that Georgetown teaches us about how to make a unique, pleasant place. They put lots of people and activity in a small area. They mix different classes and incomes as much as possible. And they, too, have grown over time. Silver Spring has been an urban center for nearly a century, and tall buildings have been sprouting up since the 1960's.
Allowing development in Kensington won't automatically turn the town into a lifestyle center. But restricting development will keep out the people and activities that could make Kensington an even more unique and interesting place. Even if everything that gets built in Kensington under the Sector Plan isn't affordably priced (and not all of it will be), adding supply will still make it cheaper than it is now to live or work there. Creating a plan for Kensington won't automatically turn it into a lifestyle center. If anything, it lets people already living and working in the community invest there rather than being forced to go somewhere else.
Kensington today is a prohibitively expensive place to live. A search on real estate website HomesDatabase reveals three houses for sale in the town today, ranging in price from $489,000 to $959,000. KensingtonDevelopment points out that homes in the town sell for "an average of $150,000 to $200,000 more than equivalent houses" elsewhere, while a Post article on Snoburbia says Sullivan's own house is assessed at $675,000. She tells me the town already has "200+ moderately priced apartments" in a 1960's-era high-rise just across the town line called Kensington House. But rents there range from $1220 for a studio to $1725 for three bedrooms, placing them out of reach for many working-class people.
This is a "generic developerville"? Again: girl, please.
On Snoburbia, Sullivan frequently explores the issue of privilege in her life. She's mourned the departure of blue-collar families from her street and thoughtfully examined the separation between race and class in her kids' high school. In her latest blog post, she asks, "What happens to the small local pizza joint that has been here since 1967, where all the firefighters and police officers hang out? Will the Greek father and son owners be able to afford the rent in the shiny new building?"
These people are being pushed out of Kensington already by high housing prices due to a lack of supply there and throughout Montgomery County. Sullivan has an ideal of small-town life, but the version she wants is inherently exclusive.
Nonetheless, she's willing to admit that Kensington could use some sprucing up. "I want to see a cleaned up commercial area as much as anyone, and would welcome some apartments and new people. That's kind of exciting," Sullivan writes. Yet she also sees it as a zero-sum game, asking on Snoburbia, "Will my town's uniqueness, its sense of place, be lost?"
For Fosselman, the costs of not doing anything are much higher. "If we simply "spruce" up the Town and go for status quo, Kensington will continue to deteriorate as other communities around us rejuvenate," he writes.
A great place is always changing. If Lydia Sullivan really wants to preserve Kensington's "sense of place," she should let the town grow as it naturally would.
labels: planning and development, politics, wheaton-kensington
You said "Though both roads see thousands of people each day, they're a distraction from the gorgeous, intact Victorian homes that sit just a block away."
Therein lies the problem. How do you add all the proposed density and tall buildings without destroying those "gorgeous, intact Victorian homes" or at least destroying the environment around them?
Kensington remains a desirable area and isn't declining. The proposed plan is a solution in search of a problem.
Mortis Olaf said...
It's funny that after not checking on your blog for a long time (sorry), you'd have a post concerning my neck of the woods. I grew up right near Kensington, and aside from my college years, have lived here all my life. I don't plan on staying for much longer. Young people like me are more than welcoming to new development in Kensington. As far as I'm concerned, the areas going to waste, because it's nothing but antique shops. A few shops like this are fine, but a whole row of them (as well as Howard Street to the west of Connecticut, which could be mistaken for a hilly street in Detroit) is too much. Get rid of all the gas stations and redundant shopping, make the area more pleasant to walk in, don't overdo it with the green space, and don't do it all in a day.
Thayer-D said...
Who you calling a girl? To Robert's point, the Victorians in Kensington would be preserved like they are in Georgetown, it's Connecticut Avenue that needs some help. Mortis Olaf's got it right. And good job calling out the snob.
I live in Kensington (in a top-secret, very affordable apartment) and am all for this plan. It's so frustrating being surrounded by a cute town, but not having much here to actually DO.
Cyndy said...
I think that when a place has stayed the same to the extent that Kensington has for so many years, there might be a good reason for it. Many of the people that live there now seem to like it that way.
I lived in Kensington until I was almost eleven years old and I now drive through there several days a week on my way to the Beltway or the western part of DC.
I remember Kensington back when Connecticut Avenue ended at University Blvd. Where Connecticut Avenue now runs past my old elementary school there used to be woods that we would sneak down to during recess. My family shopped at the Kensington Safeway, the Kensington Pharmacy, and the general store which was so old that it had wooden floors. The building next door where we went to see the doctor is still there too, although I think it's an antique store now. My dad always went to Mizell Lumber or Hardware City.
For excitement we went to Wheaton, for ice cream, the Hot Shoppes, the movie theater, and of course Wheaton Plaza, which was an actual plaza before they enclosed it. It was a fun place to go shopping. So Wheaton was like the big exciting next town over from our little hometown.
I love the fact that almost everything in Kensington is still almost as it was - those two little shopping centers on Connecticut and University look pretty much the same as they did when I was growing up. Kind of junky, but that's how they've always looked.
Kensington still has that small town feel, and there are small town things to do there - they have a community theater, they hold dances in the armory (my husband played a gig there just this past weekend), and they even have parades and little festivals. I know that's not terribly exciting, but Bethesda and DTSS are not very far away for more "urban" style activities.
The roads have obviously gotten much bigger and busier than they were when I was a kid, and that situation is probably not going to change or improve with a new town center. It might get worse. If it brings in more residents, it seems likely that it will also bring in more traffic. It's a main route for people who need to drive to the Beltway and that's probably not going to change.
Although my opinion is obviously tainted by a huge amount of childhood sentiment, it seems to me that the types of improvements that they are proposing for Kensington would be much more useful in the areas surrounding the two nearby Metro stations - Wheaton and Glenmont.
It's likely that if the powers-that-be were able to figure out how to make Wheaton more attractive to the residents of nearby Kensington it might stand a chance of becoming as successful as downtown Silver Spring is now. Then the people who live in Kensington, specifically because they like the way it is, could keep their small town thing going and still have a convenient place nearby to go for restaurants and entertainment.
Isayaah Parker said...
I have to admit, the most exciting thing that has happened to Kensington in my young memory has been the recent Chipotle addition. Probably the most upsetting addition is the speed cameras, though I guess for the residents its a great thing that people slow down and don't hit their children. I digress.
Kensington is quaint and boring, but beautiful. I don't see why everyone in this day and age feels that every town has to be a "DESTINATION" Why can't Kensington just be a place where people rest their heads and clear their heads? Hello...Wheaton is only about 2 miles away. I say leave Kensington alone and let Wheaton and Silver Spring build a trillion apartment highrises and foreign themed restaurants.
Dan Reed said...
I think what's missing in this discussion is the difference between what's proposed in Kensington and what's being proposed/built in Silver Spring, Wheaton, or Bethesda.
The other three have tall buildings. In each of those places, there are blocks zoned for 200' tall buildings. In Kensington, the limit would be 75' - which actually isn't different from what's currently on the ground now.
Kensington wouldn't be the next Silver Spring. But it would have things that any neighborhood or town center should have - like walkable streets, public spaces, and a mix of different uses. Just because it's not at a Metro station doesn't mean you can't have those things. After all, people could still drive to Kensington and want to walk around when they get there. You can't really do that now.
If you really think that protesting against possibly doubling a town's population; putting in generic chain stores and restaurants with no character; and building upwards in a low-rise town of single-family homes means someone is a snob-- but I don't think you mean that. Are you really saying that fighting to keep a quiet small town quiet and small somehow puts Sullivan and her allies on the Dark Side?!
Developers are always keen to tout the benefits of development. Teenagers are always bored, whether they live in Kensington or London. Projects like the one you seem to be cheering on will make Kensington just another suburban suburb, instead of the genuine small town it is now. Down with the plan I say. By the way, the way such a major change to the town was to have been sneaked by the residents is really sleazy.
Let's make it clear: Kensington being a small town is perfectly fine and there's nothing wrong with that. But there is something wrong about having a nice, quaint, small town with a giant suburban collector road and strip malls running through the middle of it AND saying that "this is how things are supposed to be."
No one is saying that there's anything wrong with knowing the town butcher. But I do think it's faulty to keep conditions as they currently are, especially when people have identified things they'd like to change. Even Lydia Sullivan's said there are good things about the Sector Plan - even if she says they'll make Kensington "inauthentic," which isn't true.
Kensington is not a small town, it's right outside of The District of Columbia. Anyone who thinks otherwise is delusional. I don;t say that lightly, but it's not reality based to suggest that Kensington is anything other than a suburb of DC.
How many people of these people that live in "small-town Kensington" actually work in Kensington? If it's not a suburb -- which it is many times over -- people wouldn't be commuting to Bethesda, DC, Silver Spring, Arlington, Alexandria, etc, etc, etc to actually work.
Every area that close to DC needs to add some density and walkability. That's what younger generations want. It's also the only way to keep the DC region from sprawling endlessly into the horizon. It's also safer, cheaper and healthier.
And trust me, proposals like this will make Kensington a better place. There will be more places to work, live, shop and play. Home values will go way up. More public transportation will come to the area. If done correctly, car traffic should decrease, making the experience more pleasurable for everyone.
I've been to smalltown America, and trust me, it's not a few miles outside of a major city.
One last point: All areas are always in flux. Areas never stay the same. Kensington wasn't like this 20 years ago. It was different 50 years ago. It was different 100 years ago.
And it will be different 10 years from now.
Every town, city, suburb, wild place, etc is always in flux.
Will it really be so wise to keep Kensington so hopelessly car dependent when gas hits $5 a gallon? $10 a gallon? Of course by then most reasonable residents will just get up and leave for places that saw the trend lines years before.
Small town America these days means a stretch of fast food chains and a Wal-Mart.
The plan sounds solid. The historic properties will stay preserved since the development is all concentrated on the big roads. At least that's what I've gathered.
If the local businesses are smart, they'll compete with the endless drones of new chains as they have with the current CVS, Safeway w/ Starbucks, various gas stations, Dunkin' Donuts, Baskin Robbins, and the THREE 7-11's within a mile of each other.
Concentrating people won't create more car traffic since it's being concentrated with other uses, reducing the need for car trips. That's how towns and cities work. | {
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Learn all about Rh negative blood type and pregnancy right here. The information provided will be very helpful for Rh negative mothers who are carrying a Rh positive fetus. Read on to know more about the risk involved in a Rh incompatible pregnancy.
Generally, pregnancy is a happy occasion in a woman's life. But for some, pregnancy may also lead to serious complications. The human blood is divided into 4 groups, A, B, AB and O. Each blood group is further classified as Rh negative and Rh positive. Whether a person is Rh negative or positive, is determined by the presence of 'D' antigen in the blood.
If 'D' antigen is present, the person is said to be Rh positive and those lacking it are called Rh negative. So, when a Rh negative person is exposed to Rh positive blood, their bodies will start producing an antibodies. These antibodies act against the Rh positive blood and protect the body from these intruding blood cells.
This is good in some cases, but Rh negative blood type and pregnancy can lead to a serious complication for the pregnant mother.
When a Rh negative woman conceives a baby with a Rh positive man, there are chances the fetus will either have Rh positive blood group or Rh negative blood group. One cannot know the blood group of the unborn child, until after birth.
Problems arise when the mother is Rh negative and the baby is Rh positive. Remember, positive is dominant over negative. Thus, it may have problems during the course of pregnancy.
Problems will arise only when the Rh positive blood from the unborn child finds it way into the system of Rh negative mother. This may happen during the pregnancy or during childbirth. When this happens, the mother's body will start producing antigens against the Rh positive fetal blood.
If the blood is mixed during the pregnancy, the antigens will start attacking the fetus by crossing the placental barrier. This will lead to severe anemia (called haemolytic disease or haemolytic anemia) in the fetus as the red blood cells will be destroyed by the antigens.
In serious cases, it may lead to fetal death and a miscarriage. Suppose the blood gets mixed during the labor, any future pregnancies are at risk, due to the presence of antigens in the blood. If second pregnancy also results in Rh positive fetus, the antibodies will take no time to cross the placenta and attack the fetal blood.
There are little risks involved with the first pregnancy and Rh negative blood. This is because it is very rare for fetal blood to mix with the mother's blood during pregnancy. It is generally during labor, when the mother's blood is sensitized by Rhesus positive blood.
However, women who have had a previous miscarriage, or medical termination before their first pregnancy are at risk of developing complications. Also, women who have had an amniocentesis, or chorionic villus sampling (CVS), are at risk of developing Rh negative blood type and pregnancy complication.
The Rh antigens produced against the Rh positive fetal blood, will attack the baby. The blood cells decrease in number and cause swelling in the unborn baby's abdomen. This leads to serious developmental problems and fetal death. When this occurs, it is called 'erythroblastalis fetalis'.
The advancement in medical science has bought good news for Rh negative mothers. The Rhesus negative blood type and pregnancy complications can be easily prevented. Women who are not yet sensitized to the Rh positive blood are given Rh immunoglobulin (RhIg). This is a blood product that is given in form of an injection.
This immunoglobulin helps 'minimizing' the reaction of the Rh antigen against the Rh positive blood cells. This injection is given around the 28th week of pregnancy. When the baby is born and found to be Rh positive, the mother is given another dose of RhIg injection.
This prevents the mother's body from making more antigens against the Rh positive red blood cells that may have entered her body during or before the delivery.
RhIg injections are to be administered for every pregnancy. After every child born Rh positive, the mother has to be given a RhIg injection. These injections should be given even after a Rh negative woman suffers a miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy or medical termination of pregnancy to reduce the risk of antibodies formation against a future Rh positive fetus.
Every woman trying to get pregnant should get her and her partners blood tested. This will help her know their Rh status and prevent pregnancy complications due to Rh negative blood type. | {
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Check out Tom Vandenavond for our next Unplugged Storyteller set. Tom is nothing short of amazing. I attached the folling peices so you can really understand why you need to hear what he has to say! This is not one you want to miss!
Tom Vandenavond is one of the most talented singer songwriters of this twenty first century and probably has a lot in common with the great John Prine at his very best (his early days?) but this is due in the main to the very strong similarities in their vocals.
Guthrie said a man should know his country like the back of his hand.
Some people spend their whole lives in the towns they grew up in — nothing wrong with that. Some people spend most of their lives traveling for their jobs from chain hotel to chain hotel, strip mall to strip mall, and don't have a story about the American experience that I'd like to hear. Other folks may harbor a stifled wanderlust as they are beaten into their respective corners of the world in a gridlock to pay their rent and feed their children.
Times are tough all over and the upper hand, it seems, could care less about the old American Dream bending only to the bottom line. There was a time that great detail and care was placed into American design. Architecture, cars, even the way communities settled themselves into the landscape had a modicum of pride and sensibility. You see that less and less anymore in the pre-fab, slap-together, cheap-labor replacements of destroyed landmarks and shut down mom n' pops. At this rate all we have, is all we have left. Chunks of our culture are eroded in a whitewash of "progression" and I'm afraid of what America will mean to our children's children.
Tom Vandenavond is a contemporary ghost with a wisdom in his music that exceeds his years. His sound embodies the nature of solitary travel and the inevitable connections made from a life on the road. He has torn through his Midwest roots and created an auditory imprint of the highways and byways, truck stops and roadsides of the afforded white line spectacles of the American construct. If you listen, you can hear a long haul on the Christopher Columbus Transcontinental highway … where the DayGlo over-exposure of Los Angeles meets the desert of Palm Springs … red rocks and mesa tops before Phoenix and Tucson … the cumbersome nothingness of West Texas where a man can can bide his time only with his thoughts and AM radio…. El Paso with a glimpse of the Third World at the border of Juarez … San Antonio and New Mexico heavy with Spanish and Native American charm … a brief pass through future city Houston and the descent into the thick air of southern Louisiana stretching over the 35 along the Pontchartrain into the heart of Cajun Country … Mississippi's Jackson County into the Panhandle….
These are just a few of the back drops that bleed their influence into a catalog of work as eclectic as the land itself. You don't need to visit the Hotel Lafayette or have a hard South Texas Christmas to identify — any amount of living should draw you in.
He seems to take his notes from the Rambling Jack Elliot handbook. A bit of a maverick, he's also not afraid of the odd straight job painting signs or slingin beer. He is part John Prine and a bit of Mark Twain. He has written some of the saddest songs I've ever heard, but most are coupled with a wink and a nod. He's like Rory Calhoun in The Texan or Chuck Conners in The Rifleman, with a guitar. From the squint in his eye — whether from the desert sun or the smokey respite of Any Bar USA — you get the idea he knows something we don't, and no matter how rough it gets, there is comfort in the stock that he'll pull the ace from his sleeve and more or less come out on top.
Tom is a great act to catch when he flies solo but there is a great deal of magic in the company he keeps on his albums. The unparalleled talents of The Weary Boys, Good Luck Thrift Store, and members of the genre-decimating Larry and His Flask (the Say Hey Kids when they play with Tom) have all thrown their efforts into his recordings. Each album has its own feel and with his latest release Wreck of a Fine Man, it's clear he can't make a bad album. Pick up the latest release but while you're at it, grab the other five and get to know your country. | {
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What happens when you build trust? Sales happen!
Extend your brand at every opportunity to build credibility and trust.
How does extending your brand build trust?
It creates visibility. With visibility comes trust. The first time a potential client sees your brand should not be the first time you walk in the door. They should have already seen your brand someplace, somehow, someway and should already have a sense of who you are and what kind of company you represent. Meaningful conversation can begin quickly. Wow, talk about power!
It creates buzz. Extend your brand into the marketplace with quality, useful and creative logo'd gear, by associating with dynamic reputable organizations, and by participating in high visibility events. They'll be talking about you!
It creates familiarity. Through your blog, a tweet, or through other social media. By using logo'd products – YOUR logo'd products -- they appreciate and love.
It creates comfort. We all need to be comfortable with whom we do business. No comfort level, no trust. The more your customers see your brand, the easier it is for them to see your brand as a trusted leader in your industry.
Are you extending your brand and building trust by staying in front of your customers? | {
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P2P Filesharing Retrial Highlights Out of Tune Damage Awards
BY CCIA Staff
The retrial for Jammie Thomas-Rassat begins today in Minnesota. In October 2007, she was found guilty of illegally downloading and sharing music. Thomas-Rassat was ordered to pay $222,000 to six record companies for making 24 songs available for file sharing. Last September, the judge ordered a new trial because he said his jury instructions were unclear about whether making the music available for download was infringement.
The following statement in response can be attributed to Computer & Communications Industry Association President & CEO Ed Black:
"The courts and jury have a second chance to get it right in this file sharing case. It is a positive step that the court has rejected its earlier rulings that misinterpreted the Copyright Act. But the bigger issue that also warrants a second look is the ridiculously high damage awards that are completely out of tune with the damage here.
"We support artists getting a fair profit for their creativity, but the up to $150,000 in damages per infringement allowed by law and this zero tolerance enforcement isn't worth the disharmony it strikes with fans and with those who could help share and market their music to draw more concert-goers. We worry about the silencing effect damage awards like this could have on people sharing information on the Internet."
PreviousPrevious post:CCIA Comments Filed To US-China Joint Commission on Commerce and Trade Call China Censorship A Trade BarrierNextNext post:CCIA Comments For House Energy & Commerce Committee's Behavioral Advertising/ Privacy Hearing
News & Events, Patent Reform & Copyright, copyright
CCIA Files Brief Asking Court To Uphold Law On What Is Uncopyrightable
Washington — The Computer & Communications Industry Association has filed an amicus brief today in the Federal Circuit supporting World Programming Limited (WPL) in a software copyright case brought by SAS Institute. WPL offers software that runs programs written by users in the SAS Language, ensuring that users are not locked into the SAS platform.…
EU, Patent Reform & Copyright, copyright, digital economy, European Commission, European Union
CCIA Statement on the European Commission's Copyright Guidelines
Brussels, BELGIUM — The European Commission today presented its long-awaited Guidance on the implementation of Article 17 of the Directive on Copyright in the Digital Single Market. EU Member States have to transpose the Directive into national law by 7th June. The following can be attributed to CCIA Senior Manager, Alex Maglione: "We encourage EU…
Competition, EU, News & Events, Patent Reform & Copyright, competition, copyright, digital economy, DMA, DSA, European Union
CCIA Reacts To European Parliament's Digital Markets Act and Digital Services Act Reports
Brussels, BELGIUM — Two Members of the European Parliament have published their draft reports on respectively the Digital Markets Act (DMA) and on the Digital Services Act (DSA) proposals. The European Commission originally presented its legislative proposals in December 2020, which will now be discussed and amended by the European Parliament and the Council of… | {
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In a poem that he wrote and gave me forty years ago, my friend Jack B wrote about what it was like to be an American Indian. For him, and for so many other American Indians, the experience was devastating. Treated like vermin, and discounted as if they had no identity, so many lost hope. As Palestinian psychiatrist Samah Jabr wrote in a recent article in The Palestine Chronicle, "one of the worst effects" of this kind of behavior "is the internalization of oppressing and the undermining of" a person's (and a people's) self-concept." No one deserves to be treated that way.
I will give it up.
it is not worth living.
tribe, or what I must do.
I will pluck the inter eye of emotion.
never be homesick because I will have no home.
When I die I don't want to know what's happening.
Is there any more wine in that bottle?
– George Polley contributed this poem to PalestineChronicle.com. | {
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ADG Group — A human resources consulting and career management services firm.
Best Jobs USA — Employment and job database site serving U.S. and international users.
Career Builder — Valuable resource for employers and job seekers.
CareerExpo — Versatile career and employment site.
Community Career Center — Non-profit management jobs.
Computerwork.com — Computer jobs and technical employment in the US and Canada.
Developers.net — Employment service for software developers.
Direct Marketing World — Resources, resumes and job listings.
The Franklin Search Group — Medical jobs.
GovWorks.com — Free resume posting and public sector job listings.
HeadHunter.com — provides one of the largest, high-traffic sources of information for job seekers, employers, and recruiters.
HireAbility.com— Online job search for IT professionals.
Hospital Jobs Online —Thousands of heathcare jobs for Nurses, M.D.'s, Pharmacists, Physical Therapists, Radiology, Administrators, other professionals.
JobHunt—NETability, Inc., provides a listing of useful job-search resources and services.
JobOptions — Resources for recruiters and job seekers.
Job Smart — California jobs.
Lee Calhoon Co — Recruiter job listings for managed care professionals.
Minorities' Job Bank — Includes the Hispanic Village area, which offers great content, career advice and employment opportunities.
Monster.Com — One of the Net's largest job and resume sites.
NationJob Network — National job listing service.
Public Service Employees Network — Government and public service jobs.
ResumeAssistant — For employers: Software decodes and analyzes resumes.
SearchEase — Resource for job seekers, employers and other recruiters.
SHS Careers Front Page— Telecommunications, Sales and Medical Communications jobs.
University of Michigan — Job listings of the human resources department. | {
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Song lyrics by Sarah jezebel deva. Check-out these awesome song lyrics by the artist, learn every word of your favourite song and sing it like Sarah jezebel deva. Get one of the 17 lyrics and watch the video by artist Sarah jezebel deva. | {
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Margie Viera: Why I support Florida's Family Empowerment Scholarship proposal
Why I support Florida's Family Empowerment Scholarship proposal
By Margie Viera
Florida is the nation's leader in empowering families with high-quality educational choices.
It's a fact that close to 50 percent of Florida students exercise some form of school choice.
However, there are still countless families who can't find a public option that fits their child. I should know — we are one of those families.
I'm a single mom to two wonderful boys who are, unfortunately, struggling in their current school. I am also a small-business owner and, while some years are better than others, I've never made enough to afford to send them to a private school.
Now you can imagine my excitement when I learned that the Florida House has proposed a new scholarship program that would allow me to choose a private school for my sons.
Originally published by Florida Politics | {
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I made the mistake (it really wasn't a mistake--I just like to tease him) of making scratch biscuits for my husband soon after we first married.
Since then, he refuses to eat store bought canned biscuits at home. He will happily eat them at someone else's house, but at our house, biscuits have to be homemade.
The taste and texture is so much better that I really don't mind. These are great with butter and honey, a dab or jelly or jam, syrup, or gravy. They also make good breakfast sandwiches with a slice of ham, cheese, and a well-done egg, or breakfast sausage patty.
Measure the dry ingredients into a medium mixing bowl.
In a glass, liquid measuring cup, measure ¼ cup of oil.
Into the same measuring cup, over the oil, pour in milk to the 1 cup mark (mixture will bubble).
Pour all at once into the dry ingredients.
Using a fork, stir until dough follows fork, then stir 10 more times.
Flour your hands, and knead dough ten times.
Roll or pat dough onto a cutting board or clean counter. Cut into squares or use a floured glass to cut round biscuits.
Place in pan according to preference mentioned below.
Bake 15 to 20 minutes, until light golden brown.
If you are in a hurry, you do not have to roll the dough. Pat it out and tear off biscuit size pieces and put them into the pan. If you want the biscuits to be crispy, butter or oil the pan. Otherwise, just place then in the pan. If you prefer the sides to be crusty, place the biscuits 2" apart on the pan.
This recipe also works great as dumplings. Break off pieces of the dough and drop into boiling soup. Make sure the bread dough completely submerges in the liquid. Turn the soup down to simmer, cover and cook for 20 minutes. Watch carefully. If the soup boils over, remove the lid, turn the heat down, and then recover.
Do you prefer homemade scratch biscuits? | {
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A Quick Primer On Q'anjob'al And Other Mayan Languages
By Madeline Fox • Sep 10, 2019
A view of Guatemala's Huehuetenango Department. Many native Q'anjob'al speakers of Guatemalan origin are from that department, or have family roots there.
npatterson / Creative Commons
A group of Lake Worth high schoolers who call themselves the "Mayan Girls" have been working to translate important information — everything from vaccination information to hurricane awareness — into Mayan languages.
The girls mostly translate into Q'anjob'al, a language spoken primarily in the Huehuetenango region of Guatemala. It's the most common Mayan language in Palm Beach County, where Guatemalan Mayans make up a sizable portion of Jupiter and Lake Worth's immigrant populations.
Here's high schooler Ramona Francisco reciting the information from a Spanish flyer on domestic violence in Q'anjob'al.
She sometimes uses Spanish "loan words," words or phrases borrowed from another language — mostly numbers, in this case. For example, at about 0:33, you can hear her say "veinticuatro horas," or "24 hours," followed by the Spanish numerals for a phone number.
Ryan Shosted, a professor in the linguistics department at the University of Illinois who's worked with Urbana-Champaign's Q'anjob'al-speaking community to research the language, said one feature of Q'anjob'al and most other Mayan languages are what are called "glottalized sounds."
"They're produced with kind of this sharp popping sound," he said.
Here's Shosted giving a general idea of how a glottalized sound differs from a non-glottalized sound.
They're not clicks, like in Khoisan languages from Africa, but they do similarly involve drawing air into the mouth rather than expelling it.
Here's Francisco again, reciting the last few lines in Q'anjob'al of a reminder to make sure children are vaccinated against measles.
Q'anjob'al and other Mayan languages are separate languages, not dialects.
Shosted, the professor, pointed out that the "language" label is often a reflection of power — as one adage says, "a language is a dialect with an army and a navy" — rather than a reflection of its difference from other languages.
"People get to call the thing they speak a language if the have socioeconomic and political power," he said.
The consensus among linguists, though, is that Q'anjob'al and other languages are just that — languages.
And while some Mayan language speakers may also speak Spanish, they aren't related. The more than 20 Mayan languages spoken today form a distinct language family. It's separate from the Indo-European language family, which includes Spanish and English but also languages as varied as Persian and Russian.
Languages in the Mayan family are similarly varied, Shosted said.
"You can't understand Russian just because [it belongs] to the same language family as English does," he said. "In the same way, you can't anticipate that people who speak one Mayan language will understand and be able to converse with speakers of another Mayan language."
That variation is why the Mayan Girls are trying to recruit other students to help them translate into different Mayan languages — their Q'anjob'al recordings can't reach speakers of K'iche' or Mam.
When Hurricane Dorian was approaching South Florida, they worked with the Guatemalan Consulate to provide translated audio about shelters, evacuation zones and other information in several other languages.
For those who want to add a little Q'anjob'al to their repertoire, though, high school junior Lorena Felipe Sebastian offers a couple useful phrases.
An added fact for people who are better-versed in linguistic structure: the Mayan languages are ergative-absolutive, rather than nominative-accusative, like English and other Indo-European languages.
To oversimplify, that means the subject of sentences in Mayan languages behave differently depending on whether they're paired with a transitive (can have one or more objects) or an intransitive verb (doesn't allow direct objects).
Here's linguist Ryan Shosted explaining some of the basic differences.
For more information, read Notes on Language Creation.
Guatemalan Maya Center
Guatemalan-Maya Center
Central American migrants
'Mayan Girls' Step Forward As Next Generation Of Translators Of An Ancient Language
Madeline Fox / WLRN
Guatemalan Girl Power: A Maya Baby Makes It To South Florida – And Life-Giving Surgery
By Tim Padgett • May 13, 2019
Tim Padgett / WLRN.org
Most of the stories about Central American migrant children coming to the U.S. in recent years have been sad ones. That's especially true of Guatemalan children. Since December, three Guatemalan minors have died while in U.S. immigration custody – including a 16-year-old boy in Texas this month.
Which is why Mayra Pedro Andrés' story matters.
Trump Signs Agreement With Guatemala To Limit Asylum Seekers
By Brian Naylor • Jul 26, 2019
President Trump announced Friday that Guatemala has agreed to sign a so-called "safe third country asylum agreement" as part of Trump's strategy for reducing the flow of migrants to the U.S.
Trump made the announcement before reporters in the Oval Office as Guatemalan interior minister Enrique Degenhart signed the agreement.
Trump's Hemispheric Deal With The Devil Is Less About Commies, More About Color
By Tim Padgett • Jul 31, 2019
Carolyn Kaster / AP
During the Cold War, the U.S. quip about almost any Latin American dictator was that "he may be a son of a bitch, but he's our son of a bitch." | {
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And just like that, Filmstruck is dead. The best tool society had developed in terms of cinephilia has faded into oblivion, taking with it 200 unwatched movies in my queue. I've been out of town and watching Filmstruck all week, so I don't have any new films to comment on. Still, that won't stop me from talking about the films I watched at home.
Unsurprisingly, the three (and a half) films I watched on the dying website were very-nearly masterpieces. I started my week with Gates of Heaven, Errol Morris' breakthrough documentary about pet cemeteries, the evil nature of corporations, and what happens to us after we die. It's a masterful film, and while I'm not sure it's as great as The Thin Blue Line, it is undeniably one of the most touching, most spiritual, most American documentaries I have ever seen. Unfortunately, I couldn't stay in that good a mood for long, for I had to follow up Heaven with the impossible-to-find horror classic The Devils. And my God, was that film insane. Within minutes I could see the influences on Lars von Trier, Peter Greenaway, and Yorgos Lanthimos, and I found myself stuck in that wonderful intermediary between awestruck and disgusted. It's certainly an extreme, honest film, I'll give it that. After watching it, I began to fear for my immortal soul, which resulted in my viewing of The Passion of Joan of Arc. And I'm lucky I did, because Joan of Arc is one of the greatest films I have ever seen. From its stunning close-ups to its simple narrative of remaining steadfast in faith in the face of a hypocritical patriarchal regime, Joan is a revolutionary bit of filmmaking that still feels as alive today as it did in 1928. Unfortunately, these three films are all I had time for this week, and my attempts to save films for the future didn't pan out the way I intended. Still, I did manage to get half of Tokyo Story under my belt before the film expired, and while I wouldn't call the film "the greatest of all time" (it usually finishes in the Top Three greatest films, alongside Citizen Kane and Vertigo), it is definitely a film I would recommend, and one I wish to study forever and ever – and I may be able to, as I picked up Story alongside Joan of Arc and In the Mood For Love during the current Criterion sale. Oh, and since I mentioned Kane earlier, I should note that I have continued my Orson Welles binge from earlier in the month by viewing The Magnificent Ambersons, and while it isn't quite as great as his other films, I am loving Welles' distinctive, mature stylings. Welles was truly a master, you guys.
At home, it was a pretty insignificant week. I watched yet another segment of Watergate, leaving me with just one part left, and I'm still riveted by it. This is definitely going to be my best documentary of the year, so long as it brings the whole project home strong. And I also got caught up on Modern Family, which had two fairly decent episodes in a row, thanks to an interesting subplot involving Hailey's pregnancy (spoiler alert). I also planned on Rudolph on Tuesday when it had its yearly premiere, but missed out because WOW! is a garbage carrier (#cancelWOW). Luckily, I own it on DVD, and I managed to watch my favorite little reindeer on TV once again (JK I'm much more a fan of Hermie's sass). Like many other Americans, I found myself riveted by the NCAA championship games on Saturday, especially with how well Georgia's defense played against Alabama (not well enough, but still: look how many fumbles got forced against the so-called #1 team in the nation). And I watched Saturday Night Live last night, which was mostly an utter disappointment led by a nearly unwatchable cold open. Still, there were a few good moments: the Ben Stiller part of the opening was the only watchable part, Leslie Jones' monologue was great, the joke about Bill Clinton decorating the White House with leg lamps had Hillary won was solid, and I'm always down for a good Willy Wonka sketch, especially one that can make Kate McKinnon break. More sketches like this, please!
Thanks again for reading! If you have any thoughts on the films I watched this week, or have any great films you'd recommend, let me know in the comments! I'm hoping to make the next few weeks a glorious binge of reviews, predictions, and nominations, so make sure you're following along right here. And until next time, farewell Filmstruck! | {
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PRICE IMPROVEMENT! Welcome Home to Pearl Road! This 4 bedroom Colonial sits on a level, wooded lot with a paved driveway allowing ample parking for guests! Wonderful natural light streams into the living room from a large picture window. Kitchen with large pass through window to living room offers access to screened in porch and deck that guides you to an above ground pool and yard to relax or entertain! Full bathroom and 2 bedrooms allow for easy first floor living! The laundry room is conveniently located upstairs along w/ the master bedroom which includes walk in closet and master bath! Additional bedroom with ample closet space, and bonus room with exterior access to the deck and pool round out level 2. Hardwood floors, ceiling fans, and crown molding throughout are the finishing touches to this lovely home! Don't let this be the one that got away! See it TODAY!
Listed by Paul J. Cervone of Lamacchia Realty, Inc. | {
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A Texas man was charged Monday by the U.S. Department of Justice with helping to inflate the prices of penny stock companies by promoting them with a spam-spewing botnet of hacked computers.
Christopher Rad, of Cedar Park, Texas, faces a maximum sentence of five years in prison and a US$250,000 fine on charges that he acted as a middleman between unscrupulous stock promoters and Russian hackers, who operated the botnet.
Rad allegedly worked with another man, James Bragg, to make the companies' stock-prices move in a scheme that ran between November 2007 and February 2009. In October 2010, Bragg pleaded guilty to his role in the scheme. No date has been set for his sentencing.
Prosecutors say that the two men promoted penny stocks for now-defunct companies such as RSUV (Remote Surveillance Technologies) and VSHE ( VShield Software). They did this not only by using the botnet to spam would-be investors, but also by having their Russian hackers take over brokerage accounts and purchase the stocks they were pumping, so it would look like the companies had market momentum.
A Russian hacker identified only as "B.T." and another alleged botnet-provider called "D.S." are also named in court filings. Neither has been arrested. | {
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Q: Use Matlab to compare columns in different cell arrays I'm trying to compare two cell arrays that contain both characters and numbers. I would like to compare two specific columns and then return the values in another related column.
For example, I have two cell arrays of the forms:
One= Two=
[A 2 10 [A 1 2 76
B 2 11 B 1 2 78
A 5 22 C 1 2 80
B 5 23 D 1 4 98
A 6 28 E 1 4 99
B 6 28 F 1 4 100
C 6 28] G 1 6 110]
And I want to be able to find everywhere column 2 of 'One' equals column 3 of 'Two' and return the specific value in column 4 of 'Two.' So for this example, I would obtain a result that is:
Three=
[76
78
80
110]
Any help would be appreciated.
A: Option 1: convert to numeric array first
X = cell2mat(One(:,2:end));
Y = cell2mat(Two(:,2:end));
result = Y(X(:,1)==Y(:,2),3)
Option 2: convert to numeric array at various points
result = cell2mat(Two(cell2mat(One(:,2))==cell2mat(Two(:,3)),4))
Option 3: convert cell to table first
T1 = cell2table(One);
T2 = cell2table(Two);
result = T2.Two4(T1.One2==T2.Two3)
Option 4: abuse how Matlab cell arrays and numeric arrays work
result = [Two{([One{:,2}]==[Two{:,3}])',4}]'
| {
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Texas Dexilant Kidney Failure Lawyer
Our lawyers are filing Dexilant lawsuits for people who developed kidney failure after using this heartburn drug.
Home » Defective Drugs » Texas Dexilant Kidney Failure Lawyer
A growing number of studies have found that Dexilant and other heartburn drugs increase the risk of nephritis and other renal diseases that can cause kidney failure.
Need a Texas Dexilant Lawyer? Collen A. Clark is a true advocate for his clients and is passionate about helping Texans that have been injured or wronged. If you or a loved one was diagnosed with kidney failure, you should contact our lawyers immediately. You may be entitled to compensation by filing a lawsuit.
Dexilant contains dexlansoprazole, an anti-heartburn medication that treats gastroesophageal reflux disease (GERD) by decreasing the amount of stomach acid. It was formerly known as Kapidex.
Dexilant and Kidney Failure
Dexilant is a proton-pump inhibitor (PPI) that has been on the market since 2009. Before its approval, other PPIs were linked to dozens of case reports of acute interstitial nephritis, a type of kidney inflammation caused by an allergic reaction that can lead to kidney failure. In December 2014, the FDA issued warnings about nephritis from Dexilant.
Since then, evidence linking PPIs and kidney problems has grown substantially. In addition to dozens of case reports of nephritis, PPIs have been linked to Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD) and acute kidney injury. Without treatment, all of these diseases can cause kidney failure.
Several recent studies have linked PPIs and kidney problems. One published in CMAJ Open in April 2015 found a tripled increased risk of nephritis and a 2.5-fold increased risk of acute kidney injury associated with PPIs. Another study published by JAMA Internal Medicine found a 20-50% increased risk of CKD associated with daily use of PPIs.
Study Links Dexilant and 96% Increased Risk of Kidney Failure
The use of PPI was associated with a 96% increased risk of kidney failure and a 26% increased risk of chronic kidney disease in a study published in April 2016 by the Journal of the American Society of Nephrology. The conclusions of the study were based on data from over 170,000 veterans in St. Louis who used PPIs and 20,000 people who used non-PPI heartburn drugs.
Kidney failure occurred in only 0.2% of study participants, but twice as often in PPI users. After 5 years, 15% of PPI users had developed chronic kidney disease. The risk also increased over time. Researchers found a tripled increased risk of kidney failure in people who used PPIs for 1-2 years compared to people who used them for less than a month.
According to the lead author of the study, Dr. Ziyad Al-Aly:
"I think people see these medications at the drug store and assume they're completely safe. But there's growing evidence they're not as safe as we've thought. [Patients should] use PPIs only when it is medically necessary, and should limit duration of exposure to the minimum necessary to treat the underlying medical condition."
What is Kidney Failure?
The kidneys are two abdominal organs that clean the blood, remove extra water from the body in urine, make hormones, and perform other functions. Kidney failure occurs when the kidneys have less than 15% of normal function. When the kidneys can no longer keep up with the body's needs, patients develop uremia, in which the body is poisoned by excess water and toxins in the blood.
Warning Signs & Symptoms
When the kidneys are failing, waste products (such as creatinine and urea nitrogen) accumulate and blood chemistry changes. Some patients also have high blood pressure, anemia (low red blood cell count), weak bones, and other problems. Symptoms of kidney failure may include:
Fatigue and weakness
Urinating more or less than normal
Loss of appetite and weight-loss
Swelling in the legs and feet (edema)
Persistent itching
Treatment for Kidney Failure
The main treatments for kidney failure are hemodialysis, peritoneal dialysis, or a kidney transplant. These treatments have advantages and disadvantages. Patients who choose hemodialysis must go to a clinic every few days to have their blood cleaned with a machine. Many people undergo dialysis for several years while waiting for a donor kidney.
Need a Dexilant Lawyer in Texas?
The Clark Firm has assembled a team of trial lawyers with more than 100 years experience, participation in over 600 jury trials and $260 million in verdicts and/or settlements. Please use the form below to contact our Texas Dexilant lawyers for a free lawsuit review. | {
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The Good Life – Episode 21 – MSM Miracles
Posted on October 13, 2021 October 27, 2021 by Lou Collins
Clive and I are joined by our Rick today. MSM seems to work miracles
Mark Anderson – American Free Press – US Update
Posted on August 23, 2021 October 8, 2021 by Lou Collins
Mark Anderson Joins Lou
TONIGHT THE RE-LAUNCH OF LIBERTY TACTICS 1700BST
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A rights campaigner in the UK says child abuse is massively covered up in the country. "We believe in the UK at the moment a massive cover-up in every area involving child abuse that goes pretty much right to the top," said Chris Wittwer, campaigner with the UK & Ireland Database in an interview with Press TV. Wittwer said, "Several lords and MPs have been put in the frame for abusing children, no arrests have been made." The campaigner referred to "massive pedophile rings" and thousands of child abuse cases in the country over the past years, adding, "For the last 10 years I've been naming and shaming the pedophiles on my website in the UK in child abuses." His comments follow a report by the Inspectorate of Constabulary which took a sample of 600 inquiries and found that over a third of abused children were not looked at to a good enough standard. more http://presstv.ir/Detail/2015/07/05/418872/UK-child-abuse-coverup
A bombshell White House memo has revealed for the first time details of the 'deal in blood' forged by Tony Blair and George Bush over the Iraq War. The sensational leak shows that Blair had given an unqualified pledge to sign up to the conflict a year before the invasion started. It flies in the face of the Prime Minister's public claims at the time that he was seeking a diplomatic solution to the crisis. He told voters: 'We're not proposing military action' – in direct contrast to what the secret email now reveals. The classified document also discloses that Blair agreed to act as a glorified spin doctor for the President by presenting 'public affairs lines' to convince a sceptical public that Saddam had Weapons of Mass Destruction – when none existed. Read more http://www.hangthebankers.com/emails-confirm-tony-blair-war-criminal/
Millions of Americans could be banned from smoking in their own homes under controversial legislation proposed by the federal government. The legislation would require homes, communal areas and administrative offices on public housing land to be smoke-free, the New York Times reports. It is thought the changes would affect around a million homes. It has argued the ban is necessary to protect residents from second-hand smoke, to lower building maintenance costs, and to reduce the risk of fires. But the proposal has already met with resistance from some residents who believe it would be an infringement of their right to make personal choices about their lives. One told the newspaper: "What I do in my apartment should be my problem long as I pay my rent." Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/smoking-ban-for-all-us-public-housing-proposed-a6731396.html
A hero police officer made false child abuse claims against his neighbours during a three-year terror campaign. Lying detective Jim Kerr turned on Martin McDonald and Ruth Nicholson when they refused to back him in a dispute with another neighbour. The 46-year-old forced the married couple to leave their home and move 50 miles away to escape his threats, report the Daily Record . Kerr falsely claimed they neglected their baby son Charlie. He was also convicted of assaulting Martin and trying to throw him over a barbed wire fence. The disgraced officer – who received two bravery commendations – also wasted his colleagues' time when he made a bogus hate crime allegation against a pensioner. Kerr's successful career is in ruins after details of his shameful conduct emerged in court. HR boss Martin, 35, criticised Police Scotland chief Sir Stephen House for failing to act when informed about Kerr's behaviour. He said: "Police Scotland sat on their hands and allowed things to escalate when they refused to help. Kerr made our lives hell." Read more http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/couple-forced-flee-after-three-6480449
On todays Lou Collins Radio Show Nottingham Survivor Mickey Summers & Mark Smith join me to talk about Melanie Shaw and the fake story of her being released from prison and The Nottingham Child Abuse Inquiry. Live from 11am 102.5 FM or http://player.soundartradio.org.uk/console/
More lunacy from the left, Israel, Russia and China antics. Mad weather and Blue Dogs [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vba1ff/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-45-wokeness-storms-earthquakes-blue-dogs-16-2-21/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
CNSNews.com) -- A study published this month in the Journal of Medical Ethics examined the "deliberate" euthanasia of patients in Belgium without their explicit, voluntary consent as required by law. The study's author, Raphael Cohen-Almagor, a professor of philosophy and ethics at the United Kingdom's Hull University, found that life-ending drugs were used "with the intention to shorten life and without explicit request" in 1.7 percent of all deaths in Belgium in 2013. In 52.7 percent of these cases, the patients were 80 years of age or older. The decision to euthanize was not discussed with the patient in 77.9 percent of the cases because he/she was comatose, had dementia, or "because discussion would have been harmful to the patient's best interest," according to the study. Belgium passed the Euthanasia Act in 2002, which states that only voluntary euthanasia is legally permissible. http://www.cnsnews.com/news/article/abigail-wilkinson/belgian-doctors-are-euthanizing-patients-without-their-consent
'Dirty money is not welcome here'. Stop laughing, you couldn't make it up, he actually said it! This is the same man whose family has offshore tax havens. The very same who hands his mates large chunks of publicly owned assets. ie The NHS. The man who covers up for establishment paedophiles, allows Starbucks, Costa, Amazon, Google and Tescos among many others, to avoid Corporation Tax. A man who allows HSBC and Barclays to launder millions of £ drug money, fiddle interest rates and manipulate gold and silver prices. A man who allows LIBOR and exchange rates fiddling, interest rate manipulation, will not prosecute individual, fraudulent banksters and creates phoney terrorism. How much more of this moronic puppet are we, the taxpayers, prepared to tolerate? No, you couldn't make it up, we just seem to accept being lied to, deceived, stolen from, made fools of, all in the course of a day!
What are the basic building blocks of the cosmos? Atoms, particles, mass energy? Quantum mechanics, forces, fields? Space and time — space-time? Tiny strings with many dimensions?
A new candidate is "information," which some scientists claim is the foundation of reality. The late distinguished physicist John Archibald Wheeler characterized the idea as "It from bit" — "it" referring to all the stuff of the universe and "bit" meaning information.
So here's the deep question: Is information the ultimate constituent from which the cosmos is constructed? I started as a skeptic. Information as reality seems so outlandish, so trendy — a metaphor on steroids. http://news.yahoo.com/forget-space-time-information-may-create-cosmos-203854726.html https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=167&v=-ATWa2AEvIY
On todays Lou Collins Radio Show Ian R Crane who will be discussing the Alternartive View Conference happening this forth coming weekend and Pete Dwan will be talking about Steve Cook who is walking the UK to edcute children on the dangers of hard drugs. Live at 11am 102.5FM or www.soundartradio.com
Roy's back with BOOMS ! [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v9tkwo/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/roy-davies-special-lin-wood-mike-pence-and-the-storm-4-1-21/
Are you in enough pain to swallow this pill? Stanford scientists have developed a new way of creating painkiller components like hydrocodone by injecting 23 different engineered genes from plants, bacteria, and rats into yeast. The result is the beginning of the journey towards 'GMO painkillers,' and another entrance into the world of genetically modified pharmaceuticals. A world that far expands beyond the tinkering of Monsanto's GMOs. The 'advancement' places into perspective the depths to which the booming industry of DNA alteration will take us. Overall yields from this new yeast-based system aren't currently strong enough to replace the traditional use of poppies in the full-scale production of painkillers, but it does in fact directly convert sugar to hydrocodone. Perhaps more importantly, it can also produce something known as 'thebaine' from sugar, which is the key precursor to opioid compounds. We currently rely on poppies to fulfill this production when it comes to pharmaceutical manufacturing. As the New York Times reports:
"Smolke's yeast — which contains 23 engineered genes from plants, bacteria and rats — is capable of making a direct conversion from sugar to hydrocodone, as well as from sugar to thebaine, a precursor of opioid compounds that would essentially take the place of poppies in the production of pain medication, but would still requite refinement. But it doesn't make much of it."
Read more: http://naturalsociety.com/scientists-develop-gmo-painkillers-using-rat-dna-yeast/#ixzz3j81sVHig
A senior Conservative politician escaped prosecution for child abuse in the 1970s when he promised the authorities he would not see the victim again, according to files released by the National Archives. Victor Montagu, a rightwing Tory MP and one-time political secretary to Stanley Baldwin, was let off with a caution by the director of public prosecutions in 1972 for indecently assaulting a boy for nearly two years. The decision by Sir Norman Skelhorn QC meant Montagu never stood trial and his paedophile activities were never exposed. "The assaults, which are admitted, are not of themselves very serious, and if Mr Montagu is prepared to take the excellent advice given to him by Det Ch Insp [Jack] Newman and avoid any contact with the boy in the future I do not think that proceedings are called for," a letter from prosecutors states. Read more http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2015/may/15/tory-mp-victor-montagu-escaped-child-sex-abuse-trial-in-1970s
The BBC is said to be at war over whether or not to air a Panorama documentary attacking a police probe into an alleged VIP paedophile ring.
Tension between rival news teams has reportedly led the corporation to delay broadcasting the programme, which is thought to bring into question the credibility of Scotland Yard's investigation into abuse at Dolphin Square in central London.
Those findings reportedly brought the makers of Panorama into conflict with a BBC news team, said to be 'essentially on the side of the victims' having interviewed Operation Midland's main witness.
Tension between rival BBC news teams has reportedly led to the delay of a documentary critical of Operation Midland, which is looking into claims made against ex-Tory MP Harvey Proctor (left) made by 'Nick' (right)
The child sex abuse survivor, a businessman now in his forties known only as 'Nick', has accused ex-Tory MP Harvey Proctor of raping and murdering two children and helping kill a third.
In an extraordinary press conference called by Mr Proctor last week, he revealed that Scotland Yard was investigating whether he was part of the alleged Westminster VIP paedophile ring said to have abused children in the 1970s and 1980s.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3216951/New-BBC-report-attacking-police-probe-alleged-celebrity-paedophiles-hold-amid-tension-rival-news-teams.html#ixzz3kUR95mbq
This year's theme is 'The People Got the Power', with one of the best speakers line-up to date. Ian R. Crane, Zen Gardner, Brian Gerrish, Ken O'Keefe, Patrick Henningsen, Pippa King, Max Igan, Thomas Sheridan, Olga Raffa, Samantha Rayn Bachman and many more… AV residential events provide a unique opportunity for delegates to hear powerful, cutting edge presentations, attend workshops, and to interact informally with all speakers throughout the weekend – a great opportunity to meet and chat with people who really know what's going on. The Alternative View, or AV6 runs between Friday evening May 15th and Monday morning May 17th at Staverton Park Hotel, Daventry Road, Staverton, Daventry, Northants, England, NN11 6JT. Read more http://21stcenturywire.com/2015/05/10/av6-the-people-got-the-power-come-to-britains-top-alternative-conference/
An article on the Exaro News website has wrongly claimed that the CPS has refused to tell the Metropolitan Police Service (MPS) whether it had enough evidence to charge the late Lord Brittan in relation to an allegation of non-recent rape. we provided police with early investigative advice on this matter in July 2013 The decisions in this matter have always been taken by the police. They made a decision to take no further action in 2013 and, despite their later investigations, they were never able to conclude that the evidential test for a full charging decision was met. http://blog.cps.gov.uk/2015/06/index.html Buck passing and ar*e covering - and no mention of child rape Wonder what they'll come up with for JANNER case? (how recent is 'non-recent'? Is that different from 'historic'?)
Wifi Networks Can Now Identify Who You Are Through Walls
Who needs a peep hole when a wifi network will do? Researchers from MIT have developed technology that uses wireless signals to see your silhouette through a wall—and it can even tell you apart from other people, too. There is, of course, an elephant in the room here that you wouldn't even need RF-Capture to identify — and that's privacy. First off, the team insists that any device using this kind of technology, such as a router that can tell when your relative has fallen, uses encryption from the get-go. "We [also] want to ensure that people do not use it for malicious purposes," adds Katabi. "To that end, we are working along two fronts: first, we are designing blockers that can prevent someone from being tracked except by their own device. And, second, we need to have regulations that dictate how and when these devices can be used. Privacy is always a chief concern." Really?
According to the South China Post, President Xi of the CCP has ordered his military to be on alert for war at any second. This comes after Xi tells the PLA (Peoples Liberation Army) they must be ready to "act at any second" as the country's armed forces kicked off the year's military training and exercises on Monday. He also ordered the PLA to "substantially increase" the use of technology in its exercises. These included the use of computer simulations and online combat in drills, as well as exploration of more opportunities to add hi-tech and the internet – known as tech+ and web+ – in training. This seems to be a show of muscles towards India and Taiwan Read more HERE
By Anna Rodgers. (Delighted that Anna has agreed to submit articles for the site, looking forward to working with her.) The Earth's atmosphere is made up of 21% oxygen. Over time this percentage has been very slowly declining, primarily due to the burning of fossil fuels. In major cities, this percentage can be even lower, due to the harmful effects of pollution. Recently the Guardian newspaper in the UK published an article titled, ''Nearly 9,500 people die each year in London due to pollution – study." Pollution is deadly and we are all breathing it in no matter where we live in the world. Check out this article to learn which are the world's most polluted cities. We are witnessing worrying increases in human illnesses due to the lower levels of oxygen at the cellular level of the body (called hypoxia). Examples include breathing related disorders, asthma, COPD; fatigue disorders, ME, CFS; sleep disorders, etc. With this in mind, it seems safe to assume that none of us are regularly breathing in good quality oxygen like we need to be.
Healthy Oxygen Levels Vital For Good Health
Oxygen is essential for cellular respiration in all mammals (including humans) and without it, we would die. The body uses the oxygen in the cellular mitochondria to help generate something called adenosine triphosphate (ATP), which is the body's "energy currency" and essential for our bodies to perform their day to day tasks and all normal physiological functions. Read more http://www.collective-evolution.com/2015/08/08/oxygen-are-you-getting-enough-healthy-air/
Jon Rappoport exposed in 2012 a shameful practice of psychiatrists in the name of 'social justice.' With the guise of improving academic achievement, doctors like Dr. Michael Anderson are prescribing drugs like Adderall to children with self-admitted, 'made-up' ADHD diagnoses. Adderall is a dangerous stimulant, but Dr. Anderson, a pediatrician for many poor families in Cherokee County, north of Atlanta, prescribes Adderall whether his patients have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder or not when he hears they are suffering in school. He admits the disorder is 'made up' and prescribes the drugs anyhow, but usually only to children in low income schools with the explanation that they need to be drugged to keep up with children who perform better academically. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/10/07/pediatrician-admits-adhd-is-made-up-prescribes-meds-anyway/
An investigation has been launched into claims that Metropolitan Police officers used a secret online forum to air racist views about ethnic groups.
A Metropolitan Police spokesman said "concerns" were raised about comments made on a Facebook group with the Directorate of Professional Standards (DPS) in April.
Representatives of the traveller community contacted police in June about the same Facebook group and these complaints were being "looked at in detail as part of the DPS assessment", according to the spokesman.
Some of the comments were made during a discussion in March about the BBC Trust's decision to clear Jeremy Clarkson and other Top Gear presenters of wrongdoing for their use of the word "pikey", a derogatory term for travellers, according to The Independent on Sunday.
The spokesman said: "The group administrators have set the privacy settings for the group as 'secret', but we understand it to include former and serving MPS officers among its members.
"DPS is assessing the information it has received to determine whether any serving MPS officer or staff may have committed any acts of misconduct and will also look to see if any criminal offences may have been committed. Should either be disclosed they will be fully investigated." Yvonne MacNamara, chief executive of the Traveller Movement, described the Facebook comments were "shocking". http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/crime/11749245/Met-Police-officers-accused-of-using-secret-racist-Facebook-group.html
Javed Khan, chief executive of Barnardo's, said: "We are intent on tackling this horrendous crime and supporting victims as they try to rebuild their shattered lives." Barnados's has received £3.1m to tackle child sex abuse in Rotherham and to help rebuild the lives of victims. Javed Khan was previously chief exec of Victim support
In 2014 the head of Victim Support, the Government-backed charity for people affected by crime, was accused of taking an armed gang to settle a long-running land dispute in his native Pakistan.
Javed Khan is reported to have arrived in the village of Haveli Bagal last week with about eight men armed with automatic rifles. The events threaten to embarrass Victim Support, which receives £38 million a year from the Government. With a reduced budget he'll have to make do with less ordnance?
The City of London is the money-laundering centre of the world's drug trade, according to an internationally acclaimed crime expert.
UK banks and financial services have ignored so-called "know your customer" rules designed to curb criminals' abilities to launder the proceeds of crime, Roberto Saviano warned. Mr Saviano, author of the international bestseller Gomorrah, which exposed the workings of the Neapolitan crime organisation Camorra, said: "The British treat it as not their problem because there aren't corpses on the street." His warning follows a National Crime Agency (NCA) threat assessment which stated: "We assess that hundreds of billions of US dollars of criminal money almost certainly continue to be laundered through UK banks, including their subsidiaries, each year." Last month, the NCA warned that despite the UK's role in developing international standards to tackle money laundering, the continued extent of it amounts to a "strategic threat to the UK's economy and reputation". It added that the same money-laundering networks used by organised crime were being used by terrorists as well. Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/london-is-now-the-global-moneylaundering-centre-for-the-drug-trade-says-crime-expert-10366262.html
Parenting has never been easy, but parents certainly face some new challenges in the 21st century. Making medical choices for your children is one of many responsibilities, and in the era of mandatory vaccines and big-pharma influence over the medcial establishment, decisions which once may have been easy to make are now more complex than ever before. Take mental health, for example. Never before in the history of human kind have we suffered from such dreadful mental health, and never before have human beings used chemicals like modern pharmaceuticals to regulate their emotional and spiritual well-being by tinkering with body chemistry. Psychotropics are chemical pharmaceuticals that change brain chemistry and create alterations in mood, consciousness and perception. Whatever your opinion of them is, they are a here to stay in our society, they can have extremely negative side effects, and they are even linked to some very shocking incidents of public violence. These drugs can be dangerous. "As far as antipsychotics, antianxiety drugs and antidepressants, the FDA and international drug regulatory agencies cite side effects including, but not limited to, psychosis, mania, suicidal ideation, heart attack, stroke, diabetes, and even sudden death." [Source] Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/08/13/hundreds-of-thousands-of-babies-on-antidepressants-psychotropic-drugs/
In what appears to be the latest escalation in the UK government's campaign to blame Russia for the poisoning of former double agent Sergei Skripal, his daughter Yulia Skripal and three other seemingly random Britons (one of whom succumbed to the deadly Novichok nerve agent used in the attacks), British prosecutors are saying they have "sufficient evidence" to charge Alexander Petrov and Ruslan Boshirov, both Russian nationals, with conspiracy to murder Skripal, as well as the attempted murder of his daughter and police detective Nick Bailey, according to Reuters. The news comes nearly two months after investigators said they had identified the suspected perpetrators of the Novichok attack by crossing referencing CCTV feeds with records of people who entered the country around that time. Read more HERE by Tyler Durden
How many people do you know who have some form of cancer? I doubt if there is anybody who doesn't know somebody with a cancer in one form or another. Sadly, today, one in three will succumb, how long before it's two in three? Where is the public outcry? Geo-Engineering (chemtrails), the rubbish ingedients in some foods, E Numbers, additives, GMOs, poor nutrition, Codex Alimenteris, all surely have a hand in this. Billions and billions are supposedly spent on research, the drug companies are raking in massive profits and squashing anyone will alternative ideas to attack cancer. It's pretty obvious why! They have come up with NOTHING new in the last thirty years. Why not? Chemo is a killer, PROVEN! It may well kill cancer cells BUT chemo is, in itself, a killer. It destroys healthy cells too, the very ones needed to fight back! The way forward has to be in getting your immune system up to speed and doing the fighting, not the mustard gas technology apparently used in chemo. Cannabis Oil could well be the future, no side effects and it seems to work. For sure this is unlikely to be taken up by mainstream medicine, Big Pharma profits would drop like a concrete parachute and they would never be allowed. So people keep on dying needlessly to keep up the profits of licensed killers. There is no other way to explain the reluctance of Big Pharma and mainstream medicine to accept alternative treatment. After all, the drug companies finance medical schools to a large degree. Can you see where I'm coming from? A worldwide disgrace, suiting The New World Order and Agenda21 in it's plans to cull the population.
Documents seen by The Independent show children are taught about the horrors of the Holocaust when they are still in kindergarten at the Beis Rochel boys' school in north London. A whistle-blower, who wished to remain anonymous, has shown The Independent a worksheet given to boys aged three and four at the school. In it, children were asked to complete questions related to the holiday of 21 Kislev, observed by Satmer Jews as the day its founder and holy Rebbe, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, escaped the Nazis. The document refers to Nazis only as "goyim" – a term for non-Jews some people argue is offensive. Emily Green, who used to teach at the same Beis Rochel girls' secondary school and now chairs the Gesher EU organisation which supports ultra-Orthodox Jews who want to leave the community, said she used to teach at Beis Rochel, part of the Satmer Hasidic sect. "It's not uncommon to be taught non-Jewish people are evil in ultra-Orthodox Jewish schools. It is part of the prayers, teaching, their whole ethos," she said. Describing it as a form of "indoctrination", Ms Green added: "Psychologically, you become so afraid of the world out there after being taught how dangerous and bad and evil non-Jews are, that it makes it harder to leave." Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/education/education-news/threeyearold-ultraorthodox-jewish-children-told-the-nonjews-are-evil-in-worksheet-produced-by-school-10481682.html
With so many cases of abuse awaiting justice - this may be of interest. From Jan 2014 THE EUROPEAN COURT of Human Rights (ECtHR) has found in favour of Louise O'Keeffe in her case against the Irish state, making them liable for the sexual abuse she suffered at the hands of her primary school principal. Both the High Court and Supreme Court in Ireland had ruled that the State was not responsible for the assaults but the ECtHR has this morning overruled their judgements. O'Keefe's case in the ECtHR had argued that the State failed to structure the primary education system so as to protect her. It also argued that the State failed to investigate or provide an appropriate judicial response to her ill-treatment. In it's judgement delivered this morning, the ECtHR said that the State "had to have been aware of the level of sexual crime against minors" as a result of a number of reports from the 1930s to the 1970s.
"Despite this awareness, the Irish State continued to entrust the management of the primary education of the vast majority of young Irish children to privately managed National Schools, without putting in place any mechanism of effective State control," the 17 judge Grand Chamber decided. Read more http://www.thejournal.ie/louise-okeeffe-1286271-Jan2014/?utm_source=shortlink
A Conservative think tank unwittingly invited a paedophile onto a boat party with underage revellers. Guests at the bash were left outraged after child porn hoarder Richard Neate was sighted on board, just months after he was sentenced. The 28-year-old was found with indecent images of children as young as six and had a video of a man having sex with a dog. But the Adam Smith Institute welcomed Neate aboard their annual invite-only cruise down the Thames past Parliament. The Institute insisted the party was for over 18s, but after guests claimed 16 year olds were aboard, admitted under 18s had been present. Read more HERE
Tony Blair is taking on a new role combating anti-Semitism after warning "we live in dangerous times".
The former prime minister is to become chairman of the European Council on Tolerance and Reconcilia-tion (ECTR). It campaigns for European to make Holocaust denial a criminal offence, clearly define racism and anti-Semitism, and to pay for security at synagogues and Jewish schools. Writing in The Times, Mr Blair and Moshe Kantor, a Russian--born Jewish businessman, warned that Europe is at a turning point. "There have been three periods in the past hundred years when the annual GDP growth in Europe went below 1%: first in 1913, just before the First World War, second in 1938, just before the Second World War, and third in 2014. "Economic decline fuels instability." Read more http://news.sky.com/story/1495829/tony-blairs-new-role-to-tackle-anti-semitism
Much of the mainstream American food supply is laden with unhealthy additives, artificial flavorings, coloring, dyes, preservatives, hormones, genetically modified organisms (GMOs), and toxins. Not everyone agrees that GMOs have been proven harmful to humans, which is why the food chains listed here were selected specifically because they are responsible for a wide variety of health violations—the GMOs and their concealment from public knowledge are included for informational purposes. As with all things, I urge you to read with your head on a swivel, adjusting your worldview based on new information. Details http://www.activistpost.com/2015/06/10-worst-food-companies-that-are.html
Our Jason Nota has launched a new platform for those who have had enough of the censorship and the bias by big tech. At Unplugged you are free to discuss whatever you want without fear of censorship, but we are nice people and EVERYONE is entitled to an opinion so NO HATE SPEECH or INCITING VIOLENCE! We will hopefully be launching the main site on the 1st of April @ 12.01pm if all goes to plan, and all those that have subscribed to the news letter will be one of the first members to get the opportunity to use this exciting new platform. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uetMmM8gbgA In the meantime you can subscribe to us on the link below for updates SUBSCRIBE NOW AND BE ONE OF THE FIRST EVER USERS Support GO FUND ME
As I've been documenting for the past year, the COVID experts have been contradicting themselves six ways from Sunday. As charlatans, they're abject failures. They can't keep their own story straight. Thanks to an alert reader, I've come across a new blockbuster. BY THEIR OWN STANDARDS, the FDA should never have allowed the Pfizer COVID vaccine to be shot into a single arm. The Agency's Emergency Use Authorization was a crime—according to their own data. Here we go. The document posted on the FDA website, is titled, "Vaccines and Related Biological Products; Advisory Committee Meeting; FDA Briefing Document Pfizer-BioNTech COVID-19 Vaccine." [1] It is dated December 10, 2020. The date tells us that all the information in the document is taken from the Pfizer clinical trial, based on which the FDA authorized the vaccine for public use. A key quote is buried on page 42: "Among 3410 total cases of suspected but unconfirmed COVID-19 in the overall study population, 1594 occurred in the vaccine group vs. 1816 in the placebo group [who received a saltwater shot]." by Jon Rappoport The Irish Sentinel
Jihadists identifying themselves with the terror group ISIS are brazenly tweeting about plans to attack yet another major western city under the Twitter hashtag #LondonAttack.
Read more & video here http://www.infowars.com/london-attack-threat-unleashed-by-u-s-backed-isis/
In between pontificating on the US election, Greece's turmoil and the position of Russia, participants in the shadowy Bilderberg conference are going to discuss the development of artificial intelligence and risks of cyberspace. The club that has been bringing together west's most influential financiers, media moguls, industry captains, politicians and royalty for over six decades, is meeting this week in Austria. Some 140 guests are to visit the Telfs-Buchen alpine resort, where this year's conference is to be held, just 20 km from the site of the G7 summit. The group has published its agenda and guest list ahead of the four-day private event. From politics, it brings together two current European prime ministers, Mark Rutte of the Netherlands and Charles Michel of Belgium, and several ministers such as UK Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne, German Defense Minister Ursula von der Leyen and Finnish Finance Minister Alexander Stubb. Read more http://rt.com/news/266032-bilderberg-2015-meeting-agenda/
At least 20,000 bloodthirsty jihadis have infiltrated Syrian refugee camps and are plotting to enter Europe, a senior official warned tonight. Lebanese Education Minister Elias Bou Saab said he fears Islamic State radicals make up at least 2% of the 1.1million Syrians living in camps across his country. And he warned of a covert jihadi "operation" to get across the Med and into Europe. His warning came as David Cameron made a whistle-stop tour of refugee camps in Lebanon and Jordan yesterday to try to win back public support on the Syria crisis. "My gut feeling is they (IS) are facilitating such an operation. To go to Europe and other places... From Turkey to Greece," Mr Bou Saab said. "You may have, let's say, 2% that could be radicals. That is more than enough. We have had that also with our camps here - you find 2-3% of them." Read more http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/officials-warn-20000-isis-jihadis-6443516
Colin Barr is the man behind Abused: The Untold Story which will shed new light on crimes uncovered by Operation Yewtree. Double Emmy and Bafta winning Colin, 44, is winning acclaim for his BBC three-parter The Detectives, focusing on the work of the Serious Sexual Offences Unit at Greater Manchester Police. The focus of Abused will shift to those whose lives were destroyed by showbiz perverts. It's on the BBC, who came in for heavy criticism after it emerged that Newsnight shelved a report into Savile's crimes in 2011. Colin, from Glasgow, said: "Given that it's one of the biggest stories of our generation, the BBC should be doing it. http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/uk-world-news/tv-producer-colin-barr-explosive-5750649 Wonder for whom it'll be explosive - the beeb licence fee - or the politz?
A group of academics have dismissed Conservative government's plan to enshrine permanent budget surpluses in law as a political gimmick that ignores basic economics. The academics said a law aw forcing the government to cut spending or raise taxes every year to generate a budget surplus, characterized as Micawber economics, would suck the economy dry and within a few years could trigger another credit crunch. In a letter, 77 of the best-known academic economists, including French economist Thomas Piketty and Cambridge professor Ha-Joon Chang accused Chancellor George Osborne of turning a blind eye to the complexities of a 21st-century economy. It came in response to chancellor's Mansion House speech earlier this week during which he said the government should be forced by law to bring down the UK's debt mountain to protect the economy against future shocks. Source http://presstv.ir/Detail/2015/06/13/415649/Experts-slam-chancellors-budget-proposal
Tens of thousands of people have marched through Dublin, Ireland, in protest at controversial new municipal water charges introduced as part of the country's austerity deal with Europe. Irish Water started billing residents for water usage in April following an agreement made with creditors under the terms of the bailout plan in 2010. The water charges were ordered by the European Central Bank, International Monetary Fund and European Union in a bid to boost the revenue raised from taxes in the Republic. Critics say the charges are having a catastrophic impact on the poorest members of society whilst barely impinging on the lives of the richest. At a press conference for the event, union leader John Douglas said: "Ireland is one of the most unequal countries in the developed world where hundreds of thousands of us struggle to just get by… at the same time, a relatively small few flourish in barely imaginable wealth." Read more http://www.ibtimes.co.uk/ireland-80000-march-protest-austerity-linked-new-water-charges-1517706
Here we go buckle up.. A so called panel of experts have launched an 'independent' review of the Human Rights Act. The review will be led by former Court of Appeal Judge, Sir Peter Gross, and will consider if the HRA needs updating after 2 decades of being in force. As promised in the Manifesto, it will take a fresh look at the Act – how it operates and protects human rights – to ensure it continues to meet the needs of the society it serves. Specifically, the review will consider:
The relationship between the domestic courts and the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR). This includes how the duty to 'take into account' of ECtHR case law has been applied in practice, and whether dialogue between our domestic courts and the ECtHR works effectively and if there is room for improvement.
The impact of the HRA on the relationship between the judiciary, executive and Parliament, and whether domestic courts are being unduly drawn into areas of policy.
The implications of the way in which the Human Rights Act applies outside the territory of the UK and whether there is a case for change.
Full Press Release HERE Hat tip Jason Nota
Belgium's national privacy watchdog is taking US internet company Facebook to court, arguing that the way the social network website tracks the behaviour of both members and non-members is illegal under Belgian and European law. The basis for the case is research requested by the privacy commission and published in March, which noted that Facebook tracks user behaviour on non-Facebook websites by default until they opt-out, instead of after seeking permission. It also noted that Facebook tracks the behaviour of people who are not members of Facebook, which also violates the EU's e-Privacy directive. "Even people who explicitly state that they do not want to be tracked, are tracked anyway", Debeuckelaere told Belgian newspaper De Morgen, which broke the story on Monday (15 June). https://euobserver.com/digital/129110
Bank of England official nicknamed "The Hammer" was sent emails that were crucial to rigging Libor, Southwark Crown Court has heard. Jurors in the trial of former UBS and Citigroup trader Tom Hayes were yesterday (27 May) told Martin Mallett, the Bank of England's chief currency dealer, received emails detailing the interest charged for lending Japanese yen. Hayes allegedly used the rates to place huge wagers on the movements of Libor in deals that could have either earned of lost him hundreds of thousands of pounds. There was no suggestion Mallett, who used his email address [email protected], acted on the information contained in the emails, but traders from Barclays, Lloyds and BNP Paribas were also copied in on the communications. Read more http://www.ibtimes.co.uk/libor-rigging-trial-bank-england-official-hammer-sent-emails-crucial-rate-fixing-1503278
Roy takes us to Davos and look at what world leaders are planning for us. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vaytpj/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/roy-davies-geo-political-update-4-2-21/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
By Stephanie Linning
An advert selling a baby boy for £15,000 was spotted on a website for second-hand goods.
The post appeared on West Midlands classified site useddudley.co.uk under the heading: '15,000 1 Year Months Old Boy For Adoption'.
Accompanied by a seemingly professional baby photo, the listing said the toddler, named Daniel, 'loved cars, stacking cups, balls and books', as well as 'cuddles and being around other children'.
It claimed the child was 'under the care of the church' and invited users to send an email if they wanted 'to know more about Daniel, his parents and his adoption procedure'.
Posted by user 'jamescamalida', the post, which has since been removed, also appeared on other local versions of the site for Sandwell, Wolverhampton and Walsall.
A number of concerned users contacted the website after seeing the advert. Helen Slater, from Dudley, who spotted the post on July 25 said she was 'absolutely stunned'.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3192348/Advert-offering-BABY-sale-15-000-appears-classified-website.html#ixzz3iQzJ5bF7
Is your child's school promoting Covid-19 vaccination for children aged 12 years and over? Are you are concerned that your child could receive the jab without your consent while at school? Lawyers for Liberty can send a formal email to the headteacher advising them of the legal risks of their policy. This service is:
Anonymous – neither your name nor your child/children's names will be mentioned in the email to the headteacher.
Free – Lawyers for Liberty is a voluntary campaign group aiming to restore human rights and civil liberties.
All you need to do is fill in our form with your name and email address; the name of your child's school; and the name and email address of the school's headteacher. We will then email the headteacher (you can download the email text here) letting him or her know we are writing on behalf of a concerned parent. The details you give us will then be added to our Whistleblowers' Register (which is strictly confidential – your details will not be disclosed to any third parties without your consent). The advantage of the Register is that it establishes a record of contact – yours with us, and ours with the headteacher – should you ever need to rely on it. Email The Headteacher of my Child's School YES Please
How to fill in the form
Jo Rogers from Lawyers for Liberty explains: [embed]https://videopress.com/v/gS0vU9ft[/embed]
Click here if you'd like to download a sample copy of the email we will send to headteachers. Email The Headteacher of my Child's School YES Please Lawyers For Liberty
George Osborne will reveal how the government plans to cut £12bn from Britain's welfare bill when he announces a fresh wave of austerity measures in his second budget in less than four months on 8 July. The chancellor said he wanted to make a start delivering on the commitments made in the Conservative party manifesto and pledged that his package would be a budget for "working people". Announcing his decision in an article in the Sun, Osborne said he would provide details of how the government plans to eliminate the UK's budget deficit – forecast to be £75bn this year – and run a surplus by the end of the parliament. "On the 8th of July I am going to take the unusual step of having a second budget of the year – because I don't want to wait to turn the promises we made in the election into a reality … And I can tell you it will be a budget for working people." Read more http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2015/may/16/george-osborne-july-budget-austerity-conservatives-deficit
In my 40 years as an agony aunt, I've learnt much about the ways in which governments collude with social services departments to meet adoption targets.
Adoptions have certainly increased. In 1995, the number of under-fives adopted in England was 560. By 2012, the number had quadrupled — of these, 1,100 were described as 'consent dispensed with': in other words, forcible adoptions.
One social services department, it was widely reported, received £27,000 every time it placed a child with adoptive parents (possibly to cover the costs of the process).
Fostering, meanwhile, costs them £2,000 per child and also incurs huge long-term expenditure — foster parents are paid up to £900 a week to look after the most challenging children.
I know, too, that some children — notably sweet-faced babies — are much more adoptable than others, and it is the winsome who are cherry-picked. Meanwhile, the difficult to adopt — those who are older, less pretty or who have behavioural issues or disabilities — are often either left to languish in children's homes or permitted to remain with their parents.
Read more http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3098468/Blood-chilling-scandal-thousands-babies-stolen-State-TV-agony-aunt-Denise-Robertson-s-spent-years-investigating-says-s-monstrous-injustice-age.html
Disgraced former IMF chief and self-confessed 'sex addict' Dominique Strauss-Kahn has emerged as a favorite among voters to become the next president of France.
The shamed economist has admitted to taking part in sordid global group sex sessions, and paid four million pounds to a New York hotel maid who accused him of rape.
But a new survey has revealed he is still the second most popular left-wing potential president for the 2017 election - far ahead of current leader Francois Hollande.
Pollsters Viavoice said 37 percent of those questioned thought Strauss-Kahn would be a good choice for the presidency, beaten only by the current prime minister Manuel Valls on 47 percent.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3147694/Disgraced-former-IMF-chief-sex-addict-Dominique-Strauss-Kahn-emerges-favourite-French-PRESIDENT.html#ixzz3em01OvJW
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DiAMQypUxeY http://investmentwatchblog.com/5-big-banks-rigged-financial-markets-and-no-one-goes-to-jail/
China, the world's largest market for robots, also wants to become their biggest producer. The China Robot Industry Alliance outlined plans on Friday which would make China become the world's largest manufacturer of robots, at the organization's annual conference in Chongqing, southwest China. We predict that China can become one of the strongest industrial robot makers by 2030," said Song Xiaodong, secretary-general of the Alliance, at the conference. According to the plan, which is being overseen by China's Prime Minister Li Keqiang, by 2030 China will be a world-leading research and development center for robotics. It could also become a high-end manufacturing base for robots and key components, explained Song.
Read more: http://sputniknews.com/asia/20150524/1022513619.html#ixzz3b4o0nj6G
The independent inquiry into child sexual abuse in England and Wales will investigate allegations against politicians living and dead, and a variety of public institutions, in the first of 12 hearings into alleged abuse and cover-ups, the chair has said. Judge Lowell Goddard revealed details of the first investigations to be carried out in public into child sexual abuse dating back decades. They cover institutions such as the Church of England, the Roman Catholic church, Westminster, children's homes in Nottinghamshire and the London borough of Lambeth, child abuse on the internet, as well as grooming and sexual exploitation in Rochdale, Devon, Cornwall, Oxford and Rotherham. The scale of the first 12 investigations to be announced – which will be followed by up to 13 more – was ambitious, Goddard admitted. "To run 12 investigations in parallel represents an organisational challenge that is unprecedented in a public inquiry in the United Kingdom," she said. "We are determined to succeed and expect full co-operation of all institutions and individuals who can assist us in our work." While some of the investigations may take 18 months, others could last many years, but Goddard said she hoped to keep to her timetable of the inquiry lasting five years. Goddard's £17.9m investigation – the biggest public inquiry into institutional child abuse and accusations of establishment cover-ups ever held in England and Wales – will not be able to convict people or punish them. She has said, however, that she will not shrink from naming individuals who have abused children and the institutions which allowed it to happen. Read more http://www.theguardian.com/society/2015/nov/27/child-sex-abuse-inquiry-to-focus-on-churches-and-politicians
In a forthcoming report triggered by an Associated Press investigation, the top watchdog at the Social Security Administration found the agency paid $20.2 million in benefits to more than 130 suspected Nazi war criminals, SS guards, and others who may have participated in the Third Reich's atrocities during World War II. The report, scheduled for public release this week, used computer-processed data and other internal agency records to develop a comprehensive picture of the total number of Nazi suspects who received benefits and the dollar amounts paid out. The Social Security Administration last year refused AP's request for those figures. The payments are far greater than previously estimated and occurred between February 1962 and January 2015, when a new law called the No Social Security for Nazis Act kicked in and ended retirement payments for four beneficiaries. The report does not include the names of any Nazi suspects who received benefits. Read more http://bigstory.ap.org/article/c6daa56c9ef447c9b36f9319461d601b/watchdog-says-ex-nazis-got-202-million-social-security
Maggie Oliver is working closely with former Met Police Detective John Wedger as mentioned on my interview with John last week Listen here A former detective and Celebrity Big Brother contestant is vowing to dish the dirt on police failings in the Rochdale child sex abuse ring case. Maggie Oliver quit Greater Manchester Police to turn whistleblower after fighting on behalf of abused youngsters. Now the ex-detective constable, who was played by Lesley Sharp in TV drama Three Girls, said there is far more to emerge than was revealed in last year's BBC mini-series. She told the Daily Mirror: "I am going to be talking about what happened, far more than ever came out in the drama. That was a tiny snapshot of what went on." Read more Here
Here is a story that originates from the French media about 5 families with vaccine-damaged children who are suing the drug manufacturers for vaccine damages. You will not, of course, ever read a story like this in the U.S. mainstream press for the simple reason that families cannot sue drug manufacturers for damages due to vaccines – it is against the law. There were so many lawsuits due to vaccine damages and deaths in the 1980s, that Big Pharma blackmailed Congress by threatening to get out of the vaccine business (which is exactly what should have happened if there were truly a free market in the U.S. where failed products and companies were allowed to fail) unless they were given legal protection from ALL lawsuits. So Congress gave Big Pharma total legal immunity to any harm due to vaccines back in 1986, and the U.S. Supreme Court upheld that law in 2011. Instead, the U.S. law has set up a special "vaccine court" funded by taxes consumers pay on the vaccines. The U.S. Government has attorneys that fight on behalf of the government not to pay damages for vaccine injuries and death. But they have paid out millions of dollars in damages nevertheless, even though the mainstream media seldom reports this. - See more at: http://healthimpactnews.com/2014/5-families-sue-big-pharma-in-france-for-vaccine-damages-to-children/#sthash.dPoTSLRI.mwA5B8xt.dpuf
Clive talks about Autism and diet. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-good-life-autism-20-7-21/ For Clives products visit here https://clivedecarle.ositracker.com/190471/11489
As part of guidelines on lunchbox searches, teachers are also expected to consult and discuss healthy eating plans with pupils' parents. The Department of Education claims schools and teachers should also seek out legal advice if they have worries over pupils' food. Education minister Lord Nash said: "Schools have common law powers to search pupils, with their consent, for items. "There is nothing to prevent schools from having a policy of inspecting lunch boxes for food items that are prohibited under their school food policies. http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/588290/Teachers-powers-seize-DESTROY-pupils-unhealthy-packed-lunches-nanny-state-crackdown 'nanny' state - or dictatorship ?
The Chilcot Report into the Iraq War will not be published for at least another year, it emerged today sparking a fresh row about whether it will ever be finished.
Ministers today faced calls for an urgent statement to Parliament on the future of the inquiry, as some urged David Cameron to pull the plug.
By the end of this year the inquiry will have lasted for longer than British combat troops were fighting in Iraq.
The inquiry headed by Sir John Chilcot has already lasted six years and cost £10million.
But a source close to the inquiry told the Independent on Sunday it is 'unlikely to be published for another year at least'.
In January, Sir John wrote to Mr Cameron insisting 'very substantial progress' had been made in completing his report but admitting that it will not be possible to publish his report ahead of the general election in May.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3123526/Will-Iraq-War-report-published-Row-erupts-Chilcot-Inquiry-delayed-year.html#ixzz3d3Zxn22R
Danny gives an update with his battle with Plymouth City Council and todays court Hearing. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v8zeiy/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/danny-bamping-v-plymouth-city-council-round-2-4-12-20/
Listener Discretion advised. Danny Bamping passionately explains Plymouth Council's determination to send a small independent coffee house called FINLA COFFEE bankrupt, for allowing someone to sit whilst they waited for their take away coffee. Support Finla Coffee Here https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/danny-bamping-13th-july-2021/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsR
Rebecca Kerr, who died of a rare form of leukaemia in January 2011, is one of the teenagers whose parents believe she died as a result of the HPV vaccine.
It prevents infection by the sexually transmitted human papilloma virus which is behind the majority of cervical cancer cases.
Last night her father David, 53, a gas engineer from Essex, said his daughter became unwell within weeks of receiving the second dose of the vaccine just before her 13th birthday.
The teenager, who was studying for her GCSEs at Francis Bardsley School for Girls in Romford, died of lymphoblastic lymphoma a year later.
Mr Kerr said: "It was rare that she ever got poorly and yet she got ill so quickly after having the vaccine. There is no doubt in our minds that there is a link, although the doctors maintain they do not know why children get leukaemia."
Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/582729/Cancer-jab-young-death
A new Texas law signed by Republican Governor Greg Abbott prohibits cities and towns from imposing local ordinances to prevent fracking and other potentially environmentally harmful oil and natural gas activities. In debating the law, Texas lawmakers emphasized the state's successful development of oil and gas for more than 100 years. The bill received a two-thirds majority vote in the Texas House and Senate. The law preempts municipal authorities from regulating oil and gas operations "within its boundaries or extraterritorial jurisdiction." Local authorities can only pass ordinances and other measures to "regulate only surface activity" in ways that are "commercially reasonable" to oil and gas operations. Read more http://rt.com/usa/259841-texas-prohibits-fracking-bans/
Netflix has come under fire for a movie streaming on their site that some viewers say contains a scene that is child pornography.
The opening scene of the Argentinian film "Desire" depicts two young girls under the age of 10 playing around with pillows. The scene takes a sexual turn involving one of the girls.
The news site PJ Media said it reported the film to the FBI and Department of Justice for child pornography. The FBI told Fox News, "Per DOJ policy, the FBI neither confirms nor denies the existence of an investigation." The film remains on Netflix's site and a rep for the streaming service did not return Fox News' request for comment. It was not immediately clear what Netflix's vetting policy is for films. Angry viewers took to Twitter to share their disgust and are calling on Netflix to remove the film and start an investigation. "@Netflix WHY ARE YOU OFFERING KIDDIE PORN??? #Desire @FBI @TheJusticeDept PLEASE investigate," one user tweeted. Read more HERE
The Government is to change the definition of child poverty by either repealing or amending legislation brought in by Labour, Whitehall sources have told The Huffington Post UK. The two options being considered for the Child Poverty Act, introduced in the dying days of the last Labour government, come after David Cameron signalled in a speech on Monday the measure of how many children are deemed to be poor is distorts the true picture. Work on changing the definition comes ahead of new figures to be published tomorrow that are likely to show the first increase in the number of children living in poor households in a decade.
A Whitehall source today said the Act could be ditched and replaced with a new law, or adjusted, to resolve the problem as the Conservatives see it, which was discussed at Cabinet yesterday. More http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2015/06/24/cameron-child-poverty-act-definition-statistics_n_7651940.html
Unfortunately, this article is not satirical. Instead, it documents five, historically factual cases where the British Government thought it would be a great idea to test chemical and biological weapons upon their own people during the Cold War. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHogM1S3CkQ http://21stcenturywire.com/2015/07/09/top-5-chemical-weapon-tests-the-british-conducted-on-their-own-people/
How the British Government subjected thousands of people to chemical and biological warfare trials during Cold War
Millions were in germ war tests
Chemtrails and Biological experiments in the UK
Investigative journalist Sharyl Attkisson has posted a recorded phone call she just had with Dr. Frank DeStefano, the CDC Director of Immunization Safety. Dr. DeStefano was a co-author with CDC whistleblower Dr. William Thompson on a 2004 study that originally was put forward as research showing there was no link between vaccines and autism. Dr. Thompson has come forward and revealed that data was withheld from the public that showed an increased risk of autism in certain populations, specifically African American boys. The CDC has already made a public announcement admitting that they did withhold some data. Dr. DeStefano has publicly stated that he will reveal the data again, but he is standing by the original study. A new audio recording of a conversation he just had with independent investigative reporter Sharyl Attkisson can be heard here. In this interview, Dr. DeStefano admitted that the CDC omitted a large group of African American children based on the absence of birth certificates. When Sharyl asked him about Dr. Thompson's concerns about the data showing a stronger link between vaccines and autism he replied: - See more at: http://healthimpactnews.com/2014/cdc-director-of-immunization-safety-admits-bias-and-withholding-data-linking-vaccines-to-austim/#sthash.ZM32J4bM.dpuf
The Communities and Local Government Select Committee has announced an inquiry into LOBO loans to local authorities by Barclays and RBS on the back of Debt Resistance UK research featured in C4 Dispatches – 'How Councils Blow Your Millions', (earlier post here) The Communities and Local Government inquiry into LOBO loans is welcome news, and vindication of the tireless FOI local authority debt audit work by Debt Resistance UK volunteers. Despite being ignored for two years by Eric Pickles, slumbering financial regulators and local authorities themselves, this issue is finally being taken seriously. Debt Resistance UK (DRUK) have serious reservations about the possible scope of the CLG inquiry and the limits of the Parliamentary Committee process to effect regulatory change. DRUK insist the inquiry should occur in parallel with citizen pressure on local authorities and much needed regulatory enforcement action by The FCA and SFO. Already City lapdog The FCA are seeking to distance themselves from responsibility for this fiasco, despite being directed to investigate Treasury Management Advisors by DCLG in 2009, yet refusing to do so. http://alternative-news-network.net/inquiry-launched-into-lobotomy-of-uk-local-government-finance/ Avoiding responsibilty within a cover up culture is one of the deadliest cancers facing society, imo
We knew things were going to esculate very quickly. Today Zero Hedge reported that Russia is currently conducting aerial drills over the Black Sea at the same time as Nato have 4o war ships and an estimated 4,000 personnel as part of what NATO has hailed as its largest naval drill in two decades. The international naval exercise codenamed Sea Breeze-2021 is being held in the Black Sea with NATO countries and Ukraine taking part," TASS wrote, while also emphasizing that Russian aircraft "carried out training flights above the Black Sea amid the Sea Breeze 2021 exercises of NATO and its partners in the region." Read full article HERE
Roy is back to take us on a trip down memory lane and to Q posts past. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vkuxhb/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/roy-davies-6th-oct-2021/
A new study published in the journal World Psychiatry (June 1 edition, not yet found on the web) found that several classes of prescription medications -- including antidepressant drugs, tranquilizers and anti-inflammatory painkillers -- markedly increased the chances of someone murdering another human being. This link has long been suspect in antidepressants, which have been repeatedly linked to mass school shootings in the United States. "I think that these chemical substances affect the impulse control of the person," Dr. Jari Tiihonen, lead author and a professor, told Medical Daily. "The only surprising result was that painkillers also increase the risk." According to the study's findings: • Antidepressant drugs increased the risk of committing homicide by 31%. • Tranquilizers increased the risk of committing homicide by 45%. • Opioid pain relievers increased the risk of committing homicide by 92%. • Anti-inflammatory painkillers increased the risk of committing homicide by 200%. http://www.naturalnews.com/049921_psychiatric_medications_homicide_risk_drug_violence.html Headache or homicide - or both?
Microsoft will sharpen Bing's security when it starts encrypting all of its search traffic by default this summer. Bing has offered HTTPS encryption for the past year and a half as an opt in feature, but now Microsoft will default to locking down everybody's search queries.
http://www.pcworld.com/article/2936152/bing-to-start-encrypting-search-traffic-by-default-this-summer.html
Bing joins Google in favoring mobile-friendly sites
Microsoft is adjusting how it ranks Bing search results for mobile users, prioritizing sites that display better on smaller screens to accommodate the increased use of mobile search. The changes, announced Thursday, come less than a month after Google started prioritizing mobile-optimized sites in its search results. Both companies are looking to attract more users by providing a better search experience on smartphones and tablets. http://www.pcworld.com/article/2922812/bing-joins-google-in-favoring-mobilefriendly-sites.html Smart phones - smart cities - smart cars - smart meters If it ain't 'smart' it's not an efficient control mechanism?
Kamala Harris having a cosy chat with the shadow president, wait hang on what did he say???? Some Known FBI Pedo Code Words "hotdog" = boy "pizza" = girl "cheese" = little girl "pasta" = little boy "ice cream" = male prostitute "walnut" = person of color "map" = semen "sauce" = orgy [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v8q4jp/[/rumble]
Victims of alleged child sex abuse who submitted accounts through the Government's inquiry website were told their testimonies had been deleted because of a technical blunder.
Following a change in the inquiry's website address, any submissions through an online form between 14 September and October 2 were "instantly and permanently deleted" before reaching staff.
The Independent Inquiry Into Child Sex Abuse (IICSA) apologised for "any inconvenience or distress" and reassured those who shared their experiences that their information had not been put at risk of disclosure.
Those whose submissions have been lost have been asked to resend their information.
The inquiry into historic sex abuse was set up last July but has suffered a number of delays after two previous chairwomen resigned. Read more http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/politics/11935056/Victim-testimonies-permanently-deleted-by-child-sex-abuse-inquiry.html
Tonight Linn Wood, who is part of Trumps elections legal team, went on to "The Thrive Time" Show hosts Clay Clark and Dr. Robert Zoellner and boy did he NOT hold back. In Q post 247 from 7th December 2017, Q tells us done by Christmas. What will start the ball rolling is the public release of the Satanic Abuse of Children by the elite and deep state. We are in for a tough month, many will not be able to comprehend the level of evil these people are involved in. Listen to LinnWoods expolsive comments. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v8pa57/[/rumble]
French supermarkets will be banned from throwing away or destroying unsold food and must instead donate it to charities or for animal feed, under a law set to crack down on food waste. "The French national assembly voted unanimously to pass the legislation as France battles an epidemic of wasted food that has highlighted the divide between giant food firms and people who are struggling to eat." http://investmentwatchblog.com/new-law-frances-supermarkets-must-now-donate-all-unsold-food-to-charity-instead-of-throwing-it-away/
Police revealed that they are investigating another 13 elected officials over allegations of child sex abuse, bringing the total to 89. The new figures were gathered by 'Operation Hydrant', which co-ordinates police investigations into child sex abuse by "prominent" people or at institutions. The number of "prominent" people under investigation over such allegations has increased to 287 from 261 in May. Read more http://www.exaronews.com/articles/5688/police-probe-13-more-politicians-over-claims-of-child-sex-abuse
Patriot Steve Pollard talks about how to beat the beast at it's own game. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/awakened-pages-steve-pollard-8-9-21/ Awakened Pages
The detective in charge of the VIP sex abuse investigation stepped down after complaining that he was being deliberately undermined by Tom Watson, the Labour MP, The Telegraph understands.
Scotland Yard knew two years ago that claims about a Westminster child abuse ring were largely unfounded, but investigations were strengthened under political pressure, it has also emerged.
"Tom Watson has questions to answer. He has put pressure on the authorities to carry on with an investigation that had gone nowhere."
Damian Green, the former policing minister
The revelations will put further pressure on Mr Watson, Labour's deputy leader, over his role in forcing police to question Lord Brittan over allegations of rape. The former home secretary went to his grave with the shadow of a rape allegation hanging over him, despite the fact that police had dismissed the case over lack of evidence.
Det Chief Insp Paul Settle, who was head of the Metropolitan Police's paedophile unit, quit the VIP child sex abuse scandal last year following a series of interventions by Mr Watson. Read more http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/crime/11923560/Exclusive-Tom-Watson-MP-forced-out-head-of-VIP-sex-abuse-case.html
The Thymus gland is situated in the upper chest near to the Heart. It isn't related to the Thyroid Gland. Not a lot was known about the Thymus until the 70's when it was discovered that it was the engine room and university for special elite T Cells. The 'T' comes from Thymus. Thymus function is active from birth and peaks in puberty. After that it starts to shrink away so by the time you are 65yrs old it has all but disappeared and all that's left is a blob of fat. Cells are manufactured in bone marrow and some are sent to the Thymus for specialist training in specialist areas. A bit like a boot camp for different military units. T cells perform different functions eg: killer T Cells to destroy any threat to our immune system, anti inflammation cells to calm the battle site down and memory T Cells that remembers the enemy and how to defeat it.
Once these cells have matured, learned their role and are equipped to deal with potential attacks they are released out on work experience where they actively take part on the front line to defend us from bugs and virus. The more we are exposed to the bigger our armoury becomes. We are all unique so therefore we all have different immune systems depending on what we have been through and when. The Thymus gland is also affected by stress so being locked up away from others will have both a physical and physiological effect on the Thymus in that it can shrink and 'atrophy'. In those over 65 it's all but gone so people of older years are reliant on the T Cells they have managed to accumulate and stock up on all their lives. The Thymus gland does an amazing job of looking after the majority of us. Whilst children are very busy being exposed to many new bugs and virus their Thymus glands are working full pelt to protect them from everything new that could harm them. Vaccinating children against a 'virus' such as Covid when we know their Thymus gland can do a far better job appears both dangerous and unnecessary. A bit like using a hammer to crack a nut. To vaccinate the elderly who by now have very little immune system left and no infrastructure to manufacture the necessary T cell response it appears mystifying as to why anyone would be prepared to do this given the fragility of many elderly and those who are immunosuppressed. Have you heard the term 'immunosenescence'? It's the process of 'ageing'. It appears that unless a vaccine has SPECIFICALLY been designed for the elderly it may a) not be effective b) May cause serious side effects.
So exactly why are we vaccinating the elderly and children? The 2 age groups of society for whom vaccination is only recommended in emergencies and even then with caution?
https://link.springer.com/content/pdf/10.1007/s00281-020-00823-y.pdf
https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20201013-why-older-people-are-harder-to-vaccinate
A married peer who oversees standards in the House of Lords has resigned after being pictured allegedly taking cocaine with two prostitutes.
Lord Sewel, a Deputy Speaker of the Lords, tendered his resignation amid claims he took the Class A drug at a sex party.
Baron John Sewel, an ex-ally of former Prime Minister Tony Blair, was said to have been caught on video telling the £200-a-night prostitutes that he wanted to "be led astray".
In footage published by The Sun on Sunday, the 69-year-old cross-bench peer is said to have stripped naked in front of the pair in his flat near Westminster last week.
Hunched over a table, the former Labour minister for Agriculture, Environment and Fisheries is pictured with a rolled-up bank note in his hand as he appears to snort white powder. The peer, who is married to Lady Jennifer, is seen in the footage with his wedding ring on show. One of the escorts is said to have told Lord Sewel: "You're such a party animal!", before he allegedly replied: "I know. Disgusting, isn't it?" He is alleged to have snorted three lines of cocaine during the 45-minute session.
Ever wonder if most parents, if offered truthful evidence regarding the potential dangers of vaccines, would permit their children to be vaccinated? The fact is, if moms and dads were to ever be presented with a truthful consent form, most would never take the chance and subject their kids to vaccine dangers. Imagine being given information regarding vaccination that pointed out that with "timely treatment" there is no need to fear the "infectious diseases" that vaccines are supposed to stave off. Or that a child may get the very diseases the vaccines were supposed to prevent anyway. Or – and this is a big one – vaccines actually contain known toxins. Would a sane parent still make the choice to endanger their child? As noted by the website VacTruth.com, a truthful consent form might look something like this: Read more http://www.naturalnews.com/050169_vaccine_injury_informed_consent_form_childhood_vaccination.html
The data we share with companies online has become a hot-button issue, but new technologies could soon be scanning us as we go about our day.
That's the claim made by a neuroscientist, who believes that devices in the real world will start gathering unprecedented levels of information about us.
Our bodies give off various signals that can be scanned and analysed by advanced computer systems, revealing everything from our current mood to our overall health.
In a similar way to wearable gadgets already available, future devices could be set up throughout public spaces to harvest this valuable bio-data.
Because they are part of our surrounding environment there will be no way for us to opt out or ditch the technology and new regulations will be needed, she warns.
Britain is too "passively tolerant" and should not leave people to live their lives as they please just because they obey the law, David Cameron has said.
At the National Security Council today Mr Cameron unveiled a series of measures that he said would crack down on people holding minority "extremist" views that differed from Britain's consensus. "For too long, we have been a passively tolerant society, saying to our citizens 'as long as you obey the law, we will leave you alone'," he said. "It's often meant we have stood neutral between different values. And that's helped foster a narrative of extremism and grievance." Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/britain-is-too-tolerant-and-should-interfere-more-in-peoples-lives-says-david-cameron-10246517.html
The Metropolitan police are to be investigated over claims that it covered up reports and evidence relating to VIP child abuse and paedophilia. High profile actors, priests, politicians and royals are among those suspected of participating in an organised system of the rape and battery of young children in care homes across the UK. The Independent Police Complaints Commission is overseeing an investigation into a total of 17 alleged cover ups as part of an extended investigation. These include three new referrals that were made to the police. The three new referrals are:
An allegation that a child abuse investigation in central London gathered evidence against MPs, judges, celebrities and other media entertainers, police, clergy and others. The file was submitted to start proceedings against those identified and, it is alleged, two months later an officer was called in by a senior Met officer and told to drop the case
Two allegations about police actions during a child abuse investigation in the 1980s. Further details of these have not been given
A pair of depraved bank workers sexually assaulted a one-year-old girl - after one said it would be "cute" to see the other abuse a baby. David Harper, 36, struck up a relationship with married colleague Jennifer Maguire, 31, before encouraging her to send him videos of herself and the child. The pair's despicable crimes were only uncovered as a result of an unrelated internal investigation into Harper's behaviour at a Bank of Scotland branch in South Lanarkshire. They are both facing jail. Bosses initially started trawling through his emails over claims he had harassed another female member of staff – but called in police when they uncovered even more disturbing material. Maguire claimed she got involved in the child abuse because Harper had threatened to put naked images of her online. Read more http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/depraved-bank-workers-sexually-abused-5944987
Why did you take me from my family?
Social workers from Africa and India have been employed in the UK for many years this stopped for a time and then in came the social workers from Romania and this has continued with now the recent news as can be read in this link more and more to be employed to steal the children. http://www.cypnow.co.uk/cyp/news/1149878/council-launches-romanian-recruitment-drive-social-vacancies Having witnessed a Romanian social worker who was working illegally with social services in the UK and taking children into care on allegations only from loving families, this social worker denied that in Romania that there were any problems of child abuse and that it was all lies made up by the media and that the Romanian children were all very safe. It is a well known fact that money talks and any one can buy for a few pounds a CV for what ever employment they want to work in and as can be read on this link more Romanians arriving to be employed as social workers This link is just one of many of a recent illegal social worker, so how many children did this illegal social worker in Essex take into care from loving families on false allegations only? There needs to be a public enquiry and perhaps the children taken into care given back to the families. Read more http://www.childrenscreamingtobeheard.com/illegal-social-workers-uk/
Clive back to discuss the doses & quantities of the best health supplements https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-good-life-episode-20-doses-quantities/
The writing was on the wall for Jimmy Savile's paedophile driver when detectives uncovered the key clue that proved his guilt. Unseen footage shows officers searching evil Ray Teret's old flat and finding graffiti containing messages and signatures from about 40 girls. Many youngsters who scrawled on the sick mural are thought to have been groomed and abused by Savile and close pal Teret during the 1970s. While Savile was never brought to justice, the evidence proved his chauffeur was lying to police when he claimed he did not know his accusers. On Sunday night, a documentary shows decorators steaming away wallpaper in the paedophile lair, above Teret's old record shop in Sale, Manchester. One message reads: "If you need me, call me, all my love Denise." And another: "Diane thinks Ray is canny." Read more http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/secrets-jimmy-saviles-lair-uncovered-5708296
Apple has an annual turnover of $274.5bn and is valued at $2 trillion. Only seven countries in the world have a higher GDP than that. Like the other U.S. big tech firms, Apple dominates countries, parks profits in tax havens and dictates terms to countries and its suppliers. It recently exploited its power by forcing its suppliers to accept 60-day payment terms up from 45 days, and payment only if their goods sold – not received by Apple (i.e. they carry the cost of Apple's stock). Suppliers told the press they had no choice but to accept if they wanted their businesses to continue. These terms are little more than corporate slavery. So it came as no surprise that free speech platform Parler became a victim of Apple's political power and bias when it was taken down from Apple's App Store. This was despite the fact that the App Store carries Twitter and Facebook, both of which have been used repeatedly by Antifa, Black Lives Matter, and other groups to coordinate acts of violence and lawlessness across the United States. Rose City Antifa, a group which has repeatedly supported acts of violence and disorder in Portland, Oregon, still has an active page on Facebook with more than 20,000 'likes'. The Parler website itself was taken down altogether by Amazon, another multinational behemoth flexing its political muscle. John Matze, Parler CEO, rightly pointed to Apple hypocrisy: "Anyone who buys an Apple phone is apparently a user. Apparently they believe Parler is responsible for all user-generated content on Parler. Therefore, by the same logic, Apple must be responsible for all actions taken by their phones. Every car bomb, every illegal cell phone conversation, every illegal crime committed on an iPhone. Standards not applied to Twitter, Facebook, or even Apple themselves, apply to Parler." The extent of the incitement to far left violence by Big Tech is clear from the fact that Matze and his family have had to go into hiding. The blatantly political nature of Apple's attack on Parler is clear. Matze said Amazon had assured them there was no problem. But then they seemed to worry Trump having been forced off Twitter, would go to Parler... so they took it down. Amazon took down websites, like Parler, which exposed electoral fraud, mainly associated with postal voting. But strangely enough, that same Amazon won't tolerate postal voting by its own workforce, as to whether they should unionise – because they know it is open to fraud. So the award for political hypocrite of the years goes to Amazon's Jeff Bezos, one of the richest men in the world. Twitter removed President Trump from their platform but not of course the Bidens or Kamala Harris or Nancy Pelosi for encouraging far left violence last year. Equally Twitter apparently has no problems with its use by Iranian religious extremists or Chinese Communism. Apple also told Parler that material 'intended to incite violence or other lawless acts has never been acceptable on the App Store', but on the day Apple censored Parler 'Hang Mike Pence' trended on Twitter. Twitter is clearly allowing its users to coordinate criminal acts on the platform, with dozens of tweets identifying looting targets in the USA still on the platform, despite the fact that the site was notified by concerned citizens. During the US Senate enquiry into the power of U.S. Big Tech, Senator Ted Cruz asked the CEO of Twitter, Jack Dorsey: "Who the hell elected you?"Who indeed? That is the point. These imperial corporate dictators are in no way constrained by voters or parliamentary scrutiny. They rule by self-appointment, using the collective investment savings of the country to lobby, get favourable tax treatment and buy their political power. By RODNEY ATKINSON The Light Newspaper
by Jason Ditz
There appears, at the very least, to be some debate among counter-terror officials on the matter, though none seem to be questioning whether or not it's appropriate to assassinate people on the basis of speech, and are simply arguing over whether or not it's worthwhile. The opponents see it as "wasting time" on "low level guys," and believe the US should spend more time trying to assassinate actual ISIS leaders, instead of just killing Tweeters and declaring them "propagandists."
Lt. Gen. Michael Barbero was also a proponent of assassinating people on social media, saying ISIS has a "huge competitive advantage" on Twitter and that with little intelligence on the actual leadership of ISIS, you "attack what you can," which means people on Twitter.
Another official, perhaps even more ominously than "angel of death" guy, talked up the killing of US-born cleric Anwar Awlaki as an example of the US assassinating people for speech, declaring "shoot your mouth off all you want. Eventually we are going to kill you." http://antiwar.com/blog/2015/09/08/debate-among-us-officials-over-whether-to-kill-people-over-twitter-accounts/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+AWCBlog+%28Antiwar.com+Blog%29
Can you see what it is yet?
https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/children-1st-episode-5-with-kathryn-watkins-7th-oct-2021/
Near the end.. The police lined the cars up and their colleague took photos of them! See the video. Let's name and shame these absolute vile human beings. No one was there to see how they all acted when they were stealing the house.. Mindless, emotionless pricks. And Hearing my mum scream to keep her mothers belongings who died only four weeks ago..as they carted it away was heart breaking. And refusing to let anyone help her or support her. Waiting till me and my dad were out of town. Unlawfully arresting my dad. these fuckers took two weeks to plan it all.. And then say they're impartial???? there's so much more they did. [video width="238" height="426" mp4="http://loucollins.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Craig-Crawford.mp4"][/video]
The Big Guns are back. Roy Davies talks us throught the Storm with commentary from Mr Truthbomb and I. With current global events getting more ridiculous by the day, Roy helps us make sense of the current goings on in Washington. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vc7oqx/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/mr-truthbomb-and-roy-davies-in-the-eye-of-the-storm-q-19-3-21/
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Our modern processed diets are leading to poor immune functioning and increased risk of inflammatory conditions, allergy, and auto-immunity, researchers warn. Besides affecting immune functions and our own health, modern diets could also 'code' our DNA and gut bacteria to pass on poor immune functions to our children. A team of scientists from Yale University in the U.S and the University of Erlangen-Nuremberg, in Germany, has said that junk food diets could be partly to blame for the sharp increase in autoimmune diseasessuch as multiple sclerosis, including alopecia, asthma and eczema. The new stark warnings come in a review published in Nutrition Journal, which analysed the impact that the modern Western diet has on immune function and risk of ill-health related to poor immunity and inflammation. Led by Dr Ian Myles from the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases at the US National Institutes of Health (NIH), the review analyses the scientific evidence for the impacts and mechanisms of harm for our over-indulgence in sugar, salt, and fat – as well as the data outlining the impacts of artificial sweeteners, gluten, and genetically modified foods. "While today's modern diet may provide beneficial protection from micro- and macronutrient deficiencies, our over abundance of calories and the macronutrients that compose our diet may all lead to increased inflammation, reduced control of infection, increased rates of cancer, and increased risk for allergic and auto-inflammatory disease," warned Myles in his review. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/08/06/modern-processed-diet-altering-dna-gut-bacteria-destroying-immunity/
Tony Blair has reportedly resigned as envoy to The Quartet group of Middle East nations. The news was reported in a tweet by the Associated Press, which claimed an official had told the agency the former UK Prime Minister would stand down. Speaking ahead of his formal resignation, Blair told officials he had written to the UN General Secretary Ban-ki Moon to step down from his post. The former Prime Minister has served as a peace envoy for the group, made up of the UN, the US, the EU and Russia, for eight years. He is thought to be stepping down due to an increasingly strained relationship with Palestinian authority figures.
Natural News contributor Jonathan Landsman has just publicly published a "lost" interview with Dr. Nicholas Gonzalez, the holistic cancer treatment doctor who passed away earlier this week. This video interview, never before released to the public, reveals truly mind-blowing information about the failure of chemotherapy and why holistic approaches to cancer treatment work far better than chemo. http://thedailycoin.org/?p=37839 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24YkS4bwHvs http://www.naturalnews.com/050540_chemotherapy_nerve_gas_chemicals_Dr_Nicholas_Gonzalez.html
Debs and I have a whizz around with the latest Findings. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/findings-episode-22-earthquakes-pompeo-gematria-iran-12-1-21/
I think now is the time to release this interview I did with Chris Fey, Bill Maloney and Brian Gerrish back in 2014. Extremly relevant. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/bill-maloney-chris-fay-brian-gerrish-westminster-special-on-peoples-internet-radio-15714/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsR
Adding fluoride to tap water could save the NHS millions and dramatically improve children's dental health, new research suggests.
The number of people admitted for tooth extractions more than halved in areas where the mineral was added to water supplies compared to those which didn't, the study found.
Tooth decay is the leading cause of hospital admissions in primary school children with 500 five to nine year olds admitted every week.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-3202081/Putting-fluoride-water-save-NHS-millions-halving-number-people-needing-tooth-extractions.html#ixzz3jASUEdXO
Maybe people should listen to yesterdays show and get the TRUTH on fluoride
https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/lou-collins-radio-show-17815-mark-kent-talks-parasites-in-water-clive-de-carle-talks-solutions/
Roger Howard Benson who did high profile work with disadvantaged youth for the Prince's Trust charity has been jailed for five years for sexually abusing a 14-year-old girl. Friday 13 November 2015- the only "msm" news report on this newsworthy item. From The Telegraph & Argus - the daily newspaper for Bradford, West Yorkshire, England and no images available of "high-profile" figure Roger Benson. Former Director of Prince Charles' Prince's Trust is a convicted paedophile Roger Benson had labelled her "a malicious nutcase and a liar" when he was arrested last year and he did not confess his guilt until she gave evidence in his trial last month. Judge Jonathan Rose said Benson's denials had made the girl's already dreadful abuse worse. Benson pleaded guilty to five offences of indecent assault that took place on three occasions in September 1986. .......................................................................................................... MR ROGER HOWARD BENSON of KEIGHLEY, born in 1938 Mr. Benson was 'head hunted' for the post of Director of Operations, with The Prince's Youth Business Trust. Director THE PRINCE'S YOUTH BUSINESS TRUST March 1980 – October 2001 (21 years) Director YOUTH ENTERPRISE SCHEME (N. IRELAND) 16 May 1986 to 24 March 2000 (14 years) ........................................................................................................ Mr. Benson has had a varied career in industry, education and charity work. Through night school, while undergoing an apprenticeship as a textile designer he won a scholarship to Leeds University to read Textile Technology. After a short period at Courtaulds, he began a career in the academic world, which saw him rise quickly through the ranks to become Head of Hotel, and Institutional Management, at Leeds Polytechnic, which became Leeds Metropolitan University. Benson has undertaken consultancy/research in small business development with 8 European/North American countries, and with the ILO. He has held many national and international posts, including being the President/Chairman of the Hotel, Catering and International Management Association. (1991 to 1995) Mr. Benson promotes InBiz in its relationships with the Local, Regional and National Government. At the time of the assaults, in 1986, Benson was working for the Prince's trust. The girl told a school friend and the police were alerted but Benson denied the allegations and was not prosecuted until 29 years later. East India Devonshire Sports And Public Schools Club Limited in London's exclusive St James's Square Roger Benson was also Director of East India Devonshire Sports And Public Schools Club Limited 5 May 2004 - 11 May 2011 - One of Britain's most historic private member's clubs and one of the richest clubs, with hefty cash reserves. Members of this private men's club have included: Prince Albert (patron), Lord Mountbatten, Lord Randolph Churchill, Denis Thatcher, the husband of Margaret Thatcher, Lord Coe and Nigel Farage. While Benson was director of the club, the treasurer was stealing money and was later convicted of fraud. .............................................................................................................. Another Director of The Prince's Trust - Sir Harold Haywood Harold Haywood's son: "My father was very involved with the royal family during the Prince's Trust days in the 1970s and 1980s but remained a close friend and adviser to the Prince. "I recall my father and late mother, Amy, frequently attending events at Buckingham Palace, including one to celebrate the forthcoming wedding of Charles and Diana just two days before it happened." In 1985 Haywood took the Prince on a 'plain clothes' visit to a youth hostel and to charity centres in Soho's red light district. Sir Harold Haywood was Director of The Prince's Trust 1977-88 Paedophile Roger Benson started with the prince's trust in 1980 when Haywood was director. Benson was 'head hunted' for the post of Director of Operations with The Prince's Youth Business Trust - wonder if Haywood appointed Roger Benson? Haywood appointed Jimmy Savile as vice-pres of a youth club via strider For almost twenty years,from 1955-1974, Haywood occupied one of the top positions at the NAYC National Association of Youth Clubs, first leading as Education and Training Director, and then Director of Youth Work. via cassandra cogno Under Haywood's NAYC directorship, Sir Angus Ogilvy, husband of Princess Alexandra was appointed President, with Jimmy Savile as Vice-President; a slew of celebrity attended fundraising events were organized, new headquarters were built on premises at Devonshire Street. Angus Ogilvy and Jimmy Savile In his autobiography Savile wrote: 'Princess Alexandra is a patron of a hostel for girls in care (Duncroft). At this place I'm a cross between a term-time boyfriend and a fixer of special trips out.' ............................................................................................................ Sir Harold Haywood's time as Chairman of Albany Trust From 1974 to 1977 Haywood is chairman of Albany Trust - during this time he coaxed into existence a booklet entitled Paedophilia: Some Questions and Answers along with fellow Albany Trustees, members of the Paedophile Information Exchange (PIE's Keith Hose and Tom O'Carroll) and the Paedophile Action League (PAL). It was abandoned after a trustee saw a draft and branded it monstrous." One of the Booklet's stated aims was to argue for the positive social benefits paedophiles brought to society: "... about paedophilia, and to argue that those involved represent no special threat to society, but on the contrary are often a force for social good." 1975-1976: Haywood & Napier, Albany Trust & Nucleus at Earl's Court Haywood was busy convening an exciting new 'informal' venture at Earl's Court, gathering a group of colleagues together to form a 'Working Party' Paedophile Information Exchange's Charles Napier took a leading role. On Monday 22 August 1977, just before Harold Haywood departs Albany Trust to create the Prince's Trust for Young People for Prince Charles, Charles Napier is discovered by Kensington & Chelsea Council to be the Treasurer of the Paedophile Information Exchange. The response of Nucleus ... They require Napier to take a holiday to get over the stress and only resign his official position not his membership of PIE. https://bitsofbooksblog.wordpress.com/2015/02/14/haywoodnapier/ Charles Napier and half-brother John Whittingdale MP Tory MP's half-brother Charles Napier sentenced to 13 years over 'prolific' child sex abuse Tory MP's half-brother who was known as 'Rapier Napier' by his pupils and helped run Paedophile Information Exchange is jailed for 13 years for HUNDREDS of sex assaults on young boys in the 60s and 70s Abuse scandals probe widens: The man (Charles Napier) who may hold key to UK's biggest paedophile network ever Paedophiles: PIE treasurer Charles Napier and PIE founder Peter Righton lived on Lord Henniker's estate. "Peter Righton, former Executive Committee member of the Paedophile Information Exchange, author of various freely available writings advocating sex with children, and senior figure in the social work profession, took up residence on Henniker's estate, Thornham Magna, following Righton's conviction for importing and possessing pornographic material featuring children in 1992. Numerous groups of children were brought from Islington and elsewhere to Thornham Magna on day trips and it is feared that they were the victims of abuse at the hands of Righton" Henniker was Director of the British Council (1968-72) Charles Napier was employed by the British Council Charles Napier and Richard Alston Napier, a British Council teacher used diplomatic privileges to smuggle child-pornography into Britain. He bragged of easy access to young boys and how he could send obscene images back to Britain in diplomatic bags." Diplomat Sir Peter Hayman was caught sending paedophilia-related materials A correspondence of an obscene nature between Sir Peter Hayman and number of other persons. The papers involved an obsession about the systematic killing by sexual torture of young people and children.
Lord Henniker and Sir Peter Hayman were at Stowe School together and both worked for the Foreign Office.
Alston brothers:
Convicted paedophile Richard Alston (left) and brother British diplomat Robert Alston Richard Alston and Charles Napier Convicted paedophile PIE member Richard Alston abused children with Napier and Righton "The court heard that Righton and Alston's friend Charles Napier would also be present for some of the meetings with the boy." Diplomat Robert Alston was educated at Ardingly College (as was Peter Righton and Richard Alston) Robert Alston is Chairman of Governors at Ardingly College. The school has its own Masonic Lodge, Ardingly College Lodge, which is a member of the elite Freemason "Public School Lodges" Council. Robert Alston served as British Ambassador to Oman between (1986–1990), and as British High Commissioner to New Zealand and the Cook Islands, non-resident High Commissioner to Samoa, and Governor of the Pitcairn Islands between (1994–1998) Pitcairn Islands... In 2000, police investigating the rape allegations of a 15-year-old girl uncovered a trail of child abuse dating back at least three generations. Scarcely any of Pitcairn's 47 inhabitants were untainted by the allegations, and barely a girl growing up on the island had escaped abuse. For Britain, the case raised embarrassing questions about its supervision of the colony, now known as an overseas territory. ......................................................................................................................................... The Martin Allen case linked to Westminster paedophile ring
Diplomats, royals, government ministers, business executives and Margaret Thatcher were frequent visitors to Stoke Lodge in the late 1970s
Stoke Lodge, the Australian high commissioner's residence in London. The Allen family lived in a cottage in the grounds. The Allen family lived in the caretaker's five-bedroom cottage in the grounds, separated from Stoke Lodge by just a few metres across a wrought-iron low-level fence about one metre high."It was quite secluded where we were; people didn't have any reason to come down there unless they lived there, really,'' Kevin tells Inquirer. The well-heeled jewellery family, the De Beers, were neighbours, so, too, the Showerings, who owned Allied Breweries, and there was an Arab king to the right. The street, Hyde Park Gate, is particularly famed as Sir Winston Churchill lived and died there. "We would often go into the garden and speak to visitors at Stoke Lodge," says Kevin. "My mum and I even stood at the fence and chatted to Prince Charles and Princess Diana once when they visited." Martin took a photograph of Margaret Thatcher and her husband Denis when they were leaving one of the receptions at Stoke Lodge. Kevin's bedroom was at the far end of the cottage, but Martin's was halfway along the hallway, directly overlooking the ambassadorial residence.Since November last year, when police started fresh inquiries into the historical abuse of children by the VIP pedophile gang, Kevin has started his own digging. What has shocked him, apart from what he believes is an apparent disinterest of the police in re-examining Martin's disappearance, are the staggering links the Australian high commission had to men who would later be revealed as some of the country's most vile pedophiles. Kevin says it was standard practice for the high commission to supplement its regular drivers with stand-in and casual drivers from a particular chauffeur firm located just across the Thames. His research has revealed that this chauffeur firm had, at various times, employed Sidney Cooke, whose gang the "Dirty Dozen'' would later be convicted and jailed for the torture and murder of three young boys in the 80s. Jimmy Savile's chauffeur, David Smith, who killed himself last year before standing trial on sex charges, is believed to have had links to the same car company in the late 70s. Cooke and his pedophile cohort are understood to have been some of the drivers who would pick up young care-home boys and rent boys in the expensive cars and deliver them to organised orgies in Barnes, Pimlico and Kensington. "All about at the same time as Martin's disappearance, all of these pedophiles were linked to the (known pedophile) houses and a couple of them worked for the one car company that Australia House used as subbies if they didn't have enough drivers,'' says Kevin, blinking back tears."Cooke and a few other infamous multi-murdering people worked for this car company." https://spotlightonabuse.wordpress.com/2015/02/01/a-missing-boy-and-the-australian-high-commission-in-london-31-01-15/ http://www.bloomberg.com/Research/stocks/private/person.asp?personId=26253401&privcapId=23733077&previousCapId=23733077&previousTitle=InBiz%20Limited http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/features/10658118/What-ho-Jeeves-Theres-trouble-at-the-old-boys-club.html http://www.derbytelegraph.co.uk/Prince-pays-tribute-Sir-Harold/story-11586668-detail/story.html#ixzz3rlKWs0PP https://bitsofbooksblog.wordpress.com/2015/02/10/sirharoldhaywood/ https://bitsofbooksblog.wordpress.com/2015/02/14/haywoodnapier/ https://ianpace.wordpress.com/tag/lord-henniker/ http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=103569364 http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/tory-mps-half-brother-charles-napier-sentenced-to-13-years-over-prolific-child-sex-abuse-9942651.html http://www.ukcolumn.org/oldforums/index.php?p=/discussion/7233/p-i-e-paedophile-information-exchange/p12 https://thecolemanexperience.wordpress.com/2013/03/09/the-british-council-charles-napier-and-the-diplomatic-bag/ https://thecolemanexperience.wordpress.com/2013/05/26/mi6-british-diplomats-william-hague-dolphin-square-and-the-vip-child-abuse-connection/ http://www.cbetta.com/director/roger-howard-benson
Well, this is pretty full-on. Sarah Palin has branded Lena Dunham a "paedophile" over comments made in her book Not That Kind of Girl last year.
Lena's book, which was released in 2014, featured a passage about how, aged 7, she had looked at her sister's vagina, curious to see if it looked the same as hers. Sarah has now compared this controversial extract to the current media storm surrounding reality TV star Josh Duggar, who appeared with his family on a US show called 19 Kids And Counting. Josh, now 27, has hit headlines across America recently, amidst accusations that as a teenager, he molested his younger siblings by touching them on their breasts and genitals. Read more http://www.cosmopolitan.co.uk/entertainment/news/a36256/lena-dunham-sarah-palin-paedophile/
Denis O'Brien's lawyers have had a busy Friday (May 29, 2015) sending letters toseveral more media outlets (including the Broadsheet.ie, who have bravelyrefused to cave into his legal threats) regarding his interactions with IBRC (Irish Bank Resolution Corporation). Denis O'Brien is the CEO of Irish Water and is an Irish Billionaire with Powerful Globalist Friends and a Very Sinister Past. He is known as 'Uncle Denis' to current Irish Prime Minister Enda Kenny and ruling party Fine Gael. O'Brien enjoys incredible political power in Ireland, yet he pays no tax in Ireland as he is a tax exile hiding his money in Malta. Read more https://isdenisobrienafascistpsychopath.wordpress.com/2015/05/30/is-denis-obrien-a-fascist-psychopath/
The long awaited update on the Spooky Central. See the plasma, the ultrasound and the PEMF in use. Clive De Carle talks to John White https://youtu.be/pH8tPNqpr9I
'Heath July 1976 at the Royal Channel Island Yacht Club Sir Edward Heath does feature as part of Operation Whistle, currently investigating historical allegations of abuse in Jersey.' Investigations into claims that police socialised with suspected paedophiles at a Jersey yacht club "came to a dead end" when the police chief was denied access to the yacht club registers, which would have shown who was present at gatherings. Graham Power was in charge when the police investigation into historical child abuse began in 2006. He said there were reports that children were abused on boats. TED HEATH AT THE TOWN HALL WITH (the late) CONSTABLE PETER BAKER JULY 20 1976 "I was told that a group of police officers and senior officials, and people who were subsequently associated with paedophile activity, used to meet as a group at the yacht club at the same time and socialise together. "The reports that things were happening out at sea all seemed to join up into a sort of set of circumstances that merits investigation." http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-jersey-34733551 Voice for Children blog comments: Anonymous7 What everyone now reading reports such as the JEP's on the Graham Power hearing should remember is that there is hardly anything at all new in what Mr Power has revealed about the disgraceful machinations of the Jersey Establishment. That the MSM are now reporting such things is simply because the Inquiry and those brave few who fought for it have forced them to. The question that should be asked is given Jersey's 'media' had Mr Power's huge statement years ago why didn't they publish the truth then? voiceforchildren Indeed, the fact is that Graham Power produced very little, or nothing new, whilst giving his evidence to the Inquiry. A great deal of what he had to say was produced in his affidavit years ago which was published on this Blog HERE. It was also made a public document by former Deputy Bob Hill as a part of his proposition P.166 (forgotten the year). The State Media were burying all this stuff back then and it was the Bloggers who were publishing it. It is only now, some five, or so, years later that the MSM is reporting, what we were reporting back then. An ex resident of Haut de la Garenne Childrens Home claims he saw children from the home being taken on to Heaths yacht and came back crying. There have been allegations that 11 boys left on Heaths boat and only ten returned when he went out with Savile. This was reported to the police with a Jersey Senator but nothing was done Latest: Jersey Care Inquiry 16 January 2015 Jersey's Care Inquiry has heard from a witness today who backs up claims that disgraced TV Presenter Jimmy Savile was in Jersey in 1976 when he denied he was. 'Mr D' was 15 years old when Savile visited Jersey children's home Haut de la Garenne and had a photograph taken with a group of children. Mr D says he was "too withdrawn" to ask to be in the photograph himself. But he says he saw a group of children pose for the photograph with Savile by the swimming pool. This is the second witness to claim Jimmy Savile visited Haut de la Garenne. Yesterday a man claimed he was sexually assaulted by Jimmy Savile during an outing with the care home. He said Savile took him aside after the photograph was taken.. http://www.itv.com/news/channel/update/2015-01-16/witness-evidence-supports-claim-savile-was-in-jersey-in-the-1970s/ It has also now emerged that Savile visited the infamous Haut de la Garenne care home on the island of Jersey. Savile sued The Sun in 2008 to cover this up and to prevent the publication of a photograph which allegedly shows Savile in the company of children at the care home. As a consequence the paper had to withdraw the article and the photograph, but the picture is still widely available on the net and the story, though not the picture, has been published by both The Daily Telegraph and The Daily Mail http://ceasefiremagazine.co.uk/silences-cover-ups-jimmy-saviles-finally-catching-him/ .................................................................................................. The current Jersey Inquiry into child abuse has heard that Jersey Senator Wilfred Krichefski raped a 12-year-old boy in the staff room of the Haut de la Garenne children's home. Senator Wilfred Krichefski carried out the attack with another man known as 'The Old Posh Gent'. On Jersey, Senator Wilfred Krichefski served as president of the Harbours and Airport committee and later as president of the Defence committee with responsibility for the police http://aanirfan.blogspot.co.uk/2014/12/jewish-senator-raped-boys-bush-and-bin.html Paul Every was the commanding officer of Jersey Sea Cadets who was arrested as part of Operation Ore for serious crimes against children but not suspended by the Jersey Sea Cadets. Postcards link Islington care home children to scene of notorious Jersey sex abuse The postcards provide solid evidence that children from Islington's homes in the 1970s were sent on trips to Jersey, in an exchange programme with children from the notorious Haut de la Garenne home, where widespread abuse took place. http://www.islingtontribune.com/news/2014/oct/postcards-link-islington-care-home-children-scene-notorious-jersey-sex-abuse#.VC-gwwF7fgw.twitter http://google-law.blogspot.com/2015/08/edward-heath-yachting-and-boating.html http://voiceforchildren.blogspot.com/2010/02/copy-of-affidavit-of-chief-police.html
Biotechnologists at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) have developed a 'kill-switch' for genetically modified insects. It is meant to assist corporations in controlling genetically modified organisms set free in the wild. But just the same as with all other GM creations, this has yet to be risk-assessed, and is already being heralded as the next 'terrific scientific development.' Researchers say that what once was science-fiction is now a reality. Utilizing a gene-editing technology, scientists have developed a way to delete entire strains of DNA instead of just editing them. At first glance, this would seem advantageous. If an insect was let loose in the wild, such as the millions of GM mosquitoes developed by Oxitec to be released in Brazil and Florida which are meant to control dengue fever (you can see a Youtube about the GM mosquitoes near the bottom of this article), humans could simply develop a 'kill switch' that would stop the GM mosquitoes from propagating.
Read more: http://naturalsociety.com/scientists-unveil-genetically-modified-insects-with-kill-switch-genes/#ixzz3c78sTxAe
(NaturalNews) If a group of Chinese scientists gets their way, the future genome of the human race will be designed and mapped out by their genetic standards. Human genetics might one day have to pass strict genetic tests and go through genetic modification to meet the demands of developing a more perfect human race. Chinese scientists are taking eugenics to a whole new level at the Sun Yat-sen University in Guangzhou, confirming for the first time that human embryos have been genetically engineered. Those who are angered at the current corporate control and genetic modification of crops should be even more furious at the experiments currently taking place on human embryos. The Chinese scientists claim they have modified the germ line of several human embryos. The genetic changes are intended to eliminate the possibility of a fatal blood disorder in humans called thalassemia. This is the next step toward a society of designer babies engineered to possess more disease-resilient traits. Read more http://www.naturalnews.com/051460_eugenics_China_designer_babies.html
Leading property experts have voiced fears the controversial drilling technique could bring the housing market close to COLLAPSE in large parts of the country. The Government looks set to grant licenses for energy companies to explore up to 65 per cent of rural Britain in the search for underground natural gas. That could see millions of people living in and around drilling sites lose up to 30 per cent off the value of their homes, including some of the country's best known celebrities. Fracking is a hugely controversial technique for extracting natural gas from under the ground. Critics have warned that the drilling destabilises the Earth and causes tremors and subsidence, which could damage people's homes for miles around. There have been reports of potential buyers pulling out of deals after discovering that fracking could take place nearby. Despite this, the Government has granted exploration and drilling licenses to fracking companies near some of Britain's most exclusive neighbourhoods and best-loved beauty spots. A leading property expert has warned that if property prices slump by just two per cent in areas earmarked for drilling, the total cost to the UK economy would be £75 billion. Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/nature/591985/Fracking-house-value-collapse-environment
Let's look at PfizerBioNTech vaccine a little more closely?
Pfizer are doing Covid vax trials on HEALTHY 12-15yr olds and it's entitled 'experimental'. Apparently Moderna doing the same. They're expecting a children's vax within a year. Terrifying.
And what reports are we hearing now the vax is being rolled out? Here are a couple of links but there are more if you look further.
Are you confident? Are you informed?
Do you feel safe in your Governments hands?
Question everything. Be informed before you decide.
Clinical Trials . Gov Here Nano Particles & allergic reactions Trials on 12 year olds Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
Even if Hillary Clinton wins the presidential race and upholds to her promises, there'll still be 50 million people in abject poverty and generations living in debt, said Ben Manski, campaign manager for 2012 Green Party Presidential candidate Jill Stein. Hillary Clinton has officially confirmed she's running for President. She addressed supporters in New York on Saturday. That was her fist campaign rally since she entered the presidential race. RT: Hillary Clinton promised a lot of fancy things. From your point of view what will be the hardest promise to keep? Ben Manski: I think that all the things she said she probably won't be able to uphold to this promises. Putting aside the question of whether she has credibility to deliver on this promises there is just the reality that most Americans are facing, which that is even if Hillary Clinton did all the things that she has promised to do there still will be 50 million people in this country living in abject poverty. You'd still be looking at generations of young people who are living in debt, essentially indentured servitude. We would still have an economy and politics that are controlled by global corporations and the Clinton family is emblematic of that. They are corporate capitalism brought to politics. Read more http://rt.com/op-edge/267190-hillary-clinton-us-democrats-elections/
Tony Blair has been obtaining sensitive government documents to help him on private business trips to China, The Telegraph can disclose.
The former prime minister has been provided with briefings, including diplomatic cables, by Foreign Office officials for regular visits to Beijing and Shanghai.
The documents include sensitive information from the British Embassy in Beijing which had to be handed over in London to avoid possible interception by China's security services.
Last month the Telegraph disclosed how Mr Blair has made China a key plank of his business empire, acting as a broker between the country and Abu Dhabi.
Last night Andrew Bridgen, a Conservative MP who has called for Mr Blair to be more transparent about his business activities, said: "It is surprising that given Mr Blair's commercial interests he is receiving these confidential Foreign Office briefings before his business trips," he said. Read more http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/investigations/11764487/Tony-Blair-given-sensitive-Foreign-Office-papers-before-business-trips-to-China.html
Clive is back, this week we discuss depression, what is it, why do we get it, what can we do about it. Great show as always. For Clives secret health club, products and everything good visit www.clivedecarle.com https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-good-life-clives-guide-to-feeling-happy-11-5-21/
Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsR
Coffee shops, universities and workplaces might have to collect data on internet use under their networks in case the Government needs it for evidence, Theresa May has said.
She made the comments as she was grilled by a committee scrutinising the draft Investigatory Powers Bill.
Ms May also refused to come clean about whether spies were collecting medical records and other sensitive personal information.
https://www.politicshome.com/home-affairs/articles/story/coffee-shops-could-be-made-collect-customers-web-data-theresa-may
Leon Brittan opposed banning a notorious pro-paedophile group, new papers suggest. Released after 32 years, the documents show an MP wrote to the late Home Secretary calling for the Paedophile Information Exchange (PIE) to be outlawed - but his plea was rebuffed. Tory Geoffrey Dickens insisted he 'shall not rest' until PIE was illegal and he was happy to put 'tremendous pressure' on Margaret Thatcher's government. But when he met Mr Dickens to discuss the letter, Brittan apparently preferred to see 'how the present law stood'. According to the BBC, which obtained minutes of the meeting under freedom of information laws, Lord Brittan also objected to a ban on PIE. The minutes read: "There was however the fundamental objection to banning an organisation that if members of the organisation were doing a mischief, it was the mischief which ought to be banned, not the organisation. Read more http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/paedophile-information-exchange-leon-brittan-5825108
Scotland Yard has revealed the creation of a new unit of armed police officers who will be used to tackle the threat of a gun attack in Britain. The SAS-style counter-terror unit will comprise of 130 specialist firearms officers (CTSFOs) and will be equipped with new weapons. They will also receive training in other counter-terror tactics such as storming buildings to rescue hostages and fast-roping from helicopters. Their formation comes as police and other emergency services carry out a full-scale counter terror exercise in central London on Tuesday morning, following the Tunisian massacre which took the lives of a suspected 30 holidaying Brits. The new armed unit has trained alongside the army and will be deployed in response to shootings, like the Tunisian attack, and potential sieges which could develop from an assault. read more http://rt.com/uk/270628-london-sas-anti-terror/
https://youtu.be/5PgX8l9AgzE https://youtu.be/5PgX8l9AgzE
Clay Clarke from thrivetimeshow. joins me to talk about his Reawaken America Tour.
[rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vkhfor/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/clay-clark-founder-of-the-re-awaken-america-tour/
Hard on the heels of the mysterious deaths of a number of holistic doctors dying or vanishing, this appears in the msm
A Cambridge Professor has made the astonishing claim that three scientists investigating the melting of Arctic ice may have been assassinated within the space of a few months.
Professor Peter Wadhams said he feared being labelled a "looney" over his suspicion that the deaths of the scientists were more than just an 'extraordinary' coincidence.
But he insisted the trio could have been murdered and hinted that the oil industry or else sinister government forces might be implicated.
The three scientists he identified - Seymour Laxon and Katherine Giles, both climate change scientists at University College London, and Tim Boyd of the Scottish Association for marine Science - all died within the space of a few months in early 2013. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/earth/environment/globalwarming/11762680/Three-scientists-investigating-melting-Arctic-ice-may-have-been-assassinated-professor-claims.html
Further cuts to the UK defense budget will begin to impact on Britain's operational capacity, critics argue, as Chancellor George Osborne presses ahead with military austerity measures worth £1 billion. The move could also end Britain's ability to meet the symbolic contribution of two percent of gross domestic product (GDP) to NATO – a topic of fierce debate in the run-up to the recent general election. The Treasury has requested the Ministry of Defence (MoD) make cuts of £1 billion. http://rt.com/uk/263045-defence-cuts-nato-osborne/
The sex abuse trial against former Labour Peer Lord Janner, who died in December, has been formally dropped by prosecutors.
The 87-year-old, who was suffering from severe dementia, had been accused of a string of child sex allegations dating back to the 1970s.
Last year, the Crown Prosecution Service admitted it had missed numerous opportunities to prosecute the former MP, but ruled that his ill health meant he was unfit to stand trial.
But that decision was challenged by some of the alleged victims and prosecutors embarked on a "trial of fact" to determine whether Janner was responsible for the crimes he had been accused of.
Following his death, it was suggested the case might continue, but at a short hearing at the Old Bailey on Friday, prosecutors announced that they were formally closing the case. Richard Whittam QC told the court: "Ordinarily death brings a criminal prosecution to an end. There is no person to be tried and they could not get a fair trial." Read more http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/law-and-order/12101131/Lord-Janner-Child-sex-abuse-case-against-late-peer-is-dropped.html
A former army officer has been assured he will not be held in breach of the Official Secrets Act if he gives evidence about what went on at Kincora Boys' Home.
Collin Wallace, who claims attempts to expose a paedophile ring at the notorious Belfast care home were blocked has nothing to fear from testifying at an inquiry, the High Court heard on Tuesday.
One former resident of Kincora, Gary Hoy, is taking legal action in a bid to have the scandal examined by a wider Westminster inquiry. Senior politicians, businessmen and high-level British state agents are alleged to have been complicit in the molestation and prostitution of vulnerable boys at the east Belfast home throughout the 1970s. Calls for full scrutiny have grown since three senior staff at Kincora were jailed in 1981 for abusing children in their care. Lawyers representing Mr Hoy, claim MI5 shielded and blackmailed perpetrators as part of a cover-up. http://www.u.tv/News/2015/06/02/Former-army-officer-can-give-evidence-on-Kincora-38329http://loucollins.uk/2015/06/02/kincora-child-abuse-victim-calls-for-wider-inquiry/
Our dear friend Jason Nota came to Devon, as this was reportedly the place to see the winter solstice alignment of Jupiter and Saturn. We ended up seeing something other than planets. Debs gets us up to speed with events across the world. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/episode-2-the-findings-21st-dec-2020/
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. From yesterday's Daily Mail : 'A transsexual man went to court for the right to contact the child of his former lesbian partner.
'He brought the civil case despite having no connection with the nine-year-old girl. Identified only as Alice, she was born to two lesbians who used donor sperm from a man also in a same-sex relationship.
'The couple — known as Rachel and Helen — split up when Alice was three. Rachel, who was her natural mother, was sectioned with schizophrenia and Helen entered a relationship with Matthew, the man who has brought the case.'
and that's only the start of the family dynasty saga
Judge Clifford Bellamy, an ordained Methodist minister, felt obliged to add: 'Alice's story is an example of the different ways in which modern family life is formed. It can be complicated.'
True, but please don't try to pretend this is the new normal.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-3111777/LITTLEJOHN-family-m-Nigerian-lesbian.html Curiouser and curiouser cried Alice
Two years ago, Post's team of researchers presented their first major discovery in the form of a five-ounce hamburger patty, which was created in a lab, but still was remarkably similar to ones sold on supermarket shelves. The reception was promising: The media was abuzz, and the BBC made several food critics try it, one of whom conceded "this is meat to me, it's not falling apart." At this point we've already managed to cut the cost by almost 80 percent. I don't think it will be long before we hit our goal of 65 to 70 dollars per kilo." https://img.washingtonpost.com/blogs/wonkblog/files/2015/05/meat1-w.jpg Read more http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/wonkblog/wp/2015/05/20/meet-the-future-of-meat-a-10-lab-grown-hamburger-that-tastes-as-good-as-the-real-thing/
The internet is going wild with claims that the Virginia Shooting is yet another staged event after a tweet apparently sent by the reporter Alison Parkers boyfriend was tweeted 12 mins before the shooting actually occured.. It clearly shows on the clock that Alison was live on air at 6.46am and her boyfriend tweeted it out at 6.34am a 12 min gap.. Was he in another state when the tweet was sent ? This tweet is no longer on Chris Hursts twitter or any other from the morning of Wednesday 26th August 2015.
"It's a groundbreaking, game-breaking technology," said Michael S. Fitz, manager of the Sensitive Site Exploitation Special Reconnaissance, Surveillance & Exploitation program at US Special Operations Command. The operators feed in a DNA sample, and the reader compares it against a database that matches DNA to identities. They can return a result in 90 minutes, a process that used to take weeks.
"In the past, when we captured DNA, the guy would put it in an envelope, send it back to the States and two or three weeks later, he would get a result on who it was that he had. By then, he moved on to other missions and he had forgotten who the guy was," Fitz said. The devices will be used for verifying the identity of targets, either before raids or after the fact. But because the program is so new, Fritz said, "we're saving it for the juicy missions."
Read more: http://sputniknews.com/us/20150522/1022435556.html#ixzz3aoU3a1sV
A Danish authority has now declared glyphosate a human carcinogen and says "don't use it." Will this declaration begin a rash of warnings from around the world? Monsanto may have asked the World Health Organization for a retraction when one of their agencies declared glyphosate, the main ingredient in Monsanto's best selling herbicide, Roundup, 'probably carcinogenic,' but they are going to have to start begging others too. A Danish professor says not to use glyphosate. Philippe Grandjean, professor of environmental medicine at the University of Southern Denmark, commented:
"We know that glyphosate cause cancer in other mammals, but it has not been demonstrated in humans. This is because the effects have not been investigated thoroughly enough in people yet. But when we see that other mammals get cancer from glyphosate, we must assume that people who are exposed to the substance can also develop cancer."
This comes during a time that the newly elected president of Sri Lanka decided to ban glyphosate effective immediately. Read more
Read more: http://naturalsociety.com/danish-authority-calls-glyphosate-a-human-carcinogen/#ixzz3bu5Pyr4P
In March 2015, a Danish national television station (TV2) aired a documentary focusing on girls who suspected they had been injured by the HPV vaccine Gardasil. Immediately after the airing of the show, girls with similar experiences started coming out of the woodwork. Virtually all of the girls had the same story to tell. They began to have serious new medical conditions shortly after using Gardasil so they would go to the doctor. According to Luise Juellund, the vast majority of doctors would tell them the HPV vaccine has no serious side effects and offer psychological problems as an alternative reason for the new symptoms. Luise should know, her daughter is one of the seriously injured and cannot be left home alone because of daily seizures and hour-long periods of unconsciousness. After disclosing the new symptoms she was experiencing after Gardasil, she was referred for psychological evaluation. Psychiatrists cleared her and she has now been diagnosed with POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome) a suspected side effect of HPV vaccines. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/06/24/gardasil-firestorm-in-denmark/
David Cameron has proven to be a capable custodian of Balfour's toxic legacy. Addressing the Knesset in 2014, Cameron boasted of how he had protected Israeli war criminals by gutting a "universal jurisdiction" law that left them vulnerable to arrest while visiting the UK. Cameron has occassionally cited his devotion to Israel when trying to score points against his rivals. "Unlike Labour, we in this party oppose boycotts," he told the annual "business lunch" hosted by the lobby group Conservative Friends of Israel last December. The inference that Labour has been hijacked by far-left Palestine solidarity activists probably went down well among Tory stalwarts. Yet it was wildly inaccurate. David Cameron and Ed Miliband have adopted almost identical positions towards Israel. Read more http://whatsupic.com/news-politics-world/1430558798.html
Greek officials now point to a race against the clock to clinch a deal before payments totaling about 1.5 billion euros ($1.7 billion) to the IMF come due next month, starting with a 300 million euro payment on June 5. "Now is the moment that negotiations are coming to a head. Now is the moment of truth, on June 5," Nikos Filis, spokesman for the ruling Syriza party's lawmakers, told ANT1 television. "If there is no deal by then that will address the current funding problem, they won't get any money," he said. Read more http://www.ekathimerini.com/4dcgi/_w_articles_wsite1_1_20/05/2015_550206
Oil and natural gas operations have been shown to contaminate surface and ground water with endocrine-disrupting chemicals. In the current study, we fill several gaps in our understanding of the potential environmental impacts related to this process. We measured the endocrine-disrupting activities of 24 chemicals used and/or produced by oil and gas operations for five nuclear receptors using a reporter gene assay in human endometrial cancer cells. We also quantified the concentration of 16 of these chemicals in oil and gas wastewater samples. Finally, we assessed reproductive and developmental outcomes in male C57BL/6J mice after the prenatal exposure to a mixture of these chemicals. We found that 23 commonly used oil and natural gas operation chemicals can activate or inhibit the estrogen, androgen, glucocorticoid, progesterone, and/or thyroid receptors, and mixtures of these chemicals can behave synergistically, additively, or antagonistically in vitro. Prenatal exposure to a mixture of 23 oil and gas operation chemicals at 3, 30, and 300 μ g/kg · d caused decreased sperm counts and increased testes, body, heart, and thymus weights and increased serum T in male mice, suggesting multiple organ system impacts. Our results suggest possible adverse developmental and reproductive health outcomes in humans and animals exposed to potential environmentally relevant levels of oil and gas operation chemicals. http://press.endocrine.org/doi/10.1210/en.2015-1375 http://www.sott.net/article/304353-Can-exposure-to-fracking-chemicals-cause-male-sterility
HERE IT COMES THE GREAT COVER UP!
Scotland Yard is under pressure to shelve its VIP paedophile murder inquiry after it emerged detectives had 'grave doubts' about the testimony of the key witness.
Officers have not found a 'shred of credible evidence' to back up claims that a string of senior Establishment figures were responsible for murdering three boys in the 1970s and 1980s.
Many detectives believe the inquiry – which has already cost the taxpayer more than £1million – is doomed and should be wound up.
Scotland Yard chiefs are reportedly 'too scared' to pull the plug on the inquiry, centred around the claims of 'Nick' (right) and linked to the Dolphin Square apartment complex in Central London (left), that three boys were murdered by senior establishment figures in the 1970s and 1980s
Senior figures in the separate judge-led public inquiry into historic child sex abuse and in the Crown Prosecution Service have been told informally that there appears to be no substance to the allegations made by a witness known only as 'Nick'.
Nick is an alleged abuse victim who was described by a senior Met Police detective last year as being 'credible and true'.
Amid claims that Yard chiefs are 'too scared' to pull the plug on the inquiry, 30 officers in the cash-strapped force are probing the astonishing triple-murder allegation, linked to Dolphin Square in Central London.
It can also be revealed that:
Police initially took Nick's account seriously because he has a respectable managerial job and does 'not fit the stereotype of a child abuse fantasist';
But there are now fears he is a 'Walter Mitty' who has made up the murder allegations;
Police have not been able to identify any of the alleged victims, discover any bodies or find any credible independent witnesses.
Sources say a number of officers have 'grave doubts' about Nick's account but fear that saying this in public could put child-sex victims off contacting police.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3222908/Grave-doubts-claims-key-witnesses-VIP-sex-abuse-inquiry.html#ixzz3kqtpsFNX
Link: ITV 25 September 2015 at 10:36am
I may need some help in fathoming what the msm is trying to convey in this short report.......
Operation Whistle
15 prominent public figures have been identified
Because of the historic (?) nature of the claims, 10 of them are now dead.
Translation: it's not a case of being ignored at the time - and it's all so long ago?
Allegations against 60 suspects in total have been made, and the team are currently working with 45 victims.
Do they mean that 15 out of the 60 are "prominent" - and what do they mean by "prominent"? Well known public figures? Like MP's? Or who?
4 arrests have been made with two being charged.
That's 2 charges out of 60 suspects - right?
A similar investigation in the UK, Operation Yewtree, saw 16 victims allege they suffered abuse at the hands of Jimmy Saville whilst in Jersey.
Why don't they just state that OPERATION WHISTLE is a JERSEY investigation?
WHY don't they mention Haute de la Garenne?
p.s imo the lad at Savile's left elbow is a dead ringer for Stephen Purdew of Champney's/Henlow Grange
The total value of £44.5 billion includes £18.1 billion of assets including the Crown jewels and royal palaces. On top of that, the monarchy is reckoned to be worth an additional £26.4 billion because of the economic benefits it brings to the UK, through the boost to tourism and other industries.
It is believed to be the first time that the monarchy has been given what would best be described in corporate finance circles as a market capitalisation value. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/the_queens_diamond_jubilee/9292607/The-Queen-gets-a-44bn-valuation-for-family-Firm.html
Would be better, if NATO foreign ministers engage more vital in resolving Ukraine crisis or mass emigration problem, than to attempt to sing old songs? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_wfMrz9_mY
According to EU news : British Prime Minister David Cameron found his reform agenda sidelined at a tense EU summit Thursday as leaders warned he faces tough negotiations ahead of a referendum on whether to leave the bloc. And according to the Torygraph:
David Cameron 'delighted' with EU talks
That infers he wants the reform agenda sidelined?
FORMER Home Secretary Leon Brittan resisted calls to ban a notorious paedophile ring despite warnings some members were "obsessed by the death of children".
http://www.dailystar.co.uk/news/latest-news/445277/Lord-Brittan-Home-secretary-pedophiles-evil-men And - of course, Leon Brittan and William Hague were close friends, enjoying hill walking together. And Hague took over Brittan's Richmond seat
After the 1987 election he went on holiday in the Dales with Kim. "I remember saying then, this is the constituency to be MP for." That was Richmond, North Yorkshire, one of the most beautiful in the land, taking in Swaledale and Wensleydale along with the rich pastures and ancient castles of the vale. He remained heavily plugged into political life, post-Oxford. Leon Brittan spotted him on a visit to the Oxford Union and asked him to help write speeches for himself and Geoffrey Howe. But after Wentworth in 1987 he had decided to wait before seeking a winnable seat for the next election. He didn't expect to resume his parliamentary ambitions till 1991 or 1992.
http://www.theguardian.com/politics/1998/jul/04/conservatives.uk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTa76uIK28I THE THEME FOR OUR RALLY IS SHOES FOR MY ANGEL IF YOU ARE MOVED BY THE VIDEO GET YOUR OWN SHOES ON AND JOIN US IN MANCHESTER JULY 8TH @2PM WE AS THAT EVERYONE BRINGS A PAIR OF CHILDS SHOES TO LAY AT THE DOORS OF THE EVENT ,
German researchers developing patches that turn skin into touchscreen, iSkin allows users to answer a phone call or adjust volume on music player.
The world is becoming awash with wearable tech, from the Apple Watch to the soon-to-be relaunched Google Glass.
But a group of German researchers wants to take this a step further by turning the human body itself into a touchscreen.
Called iSkin, the technology is a concept for touch-sensitive stickers that apply directly to human skin, effectively removing the limitations of tiny screens or clunky headsets.
iSkin turns the human body into a touch interface (pictured). Users of iSkin can design their own stickers on a computer beforehand so that they can be in control of how they look, similar to designing a tattoo
The concept is being developed by computer scientists from Saarbrücken in collaboration with researchers from Carnegie Mellon University in the US.
Their electrically conductive stickers turn the skin itself into a touch surface, allowing users to answer a phone call or adjust the volume on a music player by stroking themselves.
'The stickers allow us to enlarge the input space accessible to the user as they can be attached practically anywhere on the body,' said Martin Weigel, a PhD student in the team led by Jürgen Steimle at the Cluster of Excellence at Saarland University.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3195286/iSkin-turns-entire-BODY-touchscreen-Flexible-sensors-let-control-gadgets-poking-stroking-skin.html#ixzz3ihlp5std
Though more than 20,000 police officers were deployed to keep voice of the people away from powerful leaders, the critiques offered by demonstrators appear highlighted by the enormous efforts made to silence them. Speaking out against the destructive policies of the world's leading industrialized nations—which includes the U.S., U.K., Canada, France, Japan, Italy, and Germany—organized groups and individuals who participated in the protest carried signs and banners decrying inaction on climate change, the pending TransAtlantic Trade in Partnership (TTIP) agreement, ongoing wars and militarization, and the overarching assault on global democracy that has seen the power of corporations rise alongside nearly unprecedented levels of economic inequality http://commondreams.org/news/2015/06/06/20000-police-march-force-against-g7-protests-germany https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxHsqkyf_js
The European Union has drawn up plans for military attacks in Libya to try to curb the influx of migrants across the Mediterranean by targeting the trafficking networks. It is to launch a bid on Monday to secure a UN mandate for armed action in Libya's territorial waters.
Britain is drafting the UN security council resolution that would authorise the mission, said senior officials in Brussels. It would come under Italian command, have the participation of around 10 EU countries, including Britain, France, Spain, and Italy, and could also drag in Nato although there are no plans for initial alliance involvement. Read more http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/may/10/eu-considers-military-attacks-on-targets-in-libya-to-stop-migrant-boats
Britain has no control over how the European Union (EU) spends UK taxpayers' money at a time when Brussels is asking domestic governments to engage in austerity at home, a leading policy analyst has warned.
Business for Britain campaign director Robert Oxley sharply criticized the EU on Wednesday after it emerged Britons face an additional EU bill of £384 million (€519 million) in 2016. National ministers across Europe had agreed upon a €142.1 billion EU budget for 2016 in July, slashing the European Commission's (EC) proposal by €1.4 billion. However, the European Parliament's (EP) budget committee has hit back, moving to increase spending by €3 billion. Read more http://rinf.com/alt-news/breaking-news/outrage-brussels-demands-extra-e519m-uk-taxpayers/
Federal regulators accused four cancer charities Tuesday of spending more than $187 million in donations not to help patients, but on cars, luxury cruises and trips, jet ski outings, sport and concert tickets, dating site memberships and college tuition for family and friends. The four sham charities — Cancer Fund of America, Inc., Cancer Support Services Inc., Children's Cancer Fund of America, Inc. and The Breast Cancer Society Inc. — "operated as personal fiefdoms characterized by rampant nepotism, flagrant conflicts of interest and excessive insider compensation," according to a federal complaint filed in the District Court of Arizona. The defendants collectively spent less than 3% of the donated funds on cancer patients, according to the complaint. All 50 states and D.C. joined the Federal Trade Commission in filing the charge — one of the largest charity fraud cases to date, according to the FTC. "The defendants' egregious scheme effectively deprived legitimate cancer charities and cancer patients of much-needed funds and support," Jessica Rich, director of the FTC's Bureau of Consumer Protection, said in a release. Read more http://www.marketwatch.com/story/4-cancer-charities-charged-for-187-million-scam-2015-05-19?siteid=yhoof2&ref=yfp
The Treasury study, seen by The Independent, was commissioned by the former Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg ahead of the general election to help formulate Liberal Democrat drugs policy if the party remained in office.
Lib Dems set up a panel to find the best way to legalise cannabis
Following David Cameron's general election victory, the Government has set its face against reform of Britain's 40-year-old drugs laws and rebuffed calls for a new approach to cannabis use. But his officials' research underlined the appeal to the Treasury and the courts and prisons system of following the lead of several countries and US states and legalising and regulating the drug. Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/legalising-cannabis-in-the-uk-would-raise-hundreds-of-millions-in-taxes-a6691556.html
By Kaz http://brynalynvictims.blogspot.co.uk/ On Friday 11th Sept. we will be holding a protest in Wakefield, with a view to opening up an inquiry into the failures of West Yorkshire's Social Services departments.
This protest is part of a series planned as a direct result of information which came to light following the Halifax protest on 14th August.
Your coverage of the Halifax event was well received, thank you.
We estimate 50 people will be in attendance.
This protest is in two parts.
The group will assemble outside Wakefield One on Cliff Street, where a meeting has been planned with the Social Services Dept, the police and Mr Michael Summers, a campaigner and survivor of child abuse who was moved from Wakefield to Nottingham in the 1960's.
His records have since been destroyed, as have records of many others who went through the care system in West Yorkshire, and across the Country.
This meeting is to start at 12noon and we envisage it to last approx 20mins.
The protest group will then proceed along Cliff Parade and down Wood Street to Cross Square and the Cathedral, aiming to arrive roughly at 1pm. We will remain there until approx 2pm distributing leaflets and raising awareness.
Members of Parliament were given a 11-per cent pay increase, taking their annual salary to £74,000 back dated to May 2015. It comes as public sector workers are given a maximum 1-per cent pay increase per year in the budget and many salaries in the private sector are frozen or seeing below-inflation increases.
Thanks to a series of generous pay deals, since the mid-1970s the growth in MPs' salaries has outstripped the rise in wages received by the average working family.
In 1977, MPs' pay was set at £6,270, while the average household income in wages was £4,268 a year – meaning an MP's pay was 1.46 times higher.
By 2011, MPs' pay had risen to £65,738 a year, while the average household income in wages was £28,280 – putting MPs' earnings 2.3 times higher.
It means MPs' earnings have risen by 10.4-fold in the period, while an average family's earnings have risen 6.6-fold. http://alternative-news-network.net/mps-pay-rise-how-politicians-pay-has-risen-quicker-than-the-workers/
A 24-year-old healthy girl has won the right to end her life by euthanasia because she claims to have had suicidal thoughts since childhood. The woman, known only as Laura, does not have any life-threatening illnesses but has still been told by authorities that she can voluntarily die. She has been in a psychiatric institution since she was 21 and told local paper De Morgen: "Death feels to me not as a choice. If I had a choice, I would choose a bearable life, but I have done everything and that was unsuccessful. Assisted suicide has been legal in Belgium since 2003 and it is estimated that five people a day die that way. http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-news/suicidal-woman-wins-right-end-5966056 Euthenasia - unwanted babies -the terminally ill - the old and infirm - the healthy young
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
A team of Canadian scientists has found a way to break the barrier of the human body that keeps the nervous and circulatory systems apart, and inject the drugs directly into the brain using "carrier" antibodies. That system known as the blood-brain barrier (BBB) protects the human skull from any microbes or chemicals, thus keeping the brain clean. But this barrier also filters good things, such as disease fighting drugs from entering the nervous system. It only allows a selected few types of molecules to cross including water, some gases and lipid soluble molecules. Scientists from the Canadian National Research Council have been battling for years to find a way to trick it and get the drugs to where they are most needed - to the human brain. Currently, researchers say they have found a way based on the so-called "single domain antibodies" (SDA). It includes using special molecular fragments that are capable of tricking the blood-brain barrier (BBB) and making it believe they should be let through to the brain. The antibodies are able to squeeze past the barrier not just because of their size (these are fragments that consist of one molecule) but also due to being familiar to some of the receptors along the blood-brain barrier. Read more http://rt.com/news/258689-drugs-brain-nervous-system/
CLAIMS of a powerful paedophile ring operating at a top Scottish military school with links to the Royal Family have been passed to the Holyrood inquiry into historical child abuse.
The allegations centre on Queen Victoria School in Dunblane, which has Prince Philip as its patron and is funded by the Ministry of Defence for the children of Scots service personnel. Last night, the Ministry of Defence said the claims were being "investigated via the appropriate agencies". Glenn Harrison, a former housemaster at the boarding school, first raised the alarm in 1991 when he wrote to parents to warn them that their children were at risk. He also reported his concerns to the former Central Scotland Police but says he was told the school was covered by the Official Secrets Act and therefore out of their jurisdiction. http://www.express.co.uk/scotland/588918/Top-Scotland-school-abuse-claims Holyrood Inquiry
Holyrood inquiry to probe historic CIA-backed human brainwashing experiments
Detectives missed a key opportunity to catch Jimmy Savile in 2008 when they mishandled a woman's complaint against the prolific paedophile, a report has found.
In a damning report, the Independent Police Complaints Commission said Sussex Police failed to follow all lines of inquiry after an alleged victim claimed she had been sexually assaulted by the entertainer in a caravan in Worthing.
The woman, who said she was attacked in 1970, had bravely come forward in 2008 to make a complaint to police about the historical offence.
But the force sent two male detectives to interview her - instead of at least one trained female officer - and failed to follow all lines of inquiry, the report found.
The entertainer, who is believed to have abused more than 1,000 victims, died three years later.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3078225/Watchdog-says-Jimmy-Savile-caught-2008-Sussex-police-mishandled-victim-s-abuse-complaint.html#ixzz3ZwiXqAV2
Via the Slog https://hat4uk.wordpress.com/2015/05/28/ukraine-breaking-leaks-from-kiev-government-suggest-imminent-default-after-president-signs-controversial-debt-moratorium-law/
UKRAINE BREAKING….leaks from Kiev Government suggest imminent default after President signs controversial Debt Moratorium Law
Eight days ago, Vladimir Putin argued that the new Ukrainian law being passed would allow the country "to default on its debt without warning as of now" – depending on which internet translation you accept. The Russian leader may be about to be proved correct.
A panel of academic and public sector experts are set to study a potential deployment of facial recognition technology by Leicestershire Police. The study will form part of the new ethics committee's duties. Last month, senior police officials described the tech as significant a breakthrough for policing as the development of fingerprinting a century ago and, more recently, DNA coding. Speaking to the Leicester Mercury, Leicestershire's Chief Constable Simon Cole said the tech - a portable NeoFace surveillance solution made by NEC Corporation - could identify wanted criminals almost instantly. Read more http://www.planetbiometrics.com/article-details/i/3577/desc/panel-to-examine-uk-police-facial-recognition-system/#sthash.GFBajrRR.dpuf
A warrant has been issued for the arrest of UCD professor Dolores Cahill, a London court has confirmed.Cahill, a faculty member at the UCD School of Medicine, was due to appear in court on 10 August charged with two alleged offences in relation to a rally against Covid restrictions at Trafalgar Square in London last September. But after failing to answer bail, an arrest warrant has now been issued by Westminster Magistrates' Court. I was going to continue sharing the rest of the Journals article but it is so false I am not going to bother. Dolores is standing up for our rights and telling the truth, so it's clear the powers that be, must have her silenced. Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsR
By Ben Riley-Smith Tony Blair should be "dragged in shackles off to court as a war criminal", the father of a soldier who died in Iraq has said as families pledged legal action unless the Chilcot Inquiry is published this year.
Reg Keys, whose son Lance Corporal Tom Keys was killed in Iraq in 2003 aged 20, said delay in publishing the inquiry's findings was stopping grieving families from getting "closure".
He criticised inquiry chairman sir John for getting the balance "completely wrong" between getting answers for victims' families and reflecting the concerns of those politicians who made the decisions and are criticised.
Mr Keys is part of a group of 29 families who have issued a legal ultimatum to Sir John, believing the law requiring inquiries to be concluded in a reasonable time frame may have been breached.
Much of the anger is focused on the ongoing "Maxwellisation" process, which gives the opportunity to individuals facing possible criticism in the report to respond and is holding up publication. Read more http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/politics/labour/11800370/Tony-Blair-should-be-dragged-in-shackles-to-war-crimes-court-father-of-dead-solider-says.html
Britons are taking more medicines than ever before – with more than a billion prescriptions a year now being handed out, figures reveal today.
The number of prescriptions has risen by 50 per cent in a decade and is being driven by a surge in the use of antidepressants, painkillers, statins and drugs for diabetes.
Some elderly patients with a number of long-term illnesses end up taking a cocktail of different drugs each day, which can cause dangerous reactions.
The figures have alarmed medical experts, who say the nation has become 'over-medicalised' and that thousands of patients are suffering harmful side effects.
The huge rise has also been partly blamed on a bonus system for GPs that means they earn points, which are then converted into cash, for prescribing treatments for a range of common conditions.
Drugs companies have also been accused of overselling the benefits of treatments while underplaying the side effects.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3152878/We-nation-pill-poppers-Prescriptions-50-past-decade-one-billion-handed-year-experts-warn-harmful-effects.html#ixzz3fJ36QGml
We have new pharmaceuticals being introduced every year for fictitious and nonsensical diagnoses such as Mathematics Disorder, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Orthorexia Nervosa (healthy eating) and so many other inventions called diseases for the sole purpose of selling more drugs. In what many critics are calling lunacy of unimaginable proportions, The World Health Organization (WHO) now plans to lay down the framework that will set the precedent for classifying aging, something that should be embraced and celebrated, into a disease with elaborate protocols expected to be finalized in 2018. Most people in modern times have been somewhat unanimous that wrinkles, grief and homosexuality are not diseases, although not if you ask the WHO, all of the above may soon be classified as a disease given enough time. What is considered to be normal and what is considered to be diseased is strongly influenced by historical context. Matters once considered to be diseases are no longer classified as such. For example, when black slaves ran away from plantations they were labeled to suffer from drapetomania and medical treatment was used to try to "cure" them. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/11/11/who-to-classify-aging-as-a-disease-opening-the-flood-gates-to-new-pharmaceuticals/
That's the verdict of the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency (MHRA), which received 8,228 adverse drug reaction (ADR) reports concerning HPV jabs in the 10 years to April this year, according to a Freedom of Information response released earlier this month.
The agency estimates it receives only 10 per cent of all reports, potentially leaving more than 80,000 girls suffering from side effects including chest and abdominal pains, exhaustion, breathing difficulties, fibromyalgia and postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (PoTS) - a condition where moving from lying down to standing up causes an abnormally high heart rate.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-3104629/Tens-thousands-teenage-girls-fall-ill-debilitating-illnesses-routine-HPV-cervical-cancer-jab.html
ALLEGEDLY -The HPV (human papilloma virus) injection protects against the second most common cancer in women under the age of 35 - Cervical cancer
HPV Vaccine is Recommended for Boys
http://www.cdc.gov/features/HPVVaccineBoys/
https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/justin-walker-the-new-chartist-movement-290119/
A mystery 'celebrity actor' is being investigated by police over allegations of historic sex abuse, it has been revealed.
Claims against the television star, whose identity is being kept secret, are being looked at by Lancashire Police, who are also investigating care home staff, priests and a teacher accused of abusing a pupil.
The probes, revealed in a report by the Lancashire Safeguarding Children Board, are being carried out as part of Operation Fervant, the national inquiry into alleged sex abuse by celebrities or people in positions of trust.
The report, submitted to Lancashire County Council on July 17, said: 'On-going cases include historic sexual abuse perpetrated by priests, care home workers and preliminary enquiries into possible offences committed by a celebrity actor and a teacher accused of sexually abusing a pupil in 1997.'
Jane Booth, the board's independent chair said as the probe was 'a live investigation' she could not provide further details.
In a statement, Lancashire police said: 'We have a team of specialist officers working on investigations into historical allegations of child abuse with a specific focus on victims abused at the hands of persons in positions of public prominence or who have been abused in 'institutions'.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3171952/Mystery-celebrity-actor-probed-police-sex-offences-priest-care-home-workers-teacher.html#ixzz3gieK5nUj
(NaturalNews) A breakthrough cancer treatment appears to be the reason why a handful of holistic doctors were recently found "suicided" is now gaining worldwide attention as a potential universal cure for cancer. And new microscopic footage released by First Immune shows this amazing remedy in action -- the human protein GcMAF is visually seen activating the body's own macrophages, which are then able to attack and destroy breast cancer cells in vitro. The roughly two-minute video clip, which has been posted to YouTube, reveals the true healing power of GcMAF, a human protein that the body makes naturally but that some people lack or can't produce in adequate volume. By delivering an activated version of this substance intravenously, scientists have shown that the immune system can be fully invigorated to destroy cancer cells on its own without the need for chemotherapy or radiation. https://youtu.be/D1WZrnCcH24 Read more http://www.naturalnews.com/050972_GcMAF_cancer_cells_Bradstreet.html
At an 18th-century mansion in England's countryside last week, current and former spy chiefs from seven countries faced off with representatives from tech giants Apple and Google to discuss government surveillance in the aftermath of Edward Snowden's leaks. The event was chaired by the former British MI6 spy chief Sir John Scarlett and organized by the Ditchley Foundation, which holds several behind-closed-doors conferences every year at its mansion in Oxfordshire (pictured above) in an effort to address "complex issues of international concern." The discussions are held under what is called the Chatham House Rule, meaning what is said by each attendee during the meetings cannot be publicly revealed, a setup intended to encourage open and frank discussion. https://firstlook.org/theintercept/2015/05/22/apple-google-spy-summit-cia-gchq-ditchley-surveillance/
Here's the build up Command and control contract for Britain's armed nuclear police outsourced to Capita
A contract for the command and control centre of Britain's heavily armed nuclear police is being outsourced to the private company Capita.
The outsourcing giant is to play a technology support role at the command centre of the Civil Nuclear Constabulary, a heavily-armed special police service that protects nuclear power plants, waste dumps, and nuclear material in transit. The deal will see Capita provide specialist support staff for the command centre's systems and provide "enhanced support" to firearms commanders. Most of the CNC's officers are trained in the use of firearms and its officers are routinely equipped with assault rifles in their regular line of duty. The force is not involved in Britain's Trident nuclear weapons system, which comes under the jurisdiction of the armed forces.
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/command-and-control-contract-for-britains-armed-nuclear-police-outsourced-to-capita-10258611.html
By Ewan Palmer | International Business Times
Richard, who was arrested on 5 January, is accused of three counts of sexual activity with a child and one count of causing or inciting a child to engage in sexual activity.
The alleged victim is a girl who was 13-years-old at the time the offences are alleged to have taken place, on 2 January 2015.
Richard, 57, a millionaire advisor who has accompanied the prime minster on several trips abroad, will appear before City of London Magistrates' Court on 5 October to face the charges.
https://uk.news.yahoo.com/doug-richard-david-cameron-advisor-120858880.html#yI9Ewkl
A new analysis has revealed that UK'S richest 20 percent have more than one hundred times the wealth of the poorest 20 percent with the combined household wealth of £9.1 trillion remaining for the most part in the hands of the elite. The report is based on a new analysis from Lloyds Bank Private Banking. g that if the combined household wealth was evenly distributed, each family in Britain would have an annual income of £326,414. But in spite of a rise in household wealth of more than £216,000 in the past 10 years, the increased prosperity appears to remain in the hands of "a growing number of older households," according to Markus Stadlmann, chief investment officer of Lloyds Bank Private Banking. "Currently the problem is that people are now beginning to realize that there's not only a big disparity in income which is what we get every year, but there are huge differences in wealth distribution. So people with wealth in the UK, the top 20 percent, have a very significant share of the wealth and then the bottom 20 percent has a very small share of the wealth," London-based Professor of International Economics and Finance at City University Keith Pilbeam told Press TV. http://presstv.ir/Detail/2015/05/16/411357/Analysis-UK-richpoor-gap-growing--
Debs is having a well deserved night off, so the gorgeous Jason Nota steps in. Boris, Covid Earhquakes and more. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vaypg7/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-episode-33-boris-earthquakes-gamestop-q-28-1-21/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccS70UQE0fE
I personally would like to say thanks & well done to Tom Watson a man with real integrity. Tom Watson will appear before a parliamentary committee next week to explain why he urged police to reopen an investigation of rape against the late peer Leon Brittan. The home affairs select committee has invited Labour's deputy leader to appear next Wednesday at what is expected to be a fractious meeting. Watson will not attempt to avoid close questioning from MPs, it is understood. Conservative MPs are furious with Watson over his pursuit of Brittan, who was suffering from cancer in his final months, as well as the Labour MP's comment soon after Brittan died that the Tory peer was "close to evil". It means that the tables will be turned on Watson, who gained a reputation as a ferocious select committee inquisitor after he grilled Rupert Murdoch over phone-hacking allegations in 2012. Brittan died in January without knowing that he had been cleared of suspicion over the allegation that he had raped a woman. It has emerged that Watson had previously written to the director of public prosecutions, Alison Saunders, about an allegation of rape when he learned that the police inquiry was being dropped. Four Conservative MPs asked the committee chairman, Keith Vaz, to put Watson's actions on the agenda when it meets in private on Tuesday. Read more http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2015/oct/13/tom-watson-select-committee-pursuit-leon-brittan
In allegations set to debunk one of the biggest slices of world history, Russia is also accused of hiding vital evidence proving the Fuhrer and his wife Eva Braun fled in disguise. Two corpses found after the Second World War reported to be those of Hitler and Braun were in fact murdered body doubles. The claims due to be aired in an explosive television expose tomorrow will blow wide open theories of what happened to the world's most infamous mass murderers. The programme claims Hitler did not die at the end of the war and threatens to expose the foundation of post-Second World War history as nothing more than a tissue of "lies". http://www.express.co.uk/news/weird/583845/Did-Hitler-ESCAPE-Germany-in-1945-Staggering-new-discovery-points-to-huge-Nazi-cover-up Patrick Henningsen revealed this in 2013, see video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xszKqQhnvEQ
A leading child abuse campaigner has suggested that the memories of some witnesses in the VIP paedophile inquiry may have become distorted over time.
Peter Saunders, founder of the National Association for People Abused in Childhood, said it was important not to 'make something huge' out of the fact that one or two accounts were misleading.
Such a move would be detrimental to child protection and to the current inquiry into abuse, he said.
Mr Saunders voiced his concern ahead of a BBC documentary that calls into question Scotland Yard's investigation into claims of a historical paedophile ring at the heart of the Establishment.
Panorama – the Corporation's flagship investigative programme – will scrutinise the lurid claims of 'Nick', the anonymous witness at the heart of Operation Midland. The programme, to be shown tomorrow night, will examine the validity of Nick's claims that senior Establishment figures were responsible for murdering three boys in the 1970s and 1980s.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3259958/VIP-child-abuse-probe-harmed-false-memories-Leading-campaigner-suggests-important-not-make-huge-one-two-misleading-claims.html#ixzz3nftAdw5u
Churchix is software designed to pick out people's faces from photos in order to monitor attendance or help to sort massive collections of photos from events. It's built using the same technology used to identify criminals, problem gamblers and terrorists at airports. The company says the system is already being used by more than 30 churches in the USA, Asia and Europe. http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/technology-science/technology/churches-introduce-facial-recognition-keep-5897247 Wonder if donations are via bitcoin............? Keep asking yourselves WHY?
Via Troy
Tens of thousands of British children may be pushed into poverty by the UK government's bid to lower the household benefit cap, a leaked memo to ministers shows. Ministers claim that changes to the cap included in the upcoming employment and welfare benefits bill will bring fairness for the taxpayer while still offering support for those most in need, the UK-based daily Guardian reported Friday. However, according to the newspaper, an internal government estimate shows if parents are not able to find extra work, the policy will place 40,000 additional kids on or below the official poverty line, . The civil service memo, which was marked "sensitive" and forwarded to the Work and Pensions Secretary Iain Duncan Smith two weeks after the recent general election, predicts that "around 40,000 more ... children might in the absence of any behavior change, find themselves in poverty as a result of reducing the cap to £23,000." Read more http://www.presstv.ir/Detail/2015/05/30/413513/Europe-Britain-benefit-cap-poverty-line-leaked-memo-Work-and-Pensions-Secretary-Iain-Duncan-Smith
Jason Nota from Real Change Leeds joins Lou to bring the latest news on the Pandemic and Lockdown nonsense. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/jason-nota-pandemic-nonsense-111120/
When Richard Graham, Conservative MP for Gloucester stood up to speak in the debate about the draft Investigatory Powers Bill he probably didn't expect to be compared to Josef Goebbels. Mr Graham ended his speech approving of the bill with the phrase 'If you have nothing to hide; you have nothing to fear.' It's a fairly standard sentiment often expressed in the debate about where to draw the line between privacy and security.
Read more: http://www.gloucestercitizen.co.uk/fear-hide-earns-Gloucester-MP-comparisons/story-28115460-detail/story.html#ixzz3qYo830Yj
http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2015-09-28/found-volkswagen-portland
A draft of the Dame Janet Smith review of practices at the BBC found that the fear of whistleblowing at the organisation was "even worse" in the current era than at the time Jimmy Savile was abusing children while working for the broadcaster,
'Jimmy Savile raped children as young as nine while working at BBC'
The review, leaked to online news site Exaro, identified more than 100 BBC employees who had "heard about Savile's sexual conduct" and said the former presenter's abuse of children took place at numerous BBC buildings. Three of Savile's victims were nine years old, it said. The report made damning criticism of the BBC's efforts to reform its policies on whistleblowing, saying: "It is clear ... there is still a widespread reluctance to complain about anything or even for it to be known that one has complained to a third party." BBC insiders told The Independent that, with an "ingrained culture of patronage" at the top of the organisation, even household names were fearful of speaking out. "Prominent national journalists are genuinely afraid of going to meetings and telling the truth because if you say something wrong it goes against you," said a BBC newsroom source. Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/media/jimmy-savile-bbc-staff-say-corporation-has-ingrained-culture-of-quashing-dissent-a6825216.html
The US Department of Defense has released a book of instructions on the rules of war, detailing acceptable ways of killing the enemy and says that journalists also can be terrorists. The "Department of Defense Law of War Manual" explains that shooting, exploding, bombing, stabbing, or cutting the enemy are acceptable ways of killing your enemy, but the use of poison or asphyxiating gases is not allowed. Surprise attacks and killing retreating troops are also permitted in the Pentagon manual. The 1,176-page book states that journalists can be labeled "unprivileged belligerents," an obscure term that replaced "unlawful enemy combatant" that was first used during the administration of President George W. Bush. Read more http://rinf.com/alt-news/war-terrorism/legalising-war-crimes-usa-gone-far/
Members of a failed inquiry into historic child sex abuse shared more than £150,000, SunNation can reveal. The massive sum of taxpayer's cash was handed to people who sat on the chaotic probe – without producing any public findings. It was set up by Home Secretary Theresa May in July 2014 to investigate how state institutions failed to protect kids from paedophiles in the wake of the Jimmy Savile scandal. But it collapsed in farce seven months later after the first two chairs – Baroness Butler-Sloss and Fiona Woolf – were forced to resign amid links to the establishment. During that time an eight-strong panel, along with a lawyer and adviser, held a series of hearings but their findings have not been made public. Instead they have handed a report to Mrs May – who pledged it would be a private document to help a new probe led by New Zealand judge Dame Lowell Goddard which began work in July. Only two of the original eight panel members have been retained on the new inquiry, while former adviser Alexis Jay has become a panel member. Read more http://www.sunnation.co.uk/failed-child-sex-abuse-inquiry-members-trousered-more-than-150000/?utm_content=bufferc8953&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer
Tests show that thieves armed with scanners can capture the numbers and expiry dates on the cards and use them for online purchases.
Touted as a boon for shoppers making small transactions, the 'tap and pay' cards do not need a PIN number.
Instead they have a tiny antenna that links with a till terminal through near-field communication, or NFC.
But a scanner held nearby can pick up this NFC data, according to the consumer group Which?.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3171431/Thieves-use-scanners-steal-account-details-contactless-card-wallet.html
The Labour Party risks "annihilation" if Jeremy Corbyn wins the party's leadership contest, former prime minister Tony Blair has warned.
In an impassioned letter printed in the Guardian, Mr Blair said the party was walking "over the cliff's edge". A Yougov poll for the Times this week showed Mr Corbyn was 32 points ahead of his nearest rival Andy Burnham. In the 24 hours before registration to vote closed Wednesday, Labour received more than 160,000 applications. Voting for the contest starts on Friday and the result will be declared on 12 September. Writing in the Guardian, Mr Blair said: "It doesn't matter whether you're on the left, right or centre of the party, whether you used to support me or hate me," he wrote. "But please understand the danger we are in. "The party is walking eyes shut, arms outstretched over the cliff's edge to the jagged rocks below. "This is not a moment to refrain from disturbing the serenity of the walk on the basis it causes 'disunity'. "It is a moment for a rugby tackle if that were possible." Read more http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-33896414
Brussels - The institutions have reached an agreement regarding the proposal they are going to present to Greece, European officials have told Kathimerini. They expect to inform Athens about the proposal on Wednesday but it has not yet been decided whether there will be a teleconference with Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras or whether a meeting in person will be arranged. http://www.ekathimerini.com/4dcgi/_w_articles_wsite1_1_02/06/2015_550599
A dear friend gifted me with a sweatshirt that said, "GMO OMG WTF Are We Eating?" I can't tell you how much I really appreciated that thoughtful gift. I even wore it to the screening of a film about GMOs where I was a member of the panel discussion afterward. Almost everyone who saw the message gave a thumb's up! However, once or twice I saw a different finger response, so I asked if they didn't like the sweatshirt. Oh no, the sweatshirt was fine; they didn't like being forced to eat foods not knowing which edibles had GMO ingredients since there is no mandatory labeling of GMOs in the USA. Hopefully, this guide can make that easier and, certainly, more reliable. I've pulled together as comprehensive a guide as possible from various online sources to take into consideration as many relevant aspects and angles of the Non-GMO / GMO conundrum. A most peculiar conundrum of sorts, which I'd like to hash around since I'm discussing food, is that GMOs are approved for safety by the U.S. FDA. According to GMOSeralini, Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/05/10/a-shopping-eating-guide-to-non-gmo-foods/
World War III Pike's letter to Giuseppe Mazzini, dated August 15, 1871 states:
The Third World War must be fomented by taking advantage of the differences caused by the "agentur" of the "Illuminati" between the political Zionists and the leaders of Islamic World. The war must be conducted in such a way that Islam (the Moslem Arabic World) and political Zionism (the State of Israel) mutually destroy each other. Meanwhile the other nations, once more divided on this issue will be constrained to fight to the point of complete physical, moral, spiritual and economical exhaustion …We shall unleash the Nihilists and the atheists, and we shall provoke a formidable social cataclysm which in all its horror will show clearly to the nations the effect of absolute atheism, origin of savagery and of the most bloody turmoil. Then everywhere, the citizens, obliged to defend themselves against the world minority of revolutionaries, will exterminate those destroyers of civilization, and the multitude, disillusioned with Christianity, whose deistic spirits will from that moment be without compass or direction, anxious for an ideal, but without knowing where to render its adoration, will receive the true light through the universal manifestation of the pure doctrine of Lucifer, brought finally out in the public view. This manifestation will result from the general reactionary movement which will follow the destruction of Christianity and atheism, both conquered and exterminated at the same time.
A retired north Wales police chief has been charged with sexually abusing three boys in the 1970s and 80s.
Former superintendent Gordon Anglesea, 78, faces five allegations of sexual assault and two of serious sexual assault between 1979 and 1987. He was the 18th person to be arrested as part of Operation Pallial, a probe into historical sex abuse claims at north Wales care homes. Mr Anglesea, from Old Colwyn, will appear before magistrates in August. He was arrested in December 2013 as part of the investigation led by the National Crime Agency. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-33462712?ns_mchannel=social&ns_campaign=bbc_wales_news&ns_source=twitter&ns_linkname=wales
Vulnerable children should be allowed to stay in care until they are 25, the children's commissioner for England has said.
Nearly a third of young people who had to leave residential care at 18 or foster care at 21 felt they had been forced to fend for themselves too early, Anne Longfield said. The survey of nearly 3,000 children and young adults also found more than half did not understand why they were no longer living with their parents. With around 69,000 children in care in the UK, Ms Longfield said it was "unacceptable" that about 35,000 youngsters were confused about why they were in care. She told the Press Association: "This group of young people are probably the most vulnerable, often having suffered from extreme neglect, often abuse and often trauma. "They are no longer living with their parents and have often not had stable placements. They are the least likely to find employment and most at risk of drugs, alcohol and crime. "They need support as they go into their adult life." Around 10,000 young people aged 16-18 leave care each year, according to the Who Cares Trust. Read more http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/uk/call-for-children-in-care-until-25-31360772.html
Robert Morris, defending, said the 43-year-old had a 'mental health issue' Hmm - is that statement PC?
When a woman becomes pregnant, naturally, she would want to protect her unborn child above all else. Therefore, when offered a series of vaccinations said to protect her newborn baby against disease in the first few weeks of life, she will probably accept the vaccinations without a moment's hesitation. However, would she accept those vaccinations so readily if she knew that her unborn child was going to be used as part of a vaccine experiment being conducted by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the vaccine manufacturers?
The Growing Fetus Marked as Big Pharma's Latest Guinea Pig
According to CDC paperwork, both the Tdap and the Dtap are vaccinations offered to pregnant women during pregnancy, supposedly to protect their newborn infant from contracting pertussis (whooping cough) in the first few weeks of life. However, despite recommending these vaccinations to all pregnant women, the CDC readily admits in their own documentation that neither vaccine has ever been tested during pregnancy for vaccine safety and that they have no idea whether the vaccines could harm a growing fetus. See more at: http://vaccineimpact.com/2015/is-your-unborn-baby-part-of-a-vaccine-experiment/#sthash.zbPBdaI4.dpuf
Geo Politics Updates, another monolith with coordinates appears in Australia [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v9deoo/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/debi-evans-joins-us-for-part-1-of-the-final-ramblings-show/
Experts blamed the influx on mass migration started during Tony Blair's premiership. The figures are a fresh illustration of how difficult it will be for David Cameron to cut net immigration to under 100,000 a year. The European Union's Eurostat data agency revealed that a total of 985,000 foreigners were granted citizenship in Europe in 2013. Some 207,500 of them had successfully applied for UK passports – the most since records began in 1962. Eight per cent were nationals of other EU states, mostly eastern Europeans. Only three per cent of UK citizenship applications were refused in 2013, reigniting criticism that British conditions are too soft. http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/588491/UK-passport-europeans-citizenship
Lou and Debs latest findings https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-25-washington-earthquakes-iran-and-more-16-1-21/
'I welcome food banks. I welcome decent people in society trying to help others who may, for various reasons, have fallen into difficulty.
But the comments reignited claims that benefit cuts were forcing more people to turn to good causes for help, and plans to reduce tax credits will make the problem worse.
New figures today showed that 15 per cent of people are living in relative poverty, while the number of children classed as living in relative poverty is 2.3 million.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3139159/I-welcome-food-banks-says-Iain-Duncan-Smith-claims-sign-decent-people-helping-difficulty.html Mm - more of the Jimmy Savile Blueprint Solution to offloading State welfare costs onto ''charity'?
It is no good underwriting Mr. Jimmy Savile, OBE, in trying to raise £6 million for Stoke Mandeville hospital, which needs refurbishing. If that hospital needs refurbishing—as it probably does—that should be a charge upon the NHS and should not be thrown open to charity and to other people deciding priorities in the NHS.
The US Treasury has recently opened an inquiry about the so-called "Islamic State's" (ISIS/ISIL) use of large numbers of brand-new Toyota trucks. The issue has arisen in the wake of Russia's air operations over Syria and growing global suspicion that the US itself has played a key role in arming, funding, and intentionally perpetuating the terrorist army across Syria and Iraq. ABC News in their article, "US Officials Ask How ISIS Got So Many Toyota Trucks," reports: U.S. counter-terror officials have asked Toyota, the world's second largest auto maker, to help them determine how ISIS has managed to acquire the large number of Toyota pick-up trucks and SUVs seen prominently in the terror group's propaganda videos in Iraq, Syria and Libya, ABC News has learned. Read more http://www.hangthebankers.com/isis-toyota-trucks-us-state-department/
The year is 2050 and super-intelligent robots have taken over the planet.
Except you have no idea, because you're living in a computer simulation, depicting what life was like in 2015.
Everything you see and touch right now has been created by robotic overlords who are using humanity as playthings in their virtual game.
That's the radical theory put forward by a number of scientists over the years, who claim there is a possibility that our world as we know it is fake.
t may sound ridiculous, but this 'simulation argument' is being taken seriously by physicists who say they could find evidence that confirms it
Robert Lawrence Kuhn, writer and host of 'Closer to Truth,' recently explored this theory in an in-depth report featured on Space.com.
He notes that, according to Oxford University philosopher Nick Bostrom, the scenario played out in the film, The Matrix, could be a reality.
But 'instead of having brains in vats that are fed by sensory inputs from a simulator, the brains themselves would also be part of the simulation,' said Bostrom.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3185261/Is-universe-FAKE-Physicists-claim-playthings-advanced-civilisation.html#ixzz3hvvA3kyd
According to some newspapers:
Greek authorities have arrested crew members aboard a vessel reportedly carrying weapons to Islamic State forces in Libya
No further details have been made public about the vessel, its specific cargo or its origin and destination. The vessel is reportedly not registered in Greece.
ISIS Weapons In Europe? Greek Coast Guard Seizes Islamic State Ship Smuggling Ammunition
Authorities have not yet confirmed whether it was connected to the Islamic State group, also known as ISIS, and said more information would be released later in the day.
OR IF YOU PREFER
Greek Coast Guard intercepts aid container full of weapons, firearms, likely intended for Muslim refugees
The Turkish government claimed the weapons were destined for the Sudanese police force and were fully documented. Foreign ministry spokesman Tanju Bilgic told Reuters: "If investigations by the Greek authorities show that the consignment is going to receivers other than those stated in the documentation, and if that is shared with us, naturally measures could be taken."
Ship Carrying Undeclared Weapons to Arrive in Heraklion, Crete
A Bolivian-flagged cargo ship was escorted to Heraklion port, Crete, on Tuesday night around 4:30 am after a container with an unknown quantity of undeclared weapons was discovered on board during a Greek coast guard inspection. The ship "Hadat 1″ had set sail from Turkey and was bound for Libya, with a legal cargo of plastics. It was stopped and searched by a Greek coast guard special forces team, 20 miles off the coast of Ierapetra, Crete as part of a wide-scale operation.
Weapons on board Haddad 1 may have been aimed at the Cretan market
New theories are beginning to emerge about the cargo of the Bolivian flagged Haddad 1 which is impounded in the port of Heraklion. The 1976 built cargo vessel owned by Greek shipping company MESOGIAKOS NAVIGATION was travelling from Iskenderun, Turkey to Misurata in Libya when was intercepted off Ierapetra on Wednesday after a tip off.
While at first it was thought that the weapons were aimed for the IS jihadist fighters in Libya, authorities are now considering other possible scenarios; the type of weapons found are not the assault rifles favoured by IS in the area, the Kalashnikov AK47 or the American M16 recovered from retreating regular forces in combat areas.
So which is it? One of the above - or none of the above?
EU navies take up position in Mediterranean
Italy's largest aircraft carrier, the Cavour, is spearheading an EU-led naval operation to monitor and then crush migrant smugglers in the Mediterranean. More than a dozen military assets including warships, helicopters, reconnaissance planes, submarines, and drones are also moving into position near Libya as part of a risky operation called EUnavfor Med. Belgium, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Italy, Lithuania, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, and the UK are supplying the weapons. The formal announcement comes just two days after World Refugee day. The EU is hoping for a UN Security Council resolution to scale up its operation, allowing EUnavfor Med to move into Libyan waters, but is meeting resistance from China and Russia. It also wants a unity government formed in Libya to help resolve the issue. With up to 1,000 people taking part, EUnavfor Med is to cost the EU €11.8 million over its first two months. It is based in Rome and will be in full swing sometime early July. https://euobserver.com/foreign/12922 I didn't know there was an 'EU Navy' - but it seems the EU decided on May 18th to 'set one up' As for EUNavfor - it's explained here:
EUNAVFOR Med is the European Union naval operation to be launched in order to disrupt the business model of human smugglers for the Mediterranean Sea, where NATO is conducting Operation ACTIVE ENDEAVOUR, its counter-terrorism operation. Under NATO's Operation ACTIVE ENDEAVOUR, ships are patrolling the Mediterranean and monitoring shipping to help deter, defend, disrupt and protect against terrorist activities. In addition to monitoring suspect vessels, the Operation aims to build a picture of maritime activity in the Mediterranean. To this end, ships in patrol conduct routine information approaches to the various merchant vessels in order to reassure the mariners on the efforts to keep the sea safe, protect shipping and control suspect vessels.
Hmm - Costa Condordia was bad enough.... '
COUNCIL chiefs are appealing to people who have privately fostered children to alert them to the care arrangements. Plymouth City Council is using national Private Fostering Week, which runs from July 6-10 as an opportunity to appeal to people across the city to notify them if they're involved in a Private Fostering Arrangement. The week, which launches today, is designed to make people more aware of and give more details on private fostering arrangements. When a child is looked after by someone other than a parent or close relative for more than 28 days, this is known as private fostering (a close relative includes a grandparent, aunt, uncle, sister or brother). These arrangements can occur because of various circumstances, for example divorce, separation or arguments in the child's family, or if the child is the boyfriend or girlfriend of one of your children.
Read more: http://www.plymouthherald.co.uk/Council-wants-know-looking-Plymouth-children/story-26826565-detail/story.html#ixzz3epBzW8ex
https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=24&v=qB1CPwID-ss
By Chris Merriman
MICROSOFT HAS CONFIRMED that Windows 10 is being downloaded to computers whether or not users have opted in. Microsoft told us: "For individuals who have chosen to receive automatic updates through Windows Update, we help upgradable devices get ready for Windows 10 by downloading the files they'll need if they decide to upgrade. "When the upgrade is ready, the customer will be prompted to install Windows 10 on the device." In other words, if you are patching via Patch Tuesday, as you should of course be, then you are going to get a big hefty folder on your hard drive ready so you can update to Windows 10 on demand. Whether you believe it's to avoid fragmentation or to spy on you depends on how much pot you smoked in college, but it now appears to have gone from 'over keen' to 'needy' and you have to wonder why and whether it's going to blow up in the company's face. http://www.theinquirer.net/inquirer/news/2425381/microsoft-is-downloading-windows-10-to-your-machine-just-in-case
At least cow's milk that is. For how many years did the milk industry get away with touting the milk mustache as the badge of good health, providing us with all the calcium and protein we'll ever need right? Today, the most informed researchers, both professional and casual know better. "Got Milk?" Not if you're a pursuer of a healthy diet. Today's processed milk is far from healthy and is essentially a dead liquid, devoid of any real nutritional value. Twenty or more years ago, the move away from milk for most people was rooted in concerns about lactose intolerance, but today it's the fact that plant-based alternatives are far healthier. In recent years consuming milk has been linked to cancer, diabetes, asthma, acne and even weak and fragile bones. The alternatives, meanwhile, can be low in calories and fats, and often have the added appeal of new and interesting flavors. In many Western countries, milk consumption has been falling since the 1970s, and due to more people informing themselves on the dangers of dairy, consumption is well below recommended levels and that is good news for public health and bad news for the milk industry. In 2010, the official Dietary Guidelines for Americans recommended 2.5 cup equivalents (about 0.6 liters) of dairy products per day for children aged 4 to 8, and 3 cups for anyone over 8. Average consumption for adults in the US is at less than half the suggested intake. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/07/27/why-it-may-be-time-to-stop-drinking-milk-for-good/
Georgy Osborn (who struggles with maths) said: Deputising for David Cameron at Prime Minister's Questions for the first time, the Chancellor revealed new Treasury figures showing that: "We have got 1 per cent of the world's population, 4 per cent of its GDP, but we undertake 7 per cent of the world's welfare spending." http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/george-osborne-the-amount-britain-spends-on-welfare-is-unsustainable-10327280.html The Welfare Trends report from the Office for Budget Responsibility compares the UK's benefit spending to that of other European and OECD countries. The UK has one of the lowest levels of spending on unemployment benefits: And it seems that if you dig a little deeper, although employment has risen - so has in-work poverty. Where jobs don't pay much they have to be supported by benefit payments. So, alongside the fall in the proportion of people on out of work benefits, there has been a rise in spending on tax credits and housing benefit. The working poor now outnumber the unemployed, retired and sick put together. Not only do the in-work poor outnumber the workless, nearly half of them are in families where all the adults have jobs. Yet MPs still talk about the "something for nothing" welfare state and the Conservative Party issues press releases saying that this is why the welfare bill is out of control? With credit to
Work-shy dole scroungers – so last century
'There is a Reason Why These Kids are Becoming Further Left'
Gabriel Gipe, AP Government Teacher, Inderkum High School: "I have 180 days to turn them [students] into revolutionaries…Scare the f*ck out of them."
Gipe: "I'm probably as far left as you can go."
Gipe: "I post a calendar every week…I've had students show up for protests, community events, tabling, food distribution, all sorts of things…When they go, they take pictures, write up a reflection -- that's their extra credit."
Gipe: "So, they [students] take an ideology quiz and I put [the results] on the [classroom] wall. Every year, they get further and further left…I'm like, 'These ideologies are considered extreme, right? Extreme times breed extreme ideologies.' Right? There is a reason why Generation Z, these kids, are becoming further and further left."
Gipe: "I have an Antifa flag on my [classroom] wall and a student complained about that — he said it made him feel uncomfortable. Well, this [Antifa flag] is meant to make fascists feel uncomfortable, so if you feel uncomfortable, I don't really know what to tell you. Maybe you shouldn't be aligning with the values that this [Antifa flag] is antithetical to."
Gipe: "Like, why aren't people just taking up arms? Like why can't we, you know — take up arms against the state? We have historical examples of that happening, and them getting crushed and being martyrs for a cause and it's like — okay well, it's slow going because it takes a massive amount of organization."
Gipe: "I think that for [left-wing] movements in the United States, we need to be able to attack both [cultural and economic] fronts. Right? We need to create parallel structures of power because we cannot rely on the state…Consistently focusing on education and a change of cultural propaganda. We have to hit both fronts. We have to convince people that this is what we actually need."
Gipe: "There are three other teachers in my department that I did my credential program with -- and they're rad. They're great people. They're definitely on the same page."
Gipe: "Sacramento, as a city itself, is incredibly diverse. But we're surrounded by a bunch of right-wing rednecks."
[SACRAMENTO, Calif. – Aug. 31, 2021] Project Veritas released shocking new video today of California AP Government teacher, Gabriel Gipe, boasting about politically indoctrinating his students at Inderkum High School. [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83b_u5V51U8[/embed] Read The Full Story at Project Veritas
The fossil fuel industry receives $5.3 trillion a year in government subsidies, despite its disastrous toll on the environment, human health, and other global inequality issues, a new report by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) published Monday has found. That means that governments worldwide are spending $10 million every minute to fund energy companies—more than the estimated public health spending for the entire globe, IMF economists Benedict Clements and Vitor Gaspar wrote in a blog post accompanying the report (pdf). "These estimates are shocking," Clements and Gaspar wrote. "The number for 2015 is more than double the US$2 trillion we had previously estimated for 2011." Subsidies occur in two ways, IMF Fiscal Affairs Department directors Sanjeev Gupta and Michael Keen explained in a separate blog post published Monday: Read more www.commondreams.org/news/2015/05/18/governments-giving-fossil-fuel-companies-10-million-minute-imf
Scotland Yard's anti-corruption command are investigating claims that evidence the minister was part of a paedophile ring in Lambeth, South London, in the 1980s was covered up. Retired detective Clive Driscoll says he was stopped from investigating the Labour star in 1998 after he named the politician as a suspect. The Daily Mirror has now obtained papers which prove for the first time that Mr Driscoll's children's home probe was being monitored by senior civil servants and ministers before it was halted. They include briefings written for the Blair administration just hours after the detective allegedly first named the minister as a suspect. The officer was removed from the investigation three months later. http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/blair-government-briefed-police-paedophile-6123122 Looks like we're into a 'Game of Thrones' political paedo showdown http://loucollins.uk/2015/07/22/mi5-helped-margaret-thatcher-cover-up-paedophile-tory-mps-activities-new-documents-reveal/ Will they catch any live ones?
Awareness continues to increase surrounding the health dangers of Electromagnetic Fields (EMFs) emanating from our daily gadgets, as well as from the rise of the Smart Grid. For example, a prominent neuroscientist went on record in a lecture to the medical community itself where he exposed the many health risks as well as an industry-wide attempt by telecom to cover up the negative consequences. A world-renown biochemist is seeking to abolish WiFi in schools. And a British ER physician has made it her mission to educate people about what steps they can take to minimize exposure and damage to WiFi. A slew of peer-review scientific studies support the warnings of these experts. So what happens when your entire city becomes one giant WiFi signal? Telecom giant Virgin Media has been given the green light to begin doing just that. Coverage will be enabled by "discreet street furniture" and the "UK's first Smart Pavement."
The pilot will begin with a focus on the center of the town of Chesham, UK where all 21,000 residents and businesses can use the network. The Chiltern District Council has joined forces and is touting the increased connectivity at massively increased speeds up to 166Mbps – 7X the average in the UK. Read more http://www.activistpost.com/2015/10/company-to-blanket-city-streets-with-wifi-connected-smart-pavement.html
David Cameron will not "dignify" allegations that he once "inserted a private part of his anatomy" into a dead pig's mouth with a response, Downing Street has said.
Extracts from the inflammatory book included claims that he smoked cannabis with friends, allowed cocaine in his London home and alleged that he misled the public over the non-dom status of Lord Ashcroft, a prolific Tory donor. However the Prime Minister's spokeswoman said: "I'm not intending to dignify this book by offering any comment or any PM reaction to it." She added that the author "has set out his reasons for writing it," suggesting the Prime Minister views the book as an act of revenge for his refusal to offer Lord Ashcroft a top job when he entered Downing Street in 2010. George Osborne, the Chancellor, also refused to comment on the extraordinary claims, published in a new biography of the Prime Minister by the former Conservative deputy chairman Lord Ashcroft and journalist Isabel Oakeshott, Call Me Dave. Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/george-osborne-refuses-to-comment-on-claims-that-david-cameron-put-his-genitals-in-a-dead-pigs-mouth-at-university-10510692.html
A new smartphone test to detect chlamydia could reveal if you have the sexually transmitted disease within just 30 minutes, experts have said.
The first-of-a-kind portable device, which measures around six inches, has been developed by a team of scientists at Johns Hopkins University.
They hope that the prototype, known as mobiLab, will make chlamydia screening easier as well as cheaper.
Most people with chlamydia are not aware of it because the infection often causes no symptoms.
The mobiLab test, developed by Johns Hopkins University, is able to detect and diagnose chlamydia within 30 minutes, and allows doctors to perform the test in their surgeries, rather than wait for laboratory results
But if left untreated, this STD can develop into pelvic inflammatory disease and irreversibly damage a woman's reproductive system.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-3253931/How-PHONE-help-test-chlamydia-portable-unit-detects-diagnoses-STD-just-30-minutes.html#ixzz3nA2rWgpz
The unsolved murders of nine young boys thought to be linked to evil paedophile Sidney Cooke are to be investigated amid claims of a police cover-up in the 1980s.
Cooke, 88, a former fairground worker, became one of the country's most reviled paedophiles after it was revealed he was a leading member of a child sex abuse ring based in Hackney, east London.
The gang of paedophiles, known as the Dirty Dozen, hired out rent boys and even snatched children off the streets before subjecting them to abuse and sexual torture.
It emerged the group led by Cooke each paid £5 to rape the vulnerable young boys.
Now the Sunday Mirror reports police are investigating allegations senior officers covered up links to nine unsolved murders involving Cooke and his Dirty Dozen child sex ring.
Cooke has long been suspected of procuring boys for VIPs but none of his 'customers' have ever been prosecuted.
The newspaper reports the original investigation led officers to suspect 12 murdered young boys, some as young as six, may have been victims of the gang - but only three of those cases were ever followed up.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3241861/Claims-police-cover-NINE-unsolved-murders-young-boys.html#ixzz3mGcocC1F
True Humanity – or Transhuman Singularity and Gene Genocide? "We are confronted here and now with this ultra manipulative, parasitic force trying to worm its way into the very foundations of life itself – to forever corrupt its essence." We individuals are here on this planet as sentient, living beings, having the capacity to love, create, empathise and be joyous. But these qualities are increasingly the object of a covert – if not overt – programme of systematic sterilization and attempted eradication. There's a war on. Not just the continuous fabricated war between nations and peoples – but a war to alter the very DNA of the human race and to thereby render homo sapiens a slave race, responding only to a computerised command system. Don't be unduly intimidated however, for these tricks are, like most tricks, just waiting to be exposed and rendered obsolete. Rendered obsolete by the realisation, in ourselves, of an omnipotent universal consciousness. Yes, it is we who are the one's best equipped to go face to face with our oppressors – to go forth and redeem the sanctity of life. We are here as Earthly representatives of a divine state, an Earthly reflection of that which would otherwise remain unseen, intangible and without form: non-materialised divine energy. Having 'form' is thus a blessed gift in which we should rejoice! Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/09/18/the-war-on-human-dna/
Debs has all the todays Findings, with some commentary from me. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vb2gw1/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-episode-38-big-brother-uk-sponsored-by-amazon-more-8-2-21/ See Links for todays stories. Amazon Vans Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/lou-collins-radio-show-3815-bill-maloney-talks-ken-clarke-ben-fellows-1st-interview-since-trial/
http://www.9jumpin.com.au/show/60minutes/videos/4361923189001/
Jason Nota co-host tonights findings. Earthquakes, Plandemics, Pedos and Planes. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-16-lin-wood-isaac-kappy-iran-govuk-us-military-airspace-5-1-21/
by Mac Slavo
The U.S. Department of Defense is looking into possible mishandling of bubonic plague and equine encephalitis samples at its laboratories, a Pentagon spokesman said Thursday.
The new inquiry is part of an investigation into the mishandling of anthrax at Department of Defense labs, Pentagon spokesman Peter Cook said. The department hasn't determined whether samples containing plague bacteria and specimens of the deadly virus were shipped from its labs, Cook said. Keep in mind that this is not conspiracy theory. These citations are from official government documents. Though most of the experiments documented are from the Cold War era, the key takeaway is that to government scientists and military personnel we are all just guinea pigs. http://www.shtfplan.com/headline-news/shock-report-u-s-military-misplaced-samples-of-black-plague-and-other-deadly-pathogens_09112015
The first hearing will take place on August 7 2015 at Westminster Magistrates' Court.
Part 5 of Election Night Special, Greg Fernandez Jr runs down how things are going in San Francisco. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/lou-collins-election-special-part-5-greg-fernandez-jr-2/ Greg is a author, film maker and broadcaster and is a longtime friend of the show. Please have a look at his website where you will find his free books and Youtube channel. links below What Is Truth 911 Gregs Youtube
Part 4 and the 2nd chat with Mark this time abiut the aftermath of events last night. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/election-special-part-4-mark-anderson-the-aftermath-41120/ The Truth Hound World Impact News Republic Broadcasting American Free Press
Eight men have been questioned by police investigating claims of abuse at a children's care home attended by the poet Lemn Sissay. The men spoken to by detectives are all believed to have worked as carers at the Wood End Assessment Centre in Atherton, near Wigan, between the 1970s and 1990s. They were not arrested but interviewed under caution over claims of abuse made by former residents. Most of the complaints are of physical assaults but there are also some claims of sexual abuse. Detectives have now passed a file to the Crown Prosecution Service for prosecutors to decide if any charges should be brought relating to the investigation. Mr Sissay, 48, who was elected Chancellor of the University of Manchester earlier this year, was a teenager in the care system when he spent nearly a year at Wood End in 1984. He has publicly denounced the regime and conditions at the centre and led calls for an investigation via articles on his blog and social media accounts. Ten years ago he made a BBC TV documentary in which he discussed his experience at Wood End and he has written extensively about his time at the centre. Read more http://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/news/eight-men-quizzed-police-probing-10490254
The impact of COVID-19 has undeniably been felt globally with many governments imposing significant restrictions on everyday life in an attempt to combat its spread. Despite the severe restrictions on our lives, evidence is mounting showing that lockdowns are causing significant side effects and harms to the populations enduring them [1]. Despite the unprecedented sacrifices the UK population has made, the Government has given little to no consideration of the side effects of lockdowns and restrictions [2], and has done even less to justify and discuss these with the general public. Just a few of these impacts seen to date include:
Non-COVID Health
Three million missed cancer screenings [3] due to impact on hospitals. 4,622 excess deaths from heart and circulatory diseases during first lockdown [4]
£210 billion response by the UK Government so far [5], [6], an equivalent of £6,500 for every UK taxpayer and rising. For comparison the annual NHS budget is £153 billion [7]. A significant amount of government spend is going to businesses that could otherwise be open safely and self-sufficient.
One in five adults likely experiencing some form of depression [8], double the prepandemic rate. The young, women and those from socially disadvantaged backgrounds experienced the worst mental health outcomes[9].
Business and Livelihoods
750,000 jobs lost since the start of coronavirus [10], with many more expected. 14% of businesses fearing imminent closure [11]. 3 million self-employed workers have missed out on financial support [12].
But what about the risks of coronavirus, should I not be worried?
UK COVID Deaths by Age Group [16], [17]
While COVID-19 can be terrible to a small portion of the population, the vast majority of the population are not affected in the same way, with an estimated overall survival rate as high as 99.3% [13]. Thankfully deaths are nowhere near the levels models used by the government as justification to enforce a second lockdown [14]. Additionally, many hospitals across the country are at normal levels of capacity for this time of year[15]. This raises the question whether resources and funding would be better focused on helping those likely to feel the impact of coronavirus, rather than the blunt and unproven strategy of locking down an entire population, destroying jobs livelihoods, metal health and wellbeing in the process.
Where does this leave us?
Given the significant harm restrictions are having and the overstated level of risk claimed by the government and media, is it not time we thought whether on balance we are doing more harm than good? The UK Government has failed to produce trustworthy evidence to justify the significant sacrifices the public are having to endure. Furthermore, with increasing debate on whether these restrictions are reducing the impact of COVID [18], [19] should we stop to ask… is it time we started making decisions for ourselves again and stopped accepting the demonstrable harms to our lives, jobs and wellbeing? Download The Leaflet HERE
There is "no ducking the fact" that spending on the police has to face further cuts but it "is perfectly possible" to do it without affecting the quality of neighbourhood policing, the home secretary, Theresa May, has told officers. She accused the Police Federation of scaremongering and repeatedly "crying wolf" over the impact of the previous round of cuts in police funding as part of the government's austerity programme – and rejected their claims that further cuts would force them to adopt "paramilitary styles of policing" in Britain. "You can choose protest, and continue to shout angrily from the sidelines for the next five years. Or you can choose partnership, and work with me to change policing for the better," she told the Police Federation annual conference. "I know there are those who say there is no more waste to cut. But I simply do not accept that. It is perfectly possible to make savings without affecting the quality of neighbourhood policing. Because I know – as you do – that there is still wasteful spending in policing and that resources are still not linked to demand," said May. Read more http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2015/may/20/stop-scaremongering-and-prepare-for-further-cuts-theresa-may-tells-police
Ashya King, the six-year-old cancer sufferer whose disappearance from a Southampton hospital last year sparked an international manhunt, has been brought back to live in the UK.
After being declared cancer-free in March, Ashya flew into Gatwick Airport with his family yesterday.
He said: 'We are coming home to live and I am excited to be back. I want to see my grandma.'
His parents, Brett and Naghmeh King, 52 and 46, have returned after receiving assurances they face no legal action for taking him to Spain without his doctor's consent.
They had previously been too scared to return home in case social services took Ashya from them.
Mr King, 52, told the Sun: 'Ashya is so glad to be back. The whole family's relieved to be back where we belong — this is our home.
'Now we just want to carry on with life and continue to do what is best for Ashya.'
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3148042/Cancer-patient-Ashya-King-six-parents-arrested-taking-abroad-pioneering-treatment-UK-given-clear.html#ixzz3eolDpaiD
If you're anything like me, you generally go into autopilot when you go to your local supermarket. But just this past week, I had an interesting experience as I was leaving with my groceries. I noticed an elderly woman having trouble trying to load all her bags into her car. Her produce was spilling out of one bag, while another one was splitting wide open, and she continued to try to grab what she could. You could clearly see she was frustrated and stressed, and needed help. I walked up to her and asked if I could help. She turned round with a look of pure shock! I wasn't sure if she was surprised that someone was helping her, or if she thought I was a stranger approaching her for something quite different. Anyway, I helped her pick up her groceries, and chased after cans of peas rolling across the parking lot. No sooner had I helped her, than she quickly got in her car, and drove off! It was as though she'd been really scared having a stranger in her space. Read more http://omtimes.com/2015/05/act-of-kindness-ripple-effect/
The Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC) has already identified 60 officers as part of a major investigation into the scandal, and 100 others are in their sights. The watchdog is examining whether or not disciplinary or even legal action should be brought against police officers who are accused of ignoring victims' claims that they were being sexually trafficked and abused. The revelations came as a solicitor representing the victims said only a fraction of those abused have come forward.
Investigators are ramping up their probe a year on from the publication of the explosive Jay Report, which uncovered the shocking scale of child rape, trafficking and grooming going on in the South Yorkshire town. More than 1,400 children were sexually exploited by gangs of mainly Asian males in Rotherham between 1997 and 2013. The report was scathing about the conduct of police and council officials, who routinely ignored the industrial scale of abuse, instead treating the victims as troublesome teenagers. The IPCC has received 47 referrals from South Yorkshire Police since the publication of the report, involving more than 100 allegations of misconduct. Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/600996/Rotherham-sex-scandal-police-officers-claims-ignored-victims-pleas
Listener discretion advised. I apologise now for the bad language and rant ! If my frustration sounds like I am bitching about my family, I want to make it clear that I am not.. It's worry and frustration. When all is said and done it's family and love that matters most in this world. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/mad-as-hell-lockdown-plandemic-communism/
By Nick Dorman, Don Hale
Heath later appeared on Savile's BBC TV show Jim'll Fix It when it was one of the nation's favourites
Edward Heath backed paedophile Jimmy Savile for a royal honour – two years after the previous Prime Minister warned the Queen against it, reports the Sunday People. Savile was passed over for an MBE a month before the former Conservative leader moved into No10, the Sunday People can reveal. But less than two years after Heath took office, the TV presenter – exposed after his death as a serial child-sex abuser – was awarded the HIGHER honour of an OBE. Heath later appeared on Savile's BBC TV show Jim'll Fix It when it was one of the nation's favourites. Read more http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/edward-heath-fixed-jimmy-savile-6220604
A former brothel keeper has denied accusing ex-Prime Minister Edward Heath of involvement in child sexual abuse.
Myra Forde's ex-lawyer says she did not state that the late PM was a client, nor did she threaten to expose him if a prosecution against her was continued. Forde says she has "no knowledge of any misconduct on his part" and recent media coverage had caused her distress.
Despite that denial
Investigation into Edward Heath child abuse claims to go national
A nationally coordinated police investigation into claims that the former prime minister Edward Heath sexually abused children is to be set up by the end of the week. The inquiry will be led by a senior investigating officer who is likely to be appointed from either the Kent, Wiltshire or Hampshire force, all of which are investigating separate allegations that Heath sexually abused children.
Strange the silence from one whose tenure in government spans Heath and Thatcher?
Ken Clarke: big beast from the Cambridge mafia
As a student Clarke was said to be one of the "Cambridge mafia" of the 1960s which produced a clutch of men who would later become key figures in the Tory party. Clarke followed closely in the footsteps of Sir Leon Brittan David Cameron is the fourth Conservative prime minister Clarke has served under after high-profile stints with Ted Heath, Margaret Thatcher and John Major.
He worked with them all
Is there more to Ken the Bloke?
Only a handful of ministers served right through the 18 years of the Thatcher and Major governments, and Clarke was the only member of that tiny group who also held office under Edward Heath in 1972-74, as a junior whip. In fact, three of the "mafia" contemporaries - Leon Brittan, Norman Fowler and John Gummer - remained friends and allies of Clarke.
Child abuse loophole closed
People accused of seriously abusing children or vulnerable adults who try to escape justice by staying silent or blaming someone else, will face up to 10 years in prison Ken Clarke announced
Does that include politicians Ken?
Chilcot Inquiry and delays to publication
The Iraq Inquiry, chaired by Sir John Chilcot, was originally expected to have reported by now but the broad scope of the inquiry, arguments of the disclosure of documents and the so-called Maxwellisation process have led to delays. It has now been made clear that the report will not come out until after the May 2015 general election. Several MPs have criticised the delay.
http://researchbriefings.parliament.uk/ResearchBriefing/Summary/SN06215#fullreport It's June 2015 now - and that's after May 2015..............................
The BBC Trust will be axed and its powers handed to the communications regulator Ofcom, Westminster sources have revealed.
For the first time in the broadcaster's nearly century-long history, it will be governed by an external body, as part of the renegotiation of the BBC Charter.
The move is expected to be signalled in a Green Paper that will formally trigger Charter renewal negotiations within weeks.
It comes after John Whittingdale, the new Culture Secretary, insisted that he does not have a "vendetta" against the corporation but warned that it needed a "very robust system in place" to deal with issues of impartiality. The move will mark a partial rejection of the proposals of Rona Fairhead, the chairman of the Trust, who earlier this year suggested it should be replaced with a new "bespoke" body dedicated to regulation of the BBC. Ministers are instead planning an expanded remit for Ofcom, which also acts as the watchdog for the telecoms and commercial media industries. Read more http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/bbc/11700135/Ofcom-to-take-charge-of-BBC.html
Seven police forces in England have given company cars with blue lights and sirens to civilian staff not trained to use them, the BBC has learned.
Finance, HR and IT directors were among nine senior staff given vehicles. One tax expert said the recipients could save thousands of pounds each year as emergency vehicles are treated differently by HM Revenue and Customs. The forces said the vehicles were part of their wider fleet, and denied they were provided for tax reasons. BBC News sent Freedom of Information requests to all 45 UK forces, asking them if they had provided civilian staff with cars fitted with emergency response equipment, and received responses from all.
'Not qualified'
The seven forces which said they had were Devon and Cornwall, Merseyside, Humberside, South Yorkshire, West Yorkshire, Avon and Somerset, and Greater Manchester Police. Read more http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-34142499
Kathryn Watkins and I start our 1st show in a series together, looking at the issues that parents are battling in these challenging times. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vjftcn/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/kathryn-watkins-the-attack-on-our-children-2-9-21/
The Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse will be formally opened on Thursday, 9th July 2015 at 10am at the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre (QEII) Centre, Westminster. The Chair of the Independent Inquiry, Hon. Lowell Goddard will give an opening statement that will set out the Inquiry's guiding principles. She will summarise the steps that have been taken so far to build the necessary architecture for the Inquiry's work and provide information and clarity around the task ahead. She will also highlight how the Inquiry will be run, timescales, how evidence will be taken and the areas of public life that will be examined. The opening statement will explain the various ways in which the Inquiry is working with victims and survivors and how they will be able to engage with the Inquiry as it proceeds. The Inquiry's Panel is made up of the Chair, Hon Lowell Goddard, Professor Malcolm Evans, Ivor Frank, Professor Alexis Jay and Drusilla Sharpling. The Counsel and Solicitor to the Inquiry will also be present, as will the Secretary to the Inquiry. This statutory Inquiry was established by the Home Secretary on Thursday, 12th March 2015 and the Chair took up her appointment on Monday, 13th April 2015. https://childsexualabuseinquiry.independent.gov.uk/ Why is Bill Maloney not on the panel, why are no victims or survivors on the panel.. Why had the chair not been questioned over her links to "The Establishment" ?
A primary school has launched a crackdown on parents who are late to collect their children.
Henley Green Primary School in Coventry has threatened to fine parents £6.50 if they are not at the school gates on time.
The fine is handed to parents who are more than 15 minutes late at the end of the school day, and to those who are more than 10 minutes for morning nursery sessions.
And those collecting their two-year-olds from the school's 'Little Acorns' programme are charged £10 if they are 10 minutes late.
Parents branded the decision 'disgusting', saying that some parents could not afford to pay the fine and that the school sometimes did not start lessons on time.
But headteacher Joanne Murphy defended the move, insisting it was necessary to deter a small number of parents who were taking advantage of the staff by regularly arriving late.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3078002/Primary-school-threatens-parents-10-fine-just-10-minutes-late-pick-children.html#ixzz3ZwhjtUS3
You likely already know that the food ingredient monosodium glutamate (MSG) isn't good for you. You may even know some of the popular reasons why. But did you know that MSG is primarily used by the food industry to keep us addicted to 'big taste, little nutrition' food? It's an industry secret. Read on to find out why MSG makes you eat more fast food while fattening up the food industry's bottom line. Aside from high fructose corn syrup, artificial colors, and ingredients made with chemicals called 'flavor packets,' MSG is at the top of the list of food additives to avoid. Monosodium Glutamate, or MSG, is a trigger substance that food makers are very aware of. It was put in food to cause pavlovian response, creating a trigger for you to eat more and never feel satiated. The FDA calls MSG 'generally recognized as safe,' though the ingredient has been found to cause skin rashes, itching, hives, vomiting, asthma, heart irregularities, seizures, chest pain, nausea, weakness, and especially headaches and migraines, among other health issues. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/07/23/msg-the-industry-secret-that-causes-food-addiction
Germany is promoting a social campaign for persuading pedophiles - including those who have abused children - to undergo confidential therapy. The program aims to help pedophiles, many of whom struggle to avoid becoming criminals, and above all to protect children. The radical treatment for pedophiles, called Project Dunkelfeld ("Darkfield"), has grown in Germany, with 11 centers now open across the country. More than 400 pedophiles who have never abused children have attended this program (the term "pedophile" refers only to the sexual attraction to minors, rather than the act of abuse.) The program aims to prevent sexual abuse of youngsters, as it catches pedophiles before they commit the crime.
"It is a disease, it is a trait, it is not a choice. They haven't chosen to change, but they can learn how to live responsibly with their sexual desires," Petya Schuhmann, a psychologist at the project, told the Independent.
The first step of the program is to analyze a patient's past sexual behavior and feelings in order to figure out further strategies of avoiding potentially abusive situations in the future. The doctors note that, for some men, the recipe may be pretty simple — never being alone with children, for example. Other tactics may involve changing attitudes, helping the patient to grasp that sexual contact with children can never be consensual.
Read more: http://sputniknews.com/europe/20150715/1024631099.html#ixzz3fzi0bpEa
DJ Slip Matt joins me to talk about Boris' latest criminal act on the UK club scene. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vhhk5i/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/dj-slipmatt-on-the-latest-blow-to-the-uk-club-scene-20-07-21/ Follow Matts Website HERE and on Telegram HERE Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsR
https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=97&v=mqzv4khRyh8
Hat Tip to Spaceshot 76. Here are the guys that MSM are saying are MAGA supporters. https://twitter.com/artiqulate1745/status/1347727213794365445?s=20
Aug 3, 2015The Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC) is to investigate allegations concerning Wiltshire Police's handling of an alleged claim of child sexual abuse made in the 1990s. It is alleged that a criminal prosecution was not pursued, when a person threatened to expose that Sir Edward Heath may have been involved in offences concerning children. In addition to this allegation, the IPCC will examine whether Wiltshire Police subsequently took any steps to investigate these claims. The allegations were referred to the IPCC by Wiltshire Police following allegations made by a retired senior officer. - See more at: https://www.ipcc.gov.uk/news/investigation-following-allegations-historic-corruption-linked-child-sexual-abuse-allegations#sthash.Ql663i6e.dpuf
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2770089/Ted-Heath-s-young-oriental-companion-gay-friend-claims-ex-MP-hid-true-sexuality-entire-life.html
Convenient that he's dead?
A dossier of evidence of an alleged paedophile ring which was believed to have been lost has been handed to a Labour MP who has been at the forefront of demands for justice for victims. The dossier is believed to be a copy of the evidence handed to then Home Secretary Leon Brittan by Conservative MP Geoffrey Dickens in 1984. A review of the Home Office's handling of child abuse allegations dating back to the 1970s failed to locate a copy of the file. The review, by NSPCC chief executive Peter Wanless, reported last year that there was no evidence to support claims of an official cover-up, but warned it was impossible to draw firm conclusions because of shortcomings in the paper records from the time. John Mann said that the file was handed to him by the same individual who had provided it to Mr Dickens in the 1980s, after it was compiled by former Tory MPs Sir Victor Raikes and Anthony Courtney - both now dead. http://home.bt.com/news/uk-news/missing-dossier-on-alleged-paedophile-ring-handed-to-labour-mp-john-mann-11364012128139#.VifNxE-nYy0.twitter There were a number of dossiers - https://spotlightonabuse.wordpress.com/2014/07/04/1983-84-the-3-dickens-dossiers-and-the-2-scotland-yard-pie-files/
If you watched the Australian Channel 9 expose : http://loucollins.uk/2015/07/19/60mins-exposing-paedophiles-in-high-places-please-share/ you will have seen - in Part 3 - Tom O'Carroll's interview Here's some background to that POI
Article Link: This man is a pedophile, and proud of it
O'Carroll was a chair of the Pedophile Information Exchange (PIE), a London-headquartered advocacy group that existed from 1974 to 1984 to lobby openly for legal acceptance of pedophilia and to provide an international network for adults with sexual attraction to children. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qI_fVSC--js https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XM_se7pb8t8 Tom O'Carroll has also recently been lobbying Parliament
Campaigner from notorious Paedophile Information Exchange at Hacked Off meeting chaired by comedian John Cleese
Tom O'Carroll, a former Open University information officer and formerly a key activist for PIE, attended a Hacked Off rally in the Houses of Parliament on February 25 to lobby MPs for state involvement in media regulation.
The news that O'Carroll is a backer of Hacked Off will be an embarrassment to the group.
PIE was formed in 1974 to campaign for sex with children to be legalised and formed an alliance with the National Council for Civil Liberties (NCCL).
The NCCL lobbied parliament for the age of sexual consent to be cut to ten as long as the child 'understood the nature of the act' and apparently consented.
The group also wanted incest to be legalised.
O'Carroll was on the NCCL's gay rights sub-committee. The 69-year-old was jailed in 1981 for 'corrupting public morals'.
As someone put in the comments:
Paedophiles in the Houses of Parliament - nothing unusual with that!!
Jason Nota joins us tonight to look a little deeper at who is behind the new Covid vaccines. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v8ze20/[/rumble]
https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/ramblings-20-episode-5-jason-nota-joins-debs-and-lou-to-talk-vaccines-3-12-20/
Watch this video of a decent MP speaking out.. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axcj0vOJrZE&feature=youtu.be
It was one of 12 sacks containing a total of 40,805,000 yuan (£4.2 million) being driven through the Hong Kong airport, Chinese website Shanghaiist reported. CCTV footage showed three of the bags falling off the trailer as it turned a sharp corner on Friday, with the driver not realising they were missing until he arrived at a depot 10 minutes later. He managed to retrieve two sacks, labelled G4S International, from the tarmac but the third was not recovered, prompting police to launch a theft investigation. A spokesperson for G4S told The Independent the money was out of the firm's control when it went missing in the care of Hong Kong Airport Services, a subsidiary of Cathay Pacific. http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/bag-containing-almost-one-million-new-zealand-dollars-disappears-at-hong-kong-airport-10410023.html
Following a huge crowd-funding drive that has raised over £29,000 from well-wishers almost exclusively from the UK, former police inspector Gonçalo Amaral has today filed his appeal against the €500,000-plus damages awarded against him in a civil case taken out by the parents of Madeleine McCann. The Projecto Justiça Gonçalo Amaral published the news this morning, thanking "each and every one" of the nearly 2000 people who have given money to the British gofundme appeal that has helped take Amaral's legal fight to its next stage. As the message went out, donations continued apace - with over £390 raised in a matter of hours. Several of the day's donors commented this was "news worth celebrating", but more than one suggested the story is "unlikely to be covered by mainstream media". Indeed, by coincidence British media is much more focused today on Madeleine's mother Kate who is leading a bike ride for a missing people's charity. http://portugalresident.com/maddie-cop-launches-appeal-against-mccann%E2%80%99s-record-damages-%E2%80%98win%E2%80%99-of-%E2%82%AC500000#sthash.jE6fMquO.4h8qbKFP.uxfs&st_refDomain=t.co&st_refQuery=/eCUZ94CXww
Patrick Rock resigned as Deputy head of Cameron's policy unit
No.10 aide Patrick Rock resigns after being arrested over child abuse image allegations.Rock was one of Cameron's Downing Street fixers.
The two had worked together as SPADs to Michael Howard and Rock was very much part of the old special adviser network.
Court told Rock's 'previous employer' paying for a 'welfare officer'
But Downing Street say they have not appointed welfare officer for Rock
Jo Johnsomn
appointed by David Cameron as Parliamentary Secretary at the Cabinet Office (in addition to his role as an Assistant Government Whip)
Irk Hudson @IrkHudson I asked (Jo Johnson) ex-head of Cameron's Policy Unit if taxpayers are funding a protection officer for Patrick Rock. @tom_watson
Asked if taxpayers are paying for protection officer for Rock Why does your bro not answer?
#ASKBORIS
Family: Boris Johnson (second right) with father Stanley (left), sister Rachel (second left) and brother Jo (right), at the launch of his book
Stanley Johnson at another book launch with Norman Lamont (left) and Leon Brittan (right)
Norman Lamont: Before entering Parliament he worked for N M Rothschild & Sons, the investment bank, and became director of Rothschild Asset Management. The day after his dismissal from the Treasury, Sir Samuel Brittan (Leon's brother) wrote in the Financial Times that history was likely to record him as one of the better Chancellors ........................................................ Boris Johnson and Sir Simon Henry Milton Sir Simon Henry Milton (2 October 1961 – 11 April 2011) was a British Conservative politician.He lately served as London's Deputy Mayor for Policy and Planning, and before that was a leader of Westminster City Council and Chairman of the Local Government Association. Milton was a director of Ian Greer Associates, a parliamentary lobbying company "with close links to the Tory party" which was at the centre of the Cash-for-questions scandal in the 1990s.
Deputy Chairman Simon Milton was helping Ian Greer and Associates –Simon Milton is now dead but his partner Robert Davis is still a Westminster Councillor.
By a strange coincidence, Robert Davis is also the Queen's Deputy-Lieutenant for Greater London.
Ian Greer, political lobbyist, has died aged 82. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/12001034/Ian-Greer-lobbyist-obituary.html … We all know Ian Greer, controversial lobbyist and close pal of Simon Milton , fled to South Africa following the cash for questions scandal in the nineties. Was this the only reason he fled? Maybe not. ...Ian Greer has set up a charitable organisation for adults and vulnerable children affected by the Aids crisis in South Africa. According to 'Ground Up' : "The Helderberg Street Peoples' Centre in Somerset West cares for poor and marginalised people. It is a soup kitchen, but it also offers counselling and support to people with drug and alcohol problems, amongst other things." The HSPC website claims: " In 2001, Ian Greer brought together eight churches of different denominations to help the poor and destitute in the community, by forming the Helderberg Street People's Centre, now known as HSPC. How very noble of Greer to devote so many years of his life to supporting the destitute and vulnerable people of South Africa. But what's this? " The Make A Difference Trust is proud to work with Mr Ian Greer and the highly dedicated team of carers and volunteers at the Helderberg Street Peoples Centre in the Western Cape: South Africa. Through support from the Yves Guihannec Foundation as well as the many individuals who have donated funds towards this worthwhile programme, we have been able to truly make a significant difference in the lives of so many". Is this the same Yves Guihannec Foundation which is run by tax avoidance expert Robert Venables Q.C. and which has never produced any accounts for the Charities Commission? It may well be. ... Ian Greer... ... lots of probing questions. Lots of questions about Dolphin Square. Lots of questions about Simon Milton. Lots of questions about Derek Laud. Lots of questions about vulnerable children. Lots of questions about the Yves Guihannec Aids charity. Lots of questions indeed. https://thecolemanexperience.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/charitable-ian-greer-and-the-operation-pallial-connection/ 1969: When Ian Greer met Peter Righton https://bitsofbooksblog.wordpress.com/2015/01/30/1968-1970-albany-trust-peter-righton-antony-grey-and-ian-greer/ … n.b. YORK uni Conference At the time Greer, who thirty years later would achieve notoriety in the Cash for Questions scandal... was also working for the Mental Health Trust. In 1966 in a surprising detour from his political aspirations, Greer's name had been passed to Lord Butler and Sir Evelyn Rothschild and he had accepted an appointment as National Director. In his June 1995 statement to the Parliamentary Select Committee on Standards & Privileges Greer gave a more detailed account of his invitation to head up the Mental Health Trust, hand-picked by Lord Butler (former Home Secretary at the time Sir Ian Horobin MP's prosecution for abuse of boys, promoted to Deputy Prime Minister in Macmillan's Night of the Long Knives during) and Sir Evelyn De Rothschild. Real Stories Gallery @HIVstories although telegraph mentions he was in SA, doesn't show pics or expand on his charitable work there.
But the true figures "may be worse" because of systematic "under-recording and mis-recording" by police, Justice Lowell Goddard warned.
Officially launching her inquiry today, the New Zealand High Court judge said although generations of abuse had left "scars" on victims and society, her inquiry "provides an opportunity to expose past failures of institutions to protect children".
Justice Goddard warned abusers that she will not shy away from investigating abuse in Westminster's "corridors of power" or naming any VIPs involved. Every government department, public body and 18 religious groups have been ordered not to shred or destroy any documents which may be relevant to her work.
The long-awaited inquiry, which could run until late 2020, was set up by Home Secretary Theresa May last July. It came in response to claims of a top-level cover-up over allegations that a paedophile ring operated in Westminster in the 1980s. It has been hit by delays and controversies including the resignation of the two previous chairwomen because of concerns about their links to the establishment.
Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/590087/Child-sex-abuse-hundreds-of-thousands-possible-victims-reveals-inquiry-judge
No drilling for shale gas will take place in the Netherlands during the current cabinet term. No commercial exploration or extraction of shale gas will take place in the Netherlands over the next five years. Existing licences for exploration activities relating to shale gas will not be renewed. These announcements were made by Henk Kamp, Minister of Economic Affairs, on Friday. The cabinet will decide at the end of the year whether or not it is desirable to keep shale gas as a broad option for the Netherlands in the future. The studies have demonstrated that there is also great uncertainty regarding the effects of drilling for shale gas deep below the surface of the ground. http://www.government.nl/news/2015/07/10/no-extraction-of-shale-gas-during-the-next-five-years.html
Roy lays out the possible white hat scenarios & delves into Barrs replacement, his history & what it means [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v9d58o/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/roy-davies-is-back-to-give-us-an-update-on-the-us-election-turmoil/
Ibogaine isn't the only strange psychedelic drug with healing powers coming out of West Africa these days. Scientists at Northwestern University looking into treatments used by traditional healers in Nigeria have synthesized four new chemical compounds that could eventually lead to better treatments for people suffering psychiatric disorders. The compounds are indole alkaloids found in various plants used by Nigerian healers to treat people suffering from conditions such as bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Indole alkaloids, of which more than 4,000 have been identified, include tryptamine and serotonin, as well as ibogaine, psilocybin and psilocin (magic mushrooms) and the fast-acting psychedelic DMT. Read more http://www.alternet.org/drugs/psychedelics-you-never-heard-could-help-treat-mental-illness
Official police files on allegations of sex abuse at the former school of Prince Philip and Prince Charles have vanished, it has emerged.
Scotland's Crown Office said files on the case of a teacher accused of sexually assaulting children at Gordonstoun in the Scottish Highlands could not be found despite being passed on by the police.
Derek Jones, a former English teacher at the £32,000-a-year Scottish public school, was accused of fondling and taking naked photographs of a pupil in 1990.
Jones was questioned twice by police before being sacked by the school and files were sent to the Procurator Fiscal, Scotland's prosecution service.
However, the victims discovered last year that the alleged abuser could not be brought to justice because he had died in a car crash in Kenya five years after the assaults allegedly took place.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3142099/Police-files-sex-abuse-Gordunstoun-Prince-Philip-Prince-Charles-educated-vanished.html
All the standard hallmarks of a cover-up
Bank details, names, addresses and dates of birth were among the reams of personal data that could have been breached by what the retailer said was a "sophisticated" attack. Carphone Warehouse admitted the breach today (8 August) despite the discovering the attack on an IT system of one its UK divisions last week (5 August). The affected division handles the sites OneStopPhoneShop.com, e2save.com and Mobiles.co.uk as well as services for iD Mobile, TalkTalk Mobile, Talk Mobile.
http://www.thedrum.com/news/2015/08/08/carphone-warehouse-suffers-social-media-backlash-after-24m-customers-data-breached
Judge Andrew Napolitano, a devout Roman Catholic, delivered a scorching rebuke of Pope Francis, labeling him as a "false prophet" for promoting "the political agenda of the atheistic left," and for "leading his flock to a dangerous place," a place "where there is more central planning and less personal liberty," instead of focusing on matters of spirituality and morality — conditions of the heart. In a scathing opinion piece on FOXNews.com, written just prior to the Pope's speech to America before Congress, Judge Napolitano, a strong proponent of individual liberty and individual rights, prophetically predicted that the Pope's speech would be short on spiritual matters and long on anti-capitalism, pro-communism rhetoric Read more at http://politistick.com/devout-catholic-judge-napolitano-blasts-marxist-pope-as-a-false-prophet-heres-why/
Delighted and honoured to finally have a chat with Prof Dolores Cahill. A total insperation [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vjfzv3/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/professor-dolores-cahill-a-late-night-chat-2-9-21/ Custodean Dolores Cahill Freedom Travel Alliance World Freedom Alliance World Doctors Alliance
Many people have been unaware that Google's driverless "concept" car has been provisionally deemed 'road legal' by the Department of Motor Vehicles, and have been active on California's roads over the last 12 months. That's not all…
As it turns out, Google 'Self-Driving electric car is not as 'idiot proof' as they thought. It's been causing accidents. Why police are remaining so tight-lipped about this trend is unknown, but there could be a classified 'DARPA-like' aspect to this new tech. It's all been a bit hush-hush on Google's end who want the public to believe that their driverless cars are no worse than human drivers behind the wheel. Liability This latest revelation also brings up the issue of liability. If there is a fatal accident caused by a robotic software or hardware glitch, then who is legally responsible? Google? Google already has hundreds of millions invested in this technology and product line, and they want to bring their new project to market very soon – within the next 5 years, so expect general curiosity and scrutiny to increase between now and then… Read more http://21stcenturywire.com/2015/05/12/googles-driverless-cars-causing-accidents-but-the-police-reports-remain-hidden/
Medical marijuana may provide some benefit for patients with chronic nerve pain or cancer pain, as well as people who have multiple sclerosis and experience muscle spasms, according to a new review study.
However, there is not much evidence supporting the use of medical marijuana for other reasons, such as sleep disorders, Tourette syndrome and anxiety disorders. And marijuana doesn't appear to help people with depression or psychosis, or those with eye pressure from glaucoma, the study found. Still, many of the studies done to date that found that marijuana had little or no effect were small, or lacked a rigorous design, the researchers said. Larger, more robust studies are needed to confirm the medical effects of cannabinoids, the compounds that are the active ingredients in marijuana, the researchers said in their findings, published today (June 23) in the Journal of the American Medical Association.
"There is evidence to support the use of cannabinoids for the treatment of chronic pain and spasticity," said study co-author Penny Whiting, a senior research fellow in epidemiology and health services research at the University of Bristol in the United Kingdom "However, this needs to be balanced against an increased risk of side effects," which can include dizziness, dry mouth, nausea and sleepiness, Whiting said.
Read more https://uk.news.yahoo.com/medical-marijuana-review-shows-pot-helps-conditions-182812789.html#sL0XJUU
David Cameron's former chief strategist has launched a stinging attack on the 'insular ruling class' threatening Britain's democracy.
Steve Hilton said too many of those at the heart of government go to the same dinner parties and send their children to the same schools.
He said the UK's political system is now in 'crisis' because the same type of people stay in charge whatever the outcome of the elections.
In what will be seen as a criticism of the 'chumocracy' of his former boss, Mr Hilton warned: 'Our democracies are increasingly captured by a ruling class that seeks to perpetuate its privileges.
'Regardless of who's in office, the same people are in power.
'It is a democracy in name only, operating on behalf of a tiny elite no matter the electoral outcome.'
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3085342/Stop-listening-insular-ruling-elite-help-poor-Cameron-s-ex-guru-Steve-Hilton-warns-Tory-PM.html#ixzz3aTQg02SH
A petition for the full legalization of marijuana in the UK has gathered more than 130,000 signatures in just four days, which means that the lawmakers must now consider debating it in Parliament or at least officially respond to the query.
The electronic petition, created by James Richard Owen, calls for the legalization of the production, sale and use of cannabis and currently has close to 135,000 signatures since being launched on Tuesday. The campaign also argues that the drug is "safer than alcohol," has been used by mankind for over 4,000 years, and was outlawed in the UK only in 1925. Since the e-petition reached the required minimum of 100,000 signatures the MPs will now be forced to debate the declassification of the substance. "There's roughly three million adult [cannabis] smokers in the UK and I don't think it's right for the government to be criminalising such a large section of society," Owen, an economics student at Aberystwyth University, told the Guardian. The creator of the petition argues that UK is just wasting money on policing an issue that has been legalized in a number of countries across the world. http://www.rt.com/uk/310760-marijuana-petition-uk-legaliziation/
A Monday news update. Satanic Temple, Cuomo, Wars, Fire Balls and Trump. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vbnnqt/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/findings-54-satanic-church-israel-vaccines-tears-trump-1-3-21/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
Here is posted a wide variety of research done by some very well established and credited researchers.
A spokesperson from the BBC explained to Sputnik why certain portions of its Yanukovych interview, such as dealing with his personal zoo were aired while those dealing with political issues such as Crimea were not.
The BBC spokesperson told Sputnik on Tuesday that it did not include ousted Ukrainian President Viktor Yanukovych's views on Crimea's 2014 reunification with Russia because they were not considered "most newsworthy."
The BBC instead featured remarks by Yanukovych on ostriches he maintained in his residence's zoo in his first ever interview to the Western media since the coup which ousted him. A search on the BBC news website for "Crimea" does not bring up the interview in question, in order to find it one has to search for the word "ostriches." http://sputniknews.com/europe/20150623/1023756868.html Ostrich - head in the sand - describes those who ingest the beebs biased bullshit?
(Faster than Cameron can say 'In out')
Greece Rejects Bailout Extension: Tsipras "Won't Be Blackmailed", Threatens Snap Elections
Tsipras To Announce Referendum - text of announcement to the Greek people
It appears as though Tsipras is set to turn the tables by threatening to effectively put euro membership to a popular vote.
GREECE'S TSIPRAS SAYS CREDITORS POSED ULTIMATUM TO GOVT
GREECE'S TSIPRAS SAYS CREDITORS PROPOSALS ARE AGAINST EU RULES
TSIPRAS SAYS CREDITORS AIM TO HUMILIATE GREEK PEOPLE
TSIPRAS SAYS WILL CALL REFERENDUM ON GREEK DEAL WITH CREDITORS
TSIPRAS GREEK REFERENDUM WILL BE HELD ON JULY 5
TSIPRAS SAYS HE NOTIFIED MERKEL, DRAGHI ON REFERENDUM PLAN
The issue of timescale is relevant - since the referendum would take place after the repayment deadline, requiring the 'creditors' to agree to a bailout extension - which isn't happening. In which case there would be no need for a referendum. Possible game-plays:-
Regime Change may be just what the EU is after
Goldman's "Conspiracy Theory" Stunner: A Greek Default Is Precisely What The ECB Wants
For Tsipras it looks now as if the key question will rest on WHO gets blamed for a Grexident.
As we watch the drama unfold - awaiting the 'final curtain' on 30th June 2015 (although I suspect there will be encores), for those who want to understand HOW this all came about - the film Debtocracy may help. "Debtocracy" seeks the causes of the debt crisis and proposes solutions, hidden by the government and the dominant media. It's not just about Greece - this traces the social, economic and political factors globally - with an emphasis on Europe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKpxPo-lInk
WE ARE ALL GREECE
The "perversion of Islam is the source of a lot of the problems in the Middle East," and more than force is needed to tackle extremism, former British Prime Minister Tony Blair said Tuesday.
Blair spoke to CNN after Tuesday's release of the report "Inside the Jihadi Mind."
The Centre on Religion and Geopolitics -- an initiative of Blair's Tony Blair Faith Foundation -- analyzed propaganda from ISIS, al Qaeda and al-Nusra Front over two years for the report.
It found the Salafi-jihadist groups shared nearly identical ideologies and said challenging their interpretation of Islam was critical to defeating them.
"There's no point in just tackling the violence unless you tackle the ideology of extremism behind the violence," Blair said.
"You've got these broad ideological strands that lie behind a lot of this extremism. If you take, for example, some of the organizations in the Middle East, some of those clerics that are putting out the most extreme stuff -- they'll have Twitter followings that go into millions of people.
Read more http://edition.cnn.com/2015/10/06/world/isis-extremism-religion/index.html
The press is full of it. Naughty people trying so hard to get to Britain. What a cleverly orchestrated distraction from establishment paedophilia. Just when things hot up for Greville Janner and the push to villify Ted Heath, Calais becomes the centre of attention. How clever. It is too easy to blame these people for wanting to come to the 'land of plenty', they are told that is just what it is! IT'S THE SYSTEM THAT IS WRONG THAT ALLOWS IT IN THE FIRST PLACE. Camoron can do NOTHING and the reality is, he doesn't want to either. The EU won't have it and are actively encouraging this farce. As an island race surrounded by our channel wall, it would not be hard to stop this overnight, WE ARE NOT PERMITTED! So, stop hitting out at the migrants, you would do the same in their position. Vent all wrath at the Government for not having the balls to say a big NO to the Brussels Mafia.
Brussels chiefs have already earmarked millions of pounds for lavish projects designed to give the zone its own "identity".
Schemes include a £7.6million "cross-Channel" network of cycle paths, a £2million travelling exhibition of "contemporary" artworks and even a bizarre international tour by circus clowns costing £5.5million.
Tory Cabinet Minister Eric Pickles yesterday revealed details of the plan inherited by his Whitehall department from the previous Labour government.
The Communities Secretary said: "Labour ministers have been caught red-handed conspiring with European bureaucrats to wipe England off the map and replace our historic boroughs, counties and cities with transnational Euro-regions.
Read more http://www.theunituk.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=48251&Itemid=22
! UPDATE !....VIDEO interview with Mickey Summers and David Hollas from the Nottingham C.S.A. Inquiry Action Group....... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7jgowtQyYE
Twenty-six current and former MPs who had expenses debts written off after failing to repay them have been 'named and shamed' this morning.
The MPs, including Conservative ministers Tobias Ellwood and Edward Timpson, failed to repay bills of up to £230 owed to the taxpayer.
In total, the Parliamentary watchdog in charge of monitoring MPs' expenses was forced to write off £2,105.43 over the last financial year.
The debts range from £309.15 owed by the former Labour MP Joe Benton - who stood down at the last election - to the £7.50 in parking costs yet to be repaid by the Tory backbencher Stewart Jackson.
The Independent Parliamentary Standards Authority decided not to take the MPs to court to recover the debts because it would have cost taxpayers even more.
However, David Cameron this morning waded into the row and demanded that any Tory minister with outstanding debts must repay the cash.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3229053/Twenty-six-MPs-named-shamed-refusing-pay-expenses-debts-taxpayer.html#ixzz3lKmMx8LG
British lawmakers get free VIP service at the National Health Service (NHS) hospital to protect them from public, UK media reports have revealed. According to documents released under the Freedom of Information Act, UK MPs are given private cubicles and even single rooms in Accident and Emergency (A&E) admissions, rather than having to sit in a crowded ward where they could be confronted by members of the public. Hospital managers at London's St Thomas' admitted there were special measurements in place for politicians because of their "enhanced security needs," the Express reported. The protocol dictates that any "recognizable" MP is treated away from the public and out of sight. The report points to other patients' fury at the hospital where this was revealed. This is while another report by the British paper refers to the daily allowance of House of the Lords peers who have been disgraced over their past actions. Read more http://presstv.ir/Detail/2015/08/31/427095/UK-MPs-protected-from-public-at-NHS
Conservative MP Johnny Mercer has joined military doctors and soldiers in calling on the British Army to stop handing out cheap anti-malaria drug Lariam, which they claim causes psychological disorders.
Mercer said the drug should be withdrawn from distribution until an investigation is conducted into its safety. Mercer, who is a former army officer and Afghanistan veteran, said he receives regular letters from people across the country expressing their concerns about the medicine. Lariam, which is produced by British drug manufacturer Roche, was banned by US Special Forces two years ago and is not distributed to pilots or drivers in the British military. However, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) continues to issue soldiers Lariam despite it being linked to the 2012 Panjwai Massacre, in which a US soldier slaughtered 17 Afghan civilians after taking the drug. Read more http://www.rt.com/uk/312649-british-army-lariam-mercer/
Researchers have developed robots that learn to live with damaged parts in less than a minute, instead of the many hours needed by traditional self-learning systems.
The system paves the way for robots to be used in a wide variety of settings, coping with damage that occurs in the real world. Possible applications include robots looking after the elderly, rescuing earthquake victims or doing housework. Read more http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-32884768
The most important finding in this report is that climate engineering was covertly deployed decades before any measurable effects of so-called "global warming" could be detected to justify such climate manipulation. The inescapable conclusion is that aerosols and electromagnetic weapons have been used for decades in order to justify pseudo-scientific findings by the IPCC that an epidemic of bad weather is caused by CO2 and greenhouse gases. The WWII development of the V-2 rocket was the inspiration for space-based weapons deployment to control people on the ground regardless their nationality. The post-war influx of NAZI scientists under the ironically named, "Operation Overcast" (later named Operation Paper-Clip), began the military effort of weaponizing the unreachable high altitudes of the atmosphere and outer space. The 1978 Senate report – only made public in digital PDF in 2013 – confirms these aircraft dumps were carried out for decades under the guise of national defense. But the recent emergence of global United Nations governance over national sovereign has exposed the weaponization of space as a tool of the oligarch elite to ultimately control the global population regardless their disappearing notions of countries with borders. See full report https://archive.org/stream/weatificat00unit#page/n0/mode/2up Read more http://chemtrailsplanet.net/2015/10/28/senate-committee-report-proves-global-climate-engineering-is-underway/
Debs and I are back with more of our findings. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vc7o7r/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/findings-64-censorship-nhs-earthquakes-and-5d-19-3-21/
A top detective who probed Britain's worst paedophile Sidney Cooke can't rule out a cover-up over a boy's murder allegedly involving the sex beast. Ex-Chief Superintendent Roger Stoodley felt there was evidence to accuse Cooke, 88, of killing Mark Tildesley, seven, in Wokingham, Berks, in 1984. Mr Stoodley's comments come amid claims that crimes linked to Cooke were never properly investigated. The Sunday People last week revealed that Cooke has been repeatedly linked to the unsolved murder of eight-year-old Vishal Mehrotra , who vanished in 1981. And Mr Stoodley says, after revelations about Jimmy Savile escaping justice, he can't rule out a cover-up over Mark. Read more
Biblical prophecy playing out in front of our very eyes. The movie continues. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vbmacr/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-52-syria-israel-cpac-and-planned-parenthood-26-2-21/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
Among their findings, Dr Woolley and her colleagues at Northwestern University found that a drug called URB597, which regulates a molecule important in neurotransmitter release, had an effect in females that it did not have in males. While the study was done in rats, it has broad implications for humans because this drug and others like it are currently being tested in clinical trials in humans. (They treat us all like lab rats) "We don't know whether this finding will translate to humans or not, but right now people who are investigating endocannabinoids in humans probably are not aware that manipulating these molecules could have different effects in males and females." ( endocannabinoids Does this eplain the recent relaxation of marijuana legislation in so many places? Are they doing another 1970's "LSD type" mass MK trial?)
http://www.sci-news.com/othersciences/neuroscience/science-female-male-brains-molecular-level-03125.html
Kat and I check in for a chat, see what attack our children are under this week https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/kathryn-watkins-children-1st/
A first-ever vaccine created by University of Guelph researchers for gut bacteria common in autistic children may also help control some autism symptoms.
The groundbreaking study by Brittany Pequegnat and Guelph chemistry professor Mario Monteiro appears this month in the journal Vaccine. They developed a carbohydrate-based vaccine against the gut bug Clostridium bolteae. C. bolteae is known to play a role in gastrointestinal disorders, and it often shows up in higher numbers in the GI tracts of autistic children than in those of healthy kids. More than 90 per cent of children with autism spectrum disorders suffer from chronic, severe gastrointestinal symptoms. Of those, about 75 per cent suffer from diarrhea, according to current literature. "Little is known about the factors that predispose autistic children to C. bolteae," said Monteiro. Although most infections are handled by some antibiotics, he said, a vaccine would improve current treatment. "This is the first vaccine designed to control constipation and diarrhea caused by C. bolteae and perhaps control autism-related symptoms associated with this microbe," he said. Autism cases have increased almost sixfold over the past 20 years, and scientists don't know why. Although many experts point to environmental factors, others have focused on the human gut. Read more http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/04/130424112309.htm
Yesterday, news broke that Google has been stealth downloading audio listeners onto every computer that runs Chrome, and transmits audio data back to Google. Effectively, this means that Google had taken itself the right to listen to every conversation in every room that runs Chrome somewhere, without any kind of consent from the people eavesdropped on. In official statements, Google shrugged off the practice with what amounts to "we can do that". This episode highlights the need for hard, not soft, switches to all devices – webcams, microphones – that can be used for surveillance. A software on/off switch for a webcam is no longer enough, a hard shield in front of the lens is required. A software on/off switch for a microphone is no longer enough, a physical switch that breaks its electrical connection is required. That's how you defend against this in depth. https://www.privateinternetaccess.com/blog/2015/06/google-chrome-listening-in-to-your-room-shows-the-importance-of-privacy-defense-in-depth/
A Los Angeles Police Department officer shot a man in the head after he attempted to flag down officers for help with a towel in his hand.
Officers responded to the scene following an officer-needs-help call in the area, CBS Los Angeles reported. The officers believed the man was holding a gun and, after ordering him to drop the alleged weapon, officers fired four shots. One of the rounds appeared to shoot the suspect in the head. A motorist posted graphic video of the scene online — which was widely shared on social media — showing the man rolled over and cuffed by police. "The officers stopped to investigate and see what was needed," LAPD spokesman John Jenal told NBC Los Angeles. "This person then extended their arm, which was wrapped in a towel." Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/los-angeles-police-shoot-unarmed-man-in-the-head-who-waved-at-them-for-help-with-a-towel-10336937.html
https://youtu.be/b43xfBbf-hs
Jeremy Corbyn could be the next Prime Minister if he wins the Labour leadership race, senior Conservative Ken Clarke has said in a warning to fellow Tories.
The minister without portfolio said that Mr Corbyn's populist left-wing policies could prove difficult to beat, and argued that the Islington North MP is closer to the centre than former Labour leader Michael Foot, who suffered a humiliating defeat in 1983. "Don't underestimate Jeremy Corbyn," Mr Clarke, who has served as the Chancellor and Home Secretary, told The Huffington Post. "If you have another recession or if the Conservative Government becomes very unpopular, he could win," he added. Clarke, a grandee fondly nicknamed "The Beast", told the website that Mr Corbyn's popularity lies in his appeal as "a non-politicians answer to the Westminster establishment". Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/labour-leadership-race-jeremy-corbyn-could-be-the-next-prime-minister-says-ken-clarke-10436255.html
They're just ruining our planet," said Patty Shenker, speaking outside Nestlé's water bottling facility in Los Angeles. "They're completely destroying our planet for profit, and we've got to stop them." Shenker, 63, was wearing an orangutan mask — "Animals can't live without water any more than we can," she said — and was one of more than 50 people who came out on Wednesday to protest that the world's largest food and beverage company was continuing to bottle California's water despite the state facing one of the worst droughts in 1,200 years. http://www.alternet.org/environment/protesters-tell-nestle-stop-bottling-california-water
Police are investigating a senior detective who is a confidential source for BBC1's Panorama over the leaking of secret identities of complainants in abuse cases. Communications seen by Exaro reveal that the Metropolitan Police Service's directorate of professional standards launched the investigation last month into the officer on suspicion that he improperly disclosed the name and address of a complainant in a criminal investigation. Read more http://www.exaronews.com/articles/5682/met-investigates-panorama-source-over-leak-of-csa-survivor-s-id
My mate DannyBamping gives us an update on Plynouth City Council and Sir John Hawkins Square. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vaymjh/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/danny-bamping-plymouth-council-update-280121/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
Hong Kong issued a red alert and advised against traveling to South Korea, where an epidemic of Middle East Respiratory Syndrome (MERS) is gaining pace. The virus is spreading despite attempts to contain the outbreak. In Korea, the number of infected people passed 100 this week, reaching 122 on Thursday. Tenth patient died from the disease, health officials said on Thursday. Most of the victims are elderly patients with other health problems unrelated to the virus. Over 3,250 people remain in quarantine. Two people in Hong Kong who traveled to South Korea recently are being tested for possible MERS contagion, the authorities said on Thursday.Previously 31 people were tested negative in Hong Kong. Earlier a man tested positive for the disease in China after coming from S. Korea, and a man in Taiwan was taken to hospital with symptoms consistent with MERS. Read more http://rt.com/news/266464-mers-virus-hong-kong/
David Mortimer, who was the creative head of factual entertainment for the BBC until 2006, claimed the corporation was "definitely inappropriately managed" during his time there. Speaking at the Global TV Summit, Mr Mortimer said both he and his colleagues were unable to secure a single investment following their calamitous pilot episode of Dragon's Den, the popular entrepreneur programme that is now in its twelfth series. But because the BBC had what he described as "jacuzzis of cash" to fund the work, Mr Mortimer claims they were able to "give it another go". He added that had he been working elsewhere, then it would have been "very difficult" to continue with the show - suggesting that the programme would have probably been "killed". Mr Mortimer, who also worked as the BBC deputy controller and head of development of general factual programmes, said: "So, we basically p****d away £200,000 on the pilot, it looked great but we didn't have any investment." Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/582148/BBC-executive-money-licence-fee-bad-pilot-jacuzzis-of-cash
t's a subject that no reporter wants to talk about in the mainstream media. It's a topic that government officials prefer to keep hush-hush. Weather manipulation is a shadowy, controversial topic that has gone under the radar for decades. Geoengineering dates all the way back to 1946, when a chemist working for General Electric, Vincent Schaefer, introduced cloud seeding techniques that he invented in a laboratory freezer. Through the years, cloud seeding chemists have introduced new ways to manipulate the weather using planes and mass aerial dispersal of chemicals. Today, there are entire companies that specialize in controlling the weather; for instance, one European company charges wedding planners $150,000 to guarantee a rain-free wedding day. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration reports that 55 cloud seeding projects took place last year in the US alone. Read more http://www.naturalnews.com/052037_geoengineering_weather_modification_government_coverup.html
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6A2-CekdDE&feature=em-uploademail
Warmongers in government and the media are perversely but predictably trying to conscript Aylan's corpse into their march to escalation. They are contending that Aylan died because the West has not intervened against Syria's dictator Bashar al-Assad, and that it must do so now to spare other children the same fate.
Um, no, Aylan's family were Kurdish refugees from Kobani who had to flee that city when it was besieged, not by Assad, but by Assad's enemy: ISIS.
A baby boy turned to flotsam. Washed up on the shore, face down in the mud. His family, refugees from Syria's civil war, had tried to reach Greece, but their over-crowded raft overturned in the Mediterranean Sea and he drowned along with his brother and mother. The viral image of 3-year-old Aylan Kurdi's lifeless little body on a Turkish beach has shaken the conscience of the West and wrenched America's attention to the refugee crisis now rocking Europe. Newsflash to the oblivious citizenry of the power-projecting "free world": this is what war looks like. This times ten million. That which is mere "foreign policy" to you and your government is desperation and death to those on the receiving end of it. Children just as innocent and precious as Aylan are being driven into the sea in Libya, incinerated by drone in Pakistan, or starved to death in Yemen all the time, and it is all on your dime. And every single instance creates a sight just as aching. Read more http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2015-09-08/read-mainstream-media-uses-drowned-refugee-boy-start-another-war
The east of the county was hit by tremors just before 3am. The epicentre was said to be two miles west of Ramsgate, with the tremors felt as far as Canvey Island, Essex. Local resident Simon Moores told Express.co.uk: "At just after 3am there was a dramatic violent jarring and jolting of the house for about 10 seconds. "The seagulls launched into air with tremendous noise outside, dogs started barking, crockery moving, furniture jarring about a bit." "It stopped after 10 seconds, which made me think it was probably an earthquake. http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/579119/Kent-earthquake-Margate-tremors-Canterbury-Herne-Bay-Whitstable-Thanet-Dover-Deal
Police raided the restaurant after locals reported it was selling human meat
They discovered human heads which were still dripping blood into plastic bags
Weapons including grenades also found during the raid in Anambra region
Ten people have so far been arrested in connection to the various crimes
A Nigerian restaurant has reportedly been shut down for cooking human flesh and serving it to customers.
The police were tipped off by locals who suspected something horrific was taking place inside the kitchen.
They raided the hotel restaurant to discover human heads which were still dripping with blood in plastic bags.
A local priest who ate at the restaurant - in the south-eastern province of Anambra - was alarmed at the price of meals there, let alone where the meat came from,BBC Swahili reported.
He was presented with a bill of 700 Naira - around £2.20 - when the daily wage for tens of millions of Nigerians is approximately 60p.
The priest said: 'The attendant noticed my reaction and told me it was the small piece of meat I had eaten that made the bill scale that high.
'I did not know I had been served with human meat, and that it was that expensive.'
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3084326/Nigerian-restaurant-shut-serving-HUMAN-flesh-bags-containing-human-heads-bleeding.html#ixzz3aKE509t6
Peter Ball... was propelled into the royal circle by two people... One was prebendary Willie Booth, a former chaplain at Westminster School, who'd taken over from Caesar. The other was Jimmy Savile.
Ball's royal friendships were not confined to the Prince of Wales.
Ball was on close terms with the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret, and was invited to preach at Sandringham.
Even the Queen supported him after his police caution. In 1994, when she was distributing Royal Maundy money in Truro, Ball was there with his brother, who was Truro's bishop.
After lunch in the Chapter House, the Queen, who had been on the high table with local dignitaries, went across to Ball, held out her hand and said in the clearest of voices: 'My love and encouragement, Bishop.'
Charles, meanwhile, must surely have been advised to keep Ball at arm's length — just as he had been advised to distance himself from Jimmy Savile.
'The Prince did receive letters from the public complaining about Savile,' says a senior aide.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3265742/Jimmy-Savile-Prince-Charles-close-friendship-sex-abuse-bishop-Peter-Ball.html#ixzz3o5g4Bimb
THE mother of a trainee monk who was sexually-abused by a Bishop has slammed Prince Charles for giving refuge to the perverted priest.
Angry Mary Todd said: "This man ruined my son's life. He is pure evil, a beast, and he's hiding behind God." Despite being an old friend of Prince Charles, Princess Diana banned him from visiting their Highgrove home after the 1993 sex scandal.
Last night Mary, from Nottingham, said: "This is quite unbelievable. I don't know what Prince Charles thinks he is doing.
"The man ruined my son's life and should have been locked away. "Instead he now lives in luxury on one of the finest estates in the country. "I don't feel Ball was ever properly punished - but the fact that the prince has given sanctuary to this pervert is staggering.
http://www.thefreelibrary.com/Charles+row+over+pervert+Bishop's+home.-a060633678
"Give a man a gun and he'll rob a bank. Give a man a bank and he'll rob the world." –Unknown Give people just a little bit of knowledge and courage and they will track down those greedy-ass bankers and hold them accountable. All we need is just a little courageous anarchy. The problem, the crux, the fly in the ointment: most people are not courageous enough, and most people don't want to learn anything that attacks their all-too-precious worldview. Yes, the very worldview that is keeping people indebted to an immoral, unhealthy, unsustainable, unjust system of human governance, is precisely the worldview that the majority of people are clinging to. Indeed, most people, even though they would probably say otherwise, would rather be kissed with a lie than slapped with the truth. They would rather deny facts that tarnish their worldview than reject the deceit that upholds it. But as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable. Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals." Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/05/18/5-reasons-why-anarchy-would-an-improvement-in-human-governance/
The full scale of the Westminster child abuse network is not yet entirely known. In the wake of the revelations over once-loved national treasure, now disgraced celebrity Jimmy Savile, more and more high-profile figures have been named as part of several ongoing police investigations.
Allegations stretching back for many decades right through to the present day involve senior political figures, high ranking police officers and TV personalities. The late Jimmy Savile and Cyril Smith MP are among those so far named and shamed, the full extent of their behaviour finally coming to light only now, many years and after many of the assaults on children took place. The fact that these predators picked on some of the most vulnerable, defenceless people in society, children living in children's homes, only compounds the magnitude of the crimes committed and highlights just how vile the political establishment in the UK really is. And let's not delude ourselves: While many in the media are portraying these crimes as so-called "historic" child abuse, there is every reason to think that the same sordid network still exists. Margaret Thatcher, who was good friends with Jimmy Savile, tried her best to keep a lid on the scandal which allegedly involved many key figures of the Conservative Party. In the run-up to this year's general election David Cameron did the same thing. Nevertheless, one senses the dam of lies built up to protect these high-ranking abusers, from some of the most powerful positions in society, is about to break. The latest political figure to be named in investigations is Ted Heath. The former PM was once very good friends with Jimmy Savile, who had access to children's homes due to his prestige as a trusted charity worker and celebrity. Savile also used to accompany Heath on yachting excursions. Read more http://www.rt.com/op-edge/312189-heath-child-abuse-scandal/
Roy returns after the Christmas break to update us on the latest from the Swamp. We also look at Communist Party of China's involvement. Great Show. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/roy-davies-election-updates-and-the-ccp-s-involvement-27-12-20/
Google has announced its cooperation with Levi's to design wearable technology by weaving touch-pad style capabilities into the fabric. The new technology would enable people to make phone calls and send messages just by swiping their clothes. Items like jeans, sweaters, jackets, carpets and even furniture could potentially be turned into an interactive device, to be used like a trackpad or button, according to Google's Advanced Technology and Projects (ATAP), which is in charge of the development. Read more http://rt.com/news/265384-google-levis-interactive-fabric/?utm_source=browser&utm_medium=aplication_chrome&utm_campaign=chrome
We reported from Bens trial that Exaro, who were the only mainstream press present throughout the trial, approached the bench and asked about reporting on the Pre trial allegations that were heard about Ken Clarke. The judge ruled that no reporting was allowed until the case had finished. I've waited until Exaro broke the story 1st in case there are other restrictions that I dont know about. Tim Wood journalist for Exaro who was present everyday has reported See full article http://www.exaronews.com/articles/5624/ken-clarke-police-investigate-second-claim-of-indecent-assault Exaro has not mentioned the fact that it is alleged an other police force is conducting similar investigations.
A speech by Queen Elizabeth II warning against "division" in Europe as Prime Minister David Cameron plans a referendum on Britain's EU membership was interpreted by British media on Thursday as a political statement. British newspapers were quick to express their surprise on Thursday, the same day that Cameron is due to address European Union leaders in Brussels on Britain's desire for a looser association with the EU bloc. The Daily Telegraph said "the Queen's comments may be interpreted by some as the sovereign expressing a view on the EU debate". A headline in The Independent read: "Queen issues unexpected warning as EU leaders meet in Brussels for key summit". But a Buckingham Palace aide quoted by the BBC rejected the interpretation of the queen's words. "This is not about the EU. The queen is apolitical. http://www.eubusiness.com/news-eu/britain-germany.12b4 That's the EU official version *cough* Concurrently
EU commission sets up Brexit unit
The European Commission has sent a strong political signal to London by appointing a special team to take charge of relations with the UK in the run-up to its referendum on EU membership. Jonathan Faull, a lawyer and one of Britain's top civil servants in the commission, will head up the new unit, which officially starts its work on 1 September.
Darwin once called humans living, self-replicating machines. While it is true that we are divided from the rest of the animal kingdom due to our ability to discern the scent of a rose from a peony, and have emotions that either enflame us or calm our minds, completely isolated from purely environmental stimuli, our humanness has been overlooked, often dismissed even, as an evolutionary stumbling block, not the gift that it truly is. This, perhaps, is the philosophical error which has led to the belief that we need to be something more than human – trans-human – with adapted parts like a robot, or machine, rather than an ever-evolving, biological encasing of energy, ideas, and spirituality that will, in its own time, realize its perfect nature. The idea of transhumanism completely blurs the lines between machine and (wo)man. Utilizing cloning, nanotechnology, genetic engineering, and more, people in support of this dangerous movement could arguably practice genetic cleansing that would make Nazi Germany or the ethnic 'washing' of Bosnian Muslims, Polynesians, Serbo-Coratians, Syrians, Native Americans, etc. look like a parlor trick. There is a scene in the movie, The Matrix, which tries to visually blur these lines even more so. Neo, played by Keanu Reeves, emerges from a machine-made 'womb' and his only intended purpose is to provide energy to the technologically 'advanced' society from which he eventually tries to exit. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/11/17/the-transhumanism-fantasy-failure-for-humanity/
My dear friend Jon Wedger talks in depth about the reality of Satanic Ritual Abuse. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/interview-with-former-met-police-detective-sgt-jon-wedger-1-year-update-satanic-ritual-abuse/
Concern is growing that UK firms are considering implanting microchips into their employees to boost security. Biohax, a Swedish company that provides human chip implants, told the Daily Telegraph it was 'in talks' with a number of UK legal and financial firms to implant staff with the devices. Apparently, one client has 'hundreds of thousands of employees' and probably believes that injecting chips into their workers is easier than issuing them with a security pass. 'These companies have sensitive documents they are dealing with," Jowan Österlund, the founder of Biohax, told the paper.
'[The chips] would allow them to set restrictions for whoever,' Österlund, a former professional body piercer, said. Naturally, not everyone is on board with this idea. A spokesperson for the Confederation of British Industry told the Guardian: 'While technology is changing the way we work, this makes for distinctly uncomfortable reading.
Read more: HERE
Perhaps the most tragic story concerning the artificial sweetener, aspartame, has come to light in the UK with a teenager's recent death. Many people are not aware, but aspartame is an artificial (and genetically modified) sweetener created by altering bacteria. Some research and numerous reports suggest that along with flavoring, it also comes with some unwanted health consequences, including headaches, moodiness, and more. Dr. Mercola has called it "by far the most dangerous food additive on the market" accounting for an inordinate amount of reported adverse health reactions to food.
G.D. Searle Company created aspartame more than 50 years ago, but it was approved to be added to food in the 1980s. You may also recognize aspartame by other names, like NutraSweet, Equal, and Equal Measure. In 1985, biotechnology company Monsanto purchased G.D. Searle and divided up Searle Pharmaceuticals and The NutraSweet Company into separate subsidiaries. Though Monsanto hasn't directly sold aspartame for more than ten years, the company was key in making sure it was passed through for regulatory approval. Donald Rumsfeld was Monsanto's helper in making sure this toxic GM substance was unleashed on an unsuspecting public.
Read more: http://naturalsociety.com/did-monsantos-aspartame-cause-this-teenagers-brain-tumors-and-inevitable-death/#ixzz3ZraCXJua
William Hague is braced for criticism over an alleged cover-up in a paedophile scandal linked to a close ally of Margaret Thatcher.
An official report into the North Wales care homes scandal, in which up to 650 children were raped or assaulted in the Seventies and Eighties, is expected to drag in the former Cabinet Minister.
In 1996, as Welsh Secretary in John Major's Government, Hague ordered an inquiry. But after claims it let public figures off the hook, Home Secretary Theresa May called a fresh probe in 2012.
Whitehall sources anticipate that the new inquiry, due to be published this year, will accuse the Welsh Office of mishandling the issue.
It comes as evidence emerged suggesting Mr Hague was aware of the link between Tory MP Sir Peter Morrison (a former aide to Margaret Thatcher) and the scandal.
Fresh evidence on Mr Hague's role is contained in a book by Mr Brandreth, who succeeded Sir Peter as Tory MP for Chester, 17 miles from Bryn Estyn, in 1992. In an updated edition of his memoirs, Breaking The Code, he says Mr Hague told him about the link at the time.
Mr Brandreth, a Tory Whip at the time, writes: 'The first, and only, official acknowledgement of my predecessor's possible involvement in child abuse came my way in 1996 when William Hague, then Secretary of State for Wales, came up to me in the House of Commons to let me know that he had ordered an inquiry into allegations of child abuse in care homes in North Wales between 1974 and 1990 – and that Peter's name might feature in connection with the Bryn Estyn home in Wrexham.'
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3104107/Hague-faces-cover-row-Thatcher-ally-s-link-care-home-abuse-scandal-Former-foreign-secretary-said-aware-Sir-Peter-Morrison-s-connections-working-Welsh-secretary.html In an article in the Daily Mail published in October 2012, former Conservative MP and leader of the Welsh Tories Rod Richards claimed that Morrison (and another Tory grandee who has not been named) was connected to the terrible abuse scandals in Bryn Estyn and Bryn Alyn children's homes, in North Wales, having seen documents which identified both politicians as frequent, unexplained visitors. Richards also claimed that William Hague, who was Secretary of State for Wales from 1995 to 1997, and who set up the North Wales Child Abuse inquiry, would have seen the files on Morrison. https://ianpace.wordpress.com/2014/10/06/peter-morrison-and-the-cover-up-in-the-tory-party-fully-updated/
A member of the government has threatened to resign over David Cameron's plan to scrap European human rights laws. The individual suggested it may be necessary to resign in order to vote against the Tory plan to abolish the Human Rights Act in the House of Commons. The Tory predicted that the government would lose the vote on the plans in the Commons, spelling "the end of the honeymoon period" for Mr Cameron's new administration. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/politics/queens-speech/11626477/Tories-at-war-over-plan-to-scrap-Human-Rights-Act.html
Brain enhancing 'modafinil' is the world's first safe "smart drug" according to researchers at Oxford University and Harvard Medical School, who confirmed it really does enhance mental performance.
Scientists looked at 24 studies into modafinil, a drug which promotes wakefulness and is used to treat narcolepsy, excessive sleepiness and sleep disorders resulting from shift work. They concluded the drug can improve decision making, problem solving and may even make people think more creatively. Researchers said the drug is safe when taken on a short-term basis, but acknowledged there is limited data available on the effects of long-term use. Modafinil is the first 'smart drug' to be declared effective, but scientists warn the discovery raises serious ethical questions about how it should be treated by society. "Modafinil can and does enhance some cognitive functions," said Dr Ruairidh Battleday of Oxford University. Read more http://www.rt.com/uk/312953-first-smart-drug-brain/
Episode 2 of Lou and Debis Ramblings . We talk Lord Malluck Brown and Covid Tests [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v8v4bk/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-ramblings-with-debi-evans-episode-2-lord-malloch-brown-nhs/
An article on 16 May reported that a Nigerian restaurant was shut down for serving human flesh, based on a BBC Swahili report. BBC Swahili has now confirmed that the story was incorrect and the article has now been removed from our website. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/article-3087664/Clarifications-corrections.html They made it up Question is WHY?
Maybe all the lies and half truths are part of an agenda to break the public's faith in any consistency of collective belief, in the permanence of a shared reality.
http://www.thetruthseeker.co.uk/?p=116020
Greece has missed the deadline for a €1.5bn (£1.1bn) payment to the International Monetary Fund (IMF), hours after eurozone ministers refused to extend its bailout.
But the ministers say they will discuss a last-minute request from Greece for a new two-year bailout on Wednesday. Greece is the first advanced country to fail to repay a loan to the IMF and is now formally in arrears. There are fears that this could put Greece at risk of leaving the euro. The IMF confirmed that Greece had failed to make the payment, shortly after 22:00 GMT on Tuesday. "We have informed our Executive Board that Greece is now in arrears and can only receive IMF financing once the arrears are cleared," said IMF spokesman Gerry Rice. More http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-33339363
The new Conservative majority government will bring into force far-reaching snooping powers that are potentially more invasive then previously feared, causing deep concern among privacy campaigners. The legislation, which some say is driven by the fallout of the Edward Snowden leaks, will include the controversial 'snoopers' charter' as well as a concerted attempt to strengthen the security services' capacity to capture bulk intelligence date. No details of how this strengthening will take place have yet been released. The extension of powers will come as a surprise to many, as will the speed with which they are being brought into effect.
Doulton SS Gravity Water Filter with ATC Super Sterasyl Candles
The Doulton SS Gravity Water Filter System is purposely designed for situations in which a safe and reliable source of drinkable water is not available. This makes the Doulton SS Gravity Water Filter System ideal for outdoor travelers, hikers, expeditions, missionaries and so on. Due to their effectiveness at eliminating water-born diseases such as cholera and typhoid, they are also being specified for field operations by many of the worlds major aid and emergency relief organizations as well as the US Military. The Doulton SS Gravity Water Filter System is made from high quality surgical grade stainless steel for maximum corrosion resistance. It is lightweight, durable and easy to clean. http://loucollins.uk/product/doulton-ss-gravity-water-filter-with-atc-super-sterasyl-candles/
By Christina England When a woman becomes pregnant, naturally, she would want to protect her unborn child above all else. Therefore, when offered a series of vaccinations said to protect her newborn baby against disease in the first few weeks of life, she will probably accept the vaccinations without a moment's hesitation. However, would she accept those vaccinations so readily if she knew that her unborn child was going to be used as part of a vaccine experiment being conducted by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the vaccine manufacturers?
According to CDC paperwork, both the Tdap and the Dtap are vaccinations offered to pregnant women during pregnancy, supposedly to protect their newborn infant from contracting pertussis (whooping cough) in the first few weeks of life. However, despite recommending these vaccinations to all pregnant women, the CDC readily admits in their own documentation that neither vaccine has ever been tested during pregnancy for vaccine safety and that they have no idea whether the vaccines could harm a growing fetus. In other words, by recommending these vaccinations to pregnant women, the CDC is fully prepared to use unborn babies as part of a massive vaccine experiment. What is even more worrying is the fact that, in doing this, they are potentially risking the lives of millions of unborn babies. Why would the CDC do this? Health Impact News decided to investigate this issue more carefully, and what we uncovered may shock and horrify you. - See more at: http://healthimpactnews.com/2015/is-your-unborn-baby-part-of-a-vaccine-experiment/#sthash.64vlKPVI.dpuf
The short list has been branded an "inhumane" and "barbaric" task after a court in Manchester approved the injunction to Manchester City Council. As well as cardboard boxes and tents, destitute people are permitted to shelter in the form of sleeping bags, blankets, benches, doorways, bus shelters and cardboard boxes. It said hostels and overnight charity accommodation are available to homeless people - despite these are often full or unaffordable for those with no money. And if a homeless person dares put up a tent or "other moveable temporary forms of accommodation" they could face up to two years in jail. The list was produced for Manchester City Council in reaction to campaigners protesting against how the authorities are dealing with growing numbers of rough-sleepers in the city. Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/596677/list-homeless-people-sleep-tent-jail-Manchester
(NaturalNews) For five ruthless years, Merck & Co. knowingly deceived and poisoned 80 million people around the world with their infamous and deadly drug Vioxx. The drug was taken off the market in 2004 after a study revealed that Vioxx doubled the risk of heart attack and stroke in those who took the drug. The psychopaths who run Merck knowingly falsified safety data on Vioxx, which ultimately led to numerous heart attacks and strokes in unsuspecting patients. All of Merck's sales representatives must have realized at that point that they were nothing more than pawns for one of the most guile, criminal operations on the planet. Upon hearing the news in 2003, one sales rep decided to quit, disillusioned by the corruption she had become an acolyte for. As her eyes were opened and her life journey pressed on, it became apparent that her greatest desires for truth in medicine were going to express themselves as her reality unfolded. Her name is Brandy Vaughan. Read more http://www.naturalnews.com/051241_mandatory_vaccination_Brandy_Vaughan_Big_Pharma_profits.html
The Prime Minister carried out the act as a student a Oxford University, according to a claim made in a new biography. The story was recounted to the authors by a contemporary of Mr Cameron who went on to become an MP. He reportedly said the pig's head was resting on the lap of a member of the Piers Gaveston Society – a dining club at Oxford – while Cameron carried out the act. He even claimed another member of the group has photographic evidence of the alleged act. But the individual who is said to own the picture did not respond to approaches by the authors.
The shocking allegation features in Call Me Dave, a biography of Mr Cameron co-written by Tory peer Lord Ashcroft and the journalist Isabel Oakeshott. Mr Ashcroft said: "Perhaps it is a case of mistaken identity. Yet it is an elaborate story for an otherwise credible figure to invent. "Furthermore, there are a number of accounts of pigs' heads at debauched parties in Cameron's day." The alleged act echoes the first episode of the drama series Black Mirror, in which the fictional Prime Minister has sex with a pig live on TV. Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/politics/606695/David-Cameron-dead-pig-private-part-Oxford-University-student-Prime-Minister
Cameron, in demanding the commitment of ministers to the outcome of the renegotiations, is playing fast and loose with words ... as so often. The manifesto commitment is this:
It will be a fundamental principle of a future Conservative Government that membership of the European Union depends on the consent of the British people – and in recent years that consent has worn wafer-thin. That's why, after the election, we will negotiate a new settlement for Britain in Europe, and then ask the British people whether they want to stay in the EU on this reformed basis or leave. David Cameron has committed that he will only lead a government that offers an in-out referendum. We will hold that in-out referendum before the end of 2017 and respect the outcome.
Cameron is turning this into a battle between his government and the people. Read more http://eureferendum.com/blogview.aspx?blogno=85621 Let battle commence?
Debs and I discuss Epstein, Child Trafficking arrests, Bezos resignation, Earthquakes and more. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vayqlb/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-episode36-child-trafficking-epstein-earthquakes-and-bezos/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
Peter Ball, the former Bishop of Lewes and of Gloucester, was arrested in 1992 after beating a 17-year-old novice monk and encouraging him to pray naked.
However, the Director of Public Prosecutions decided not to charge him after a number of VIPs including MPs, public school headmasters and the Lord Chief Justice phoned police to stand up for him.
Among 2,000 letters of support sent on behalf of Ball were some from cabinet ministers and one from an unidentified Royal, the Old Bailey heard.
Ball, now 83, was today jailed for 32 months, two decades after he was let off with a caution for carrying out a string of sex attacks on vulnerable youths.
The former bishop - who once described Prince Charles as 'a loyal friend' - preyed on his victims for sexual pleasure when they came to his home in Litlington, East Sussex.
Many were teenagers or in their early 20s at the time they sought out the bishop through his 'Give A Year For Christ' scheme.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3263475/Bishop-abused-young-priests-naked-prayers-got-away-two-decades.html#ixzz3ntCWWbdN
You will be as dumbfounded as I was when you see this government funded puppet show featuring disembodied limbs, childbirth and human feces performed in front of groups of children! Video https://vimeo.com/121001475
I have been in constant touch with Ben through out today.. He appeard at The Old Bailey this morning as there were new developments that had come to light. Ben will still be standing trial on Monday 20th July and is still hoping for plenty of support on the day. Ben is in good spirits and wants to thank everyone for their support
By Mark Conrad Detectives are still examining items seized nearly six months ago in their raid of former Conservative MP Harvey Proctor's home, Exaro can reveal. The time spent on sifting through a large number of seized items is understood to be one reason why the police investigation into the ex-MP is taking so long. Proctor called a press conference on Tuesday to denounce the police. Read more http://www.exaronews.com/articles/5651/police-are-still-sifting-items-seized-from-raid-on-harvey-proctor
The hijacking of modern science by corporations hellbent on profiting at the expense of public health is no more evident than in published scientific literature. There, you'll find all sorts of papers claiming that genetically modified organisms (GMOs) are safe, chemicals are good for you and pharmaceuticals drugs are the only medicine worth taking — but how much of all these information are actually valid? Back in September, it was revealed that British drug giant GlaxoSmithKline (GSK) doctored studies to promote its popular drug Paxil as a treatment for depression. It turns out this drug isn't safe or effective in any way, and yet millions of young teens and children have been prescribed this mind-altering medication under the illusion that it might help them overcome mental abnormalities. Not only were these papers exposed as fraudulent, but major news outlets like The New York Times (NYT) are reporting that they actually demonstrated the exact opposite of what their authors claimed at the time. How can this be when papers of this type are run through the peer-review process prior to publishing? Read more
Drones are being used to spy on pupils during university entrance examinations in China to stop them from cheating, according to Chinese media.
Officials in Luoyang, central China, have adopted the high-tech method to monitor students while they take the notoriously difficult tests.
The silent-flying drones will hover over students during university entrance exams known as 'gaokao', which are taken by more than nine million teenagers every year.
The devices will use 360 degree rotations to scan testing halls and locate suspicious radio signals created by hidden earpieces used to obtain the answers to exam questions.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3113059/China-resorts-using-drones-spy-students-trying-cheat-notoriously-tough-university-entrance-exams.html#ixzz3cGcGYKFJ
British scientists are among 150 experts calling for a worldwide ban on the genetic editing of embryos claiming the practice would 'irrevocably alter the human species.'
Hundreds of geneticists are meeting in Washington this week to discuss whether there should be a global moratorium on engineering the DNA of humans if it means that genetic changes would be passed on to future generations.
Experts from Kings College London, Newcastle University and the University of London have joined with lawyers, sociologists and campaigners to call for an urgent ban on the practice warning it will lead to 'designer babies' and 'GM humans.'
However other scientists claim that prohibiting research will only drive the practice underground to 'black markets and uncontrolled medical tourism.' In April China was ordered to 'rein in' scientists who altered the DNA of embryos to modify the gene responsible for the fatal blood disorder thalassaemia. The Francis Crick Institute in London is also currently seeking permission from the Human Fertilisation and Embyrology Authority (HFEA) to carry out similar experiments in Britain although the embryos will not be implanted in humans. Read more
ADDRESS: 2/3 BRIDGE STREET, SUNNYBROW, COUNTY DURHAM, DL15 0NA Support on the ground needed please - plenty of space to camp out. Supplies - particularly water - please deliver to the caravan at 2/3 Bridge Street Property is set to be fire-sale auctioned on 29th July - in London - as per link below http://www.barnardmarcusauctions.co.uk/ http://loucollins.uk/2015/06/19/help-needed-now-people-on-the-ground-before-the-23rd-of-june-16-6-2015-vid-4/
Roy takes us on a journey of how we got to this day. Judgement Days for Q and The Plan. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/roy-davies-the-journey-so-far-q-19-1-21/
Cuadrilla, one of the UK's leading shale gas firms, is majority owned by entities based in offshore tax havens, a Greenpeace investigation has found. The analysis of financial data and companies house filings also reveals that 40% of existing oil and gas exploration licenses have been awarded to exploration partnerships in which at least one company is owned offshore. The news comes as the government prepares to announce the next round of licenses to drill onshore for oil and gas. See also: Almost half of firms awarded blocks in 14th round overseas owned or based abroad This includes companies based in tax havens such as Bermuda, the British Virgin Islands and the Cayman Islands, all of which were recently placed on an EU tax haven blacklist for being "non-cooperative" with efforts to combat tax avoidance. 45% of Cuadrilla is held by Riverstone Holdings through a Cayman Islands-based investment fund, while another 45% is held by Australian company AJ Lucas, which is 50% owned and substantially bankrolled by Kerogen Capital, registered in the Caymans. Other leading fracking firms owned by companies registered offshore include Third Energy – which is owned by a division of Barclays bank based in the Cayman Islands – and Celtique Energie, which has sought to frack in South Downs national park. Read more
Debs and Lou's news findings of the day. Lou ponders over Ezra Cohen Watnick and possible link to The Kennedy family and looks at the latest from Monkey Werx and Military Airspace. Debs has the latest earthquakes updates and starts looking into the UK Government Sage Papers and links to The Royal Free Hospital in London and China. Not to forget the Slick Rick with the latest protests around the country. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v9p9aq/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-ramblings-episode-9-ezra-cohen-watnick-earthquakes-sage-royal-free-hospital-china/
And they're not the only ones https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bw8HINW153A
Adam's Calendar is controversially suggested to be the oldest man-made structure in the world. Sometimes referred to as "African Stonehenge", it predates both Stonehenge and the Great Pyramid of Giza by tens of thousands of years. Located in Mpumalanga, South Africa it is a standing stone circle about 30 meters in diameter and has been estimated by some accounts to be more than 75,000 years old. Various astronomical alignments have been identified at the site and it is possibly the only example of a completely functional, mostly intact megalithic stone calendar in the world. The site is aptly named Adam's Calendar because the stones are placed to track the movement of the sun, which casts shadows on the rock. It still works perfectly as a calendar today by following the shadow of the setting sun, which is cast by the taller central monolith onto the flat stone beside it. This remarkable calendar was originally a large circular stone structure resembling Stonehenge and in the center of the 'circle' are two upright stones which are said to have been carved. Its original shape is still clearly visible from satellite images. The stones are all dolomite, weighing up to 5 tons each, and are said to have been transported from a distant site. It should be noted that the area surrounding Adam's Calendar is extremely rich in gold. http://worldtruth.tv/adams-calendar-oldest-megalithic-site-in-the-world/
SCOTTISH Water urged the householders in North Lanarkshire not to wash, cook with or drink the water after worked they through the night to assess the danger.
http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/scottish-news/6000-scots-homes-hit-contaminated-5903547 Note the data mining on the link.
On 24th May, the Cabinet Office announced The Low Pay Commission (LPC) will be visiting areas across the UK to gather evidence on the National Minimum Wage and low pay. The Commission would like to meet a number of people affected by low pay; to hear first-hand what impact the National Minimum Wage is having in your area. Any information received will be treated in confidence. So say the Commission. If you would like to meet LPC Commissioners or would like further information, please get in touch with Roz Hands: [email protected]; Tel 020 7211 8214 to arrange a convenient time and location. This essential evidence on low pay across different areas and employment sectors in the UK will help inform our wage rate recommendations to Government. This is an ideal time to talk to the Commission, let them know how the real world is doing on law pay, topped up by benefits, food banks and homelessness. In the same week the Cabinet Office also tells of a capping on redundancy payments for the best-paid public sector workers. It is to be capped below 6 figures. Good news; yet no mention of capping bankers' bonuses, capping the amounts spent on Gov IT systems, (later to be deemed useless) no mention of capping the amount of NHS contacts, MP expenses, catering at the House of Lords .............. mean-while Osborne spouts:- "It is not right that working people should have to fork out for golden parachutes worth hundreds of thousands of pounds for public sector workers when they are made redundant." Of course, we should be happy. They are saving money in the fight on austerity. Go them! Are we fooled by throwing crumbs to the people? https://www.gov.uk/government/news/have-your-say-on-the-national-minimum-wage https://www.gov.uk/government/news/government-ends-six-figure-exit-payouts Author Laudy
President Vladimir Putin says he's shared Russian intelligence data on Islamic State financing with his G20 colleagues: the terrorists appear to be financed from 40 countries, including some G20 member states.
During the summit, "I provided examples based on our data on the financing of different Islamic State (IS, formerly ISIS/ISIL) units by private individuals. This money, as we have established, comes from 40 countries and, there are some of the G20 members among them," Putin told the journalists. Putin also spoke of the urgent need to curb the illegal oil trade by IS. "I've shown our colleagues photos taken from space and from aircraft which clearly demonstrate the scale of the illegal trade in oil and petroleum products," he said. "The motorcade of refueling vehicles stretched for dozens of kilometers, so that from a height of 4,000 to 5,000 meters they stretch beyond the horizon," Putin added, comparing the convoy to gas and oil pipeline systems. Read more https://www.rt.com/news/322305-isis-financed-40-countries/
The British government quietly changed anti-hacking laws to exempt GCHQ and other law enforcement agencies from criminal prosecution, it has been claimed.
Details of the change were revealed at the Investigatory Powers Tribunal which is hearing a challenge to the legality of computer hacking by UK law enforcement and intelligence agencies. The Government amended the Computer Misuse Act (CMA) two months ago. It used a little-noticed addition to the Serious Crime Bill going through parliament to provide protection for the intelligence services. The change was introduced just weeks after the Government faced a legal challenge that GCHQ's computer hacking to gather intelligence was unlawful under the CMA. The challenge, by the charity Privacy International and seven internet service providers, claims GCHQ's actions were unlawful and called for the techniques to be stopped. Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/gadgets-and-tech/news/uk-government-rewrites-surveillance-law-to-get-away-with-hacking-and-allow-cyber-attacks-campaigners-claim-10253485.html
Confirmation that Melanie Shaw is out of prison FINALLY.. No more details as of yet.
Article from 2013 from The Fighting Back Team, it is certain that since 2013 there are many more who have been honoured by the Queen that should be listed.... Update to follow soon. The current reigning monarch has, for many years shown poor judgement at the very least both in her choices of cabinet/government and the honours list. Scores of names from her time as Queen have since been named and shamed. I hereby call for her immediate abdication on the grounds she is not mentally fit for duty as proven by her own actions. I also call for the immediate abdication of the direct heir to the throne Charles due to his involvement whatever they claim to have been doing in such proximity to this vile wickedness, along with his wife and children. if we Must have a royal, let the boy do it. I'm sure its 2nd nature for a toff to pronounce such a declaration as "Let the boy do it!" who knows, maybe william wont have been diddled, maybe he will be repulsed by the very thought of it all, sickened at the mere mention of the possibility….. although lets not forget, dennis grain (ref: Greystone Heath) was a teacher at eton during william' attendance there. She has final say on every Minister that sits in Govt and has to agree and accept each change of Prime Minister. She Can choose to say...." No, fk orf, one doesn't want that nonce c*nt running one's Country!" Below are just some of the many honours she has bestowed upon the guilty. Former chief executive of the East of England Ambulance Service (EEAST) Hayden Newton is set to be one of two people to receive the Queen's Award for services to the ambulance service, which was introduced only eight months ago. British Trade Union members working in the health care and the ambulance service have reacted with shock to Newton's award as he "left the service with a poor record of reaching the government targets for response times and a worse one on industrial relations." Meanwhile, Investment banker Hector Sants, who was in charge of Britain's banking watchdog at the time of the financial crash, is to be knighted for his "services to financial regulation." Read more http://brynalynvictims.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/a-call-for-abdication.html
Last night Hannity did a piece on Hunter Bidens laptop. We were on it 6 months ago. Here is my call to the BBC on 28th October 2020 [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vd2ngd/[/rumble]
Westminster underground station was evacuated and closed after a suspected fire.
Three fire engines rushed to the scene as Underground users piled out of the station. Police guarded the entrances and shutters were pulled down. Transport for London tweeted to inform passengers about the incident at around 2.30pm: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/road-and-rail-transport/11711082/Westminster-Underground-tube-station-evacuated-and-closed.html
Remember the Army team of ''facebook warriors''? There's also Joint Threat Research Intelligence Group (JTRIG), a unit of the signals intelligence agency Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ), JTRIG also appears to be intimately involved in traditional law enforcement areas and U.K.-specific activity, as previously unpublished documents demonstrate. JTRIG's domestic operations fit into a larger pattern of U.K.-focused and traditional law enforcement activities within GCHQ. The 2011 report on the organization's operations, published today, summarizes their tactics: Here's one example
Medical reports compiled on patients' illnesses shows the cholesterol lowering drugs have been associated with a huge dossier of reported side-effects including irreversible muscle breakdown, muscle pain, blood disorders, diabetes, skin disorders, nervous system disorders and stomach problems over the last twenty years. Between eight and ten million Britons take statins, the most widely prescribed drugs in the UK. However figures from the medicines' watchdog have led to calls for an urgent review of the safety of statins with experts claiming the harm may outweigh any potential benefit in low risk patients. The figures, compiled by this paper cast further doubt on NICE's decision to lower the prescribing threshold so that the drugs are given to low risk patients and include up to 17 million patients, almost 40 percent of the adult population. The data, compiled from reports recorded by the government drug watchdog, the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency, reveals there have been tens of thousands of reported side-effects linked to statins since the drugs came into widespread use over the last two decades. Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/sunday/588889/Statin-drug-linked-increasing-side-effects-deaths
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nea-MpVgRL0
Before you read ahead about the NHS Advisory board, have a look at who Nicole Junkerman is:
In the Epstein case, one of the best pieces of evidence which was available to researchers was the flight manifest for his child trafficking molestation machine. There were many coded initials and a few famous names noted in the official documentation. As you probably already know, Bill Clinton and his Secret Service agents had ridden the infamous "Lolita Express" on many occasions. Naomi Campbell, Kevin Spacey, Alan Dershowitz and Chris Tucker also flew on the plane with the billionaire sex offender.
We all build up recognisable patterns of behaviour over time. When you investigate someone, you usually start by identifying these patterns and then looking for any divergences from the anticipated outcomes. In Epstein's planes flight manifest, a pattern which was visible from the information available is how he would use his private jet. He would use the plane for two main reasons. Most commonly he would fly himself and a number of his entourage to a destination, or alternatively he would fly people to meet him. The rarest occurrence was when Epstein would fly without any of his usual entourage and just one other passenger. There was only one name that jumped out from the flight manifest as a good example of when Epstein alternated from his routine. His second meeting with Nicole Junkermann.
Read in full HERE IT experts, clinicians and academics will come together at the first meeting of the Healthtech Advisory Board today (19 November 2018) to help guide the government on its mission to transform technology in the NHS. The board will look at how the NHS can harness the potential of technology and create a culture of innovation, with the aim of improving patient outcomes and reducing the workload on NHS staff. The board will report directly to the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care. Its role will include:
assisting in policy creation
challenging decision making
acting as a sounding board for new ideas
Dr Ben Goldacre will chair the board. He is a clinician, academic and author who runs the DataLab at the University of Oxford. Dr Goldacre will be joined by:
Rachel Dunscombe – CEO of the NHS Digital Academy and Director of Digital for Salford Royal NHS Group
Nicole Junkermann – founder of NJF Holdings, an international finance and investment company
Manoj Badale – co-founder of Blenheim Chalcot, a digital venture builder
David Gann – Professor of Innovation and Technology Management at Imperial College London
Sir Mark Walport – Chief Executive of UK Research and Innovation (UKRI)
Nicola Blackwood – Chair of the Human Tissue Authority
Roger Taylor – Chair of Centre for Data Ethics and Innovation
Daniel Korski CBE – co-founder and CEO of PUBLIC, a venture capital firm
Michelle Brennan – company group chair for Johnson & Johnson Medical Devices Companies
Dan Sheldon – Head of Digital at Well Pharmacy
Jeni Tennison – CEO of the Open Data Institute
Parker Moss – health technology entrepreneur in residence at F-Prime and Eight Roads
Read full article on the government website HERE
A new programme to vaccinate all newborn babies against meningitis B has started in the UK - the first scheme of its kind in the world.
The Men B vaccine will be given to babies at two, four and 12 months old as part of routine immunisations. Infants aged under one are at the most risk of meningitis B infection, which is fatal in one in 10 cases. Campaigners said the move could prevent up to 4,000 cases by 2025, but warned parents should be aware of symptoms. A catch-up programme will also target babies born since May who have missed the first jabs. The scheme, which has been delayed by cost disputes, is the first national and publicly-funded programme against the deadly infection in the world. Babies already receive a meningitis C vaccination when three months old, with a booster at 12 months. Students are also offered a combined vaccine giving protection against four strains of the disease, meningococcal A, C, W and Y.
This to me does not bode well, 22 vaccines before a child reaches a year old !!! Lou
Read more http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-34084999 For the full vaccine schedule see here http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/vaccinations/pages/childhood-vaccination-schedule.aspx
The prevailing belief portrayed in the world today is that people are separate from one another. Many people believe they are separate from the natural processes occurring here on Earth, such as how soil is replenished, how food is grown, and how proper nutrition creates well-being inside. In these beliefs of separateness, their actions toward nature and their lack of interactions with nature do not matter to them. Their actions toward their fellow man do not matter either. Interactions with plants, animals, and even bacteria are viewed through a lens of isolation and fear. For example, man's role in preserving the health of the soil directly impacts his health. The depletion of nutrients and microbes in the soil via herbicide poisoning ultimately has negative repercussions for the entire community because a diverse array of bacteria is necessary for the people. Bacteria are necessary for establishing healthy human immunity, digestion, and nutrient absorption. These colonies of bacteria live symbiotically with people inside and outside of their bodies, communicating with cells and signaling when the immune system should prepare during stressful times. Read more http://www.lifelongproducts.com/healthy-gut-bacteria-and-the-understanding-of-interconnectivity-is-the-key-to-longevity/
Sometimes lists like 11 countries with the highest rates of child abuse in the World expose the real face of the world that we live in. It is not pretty at all. Sometimes it all just seems connected – child labor, global terrorism, the rising poor, etc. What hurts the most is the fact that despite making some groundbreaking advances in the use of technology in every sector like food, health, education and more we continue to go downhill when it comes to human values. Our global efforts, unfortunately, have not been enough to feed the poor, help the needy and educate everyone. When we talk about the evils of the society, it becomes impossible to ignore child abuse. What is most surprising about child abuse is that it is an embarrassing part of the most developed countries as well. Developed! Are we, really? In United States alone more than 20,000 cases of child abuse are reported annually. It's an epidemic, which needs global attention. Read more at
http://www.insidermonkey.com/blog/11-countries-with-the-highest-rates-of-child-abuse-in-the-world-353626/9/
According to a study one in every 200 adults in United Kingdom is a pedophile. In England alone more than 16,000 cases of child abuse, neglect and assault were recorded 2012.
Lin Wood discusses his tweets about child trafficking, Epstein, Isaac Kappy and the Clintons. Please pray for Lin and his family, he is a very brave warrior. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.va0idi/[/rumble]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=295&v=CeE4Ux4t9Vw
In July 2015 Social Services held an annual conference at The Midland Hotel Manchester. All SS Directors were there for several days planning the future for child protection. This conference was censored from public scrutiny under the Chatham House rule (a secret meeting). A RALLY was held to let them know that people know how corrupt they are. Here is a video (with shocking research) of that RALLY... Thanks to all awake and who attended.
https://youtu.be/bRH2rFb3VWc
Scholars are just beginning to pore over the text, the oldest known copy of Galen's "On the Mixtures and Powers of Simple Drugs." It may well provide new insights into medicine's roots and into the spread of this new science across the ancient world. ........... For centuries, Galen's "Simple Drugs" was required reading for aspiring physicians, the summation of ancient knowledge about medicine, patient care and pharmaceutical plants. Galen described a root that cures "roughness of the throat" and recommended hemp as an earache remedy that "does not produce flatulence" (though it "dries out the semen"). Full article http://www.nytimes.com/2015/06/02/science/medicines-hidden-roots-in-an-ancient-manuscript.html?_r=0
By Patrick Maguire
The disgraced music impresario has bizarrely argued that the late Conservative leader – who is the subject of child sex abuse inquiries by seven police forces – was "quite clearly non-sexual" because he "tried and failed to seduce him".King rose to fame as a singer-songwriter in the 1960s and went on to discover rock legends Genesis and 10cc. The star, now 70, was jailed in 2001 for a series of sex attacks on boys aged 14 and 15, He has said he spent twenty minutes flirting with the then-ex PM on a flight from Scotland to London in the late 1970s.
Wednesday 21 October 2015, Grimond Room, Portcullis House At 2.15pm
DCI Paul Settle
At 2.45pm
Assistant Commissioner Patricia Gallan, Metropolitan Police
Deputy Assistant Commissioner Steve Rodhouse, Metropolitan Police
Tom Watson MP
Alison Saunders, Director of Public Prosecutions
http://www.parliament.uk/business/committees/committees-a-z/commons-select/home-affairs-committee/news-parliament-2015/151013-yewtree-ev/ Operation Vincente has now been made known to a wider audience Hasn't made it to wiki - yet ? nor here: http://crimeandjustice.co.uk/police-operations/ http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Vincente I wonder WHO is winning?
Doctors have warned that millions of consumers are at risk because a chemical that triggered an allergy epidemic is still being used in beauty products – two years after scientists called for it to be banned.
In a scathing attack, a group of dermatologists accuse Brussels bureaucrats of 'incompetence, indifference and gross ignorance' by allowing cosmetics firms to continue using a preservative which was blamed for a massive surge in patients suffering with rashes, scaling skin, swelling and eczema.
The Mail on Sunday highlighted in 2013 how methylisothiazolinone, known as MI, was being routinely added to moisturisers, sun creams, shampoos and even baby wipes to prolong their shelf life – with devastating results for some consumers.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-3084352/Doctors-blame-EU-failing-halt-allergy-epidemic-Officials-incompetent-harmful-chemicals-cosmetics.html#ixzz3aOs1oV6t
LOS ANGELES, July 14, 2015 (LifeSiteNews) – An undercover video released this morning shows a national leader of Planned Parenthood admitting that the abortion provider uses the illegal and highly controversial partial birth abortion procedure to sell intact fetal body parts.
The average asking price for fetal body parts? Between $30 and $100 per specimen.
Dr. Deborah Nucatola has been senior director of medical services at Planned Parenthood since February 2009, where she oversees medical practices at all Planned Parenthood affiliates nationwide. She has been employed by Planned Parenthood for more than a decade. She also performs abortions up to 24 weeks in Los Angeles.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjxwVuozMnU
In the video, she met with investigators posing as buyers from a human biologics company on July 25, 2014.
While casually sipping wine and eating salad, Dr. Nucatola revealed that she charges $30 to $100 per specimen, and that fetal livers are especially in demand – although "a lot of people want intact hearts these days," and she has had requests for lungs and "lower extremities."
Planned Parenthood affiliates "absolutely" want to offer such organs, she said.
Nucatola admitted that Planned Parenthood's abortionists take great care not to appear to be profiteering off fetal body parts. She said, "They just want to do it in a way that is not perceived as, 'The clinic is selling tissue. This clinic is making money off of this.'"
The issue is not merely PR – there is also the little matter of federal law. Trafficking in human body parts is a federal felony punishable by up to 10 years in prison and a fine of $500,000.
Read more https://www.lifesitenews.com/static/undercover-video-planned-parenthood-uses-illegal-partial-birth-abortions-to2.html
The number of health service fat cats retiring on millionaire pensions has soared 700 per cent in the past five years.
Despite the worst NHS funding crisis in a generation, six-figure payouts were made to 143 executives last year, compared with just 18 in the year 2009/2010.
The number of employees given bumper pension pots of more than £75,000 also quadrupled in the same time frame.
Meanwhile, the number of £50,000-plus retirement deals has more than doubled, despite a £30billion funding blackhole.
The extraordinary packages, mainly being handed out to boardroom big hitters, would pay for nearly 23,000 frontline nurses.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3085418/Number-NHS-fat-cats-retiring-six-figure-pensions-soars-700-just-five-years.html#ixzz3aQaaSMvB
In 1825, a mysterious double edged sword containing a cryptic code was found in the River Witham near Lincoln in England. The 13th century sword contains an enigmatic 18-letter message running down the center of the blade, and cryptographers and linguists have been unable to crack it. The British Library is now appealing to the public for help in solving this 800 year old mystery. The sword, which is currently on display at the British Library as part of the Magna Carta exhibition. The 18-letter message reads: NDXOXCHWDRGHDXORVI. http://www.ancient-origins.net/news-general/medieval-sword-contains-cryptic-code-british-library-appeals-help-crack-it-003571
F. Michael Maloof / WND
The lack of a will among politicians in Washington to protect America's future, and potentially the lives of millions of Americans, is the reason why there is no plan to secure America's national grid system from an electromagnetic pulse attack, according to testimony delivered to Congress on Wednesday. Such an attack could come through nature, such as a massive solar flare that puts Earth in a bull's-eye, but also could come through a nuclear explosion at altitude in the atmosphere above the U.S. Such an explosion would not necessarily have to be incredibly high-tech, experts have confirmed – simply a nuclear bomb that would produce those EMP waves that could kill much of America's power grid. At a joint hearing Wednesday before the subcommittees on national security and the interior, under the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, subject matter expert Peter Pry said, "Political gridlock in Washington is preventing the federal government from implementing any of the several cost-effective plans to protect the national grid." Pry, executive director of the EMP Task Force on National and Homeland Security, a congressional advisory board, said there is so little effort to address the danger that most state governments aren't even aware they have options to protect their portion of the grid, and so protect their citizens from the "catastrophic consequences of a national blackout." Read more http://beforeitsnews.com/war-and-conflict/2015/05/congress-warned-catastrophic-danger-looming-political-gridlock-could-get-millions-killed-2457076.html
Ministers confirmed that public money had been used to construct a network of of 57,567 publicly-funded charging points as of the end of the last financial year. The figure is roughly double the number electric cars actually registered for use on the road in Britain – around 24,500 as of December 2014, according to the Office for Low Emission Vehicles. Despite the rarity of electric cars, there are now more than six times as many charging points in Britain as there are petrol stations. http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/britain-has-twice-as-many-taxpayerfunded-electric-car-charging-points-as-it-actually-has-electric-cars-10336652.html
In a recent article published by Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., titled Children at Risk – Vaccines, Government & Big Pharma's Dirty Money, [1] he highlighted the fact that every vaccine introduced to the vaccine schedule guarantees its manufacturer millions of customers, increasing vaccine revenue by billions of dollars. However, it appears that a minimum of 56 doses of 14 vaccinations before the age of eighteen is not quite lucrative enough for the pharmaceutical industry, as according to Mr. Kennedy's research, the CDC has 271 new vaccinations under development in the hopes that vaccine revenues will reach a staggering $100 billion by 2025. Kennedy called the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) "a cesspool of corruption, mismanagement and dysfunction," making it crystal clear to readers that financial gain fueled their decision making. Read more http://vactruth.com/2015/08/03/271-vaccines-in-development/
Prime Minister David Cameron launched the Leveson inquiry into British press standards to divert attention away from his decision to hire shamed News Of The World editor Andy Coulson as his communications chief, a former police commissioner has said.
The revelation emerged in the latest extract from Lord Ashcroft's unauthorized biography of the Prime Minister, which also alleges Cameron was losing sleep over the Scottish independence referendum. The article published in the Daily Mail on Thursday, reports that former Metropolitan Police officer Sir Paul Richardson wanted to "spread the heat around" and move attention away from his appointment of Coulson. Stephenson resigned during the phone hacking scandal, which saw the News Of The World shut down, due to his links with one of the paper's executives Neil Wallis. Read more http://www.rt.com/uk/316388-cameron-coulson-leveson-inquiry/
I know I say it weekly but, this is by far the best show Roy has given us to date. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vlpglf/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/roy-davies-buckle-up/
Almost £1.3 million in expenses and allowances was claimed last year by peers who failed to speak a single time in the House of Lords.
Members of the Lords are entitled to claim £300 a day for attending Parliament – even if they do not speak or vote in any debate.
Over the course of the entire last Parliament - from 2010 to 2015 - 30 peers claimed more than £750,000 without ever speaking in the Lords.
The chief executive of the Electoral Reform Society, Katie Ghose, denounced the figures as a 'national scandal' which strengthened the case for reform of Parliament's upper house.
She called on Prime Minister David Cameron - who last month announced 45 new peers, bringing the total to over 800 - to take action to deliver a democratic second chamber.
The society went through speaking and voting records for the Lords - not including brief interjections, written questions and answers or attendance in committees - to determine how many peers were failing to contribute to debates.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3225160/Peers-NEVER-spoke-House-Lords-claimed-1-3-million-expenses-year.html#ixzz3l8BCebqd
The North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and its allies will launch its biggest military exercise since 2002 in October to counter Islamic State (IS) militants in Southern Europe. As many as 36,000 soldiers will be deployed across the Mediterranean to train in a complex "artificial threat scenario" in which militants will launch land, sea and air attacks, the organization said on Wednesday. "We cannot choose between the eastern threat and the southern threat, we have to train for both," said General Hans-Lothar Domrose, commander of the NATO military command at Brunssum, Netherlands, in reference to the threat from Russia. More than 30 countries, including non-NATO nations such as Sweden and Austria, will take part in the exercises which will be staged in Spain, Italy, Portugal and in the Mediterranean from 3 October to 6 November. "We will be working in a huge training area," Domrose said. "We will focus on speed, on multiple threats, simultaneously," Domrose added. The move responds to the rise of IS in Iraq and Syria. The organisation's Secretary-General Jens Stoltenberg warned the Arab Spring uprisings had led to a "brutal winter" of instability. NATO's last exercises on this scale date back to 2002, when 15 members of the alliance and 12 partner nations tested their capabilities in Norway and Poland. - See more at: http://www.digitallook.com/news/international-economic/nato-prepares-biggest-military-exercise-in-13-years--801365.html#sthash.F0bp9ZYJ.dpuf
Another mind blowing breakdown of events in the swamp and why we still trust Q. Operations are go. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vbz9ox/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-presipice-roy-davies-update-on-the-swamp-q/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk/support-us-crypto Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsR
"On the 20th anniversary year of the discovery that proved other suns host planets, the Kepler exoplanet explorer has discovered a planet and star which most closely resemble the Earth and our sun," said John Grunsfeld, associate administrator of NASA's Science Mission Directorate at the agency's headquarters in Washington. "This exciting result brings us one step closer to finding an Earth 2.0." "We can think of Kepler-452b as an older, bigger cousin to Earth, providing an opportunity to understand and reflect upon Earth's evolving environment," said Jon Jenkins, Kepler data analysis lead at NASA's Ames Research Center in Moffett Field, California, who led the team that discovered Kepler-452b. "It's awe-inspiring to consider that this planet has spent 6 billion years in the habitable zone of its star; longer than Earth. That's substantial opportunity for life to arise, should all the necessary ingredients and conditions for life exist on this planet." http://www.jpl.nasa.gov/news/news.php?feature=4665
Jason Nota joins us to comment on our latest Findings. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-21/
Roy's back with a breakdown of the on going drama in America. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/tactical-update-with-roy-davies-181120-more-voter-fraud/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wsXnyT7nKc
(NaturalNews) A former clinic director at Planned Parenthood of the Gulf Coast, where the fifth video in an ongoing undercover series released by the Center for Medical Progress (CMP) was captured, has come forward with further shocking details about this criminal baby chop-shop operation. Abby Johnson, who worked at the Texas-based affiliate for eight years, told The Daily Signal in a recent interview that Planned Parenthood is absolutely profiting from the sale of aborted baby body parts. Echoing the sentiments of her former colleague Melissa Ferrell, Johnson explained how it's all about line items and categorizing "extraction" costs in such a way that profits can be siphoned through the system without incurring scrutiny. She also spilled the beans about Planned Parenthood's tactics for gaining access to these baby body parts, which must be removed with informed consent. In essence, Planned Parenthood lies to women who come in for abortions, telling them that if they're willing to donate their extracted "tissue" – this is code for murdered baby – they'll be helping to create life-saving medicines. Read more http://www.naturalnews.com/051050_Planned_Parenthood_organ_harvesting_fetal_tissue.html
More than a third of child abuse investigations by the police are inadequate, a damning report by watchdogs has warned.
Her Majesty's Inspectorate of Constabulary found 38 per cent of inquiries in a sample of nearly 600 were not conducted to a good enough standard.
• Police face flood of compensation claims over child abuse failures
Among cases involving online child abuse performance was even worse, the inspectors found.
A national sample of 124 online abuse cases found 52 per cent were not investigated properly – and in one unnamed police force a staggering 72 per cent were sub-standard. Read more http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/crime/11712102/More-than-a-third-of-police-child-abuse-investigations-inadequate-says-watchdog.html
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1SMqQH7FJU
While you shouldn't eschew the gym in favor of a glass of OJ, it isn't a bad idea to indulge in some vitamin C if you can't fit a workout into your busy day. New research has found that vitamin C can give you the similar heart-health benefits as regular exercise. Obese adults are advised to exercise in order to protect their health, as is everyone, but even after being told that a workout might save their lives, only 50% take the advice. The research conducted at the University of Colorado Boulder found that vitamin C supplementation may protect individuals even if they don't hit the gym. Specifically, vitamin C supplements, which have been reported to improve vessel function, can also lower ET-1 activity. (The blood vessels of overweight and obese adults have elevated activity of the small vessel-constricting protein endothelin (ET)-1)). The researchers found that daily supplementation of vitamin C (500 mg/day, time-released) reduced ET-1-related vessel constriction as much as walking did. The researchers found that vitamin C supplementation represents an effective lifestyle strategy for reducing ET-1-mediated vessel constriction in overweight and obese adults.
Read more: http://naturalsociety.com/vitamin-c-may-be-just-as-effective-as-exercise-for-heart-health/#ixzz3n8f3W6RS
The great Roy Davies is back wth a look at things going on behind the scenes in America, full disclosure of the Deep State is upon us. The Great Awakening is here [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/v8q3wx/?pub=4bdo2[/rumble]
Dad-of-six Adrian Marsden, 59, was quizzed over allegations he attacked a girl, seven, in the 1970s. Cops swooped on his home after the alleged victim came forward. Marsden — who publicly condemned his evil uncle in the wake of the sex abuse scandal — was held for several hours. He is believed to have denied all the allegations and was last night released on bail as cops carry out further investigations. Detectives yesterday spoke to his ex-wife Julie Jackson, 58, who married him in 1975. Stunned Julie told The Sun: "He's no paedophile. That's my honest opinion. I was absolutely shocked when I heard he'd been arrested. http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/6537124/Jimmy-Saviles-nephew-quizzed-over-child-abuse.html
Freddie Starr loses libel case against sexual assault accuser
Because her words were true, this claim fails.
The mother of seven, who was a pupil at Duncroft Approved School at the time, said she had performed a sexual act on Savile more than once in return for going to BBC Television Centre in London for his Clunk Click show. And http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/news/uk/article4493228.ece?CMP=Spklr-_-Editorial-_-TWITTER-_-thetimes-_-20150710-_-News-_-206440251&linkId=15437993 Hint: check the definition of what constitutes 'Royal Household'
Over the weekend, it was reported that Tony Blair pulled out of addressing The World Hunger Forum in Stockholm because his £330k price tag for turning up and talking just couldn't be met.
According to one source, the food company organising the event, Eat, dropped Blair because "his star power is fast diminishing". But regardless of whether this is true or not, many agree that he was wrong to ask for such an astronomical payment in the first place. It was apparently going to be given to The Cherie Blair Foundation. So if his claim that he didn't turn up and speak due to "prior commitments" is true, that's a real shame; it would have been a huge donation. But either way, I think it's time we give the man a break. His impeccable record as a selfless public servant aside, Blair's approach to life after his Downing Street days display the exact same values that both the government and opposition want us to tattooed on our foreheads: "aspiration" and "wealth creation". The next Labour leadership favourite, Andy Burnham, last week suggested "wealth creators must be valued as highly as NHS staff". Burnham reckons these wealthy people are "everyday heroes", in which case Tony Blair is basically Superman, creating cash money left right and centre. Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/comment/330000-for-a-20minute-speech-at-a-world-hunger-event-tony-blair-is-an-inspiration-to-us-all-10289764.html
Well I have heard it all now !
Labour must accept that Tony Blair was "great" like Margaret Thatcher and learn lessons from his success or it will never be in power again, Alan Milburn has said he endorsed Liz Kendall for the leadership.
The former health secretary said the party "could not have got it more wrong" at the last election as Ed Miliband "unilaterally sought to bring the shutters down on New Labour".
In a major intervention over the future of the party, Mr Milburn said Labour must snap out of its "self-delusion" and realise that voters no longer know what the party stands for.
And while saying there can be "no return" to New Labour, the former frontbencher outlined five lessons from Mr Blair's success that must be adopted by whoever wins the party leadership.
The speech is the latest from a Labour grandee chastising the party for its electoral defeat last month – when it recorded its worst result since 1987 – and urging reform.
However it is Mr Milburn's calls for a rehabilitation of Mr Blair, whose legacy over Iraq has divided newer MPs and the public, and his political strategies that will raise eyebrows. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/politics/labour/11695431/Alan-Milburn-Labour-must-realise-Tony-Blair-was-great-like-Margaret-Thatcher.html
Excellent video on the current migrant crisis by Paul Joseph Watson
A former police chief has called for the investigation into the disappearance of Madeleine McCann to be wound up. Ex head of the Metropolitan Police's Flying Squad, John O'Connor, has questioned whether probe should continue after it was revealed Scotland Yard has spent £11million on the case but have made no arrests. The Metropolitan Police was tasked with investigating the disappearance after Madeleine's family made a personal plea to David Cameron in 2011. A team of 31 British detectives are working exclusively to find the girl, who vanished from her parents' holiday apartment in Praia da Luz, Portugal eight years ago, with the enquiry codenamed Operation Grange. Now, according to the Sun, the Met's enquiry into Madeleine's disappearance has cost £11million, with money spent on flights to Portugal, salaries, overtime and premises expenses but no arrests have been made. They also report that if spending on the case continues at the current rate, the bill will top £12million by April - more than double the £5million promised by David Cameron when Operation Grange launched in 201 Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3219114/Bill-Scotland-Yard-investigation-Madeleine-McCann-disappearance-hits-11MILLION-no-arrests-former-police-chief-calls-end.html#ixzz3kYeOIqnZ
The Bataclan theater, targeted in Friday night's Paris terror attacks, was Jewish-owned for decades, but was sold two months ago, its former owners said. French magazine Le Point said early Saturday that the Bataclan, where at least 80 people were massacred by Islamic State gunmen on Friday night, has for years been the target of anti-Zionist groups as the Jewish owners often put on pro-Israel events. The publication quoted a member of the extremist group Army of Islam, who told French security services in 2011 that, "We had planned an attack against the Bataclan because its owners are Jews." The Eagles of Death Metal, the band performing at the theater when the attacks began, played in Tel Aviv's Barby club in July. Pascal Laloux, one of the theater's former owners, said Saturday that the theater was "sold in September after 40 years." "We're devastated because we knew everyone who worked there," he told Israel's Channel 2 news. His brother Joel, the co-owner, told Channel 2 that they sold the theater on September 11, and he recently immigrated to Israel. He said he took a call from the theater at the time of the attack "and I could hear the gunfire." Read more http://www.timesofisrael.com/jewish-owners-recently-sold-pariss-bataclan-theater-where-is-killed-dozens/
When we feed coins into a vending machine, we expect little more than a soggy sandwich or tired chocolate bar in return.
But imagine if it could serve up a plate of steaming lasagne, a glass of freshly squeezed fruit juice or a gourmet salad made that very morning.
Such an appetising idea could soon be a reality, according to Dr Morgaine Gaye, whose job as a food futurologist entails looking at how eating trends develop.
In countries such as Japan and the US, buying freshly made hot and cold food from vending machines is already part of everyday life – and Dr Gaye insists the UK will soon follow suit.
She said we are moving away from three meals a day towards snacking more and eating on the go, which will increase demand for vending machines and change what we want to be able to buy from them. 'We are going to start seeing hot-snack vending being much more available,' she said.
'There are some brilliant ideas around the world. Vending is really going to come into the UK in a big way.'
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3167583/Vending-machines-soon-serve-salads-hot-burgers-UK-set-follow-lead-Japan-U-S-dispensing-fresh-food-demand-increases-eating-go.html#ixzz3gPbAVeNp
Twenty of the world's biggest banks have paid more than $235bn (£151.71bn) in fines and compensation in the last seven years for breaching a variety of financial regulations, according to Reuters. The financial institutions have been fined for misdeeds ranging from manipulation of currency and interest rate markets and compensating customers who were wrongly sold mortgages in the US or insurance products in Britain. The main offenders were Bank of America, which faced by far the largest levy of around $80bn since 2008, and JP Morgan, paying up to $20m In total, the banks were fined $141bn for mis-selling US mortgages and $44bn in compensation to UK customers. Read more http://www.ibtimes.co.uk/20-global-banks-have-paid-235bn-fines-since-2008-financial-crisis-1502794
Bill Gates, 59, sat down with Ezra Klein, the Editor-in-Chief at Vox, and discussed his fear for humanity. It's not a third World War or an asteroid -- it's an epidemic similar to the Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918 that killed somewhere between 30 and 50 million people across the globe. Healthcare has vastly improved since the mid 1910s, but so has transportation, making it easier for viruses to cross borders and continents. "I rate the chance of a nuclear war within my lifetime as being fairly low," says Gates. "I rate the chance of a widespread epidemic, far worse than Ebola, in my lifetime, as well over 50 percent." Gates estimates the number of deaths could go as high as 33 million. To put that into perspective, that's roughly the population of Canada. He says the U.S. government needs to start investing money immediately in research and medical surveillance to prevent an epidemic that he says will happen in his lifetime. Read more http://www.aol.com/article/2015/05/28/bill-gates-fears-global-pandemic-could-wipe-out-33-million/21188320/?icid=maing-grid7|htmlws-main-bb|dl3|sec1_lnk2%26pLid%3D663369903 But please bare in mind that Mr Gates in 2010 spoke the following words about how to decrease the population :
"The world today has 6.8 billion people. That's heading up to about nine billion. Now if we do a really great job on new vaccines, health care, reproductive health services, we could lower that [number of 9 billion] by perhaps 10 or 15 percent. But there we see an increase of about 1.3 [billion]."
See Mr Gates talk on depopulation here https://youtu.be/6WQtRI7A064
Yes - it's Sirius - planet X........?
Sir Cliff Richard left "shocked and traumatised" by police inquiry into
sex abuse claims
When you start 'singing'?
Mmm - Can't take this article siriously [not a typo] - not solely cos of the David Wigg pic - and the 'character validations'
South Yorkshire Police told the Sunday Mirror the force was "receiving investigative support" from the Crown Prosecution Service over its assault probe. But CPS officials swiftly confirmed that, despite contrary reports, no file had been received from cops. Police have repeatedly refused to give any details of the progress, costs, or manpower involved in the probe into Sir Cliff, codenamed Operation Kaddie. South Yorkshire Police said in a statement: "The investigation continues and we are now receiving investigative support from the Crown Prosecution Service." The CPS would not comment further.
Oh dear It's being called a PROBE btw - guess that's the 2016 term for what they used to call a witch hunt. Others stick with the old English term - COVER UP
Passwords could be replaced by vein recognition, technology built into pills that are then swallowed, or direct implants into human bodies, according to PayPal. Existing passwords are weak and easy to forget, and should be replaced by more secure methods, according to a presentation by PayPal's head of developer advocacy, Jonathan Leblanc. Instead of being a series of characters that users must remember, those replacements would likely include keys that are eaten or implanted, he says. Security experts have long worried that systems can be compromised as a result of the weaknesses of passwords, which mean that wrong people can get in and other people can get locked out of their own systems. Some proposals to fix them have included biometric systems like eye scans, but Leblanc says that we will instead have our passwords integrated with our body. Read more http://www.tribuneindia.com/news/trends/pop-in-the-password-pill/76504.html
Kat and I discuss what is going on in classrooms. Truly shocking. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vjyu55/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/kathryn-watkins-the-attack-on-our-children-episode-3-15-9-21/
Armed to the teeth and sporting military fatigues and a combat helmet, the officer is part of a counter-terrorism unit unveiled at Wembley last night.
The elite Scotland Yard squad arrived in huge armoured vehicles to throw a ring of steel around the 80,000 fans watching England beat France.
The marksmen were also toting their new lightweight, semi-automatic SIG 516 rifle.
The 130-strong unit has been developing new tactics with UK special forces, including abseiling from helicopters and tackling rampaging gunmen.
They have been trained to shoot for the head instead of the usual target, the chest.
They came out of the shadows in the wake of the massacre of 129 people in Paris on Friday.
The heightened terror threat was confirmed last night when another friendly – between Germany and the Netherlands – was called off very late because of a 'concrete' bomb threat.
No risks were taken because three of the seven Paris suicide bombers had targeted a fixture at the Stade de France between France and Germany.
Last night's match began with English and French fans uniting to sing France's national anthem, La Marseillaise.
One expert described the counter-terrorism officers at Wembley as 'effectively SAS officers in police uniform'.
Amid some of the tightest security ever seen at a sporting fixture, they took up key positions around the ground.
Many of the officers chose to cover their faces because they sometimes work undercover.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3322976/Chilling-new-face-police-Britain.html#ixzz3rpUidl63
The reference to the Absolutely Fabulous star came during the trial of Benjamin Fellows, who is accused of perverting the course of justice after making allegedly false claims that he was fondled as a 19-year-old by Tory grandee Ken Clarke. He claimed the top Tory plied him with alcohol and then abused him while he was working undercover for ITV's Cook Report in 1994. Mr Fellows, 40 and from Solihull, West Midlands, waited until 2012 to make the claims of sexual assault, following revelations around disgraced paedophile entertainer Jimmy Savile. The young actor was working in a "sting operation" as part of a "cash-for-questions" probe into Ian Greer, the political lobbyist.
The Old Bailey heard how after the allegation against Mr Clarke was made to national newspapers, detectives felt under pressure to reveal the name of a VIP sex abuser. To support Ben please attend The Old Bailey daily for next 2 weeks from 10am..
Love you Ben xx
Despite a day of cool, grey and windy Manchester weather, a fantastic group of around seventy turned out yesterday to lobby day one of the Association of Directors of Children's Services national conference at the Midland Hotel. There was a great atmosphere; the mood was upbeat and determined, and a powerful message was sent to all who witnessed the event that we will neither stay silent nor back down in our efforts to expose complicity in past evils and hold to account those who continue to fail in their job of protecting and caring for our most vulnerable children. Not only that, they compound their wrongdoing with yet more stonewalling, cover-up and lies and with complicity in the horrors of state child-stealing and forced adoption. A large banner covered one of the 2 main entrances and an assortment of children's shoes placed on the pavement provided a symbolic tribute and memorial to the many children who tragically did not survive their horrendous ordeal. With the Midland occupying a prominent position just across from the city library and close to the town hall, the event attracted a good deal of attention from passing motorists and pedestrians, none of it apparently hostile. In fact many people stopped to ask questions and express support for what we were doing. Police presence was fairly low-key, with only 3 officers present and, after some initial slightly heated negotiations, accommodations were made and the lead officer revealed himself as quite possibly one of the 'good guys'. Mickey, Nigel, Russell and others provided strong and inspirational leadership as ever and the event was most definitely and appropriately survivor-led. However, as was clear from the conversations I had, it was good to note there were also many non-survivors present in support. Whether or not directly affected, it is our fight too, and we need to stand shoulder to shoulder. Personally speaking, I felt proud to be a part of the group and part of the event, delighted to renew a few old acquaintances, meet more new people and put more faces to names. Only sorry I will miss the remaining 2 days, as I did not realise it was continuing and have made other plans! Unfortunately we did not see much of the Social Services personnel; possibly they were using an alternative entrance or simply remained in the building. Apologies to the exiting dermatologists who were mistakenly heckled! Thanks for this great article Angie
Simon says: the current police obsession with "historical celebrity sex abuse" is beyond bizarre. Simon says: I was one of many political journalists entertained by Heath after his fall. Simon says: Historical sex abuse is currently the nation's favoured blood sport. Simon says: The past week's assault on Heath's reputation has clearly been driven by defensiveness over Jimmy Savile and by past (police) neglect of sex abuse cases.
Now that's an interesting comment Simon
Simon Jenkins - served on the boards of British Rail 1979–1990 and London Transport 1984–86.
Was that when
British Rail bosses faced PR disaster in '80s
The ad that was axed when British Rail heard rumours Savile was a necrophiliac
The now-defunct British Rail is the latest company to be caught up in the Jimmy Savile scandal after a lawyer working there during the 1980s claimed that it axed Jimmy Savile from its 'Age of the Train' campaign over rumours he was a necrophiliac. The lawyer has told police that British Rail bosses made the decision after hearing Savile had had sex with bodies at a morgue in Stoke Mandeville Hospital, Bucks. Savile was then dropped from the TV campaign promoting the InterCity 125 service. The lawyer said he came forward with the information following the same claim from BBC presenter Paul Gambaccini on Radio 5, saying: "It struck a chord." "I remember having a discussion about this in the 1980s and I thought the police should be aware of it." "If there was a cover-up I wonder who else might have known. The explanation I had was that the revelations were intended to run in a newspaper but in the end they didn't because of the damage this could cause to Savile's charity work. "When Savile continued to have a positive public profile I assumed I'd been given false information but recent developments made me reconsider." Savile denied these accusations in the 1990s, declaring: "Some people get hold of the fact that Jim likes looking after cadavers and say, 'Aha, Jim's a necrophiliac!'. I'm not a necrophiliac."
I suppose axing the ad was a BRITISH RAIL BOARD decision Simon?
(Inside Science) -- Since the HIV epidemic began in the 1980s, scientists have been exploring the idea that cocaine and other stimulants could increase the chance of infection and assist the progression of HIV into full-blown AIDS. New research on unusual mice with implanted human immune systems adds weight to previous work, suggesting a link between cocaine and HIV is legitimate. Earlier studies measured the rate of HIV infection in human cells exposed to cocaine compared to cells not under the influence of the stimulant. Those findings favored the idea that cocaine increases the risk of HIV infection. So have other experiments that gave infected laboratory mice cocaine. http://www.insidescience.org/content/more-evidence-cocaine-hastens-hiv-infection-and-progression/3011
Cocaine in the Commons: Parliament embarrassed by drug revelation
Day I took cocaine at Buckingham Palace
Has anyone told George Osborne?
Not to be so doom and gloom, but there is clearly a definite orchestrated push to ensure that vaccinations will be mandatory for everyone in America in our near future. Not just healthcare workers. Not just schoolchildren. Everyone will be expected to get their shots, like it or not. The American Medical Association (read: Rockefeller) just weighed in on the debate, not just voting against personal exemptions, but voting to "mobilize the organization" to persuade our state governments to strip away our medical rights across the country. Via Mother Jones: Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/06/16/mandatory-vaccinations-are-coming/
While calculation is not consciousness, my continuing interest in artificial intelligence leads me to wonder just what computer algorithms can do in terms of interpreting what is known today as "big data" – and where it might lead us. My interest in the potential consequences of machines evaluating the information in other machines came to light a few weeks ago when I travelled out of state. While getting gas the pump malfunctioned and I moved to another pump to finish fuelling. Then my credit card was turned down and I had to call the company. In addition, a possible "fraud alert" came in to my email. Since the pump malfunction had been odd I thought maybe I had been hacked, but when I called the company it turned out that there was no fraud at all – the "computers" had just decided that my anomaly was irregular enough to warrant inconveniencing me by shutting off my credit. When I complained about this the fraud person said simply, "It's our policy. If the software triggers an alert we have to act." It reminded me of Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson's famous comment when asked why the banks needed an $800 billion bailout in 2007.
by Christina England Health Impact News In a recent interview, obstetrician and gynecologist Dr. Wahome Ngare stated that:
"The World Health Organization and other UN organizations together with eugenic organizations like the IPPF have had a population control agenda aimed at the lower developed countries (LDC) for a long time."
To back his powerful and damning statement, Dr. Ngare produced a document titled National Security Study Memorandum 200 (NSSM 200) – April 1974, outlining the U.S. government's plans to lower the population in the following countries:
"India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Nigeria, Mexico, Indonesia, Brazil, The Philippines, Thailand, Egypt, Turkey, Ethiopia, and Colombia."
Part two, titled Introduction: A U.S. Global Population Strategy, stated:
"From year to year we are learning more about what kind of fertility reduction is feasible in differing LDC situations. Given the laws of compound growth, even comparatively small reductions in fertility over the next decade will make a significant difference in total numbers by the year 2000, and a far more significant one by the year 2050."
See more at: http://vaccineimpact.com/2015/have-ddt-and-polio-vaccines-been-used-for-population-control/#sthash.1MlB5PMT.dpuf
Clive and I have a rant about the latest nonsense coming from the UK. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vjkm2f/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-good-life-episode-18-vaccine-action-protect-your-kids/
Petition to replace Susan O'Brien QC on child abuse inquiry refused
Can we all see a pattern here?
Sarah Behie's symptoms started nearly three weeks after she got a flu shot. The nurse's aide at Lehigh Valley Hospital noticed that her knees and arms hurt and that her limbs felt weak. As the pain and weakness grew worse, the 20-year-old was admitted to the hospital and later diagnosed with Guillain-Barre syndrome, a rare neurological condition that would leave her partially paralyzed and living in hospitals and nursing homes for nearly four years. The cause of Behie's illness, her lawyers alleged, was the flu vaccine that she received at work in October 2010. On Tuesday, attorneys Lawrence Cohan and David Carney of Philadelphia announced they had negotiated a settlement that will provide up to $11.6 million over Behie's lifetime to pay for her ongoing medical care. The settlement, to be paid by the tax-funded National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program, will also provide Behie more than $1 million for her lost wages, pain and suffering and other medical expenses.
Read more at: http://healthimpactnews.com/2014/nurses-aid-awarded-11-6-million-for-being-paralyzed-by-mandatory-flu-vaccine/#sthash.VYJzHVSI.srAbCtBh.dpuf
A 12-year-old schoolboy has been arrested on suspicion of trying to rape an eight-year-old boy.
Police were called out on Friday night after the alleged attempted sex attack in the Longsight area of Manchester.
Specially-trained officers then spoke to the younger boy and began an investigation into an attempted rape.
A 12-year-old boy, who cannot be named for legal reasons, was later arrested on suspicion of attempted rape.
He has since been released on bail pending further inquiries.
Greater Manchester Police have released a statement confirming that the incident was not a random stranger attack.
Detective Inspector Carol Hobson said: 'I understand that this incident will cause a lot of anxiety and distress in the local community and there may well be lots of speculation about what happened.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3147313/Schoolboy-12-arrested-suspicion-trying-rape-eight-year-old-boy.html#ixzz3ekuwZPOs
MUST WATCH - The video is extremely important.. The information from 29 mins in https://youtu.be/Qu5tP-RW2ss?t=1752
Moments ago, this committee released its preliminary findings, and here is the conclusion from the full report presented below:
All the evidence we present in this report shows that Greece not only does not have the ability to pay this debt, but also should not pay this debt first and foremost because the debt emerging from the Troika's arrangements is a direct infringement on the fundamental human rights of the residents of Greece. Hence, we came to the conclusion that Greece should not pay this debt because it is illegal, illegitimate, and odious.
If so, this has just thrown a very unique wrench in the spokes of not only the Greek debt negotiations, but all other peripheral European nations' Greek negotiations, who will promptly demand that their debt be, likewise, declared odious, and made null and void, thus washing their hands of servicing it again. And another question: when Greece says the debt was illegal and it no longer has to make the June 30 payment, what will be the Troika's response: confiscate Greek assets a la Argentina, declare involutnary default, sue it in the Hague? Good luck. People's dignity is worth more than illegal, illegitimate, odious and unsustainable debt Having concluded a preliminary investigation, the Committee considers that Greece has been and still is the victim of an attack premeditated and organized by the International Monetary Fund, the European Central Bank, and the European Commission. This violent, illegal, and immoral mission aimed exclusively at shifting private debt onto the public sector. Making this preliminary report available to the Greek authorities and the Greek people, the Committee considers to have fulfilled the first part of its mission as defined in the decision of the President of Parliament of 4 April 2015. The Committee hopes that the report will be a useful tool for those who want to exit the destructive logic of austerity and stand up for what is endangered today: human rights, democracy, peoples' dignity, and the future of generations to come. http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2015-06-17/greek-debt-committee-just-declared-all-debt-illegal-illegitimate-and-odious
Psychology research has shown the power of body language to influence the mind. It can be used to convey messages which seriously impact a person's perception, ideas and beliefs. Is it surprising then, that world leaders have been briefed to use this knowledge to promote their agendas and manipulate public responses to their public appearances? While some cultural differences can be observed, many types of body language and hand gestures are universal. For example, crossing your arms creates the impression that you are "closed off," or defensive, while opening your arms up shows a willingness to listen with a positive attitude. Body language naturally occurs without thinking about it, and there are thousands of tiny cues which can convey a broad range of emotions. For any knowing spectator watching these cues, they help to build a picture of the speaker's intent. Are they trustworthy or hiding something? What are they thinking and what do they want from me? Etc. Most of this occurs in a person's sub-conscious mind at a level where they have no conscious awareness of it, and yet a person's body language and outward gestures can have an enormous impact on how they are perceived. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/10/14/world-leaders-are-trained-to-manipulate-their-audiences-with-body-language/
The UN plans to launch a brand new plan for managing the entire globe at the Sustainable Development Summit that it will be hosting from September 25th to September 27th. Some of the biggest names on the planet, including Pope Francis, will be speaking at this summit. This new sustainable agenda focuses on climate change of course, but it also specifically addresses topics such as economics, agriculture, education and gender equality. For those wishing to expand the scope of "global governance", sustainable development is the perfect umbrella because just about all human activity affects the environment in some way. The phrase "for the good of the planet" can be used as an excuse to micromanage virtually every aspect of our lives. So for those who are concerned about the growing power of the United Nations, this summit in September is something to keep an eye on. Never before have I seen such an effort to promote a UN summit on the environment, and this new sustainable development agenda is literally a framework for managing the entire globe. Read more http://www.activistpost.com/2015/05/in-september-un-launches-major.html
New cardinal: Abuse victims should be 'ashamed' to speak due to their own failings
MEXICO, August 21, 2018, (LifeSiteNews) – Reacting to the recent avalanche of reports of clerical sexual abuse around the world, a newly minted Mexican Cardinal has suggested that victims who accuse priests should be "ashamed" because they too have skeletons in their own closets.
Those who "accuse men of the Church should [be careful] because they have long tails that are easily stepped on," said Cardinal Sergio Obeso Rivera according to a report in Crux. "I'm here happy to talk about nice things, not about problematic things, it's an accusation that is made, and in some cases it's true," said Obeso Rivera. The cardinal's remarks to journalists came after the release of a sweeping, two-year-long Pennsylvania Grand Jury investigation into sexual abuse by Catholic priests. That report has sent shockwaves around the globe. The bombshell Pennsylvania report became public while the scandal of homosexual abuse of seminarians and other young men and boys by disgraced, former Cardinal McCarrick was still making headlines. Read more HERE
We have all heard the old adage "you are what you eat", but science is discovering even more of a connection between our digestive tract and our overall health. Commonly referred to as "gut health", the gut microbiota, which consist of trillions of microbes, may influence more than bowel regularity and metabolism. These bacterium make up a 6-pound ecosystem inside of every human and produce hormones, communicate directly with our brain via the vagus nerve, and can even produce neurochemicals which influence behavior. Stomach bacteria and mood are connected in ways we never knew before, and scientists are racing to learn more about this fascinating discovery. A team of Norwegian scientists recently found significant correlation between certain bacteria and symptoms of depression. Patients with irritable bowel syndrome have been found to have significantly higher instances of anxiety and depression. Even individuals with autism are more likely to suffer from digestive problems. By improving our gut health, we may be able to get a handle on a host of somatic and mental health symptoms. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/07/07/researchers-uncover-connection-between-gut-health-and-mood/ NB Clive de Carle has been talking about this for years.. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YMdN0RGwLE
Other crimes committed by rogue medics - who have all avoided being struck off - include rioting, drug dealing and possessing indecent images of children.
Doctors and surgeons who have a criminal record are not automatically barred from working - even for some of the most serious crimes.
The staggeringly high number of doctors falling foul of the law has prompted safety campaigners to call for patients to be informed if their GP is a pervert or killer.
Roger Goss, of Patient Concern, said: "They are supposed to be protecting the safety of patients and if they have been calling for this for nearly four years why haven't they succeeded?
"They aren't calling for change loud enough."
Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/589367/Doctors-convictions-sex-attacks-drug-dealing-assault-practice
Police have known for more than 30 years that the Ripper may have struck many more times. Scandalously, the cases have not been re-opened. The families of the men and women he killed and the unacknowledged survivors have been shamefully ignored to preserve the blushes of West Yorkshire Police http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3132629/Yorkshire-Ripper-butchered-35-women-one-MAN-according-gripping-new-book-police-covered-up.html Haven't read the book - so don't know if it covers Savile, Roundhay Bruno, Henlow Grange, Leida Costigan, Haute de la Garenne etc etc Somehow I doubt it As I mooted:
I'd conjecture that the co-ordination of many high level inputs into a cover-up have possibly mistimed their actions? That leaves another 3 to 4 days for a major distraction to be floated?
Not that the Savile saga isn't central to the whole - it is However, we're not stepping backwards - we won't give ground - and we won't be distracted
Episode 1 of The Ramblings with Debi Evans. Tonight we kick off with Bible Prophecy and current geo-political events. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-ramblings-series-episode-1-debi-evans-prophecy-261120/ [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v8uh0o/[/rumble]
The former spy chief who provided Tony Blair with 'evidence' justifying the invasion of Iraq in 2003 is now raking in vast sums of money, working for accountancy firms, stock brokers, oil companies and investment banks.
Sir John Scarlett was head of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) when former Prime Minister Blair used the now infamous 'dodgy dossier' on Saddam Hussein's Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) to claim the Iraqi leader could launch an attack on Britain within 45 minutes. Critics of the spy chief say he let Blair's spin-doctor Alistair Campbell pressure him into "sexing up" the document. Since leaving the civil service, Scarlett has worked for a string of multinational corporations, including PricewaterhouseCoopers (PwC) and BP, earning hundreds of thousands of pounds. Blair promoted Scarlett to the head of MI6 in 2004, a year after the invasion of Iraq, in a move many saw as a reward for his assistance in justifying the Iraq War. Read more https://www.rt.com/uk/321733-intelligence-revolving-door-scarlett/?utm_source=browser&utm_medium=aplication_chrome&utm_campaign=chrome
Salary and expenses figures for employing this second rate New Zealand Judge for the CSA inquiry have just been published. The UK taxpayers are going to have to fork out nearly £2.5 million to cover her between now and 2020 to oversee perhaps the biggest cover up in the last fifty years. Let's take a look at what Theresa May thinks is good value for money for the taxpayers.......... 1. An initial salary of £360K pa up to 2018. 2. £110K pa cost of living allowances. 3. Her rent and utilities paid in full through to 2020. 4. £12K pa for sundries. 5. Full time use of a car and chauffeur. 5. Return flights to New Zealand 1st Class for herself and family. Nice work if you can get it and an inslult to the loose change paid out to survivors of institutional child abuse and expoitation. 5 Years to bury, shred, lose, alter and modify evidence to get all the establishment paedos off the hook. Now you all know where your taxes are really being spent!
JUST SAY NO !
A young boy will be forced to live the rest of his life without laughing after a flu vaccine issued at his school brought on a condition that causes him to seizure if he smiles too much.
Bobby Hunter was described as a 'happy-go-lucky' boy up until he inhaled a nasal spray given to him and his classmates as a flu deterrent a year ago.
But the vaccine left the 11-year-old with cataplexy - an illness where seizures are triggered by giggling - and brought on narcolepsy, meaning he falls asleep constantly.
Medical experts say both have been known to be activated by the spray in extremely rare instances, confirming his family's suspicions.
The conditions mean Bobby can either fall asleep at the drop of a hat or collapse on the ground in a terrifying seizure, during which he is still aware of what's going on around him.
Both mean he now has to live his life mollycoddled from extreme fun or humour - and is in constant fear of passing out.
Mother Amanda, an NHS clerical worker in the Scottish Borders, said: 'He strives to cope, but we know in our heart of hearts that he shouldn't be burdened with this.
'Bobby is scared to laugh, the cataplexy has affected him so much.
'When he laughs he has a sudden onset of transient muscle weakness and often collapses, even though he remains fully conscious and aware. It has been painful to watch.'
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3224953/Schoolboy-11-left-unable-smile-laugh-without-suffering-narcolepsy-fits-given-nasal-spray-flu-vaccine-government-scheme.html#ixzz3l3pC76le
From "Operation Interception" resulted in the arrests of 71 people, the sheriff said. All were charged with soliciting another to commit prostitution or entering/remaining in a place for prostitution. He said those arrested include a Christian school teacher, local business owners and active military members. Two men arrested are registered sex offenders, the sheriff's office said. Read Full Article HERE
https://youtu.be/XVRPGkPndyY
Nestle has found itself more and more frequently in the glare of the California drought-shame spotlight than it would arguably care to be — though not frequently enough, apparently, for the megacorporation to have spontaneously sprouted a conscience. Drought-shaming worked sufficiently enough for Starbucks to stop bottling water in the now-arid state entirely, uprooting its operations all the way to Pennsylvania. But Nestle simply shrugged off public outrage and then upped the ante by increasing its draw from natural springs — most notoriously in the San Bernardino National Forest — with an absurdly expired permit. Because profit, of course. Or, perhaps more befittingly, theft. But you get the idea. Nestle has somehow managed the most sweetheart of deals for its Arrowhead 100% Mountain Spring Water, which is ostensibly sourced from Arrowhead Springs — and which also happens to be located on public land in a national forest. In 2013, the company drew 27 million gallons of water from 12 springs in Strawberry Canyon for the brand — apparently by employing rather impressive legerdemain — considering the permit to do so expired in 1988. But, as Nestle will tell you, that really isn't cause for concern since it swears it is a good steward of the land and, after all, that expired permit's annual fee has been diligently and faithfully paid in full — all $524 of it. Read more http://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/09/08/nestle-pays-only-524-to-extract-27000000-gallons-of-california-drinking-water/
(NaturalNews) When multiple research institutions that have one purpose in mind receive hundreds of millions of dollars of grant money from the federal government, a very powerful and influential industry is created instantly. The entitlement money swiftly becomes a purchasing force that assists the institutions in their research pursuits. What happens when these research pursuits require that human life be terminated so body parts can be studied for "medical advances?" Between 2011 and 2014, 97 research institutions, including universities and hospitals, were entitled to $280 million in federal grant money for one purpose: using fetal body parts for "scientific" research. These institutions, including Yale, The University of California, and The Massachusetts General Hospital, are given the right to obtain fetal tissue and conduct research on the human body parts that are strategically extracted right from women's wombs after the beating heart has been terminated. Read more http://www.naturalnews.com/051077_organ_harvesting_abortion_scientific_research.html
NHS bosses are to trawl medical records of tens of thousands of patients to find out who is costing them the most money.
They will identify which individuals frequently see their GP, go to A&E or are on lots of prescription drugs with a view to 'reviewing' their care, and trimming their budget.
Patients are not being asked for permission and can opt out only by making a specific request at their surgery. The controversial scheme will begin next month in Southend, Essex, and involve 175,000 patients, although it could be rolled out across other areas.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3117561/NHS-hunt-patients-costing-Bosses-trawl-records-identify-frequent-visitors-E.html If you are vulnerable, ill, old or in need - they're gonna HUNT you down.
http://i764.photobucket.com/albums/xx285/zhiba1/msm%20headline%20-%20BBC%20allowed%20savile%20to%20get%20away_zpswqwbqhvg.jpg Staying with the with Jimmy Savile story, (flying at concorde level to quote JS himself) we can also apply our 'cover up' template to the BBC's handling of their internal inquiries. Let us remember that: The BBC is run under Royal Charter, therefore it is under the control of the privy council: (recall Justice Macur and Peter Morrison?) Officers -Governors - Director-Generals - BBC Trustees are appointed by the British monarch on advice of government ministers. The BBC Trust is the governing body of the BBC. The Trust is separate from the Executive Board which is led by the Director-General. The Executive Board is responsible for the operational delivery of BBC services and the direction of BBC editorial and creative output in line with the framework set by the Trust. A few of the main characters in this soap - and flannel - variety performance, including. Chris Patten, Chairman of the BBC Trust, Governor of Ditchley Foundation, linked to Bilderberg and the Trilateral Commission and Common Purpose, multi-faceted , but not a sailor – as he failed to steer a true course. Helen Boaden, BBC director of news appeared to survive criticism, unlike her deputy Stephen Mitchell. It was widely thought, however, that she would not continue in the job, but in February Boaden accepted an offer of a new job as director of BBC Radio Michael Grade - Controller of BBC1 (1984–86) Jimmy Savile died on 29 October 2011 Immediately after Savile's death BBC Newsnight began an investigation into reports that he was a paedophile.. Savile's victims alleged abuse at Duncroft, Stoke Mandeville hospital and the BBC. The Newsnight expose was originally scheduled for broadcast on 7 December 2011, but a decision was taken to cancel its transmission. This 'decision' ultimately developed into a major crisis for the BBC when a similar ITV documentary was eventually screened on 3rd October 2012. The BBC sub-scandal involved senior executives, director-generals past and present, including the chairman of the BBC Trust, Chris Patten. The corporation stood accused of suppressing the Newsnight programme because it could have compromised the screening of two Jimmy Savile Christmas tribute shows. The then Director of BBC News, Helen Boaden, was accused of placing an "impossibly high barrier" before Newsnight's plans to expose Jimmy Savile as a paedophile, by insisting that its journalists act as if he were still alive and able to sue, according to sources at the programme. Helen Boaden then revealed that she had phoned Mark Thompson, who was BBC Director General, in November 2011,and told him of the police investigation into Savile at Duncroft. Thompson categorically denied being responsible for pulling the programme. Lord Patten was made aware of that phone call in a letter from Tory MP Rob Wilson. Despite being handed a transcript of Boaden and Thompson's phone conversation, Lord Patten repeatedly refused to address the issue and even warned one MP he could be sued if he attempted to go public. Then on 22nd October 2012 came a Panorama special. The joint BBC investigation between Panorama and The World At One, which aired on both BBC One and BBC Radio 4, asked how the DJ got so close to the heart of Britain's establishment and why in 1972 the BBC had failed to take effective action that might have saved young people from abuse. As the scandal engulfed the BBC within weeks the corporation again came under the spotlight with their Newsnight broadcast regarding claims about abuse in North Wales - a programme in which Lord McAlpine was NOT named, but who, nonetheless, still received a large payout in compensation - for what exactly is still not fully known. The Newsnight Savile scandal gave rise to two investigations. (dead end investigations) Dealing with the first - The Pollard Review , headed by Nick Pollard who was the former Head of Sky News – (control over key personnel?) The Pollard Review Terms of Reference (ToR) for both independent reviews were proposed by the BBC's Executive Board and approved by the BBC Trust. (Sounding Familiar - same as Waterhouse?) The Pollard Review ToR Were there any failings in the BBC's management of the Newsnight investigation? The Pollard Review omitted to report on the Thompson/Boaden communication (information withheld) The outcome The unanimous conclusion of the four Trustees is that they are satisfied that Nick Pollard properly weighed all the evidence that was available to him and that the conclusions of his report are robust. They remain confident that Nick Pollard conducted an independent, fair and thorough examination of the issues raised by the dropped Newsnight investigation. Dame Janet Smith Review Lady Justice Smith has been listed as one of the 100 most powerful women in the UK. She is one of only four women judges sitting in the Court of Appeal, alongside Baroness Butler-Sloss, whom you may recall stood down as Chair beacuse of a 'conflict of interest'. Initially, Dame Janet's remit was to"conduct an impartial, thorough and independent review of the culture and practices of the BBC during the years that Jimmy Savile worked there"... (including) whether BBC child-protection and whistleblowing policies were good enough. This would have encompassed reviewing Stuart Hall's activities. However, she has recused herself after it emerged that she knew Ray Colley, who had previously worked with Stuart Hall as the regional manager at BBC Manchester. Mr Colley's wife, was married to Dame Janet's current husband, Robin Mathieson. I'll give you a moment to digest that ...................................... The ToR have already been revised - due to Janet's ' conflict of interest' The review is believed to be covering the years 1965 to 2006. I say 'believed' since although started in 2012, the Review has still not been published............(a little like Macur?) It would be possible to conjecture that the Smith review may have more in common with Chilcott than simply the cost
Last night on the show I said to Debi that we must be watching Lin Wood, he was the declas of the child abuse info and I expected it to drop between Monday 4th and Wednesday 6th January. I woke up this morning to find that Lin Wood had started dropping Tweets and he'd begun with the Satanic stuff, something that friends and listeners know I have spent 10 years exposing. Lin Wood begun his threads with the following article READ HERE What follows is a brief description of how some caught up in this scandal are entrapped. The tweets go on to discuss how the main 3 letter agencies are fully embroiled in this. The BBC have just announced that Julian Assange will not be released to the Americans for extrodition, I believe Trump will pardon Assange. Assange has the DNC server, given to him by Seth Rich (research Seth Rich). This server has more proof to support Lin Wood. We also need to keep in mind what the New York City Police dept, Southern District found on the Anthony Weiner Laptop which Erik Prince (Blackwater) exposed to Breitbart News back on November 4th 2016. Listen here to Erik Prince here HERE The British government are about to announce another lockdown following Scotlands lead. Ths lockdown has nothing to so with the virus. I believe this lockdown is about the rest of the Declas from Lin Wood. The British public finally will have to choice to see for themselves what our crown and leaders have been doing in regards to trafficking and abuse of children! This is the real reason I believe for the next stage of UK LOCKUPS ! Now apparently Boris has requested a recall of Parliament and will address the nation.. THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE VIRUS! I will be on air shortly to break this all down.
A juror on the Rolf Harris trial was a serving police officer with the force which launched the Operation Yewtree probe into the disgraced children's entertainer. We can reveal the Metropolitan Police officer was among the dozen on the jury during Harris's trial at Southwark Crown Court last year. Harris's relatives complained to the judge during the proceedings – but he ruled the juror could continue in the role. Police officers are allowed to sit on juries after the law changed in 2004. http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/rolf-harris-juror-officer-operation-6002707#ICID=sharebar_twitter Note the headline spin - sort of reads that the juror was on Op Yewtree? It's clarified in the article
The juror is a serving PC within Barking and Dagenham, East London.
There is no suggestion he had any involvement in Operation Yewtree.
Despite Rolf's family concerns, it is understood they have no plans to use it as the basis of an appeal.
Are they inferring that police aren't fit to be jurors? Is it because they no longer uphold the law - as was demonstrated in Notts at Tom Crawford's eviction. They wouldn't do that - would they?
Welcome to Palestine," said an Alitalia pilot as he landed in Tel Aviv on Tuesday, causing a stir among passengers and the airline's Israeli employees, a spokesman for the company said. "We have not spoken to the captain," said the company's spokesperson in Israel, Orly Segal. "But if this did happen it will not go over quietly." The incident happened on an overnight flight from Rome to Tel Aviv and touched a nerve on Memorial Day, when Israel pays homage to the 21,540 people killed in Israel's wars. A beareaved family coming to pay respects on Memorial Day was on board at the time. Segal said that airline workers in Israel have sent a letter of complaint to the Italian national airline's headquarters in Rome and the Israeli Airports Authority has demanded an explanation. "One thing is certain, this captain will not fly to Israel again," Segal said. A similar incident took place recently with the pilot of an Air France aircraft. http://www.haaretz.com/news/alitalia-pilot-stuns-passengers-landing-in-tel-aviv-1.10912
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] Our pick of todays news headlines. Our sources below. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.viw5e9/[/rumble] The rape of Afghanistan Boats carrying immigrants arrive at Broadstairs UK US Blank Visas Ashli Babbitt shooting Owen Shroyer charged in 6 January protest Pfizer whistleblower ABCs Satanic Slip Up[/vc_column_text][box_header title="Latest News Shows" bottom_border="1" top_margin="page_margin_top_section"][pr_post_carousel type="vertical" items_per_page="-1" offset="0" featured_image_size="small-slider-thumb" category="news-shows" tag="-" show_related="0" post_format="-" order_by="date" visible="2" count_number="0" show_comments_box="0" show_post_excerpt="0" read_more="0" show_post_icon="1" autoplay="0" scroll="1"][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Professor Michio Kaku of City University, New York, maintains the technology to teleport a living person to another part of the Earth or even space could be available within decades - or at least by the next century. Prof Kaku, known as Mr Parallel Universe for his futuristic claims, which also include the possibility of real time travel and invisibility, has studied various sci-fi technologies deemed impossible and concluded some will eventually happen. He said: "A lot of things you see on Star Trek will in fact be possible - like the teleporter. "You know the expression beam me up Scotty, we used to laugh at it. We physicists used to laugh when someone talked about teleportation and invisabilty, something like that, but we don't laugh anymore we realised we were wrong on this one. "Quantum teleportation already exists. In fact, we took a film crew and went to the University of Maryland and actually filmed an atom being teleported. It zapped across the room from one chamber to another. "So at an atomic level we do it already. It's called quantum entanglement." Read more http://www.express.co.uk/news/science/602529/Human-teleportation-is-possible-and-your-great-GRANDCHILDREN-will-do-it-claims-scientist
By James Hanning The former Tory MP Harvey Proctor will be interviewed for a second time on Monday by detectives from Operation Midland, in relation to an allegation of murder, The Independent on Sunday can reveal. He was interviewed in March following claims that he was present when underage boys were sexually abused and murdered at parties in Dolphin Square, in central London, and elsewhere. He has not been arrested.
The former MP, 68, vigorously denied the claims in an article he wrote for The IoS in May, saying he doubted the existence of any alleged sex ring in Westminster. In 1987 Proctor was convicted of gross indecency with underage males. He resigned from Parliament soon after, and has led an essentially private existence since then. He believes the 1987 conviction has led to his name being linked to current allegations. Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/harvey-proctor-former-tory-mp-faces-second-police-interview-in-relation-to-murder-allegation-10467403.html
Clive is back with more fantastic information and advice. Today we discuss the benefits of fasting. https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-good-life-fasting-the-dos-donts-and-benefits-15-6-21/
For Clives products visit here https://clivedecarle.ositracker.com/190471/11489
Today Brian Gerrish joins myself and Mark Anderson today to talk water marked ballot papers, voter fraud, lockdown and what the hell is going on ! https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/election-lockdown-special-brian-gerrish-mark-anderson-the-watermark-show/
Every year, thousands of British motorists pick up keys to a hire car when holidaying abroad or on business. But many are not aware that, from next Monday, they will need to generate a special code to hand in at the rental kiosk.
It comes as the paper counterpart of British driving licences is scrapped with records going digital in a move experts predict will save the Government £8million.
Drivers instead will need to log onto the DVLA's Share Driving Licence service before they leave to generate a unique code. This requires both a driving licence number and national insurance number.
Without it, drivers could be refused a hire car. The code will enable the rental firm to access records which details convictions such as speeding and what vehicles a motorist is allowed to drive.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/money/cars/article-3106086/Motorists-hiring-car-overseas-need-generate-unique-code.html NI number? More tracking and surveillance?
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3136780/You-need-wrap-UK-set-plunge-mini-ice-age-Met-Office-warns-one-five-chance-temperatures-drop-leaves-seen-17th-century.html and 15 years ago they were saying:
Snowfalls are now just a thing of the past
and the money keeps rolling in..............
Here's How 16 Big Companies Are Profiting Off Global Warming
The depopulationists are on the move again, pushing hard for the elimination of six billion people on planet Earth in order to bring the planet down to what's being touted as its "sustainable carrying capacity of one billion people." But this time, the depopulation agenda may be codified by the Vatican. Professor John Schellnhuber has been chosen as a speaker for the Vatican's rolling out of a Papal document on climate change. He's the professor who previously said the planet is overpopulated by at least six billion people. Now, the Vatican is giving him a platform which many expect will result in an official Church declaration in support of radical depopulation in the name of "climate science." Read more http://www.naturalnews.com/050075_Vatican_climate_science_world_depopulation.html
Many of us either personally knows of someone who has been diagnosed with autism or know someone else who does. The number of children suffering from the condition appears to be on the increase, and although many of us believe that we know the real cause of autism, scientists from around the world blame the ever-increasing numbers on everything from cold parenting to the month of the year that the child was born. In 2009, Simon Baron-Cohen announced that autism was genetic and that, in the future, prenatal testing would allow parents to be able to choose whether or not they wanted to give birth to an autistic child. Whilst the news of prenatal testing for autism excited many parents, the mere idea of aborting children with autism sent shock waves through the autistic community. Child psychologist and expert in autism Lisa Blakemore-Brown was absolutely horrified by Baron-Cohen's suggestions and told reporters on One Click News that she was totally bewildered by the research scientists obtaining funding from the U.K. government were undertaking. She wrote:
"It is shocking that autistic children and their suffering is routinely ignored for years and years, until Professor Baron-Cohen suggests casually to the world via the BBC that autism may one day be picked up in the womb. Suddenly we hear of the terrible lives many children and their families have to endure, in order to justify the idea of aborting them before they are born. Perhaps Professor Baron-Cohen should address the possibility that these bio-markers may simply show which children might react to vaccines and their components such as mercury and aluminium and the tapestry effect when live viruses are introduced? In which case it's the damaging vaccines that need terminating not the babies!" (own emphasis)
Despite her recommendations, however, governments have continued to refuse to consider the possibility that vaccines could be the cause of autism and the number of cases has continued to rise. - See more at: http://vaccineimpact.com/2015/new-study-dispels-myth-that-better-diagnosis-is-responsible-for-increase-in-autism/#sthash.E3kRoXiW.dpuf
John O'Looney a Funeral Director with a family business in Milton Keynes speaks out about what he has seen through 2020 and 2021. His facebook post went viral and they have removed the original post. See below. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vh26dt/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/brave-funeral-director-john-looney-speaks-out-on-the-camdemic-8721/ You can follow John on Facebook Here or on his website : MKFFS HERE
A strange feel in the air, like something is brewing..? Debs and I have a delve around the world. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vaq8i5/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/findings-33-general-flynn-earthquakes-and-israel-27-1-21/ Follow and Support us at www.loucollins.uk Telegram https://t.me/loucollinsrs Facebook https://www.facebook.com/LouCollinsRadio
Part 1 of an exclusive interview with John Wedger Former Met Detective Whistle Blower https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/lou-collins-291217-former-met-det-john-wedger-cover-ups-abuse-trafficking-satanic-abuse-of-kids/
A brilliantly produced video, to red pill your friends and family, by POPRENEGADE https://youtu.be/XeE4qT9jMKo
What a show today with Clive De Carle. We talk in depth about health from the womb to puberty. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vd2as9/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-good-life-episode-4-babies-and-infants-natural-health-13-4-21/
French police are hunting for a second fugitive directly involved in the deadly Paris attacks, officials said Tuesday after France made an unprecedented demand that its European Union allies support its military action against the Islamic State group.
Surveillance video obtained by The Associated Press indicates a team of three attackers carried out the shootings at a Paris sidewalk cafe, leading police to believe that a second assailant is on the loose.
Video footage shows two black-clad gunmen with automatic weapons calmly firing on the bar, then returning slowly toward a waiting car, whose driver was maneuvering behind them.
Officials previously had not specified how many people were involved in the attack on the sidewalk bar on La Fontaine au Roi street.
Three French officials, who spoke on condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to comment on the investigation, confirmed that an analysis of the series of attacks on Friday indicated that one additional person directly involved in the assault remains unaccounted for.
In Germany, Interior Minister Thomas de Maiziere told reporters in Berlin that a Syrian passport found with one of the Paris attackers with the name Ahmad al Mohammad may have been a false flag intended to make Europeans fearful of refugees. The passport showed registrations in Greece, Serbia and Croatia, which he described as "unusual."
Read more http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/paris-attacks-second-fugitive_564b5852e4b08cda348aac73F
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pm-yBjf83I8&feature=youtu.be Please share this far and wide. If you listen to Lou's radio show www.soundartradio.org - you'll have heard some of those involved in the making of this video. I'm humbled - and proud - to know this amazing group of people. We all do this because we care. Please share
A former Catholic archbishop charged with sexually abusing children has died ahead of his trial.
Jozef Wesołowski, 67, was found dead in his room – seemingly from natural causes – in the Holy See on Friday morning, a statement from the Vatican said. "Vatican authorities intervened immediately for first verifications, which indicate his death was due to natural causes," the statement, posted on the Vatican press website, said. The former ambassador to the Dominican Republic would have been the first church official to go on trial for child sexual abuse. His case, which had attracted a significant amount of international attention, was the first under a Vatican system reinvigorated by Pope Francis following widespread accusations of abuse within the Church. The statement added that the Pope has been informed of Wesołowski's death. Read more http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/jozef-wesoowski-former-catholic-archbishop-found-dead-ahead-of-child-sexual-abuse-trial-10476195.html
RAF foils airline terror plot targeting four British cities as pop song code is cracked
Part of the Narrative..... The pilots, who were unknown to the authorities but believed to be sympathetic to Islamic State, were using the emergency "Mayday" channel in the belief they were not being monitored. ... They coded their language with musical references, often referring to "hits". The conversation included boasts that a song would "climb up the charts" – a veiled reference to increases in jihadi recruits once the attacks had been launched. It is thought the pilots were preparing to smuggle in explosive devices or chemical weapons. The messages were intercepted as they flew from a European airport, thought to be Schiphol, in Amsterdan, to Middle Eastern destinations. They were unaware that Channel 121, the Mayday channel used to broadcast emergencies, was being monitored. DEBUNKED and a hint as to the real story?
Lead story in the Mirror 2 July 2015 22:15
Tom Crawford: Angry protesters clash with police over eviction of cancer patient from his home.
There were angry scenes and three were arrested as hundreds of protesters flooded a suburban street in a vain attempt to prevent a cancer patient being evicted from his home by the bank. Tom Crawford, 64, had twice stopped bailiffs from kicking him out of his Nottinghamshire house with the help of hundreds of supporters. But today police formed a 'ring of steel' outside his bungalow, preventing his helpers from coming to his aid. There were angry scenes as more than 150 people turned up to help after Mr Crawford after he lost his court battle to remain at his home. Nottinghamshire Police blocked off roads and put a cordon in place 200 metres away from the house in Fearn Close in Carlton, so bailiffs could repossess it without being obstructed. Full article http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/tom-crawford-angry-protesters-clash-5991478
Alex Thompson is back with a look back in to History and Global Espionage. This show, is definitely in my Top 3 of best shows this year! [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.vkgx4n/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/espionage-in-the-beginning/
A bit of a raw show tonight but still packed ... So much drama happening worldwide. Hat tip to beachbroadcast and monkeywerxus great work and research. [rumble]https://rumble.com/embed/pj.v9thc2/[/rumble] https://www.mixcloud.com/shylou73/the-findings-12-earthquakes-fireworks-sir-mark-walport-lin-wood-pence-and-movies/
The Arizona Senate will meet on Wednesday to begin their review, and again when the remainder of the draft is submitted. The full draft report was expected today but members of the team have tested positive for COVID-19. Senate President Karen Fann released the following statement today. Monday, August 23, 2021 FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Statement from Senate President Fann
"Today we are receiving a portion of the draft report from the election audit analysis team. The team expected to have the full draft ready for the Senate today, but unfortunately Cyber Ninjas CEO Doug Logan and two other members of the five-person audit team have tested positive for COVID-19 and are quite sick. In addition to the illnesses, it wasn't until Thursday that the Senate received the images of the ballot envelopes from Maricopa County and are hoping to have those analyzed as soon as possible to incorporate those results into the final report. The Senate legal team will meet Wednesday to start reviewing the draft report, and when the remainder of the draft is submitted, the Senate team will hold another meeting to continue checking for accuracy, clarity, and proof of documentation of findings. Once that is complete, the final report will be presented to the Senate Judiciary Committee and findings released to the public."
This final review by Senate experts will certify that the report is flawless before releasing to the public. Jordan Conradson The Gateway Pundit | {
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By Ronan Houssain April 13, 2011 3:26pm
Updated: April 13, 2011 5:56pm Race: De Brabantse Pijl - La Flèche Brabançonne
Gilbert wins De Brabantse Pijl
Omega-Pharma Lotto rider too strong for Leukemans
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) takes the win in Brabantse Pijl
(www.ispaphoto.com)
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) on the podium at Brabantse Pijl
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) happy on the Brabantse Pijl podium
(Fotoreporter Sirotti)
Devolder leads the peloton across the line in the closing circuit.
Philippe Gilbert pushes the pace in the breakaway.
The Brabantse Pijl podium: Bjorn Leukemans, Philippe Gilbert and Anthony Geslin
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) with his big trophy
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto)
Podium kisses for Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto)
Bjorn Leukemans on the podium, still sporting some Paris-Roubaix road rash
Luis Leon Sanchez (Rabobank)
Greg Van Avermaet (BMC)
Oscar Freire (Rabobank) shadows Stijn Devolder (Vacansoleil DCM)
Luis León Sánchez (Rabobank) rolls in after a hard day.
Carlos Barredo (Rabobank)
Anthony Geslin (FDJ) claims the final podium spot.
Anthony Geslin topped Johnny Hoogerland for third.
Bram Tankink (Rabobank) and Johnny Hoogerland (Vacansoleil DCM)
Bjorn Leukemans leads Philippe Gilbert in the finale.
Leukemans and Gilbert were the strongest two in the race
Anthony Geslin (FDJ)
David Veillieux (Europcar) at the start
UnitedHealthcare gets ready
The 2011 UnitedHealthcare team at Brabantse Pijl
Caleb Fairly (HTC-Highroad)
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) outsprinted Bjorn Leukemans (Vacansoleil DCM) quite handily.
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) showed he is on fine form ahead of the Amstel Gold Race
Jan Tratnik (Quick Step)
Thomas De Gendt (Vacansoleil DCM) attacked from the gun
Stijn Devolder (Vacansoleil) shows his prowess on the cobbles
Gilbert closed the gap to the leaders on the Hertstraat
Philippe Gilbert takes the smoother part of the cobbled road.
Kenny De Haes (Omega Pharma-Lotto) was part of a lead group that was caught
Jurgen Van de Walle (Omega Pharma-Lotto) gest a push after a wheel change.
Riders roll out through Leuven for the 51st edition of Brabantse Pijl
The riders enjoyed a splendid morning for the start in Leuven.
Philippe Gilbert gets the job done in Overijse.
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) out-sprinted Leukemans to win Brabantse Pijl
Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) tops Björn Leukemans (Vacansoleil DCM)
Philippe Gilbert (Omega-Pharma Lotto) won Brabantse Pijl in a two-man sprint for the line against Bjorn Leukemans (Vacansoleil-DCM).
The two Belgians broke clear of a break containing on the final lap along the finishing circuit, dropping Johnny Hoogerland (Vacansoleil-DCM), Bram Tankink (Rabobank), Romain Zingle (Cofidis), Dries Devenyns (Quick-Step) and former winner Anthony Geslin (FDJ) and stayed away until the finish, where on the long uphill drag up to the line Gilbert showed his class and his Ardennes form with a powerful sprint.
No early breakaway
While last year's winner Sébastien Rosseler (Radioshack) didn't start, the runner-up from 2010, Thomas De Gendt, showed he wasn't planning to use this day as a training ride. De Gendt attacked right after leaving the historical market when the flag went down. The Belgian, who performed excellently in this year's Paris-Nice, didn't make any distance though. For an hour a group with Kenny De Haes (Omega Pharma-Lotto), Julien El Fares (Cofidis), Marco Marcato (Vacansoleil-DCM), Thomas Bonnin (Skil-Shimano) and Andrea Pasqualon (Colnago-CSF Inox) made a gap of three minutes but eventually they were brought back by the Rabobank team.
Vacansoleil-DCM starts the finale
On the Ijskelderlaan – the tenth climb of the day - Vacansoleil-DCM closed the final metres on the leaders and on the steep Schavel with 65km to go Johnny Hoogerland attacked. Right after the first passage of the finish line, while climbing the Hagaard, five men closed the gap to Hoogerland: Bram Tankink (Rabobank), Romain Zingle (Cofidis), Dries Devenyns (Quick-Step), Bjorn Leukemans (Vacansoleil-DCM) and former winner Anthony Geslin (FDJ). Vacansoleil and the Quick-Step team put the hand brake on the peloton and the gap to the six quickly ran up to twenty seconds.
At the bottom of the next climb, the cobbled Hertstraat, Philippe Gilbert (Omega Pharma-Lotto) powered away from the peloton. After the first part on the cobbles he hopped on the pavement and continued his effort. Gilbert closed the gap to the leaders in no time. With another team present in front of the peloton it was clear the breakaway had every chance of going the distance. On the second lap of the finishing circuit they had 50 seconds on the peloton and one lap later the gap was up to 1:15.
The peloton got restless during the third of five laps and eventually a counter-attack from Jerome Pineau (Quick-Step) and Gianni Meersman (FDJ) got away. Greg Van Avermaet (BMC) fell short in his effort to join the duo and from that moment on it was over for the peloton.
Leukemans and Gilbert attack the lead group
When starting the final lap the chasing duo were trailing the seven leaders by 1:11. But just before hitting the final lap Leukemans attacked the lead group and the Belgian was joined by compatriot Gilbert. Behind them Zingle was blown away and the four others were left chasing the two strongest men in the race.
The two Belgians survived until the line with Gilbert taking his first win on home soil since last July.
1 Philippe Gilbert (Bel) Omega Pharma-Lotto 4:40:38
2 Björn Leukemans (Bel) Vacansoleil-DCM Pro Cycling Team
3 Anthony Geslin (Fra) FDJ 0:01:03
4 Johnny Hoogerland (Ned) Vacansoleil-DCM Pro Cycling Team
5 Bram Tankink (Ned) Rabobank Cycling Team 0:01:04
6 Dries Devenyns (Bel) Quickstep Cycling Team 0:01:18
7 Romain Zingle (Bel) Cofidis, Le Credit En Ligne 0:01:23
8 Gianni Meersman (Bel) FDJ 0:01:39
9 Jérôme Pineau (Fra) Quickstep Cycling Team 0:01:41
10 Simon Geschke (Ger) Skil - Shimano 0:02:19
11 Oscar Freire Gomez (Spa) Rabobank Cycling Team
12 Ben Hermans (Bel) Team RadioShack
13 Bert De Waele (Bel) Landbouwkrediet
14 Paul Martens (Ger) Rabobank Cycling Team
15 Greg Van Avermaet (Bel) BMC Racing Team
16 Kristof Vandewalle (Bel) Quickstep Cycling Team
17 Wesley Sulzberger (Aus) FDJ
18 Carlos Barredo Llamazales (Spa) Rabobank Cycling Team
19 Jan Ghyselinck (Bel) HTC-Highroad
20 Johan Coenen (Bel) Topsport Vlaanderen - Mercator
21 Maxime Vantomme (Bel) Katusha Team
22 Davy Commeyne (Bel) Landbouwkrediet
23 Frantisek Rabon (Cze) HTC-Highroad
24 Ramunas Navardauskas (Ltu) Team Garmin-Cervelo
25 Benoît Vaugrenard (Fra) FDJ
26 Jelle Vanendert (Bel) Omega Pharma-Lotto
27 Michel Kreder (Ned) Team Garmin-Cervelo
28 Rob Ruijgh (Ned) Vacansoleil-DCM Pro Cycling Team
29 Peter Stetina (USA) Team Garmin-Cervelo
30 Sander Armee (Bel) Topsport Vlaanderen - Mercator
31 Craig Lewis (USA) HTC-Highroad
32 Jesus Rosendo Prado (Spa) Andalucia Caja Granada
33 Luca Mazzanti (Ita) Farnese Vini - Neri Sottoli
34 Johannes Fröhlinger (Ger) Skil - Shimano
35 Luis Leon Sanchez Gil (Spa) Rabobank Cycling Team
36 Julien Vermote (Bel) Quickstep Cycling Team
37 Stijn Devolder (Bel) Vacansoleil-DCM Pro Cycling Team
38 Alessandro Donati (Ita) Acqua & Sapone
39 Philip Deignan (Irl) Team RadioShack
40 Francesco Failli (Ita) Farnese Vini - Neri Sottoli
41 Julien El Fares (Fra) Cofidis, Le Credit En Ligne
42 Matthieu Sprick (Fra) Skil - Shimano
43 Geert Verheyen (Bel) Landbouwkrediet
44 Wout Poels (Ned) Vacansoleil-DCM Pro Cycling Team
45 Jérôme Baugnies (Bel) Topsport Vlaanderen - Mercator
46 Marco Marcato (Ita) Vacansoleil-DCM Pro Cycling Team
47 Sébastien Delfosse (Bel) Landbouwkrediet
48 Martin Kohler (Swi) BMC Racing Team 0:02:36
49 Pablo Lechuga Rodriguez (Spa) Andalucia Caja Granada
50 Nico Sijmens (Bel) Cofidis, Le Credit En Ligne
51 Gert Dockx (Bel) Omega Pharma-Lotto
52 Pieter Serry (Bel) Topsport Vlaanderen - Mercator
53 Gabriel Rasch (Nor) Team Garmin-Cervelo
54 Christophe Kern (Fra) Team Europcar 0:02:44
55 Pieter Jacobs (Bel) Topsport Vlaanderen - Mercator
56 Thomas Degand (Bel) Veranda's Willems - Accent
57 Ryan Anderson (Can) Team Spidertech Powered By C10 0:02:52
58 Jose Vicente Toribio Alcolea (Spa) Andalucia Caja Granada
59 Bert Scheirlinckx (Bel) Landbouwkrediet 0:03:00
61 Francis Mourey (Fra) FDJ 0:03:23
62 Murilo Antonio Fischer (Bra) Team Garmin-Cervelo 0:03:31
63 Pier Paolo De Negri (Ita) Farnese Vini - Neri Sottoli 0:03:42
64 Jürgen Van Goolen (Bel) Veranda's Willems - Accent
65 Frederik Veuchelen (Bel) Vacansoleil-DCM Pro Cycling Team 0:04:09
66 Sébastien Turgot (Fra) Team Europcar 0:04:42
67 Ronan McLaughlin (Irl) An Post - Sean Kelly 0:06:08
68 Francesco Di Paolo (Ita) Acqua & Sapone 0:06:09 | {
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A smaller version of the large Bull Terrier, many people like this size dog because they are easier to manage. They are very loving and loyal dogs who mesh very well with families that live an active life. They love all kinds of activities from a simple walk around the neighborhood to a ride in the car to running in the park. They are known for what are often called "Bully Runs," where they will race around the house or the yard for no reason.
Even though Miniature Bull Terriers need a lot of exercise, they are small enough to be perfect for apartment living as long as you make a commitment to walk and exercise them regularly. They are at their happiest when they can stay active. They can be very destructive when they are not kept active and can easily develop separation anxiety when they spend too much time alone. Crating is often necessary for this breed even into adulthood to avoid any damage. This breed is also very possessive and does not like to share family with other pets and other people. Lots of training and socialization is needed to make sure you get the most from your dog and avoid problems.
Miniature Bull Terriers look exactly like their larger namesakes but in a smaller body. While they are small they are very strong and are noted for the egg-shape of their heads. They have eyes that are in a triangular shape that are often referred to as piercing. They have broad chests and a large, strong neck and are somewhat square in proportion. They are generally seen with two types of colors of coat – either white or colored. The white sometimes has markings on its but nowhere else and the colored can range in brindle colors. Most Miniature Bull Terriers are about ten to fourteen inches in height and weigh between twenty and thirty-five pounds. They have short, shiny coats that are rough in texture.
The Miniature Bull Terrier is very easy to take care of when it comes to grooming. Weekly brushing is really all that is needed to help keep the short coat looking shiny and fresh. This helps a lot in controlling loose hair. This breed does shed a lot in the fall and spring months so during that time of the year brushing is needed almost daily to keep things under control. They do not have to be bathed often and many owners simply use a dry bath or shampoo to keep the dog smelling at its best.
The Miniature Bull Terrier is a direct descendant from the breeding of an English Bulldog and the White English Terrier, which is now extinct. The Miniature Bull Terrier first began to appear in England in the 1800s. The Bull Terrier itself has long varied greatly in size, going from those breeds that weighed less than three pounds to the standard size Bull Terrier that exists today. There was a toy variety that disappeared in the early 1900s and the miniature variety had become much more popular at the point due its manageable size. Since then it has maintained its status as a popular dog in England and the United States. | {
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- 8th Generation Intel® Core™ i7-8750H (6-Core, 9MB Cache, up to 4.1GHz w/ Turbo Boost) .
- 17.3" FHD 1920x1080 60Hz Anti-Glare IPS .
- Intel UHD 630 .
- Nvidia GeForce GTX 1070 8GB GDDR5 .
- 16GB, DDR4, 2400MHz 8x2 .
- 2 Slot / Up to 32GB .
- 8GB Hybird Drive .
- 2 SSD M2 Slot + 1 SSD M2 Mini .
- Backlit Keyboard + Backlit TouchPad "LED" .
- Alienware Sound Center and Audio Recon software .
- 2.1 Speaker configuration includes subwoofer .
- 7.1 Digtial Audio out using HDMI out connection .
- 1 x RJ-45 .
- 1 x Type-A SuperSpeed USB 3.0 Port .
- 1 x Type-C SuperSpeed USB 3.0 Port .
- 1 x Type-A SuperSpeed USB 3.0 Port with PowerShare technology .
- 1 x External Graphic Port .
- 1 x Mini-Display Port 1.2 (certified) Output .
- 1 x Audio Out 1/8" Ports (Compatible with inline mic headset) .
- 1 x Headphone 1/8" Port (retaskable for Microphone/Line-In analog audio input) .
- WiFi : Killer Wireless 1550 2x2 AC .
- Bluetooth : 5.0 .
- Dimensions (H x W x D) : 1.181" x 16.7" x 13.1" (29.9 x 424 x 332 mm) .
- Weight : 9.74 lbs (4.42 Kg) .
- WIN 10 Home . | {
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We would like to know the number of non-refoulement claims made completely or partially on the basis that the claimants were victims of human trafficking or will face risks of being trafficked if sent to another country, disaggregated by year. Among these claims, in how many claims were experiences or risks of being trafficked raised in relation to each of the applicable grounds for non-refoulement, i.e. (1) torture defined under section 37U of the Immigration Ordinance, Cap. 115, (2) absolute and non-derogable rights under the Hong Kong Bill of Rights Ordinance, Cap. 383, and (3) persecution risk with reference to the Refugee Convention? How many of these claims have been evaluated and substantiated respectively by your Department?
We would like to have the same figures for appeals/petitions filed with the Torture Claims Appeal Board (TCAB), ie the number of appeals/petitions made completely or partially on the basis that the claimants were victims of human trafficking or will face risks of being trafficked if sent to another country, disaggregated by year; in how many of these appeals/petitions were experiences or risks of being trafficked raised in relation to each of the applicable grounds for non-refoulement, i.e. (1) torture defined under section 37U of the Immigration Ordinance, Cap. 115, (2) absolute and non-derogable rights under the Hong Kong Bill of Rights Ordinance, Cap. 383, and (3) persecution risk with reference to the Refugee Convention; and how many of these appeals/petitions have been processed and substantiated respectively by the TCAB.
(TCAB), you may wish to consult TCAB direct at [email address]. | {
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We all have questions. See below for the answers you may be looking for. If you have something specific to ask, drop us a line.
Where will the Q-Plug work?
What is a NEMA 5-15 plug?
A NEMA 5-15 plug is your standard 3 pronged North American Plug.
Will the Q-Plug work with a Pan Heater?
Yes, it can also handle the electrical load of both a pan heater and a block heater so larger or industrial vehicles can use it safely.
No, the Q-Plug is no less waterproof than a regular winter extension cord.
Can the Q-Plug be used for things other than a block heater?
Yes, since the Q-Plug simply changes the normal NEMA connection to the patented rounded contact, you can use it anywhere that you could use a regular NEMA plug.
Who else may benefit from the Q-Plug?
People with manipulation or mobility issues that make plugging and unplugging a regular NEMA 5-15 plug difficult. | {
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Alternative Roofing Systems, Inc. is the number one installer of Duro-Last roofing in Washington. We have done large-scale installations in the Northwest for many companies you know and on buildings you've likely driven by. Please click on the thumbnails below for larger photos of what Alternative Roofing Systems, Inc. can do for you. | {
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The Fit Traveller
Foodie Guides
Packing Guides
Destinations, Europe, Featured, France, Stay, Travel / September 2, 2021
Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel, France
Widely considered one of the best places to visit in the South of France, Antibes has long been a destination that attracts the well-heeled with the well-known. When compared to other south of France beach resorts, the Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel is a standout. The boutique Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel offers an intimate and modern hotel feel with all the luxury amenities you would expect as a member of the prestigious Relais & Chateaux family.
Pat Bailey
Perfectly glassy water in Cap d'Antibes France. | © Pat Bailey
Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel
The Design Suite
Stay in of Venture Out
The Spa at Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel
Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel is situated near Port of Olivette and Plage des Ondes on the tip of Cap d'Antibes. It is a beloved and coveted spot to land. As its name suggests it is also one of the few French Riviera hotels with a private on-property sandy beach.
At the beginning of the 20th century, the property was referred to as "La Maison des Pêcheurs," (the fishermen's house); when large properties such as these stretched down to the sea and only a small unassuming path led curious wanderers to Cap d'Antibes.
A Baron owned the cape in those days. Today, local fishermen tell stories of how the Baron allowed fishermen to stay on the property in exchange for "bouillabaisse," a local fish stew.
In 2003, the Ferrante family acquired the property. They have invested 3.5 million euros in renovations to bring the property back to life with the hope of welcoming international clientele looking for a luxurious spot to be on the coast in France.
In April of 2016, the property was redecorated with the addition of eight new rooms and suites. The single Michelin star restaurant that pays homage to the history and origin of the property named "Les Pêcheurs" was also given a new position, facing the sea.
There are so many things to love about this property. There is a seamless marriage of land and sea that is carried throughout the modern lines of the hotel through the skillful use of both wood and glass materials.
An intentional energy of creativity is also infused throughout the space. Both traveling and static pieces of multi-medium art fill the indoor and outdoor spaces with an ever-changing collection, such as Fernand Legé masterpieces.
And, if you fall in love with one of the pieces there is a good chance you may purchase it.
Related: Things to Do in Avignon France
Design-led spaces welcome guests at the Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel France. | © Pat Bailey
The hotel feels like a luxurious home from home. | © Pat Bailey
Beautifully thought out spaces have been created at the property. | © Pat Bailey
My Design Suite room with a sea view was a welcome respite – easy to slip into as soon as I arrived.
The large private terrace with a sunbed for two offered the perfect place for sunbathing, star, and sea gazing throughout my stay. And the sea breeze was the perfect medicine as I left my sliding door open the entire stay.
Take your pick between a luxurious soak in the large bathtub or walk-in shower, the space is luxurious but cozy at the same time.
I got lost in the King-size bed with sea view and found that the ample closet, lounge, and desk spaces rivaled my tiny apartment in Paris in all of the most decadent ways.
The property is situated in a popular spot for venturing out. Just a short distance to Juan Les Pins, Cannes, and even Antibes. However, there is plenty to do on-site that will appease you for the entirety of your stay.
The rare private sandy beach is an idyllic spot to land for an afternoon in the sun. The heated infinity pool and the deck is where I had a beautiful lunch and dip. And of course, the beach bar is a great spot for an apero before settling in for a meal at the coveted Michelin-starred restaurant, Les Pêcheurs.
Related: What to See in Paris in 4 Days
Wake up to magical water views in a Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel suite. | © Pat Bailey
Curated and cost nooks in the Design Suite. | © Pat Bailey
A beautifully appointed bathroom for two. © Pat Bailey
Of course, no luxury hotel is complete without an opportunity for wellness and pampering. The spa at the hotel is very special with both indoor and open-air spaces for treatments.
The menu includes facials, manicures, pedicures, after sun skin treatments, and a variety of signature massages along with beauty treatments. In addition, private sessions of Qi Gong and Yin Yoga are available onsite.
One of my favorite things about my stay at this world-class hotel was how intimately the staff takes care of you. Because of the boutique size of the property, the staff quickly gets to know each guest. So, they make them feel special by keeping an eye on them, calling them by name, and checking in with special touches. My entire stay from start to finish was a curated experience and very special.
Related: Things to Do in Cap d'Antibes
Pat relaxes on her suite balcony at the Cap d'Antibes Hotel France. | © Pat Bailey
10, Boulevard Maréchal Juin, 06160 | +33 (0)4 92 93 13 30
The postcard-worthy coastline at Cap d'Antibes Beach Hotel France. | © Pat Bailey
Pat Bailey is a certified Bhakti Yoga Teacher, published poet, writer and entrepreneur with a passion for exploring the globe. Pat is also the founder of The Hell Yes Life, where she has created her own branding academy helping to elevate brands and students through authentic and intuitive coaching.
www.thehellyeslife.com
Las Flores Resort: A Sustainable Luxury Beach Hotel in El Salvador
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Beach House Hotel, Hermosa Beach, California
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Filed Under: Destinations, Europe, Featured, France, Stay, Travel
« A Weekend in Avignon: Must-See Sights and Secret Lavender Fields
Where to Eat in Antibes: Coffee, Cocktails and Michelin Star Meals »
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Copyright © 2014 ‐ 2022 — The Fit Traveller • All rights reserved • Privacy Policy Disclaimer | {
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Which hosting platform do I use and recommend?
Ok. I'll get straight to the chase: SiteGround.
When it comes to web hosting there are literally hundreds of options, making the task of choosing the best hosting provider very overwhelming. Prior to picking a host, I had done lots or research as well as used a few prior. | {
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Click on All Active Projects in the left pane. From the list of available projects, simply pass your mouse over any and hit the red cross that appears. Then confirm you want to delete the project.
Any outstanding tasks that are in a deleted project will be moved into Unassigned.
The option to delete a project is only available if an administrator has enabled it. | {
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New York Woman Finds Secret Hole in Her Bathroom That Leads to Another Apartment
Polly Updated: March 5, 2021
Photo Credit - Samantha Hartsoe via TikTok
You won't believe what a woman found behind a mirror in her New York City apartment. It's straight out of a horror movie.
Samantha Hartsoe felt cold air blowing from somewhere in her bathroom. In a 4 part "A New York City Mystery" on TikTok, she discovers the air is coming from the mirror over her sink. When she removes it, she finds a giant hole. "There's a room back there," Hartsoe said.
Needing answers, Hartsoe decides to see what's behind the creepy hole. "I have to go in and find out what's on the other side of my bathroom. What if someone's living in there?"
Armed with a hammer for protection and flashlight strapped to her head to see, Hartsoe crawls through the hole in her bathroom wall. What she finds is an another apartment on the other side, filled with trash bags, a toilet that's just sitting in the middle of a room and a random half drank bottle of water.
"My landlord is getting a really fun call tomorrow," Hartsoe says after crawling back to the safety of her own apartment.
The landlord may be getting more than ONE 'really fun call' after the videos quickly went viral, racking up millions of views around the world.
Hartsoe may not be alone. "I have that same exact sink, that same exact mirror, that same exact vent, and the same exact floor," Winston Schmidt said on TikTok. "That empty apartment she went into looks exactly like my neighbors."
Schmidt refused to remove the mirror at night, while she was home alone. She did say "It's time to move out of New York City."
Forget Kelsea Ballerini's Hole in the Bottle....
There's a hole in the bathroom
Leakin' all this air
It's a little creepy, it's giving me a scare
Honey, I need to have the answers
And know what lives behind
The hole in the bathroom of mine
LOOK: Here are the best small towns to live in across America
Source: New York Woman Finds Secret Hole in Her Bathroom That Leads to Another Apartment
Filed Under: New York City
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You Can Book NYC Hotels Right Now For Nearly Nothing | {
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The study of how the environment, local geography, and physical locations influence crime has a long history that stretches across many research traditions. These include the neighborhood effects approach developed in the 1920s, the criminology of place, and a newer approach that attends to the perception of crime in communities. Aided by new technologies and improved data-reporting in recent decades, research in environmental criminology has developed rapidly within each of these approaches. Yet research in the subfield remains fragmented and competing theories are rarely examined together.
The Oxford Handbook of Environmental Criminology takes a unique approach and synthesizes the contributions of existing methods to better integrate the subfield as a whole. Gerben J.N. Bruinsma and Shane D. Johnson have assembled a cast of top scholars to provide an in-depth source for understanding how and why physical setting can influence the emergence of crime, affect the environment, and impact individual or group behavior. The contributors address how changes in the environment, global connectivity, and technology provide more criminal opportunities and new ways of committing old crimes. They also explore how crimes committed in countries with distinct cultural practices like China and West Africa might lead to different spatial patterns of crime. This is a state-of-the-art compendium on environmental criminology that reflects the diverse research and theory developed across the western world.
3 How Do We Get to Causal Clarity on Physical Environment-Crime Dynamics?
5 Do We Really Need Collective Social Process to Understand Why Crime Occurs and Offenders Commit Crime?
32 What have we Learned from Environmental Criminology for the Prevention of Crime?
Gerben J. N. Bruinsma is the former Director and current Senior Researcher of the Netherlands Institute for the Study of Crime and Law Enforcement (NSCR) in Amsterdam, and Professor Emeritus of Environmental Criminology at the Department of Criminal Law and Criminology of the Faculty of Law of the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam. His current interests are environmental, theoretical, and historical criminology.
Shane D. Johnson is Professor and Director of the Dawes Centre for Future Crime at University College London. His current research interests include understanding the changing nature of crime, and the application of multidisciplinary approaches to urban crime problems.
Martin A. Andresen is a professor of criminology and director of the Institute for Canadian Urban Research Studies at Simon Fraser University. His current research interests are in spatial crime analysis, crime and place, geography of crime, environmental criminology, applied spatial statistics and geographical information analysis.
Christopher Bates is a PhD student in the department of Criminology, Law and Society, at the University of California Irvine. His research interest focuses on neighborhoods and how the physical design environments influence well-being. He has published in the Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry.
Peter Baudains is a former researcher at the Department of Security and Crime Science, University College London. His interests lie in the application of mathematical modelling to problems in crime and security. He is now working as a data scientist in the fraud detection industry.
Wim Bernasco is a senior researcher at the Netherlands Institute for the Study of Crime and Law Enforcement (NSCR) and a professor in the Department of Spatial Economics at the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam. His research interests include offender travel behavior, target selection, and situational causes of offending and victimization.
Daniel Birks is a member of the Griffith Criminology Institute, Griffith University, Brisbane, Australia. He holds degrees in artificial intelligence, computer science, cognitive science, and criminology. His research interests are broadly based in the fields of environmental criminology, crime analysis and computational methods.
Anthony E. Bottoms is emeritus Wolfson professor of criminology at the University of Cambridge and honorary professor of criminology at the University of Sheffield. He is a fellow of the British Academy, and received a knighthood in the Queen's Birthday Honours of 2001. He has also received awards from both the American Society of Criminology and the European Society of Criminology.
Kate Bowers is a professor in crime science at the UCL Department of Security and Crime Science. She has worked in the field of crime science for over 20 years and has published 100 papers, books and book chapters in environmental criminology and crime science. Her most recent research has focused on developing advanced methods for crime analysis (including innovative data sets), and improving the evidence base for crime prevention.
Nicholas Branic is a Ph.D. student at the University of California, Irvine and a member of the Irvine Laboratory for the Study of Space and Crime directed by Dr. Charis Kubrin and Dr. John Hipp. His research interests include the community context of crime, neighborhood change, social inequalities, and research methods.
Patricia L. Brantingham is a professor of criminology, RCMP University Chair of Computational Criminology, and associate director of the Institute for Canadian Urban Research Studies at Simon Fraser University. Her current research interests are in computational criminology, pattern theory, environmental criminology, CPTED, criminal justice planning, and policy evaluations.
Ian Brunton-Smith is professor of sociology and quantitative methods in the Department of Sociology at the University of Warwick. His current research interests include the role of context effect in shaping social outcomes, the spatial patterning of crimes, and the impacts of prison on prisoners.
Vania Ceccato is associate professor (Docent) at Department of Urban Planning and Environment, School of Architecture and the Built Environment, Royal Institute of Technology (KTH), Stockholm, Sweden. Ceccato's research is on the situational conditions of crime and crime prevention. Main research areas are transit safety, housing and community safety, rural crime, gendered and intersectionality in safety issues.
James A. Cheshire is a Senior Lecturer in Quantitative Human Geography at the Department of Geography of University College London, London.
Timothy Coupe works at the Institute of Criminology of Cambridge University, Cambridge. His research interests are policing, crime detection and investigation, and burglary.
Francis T. Cullen is distinguished research professor emeritus and a senior research associate in the School of Criminal Justice at the University of Cincinnati. He is author of Environmental Corrections. His current research focuses on the organization of criminological knowledge and on rehabilitation as a correctional policy. He is a past president of both the American Society of Criminology and the Academy of Criminal Justice Sciences.
John E. Eck is professor of criminal justice at the University of Cincinnati. His research and writing focuses on police effectiveness and on the study and prevention of crime at high crime places.
Graham Farrell is a professor in the Centre for Criminal Justice Studies at the School of Law, University of Leeds, UK. He has published 15 books and over 100 other research papers mostly in the area of crime science, particularly situational crime prevention and crime analysis, repeat victimization, policing, and illicit drug control. He has published widely on the security hypothesis that identified the role of security in the international crime drop.
Marcus Felson is professor at Texas State University and recipient of the Honoris Causa from the Universidad Miguel Hernandez in Spain. He originated the routine activity approach to crime rate analysis and is author of Crime and Nature, and co-author of Crime and Everyday Life and Opportunity Makes the Thief. He has extended the routine activity theory to many topics, including white collar crime, corruption, organized crime, and juvenile gangs.
Elizabeth R. Groff is an associate professor in the Criminal Justice Department at Temple University. Her research interests include: place-based criminology; modeling geographical influences on human activity; role of technology in police organizations; and the development of innovative methodologies using geographic information systems, agent-based simulation models, and randomized controlled field experiments.
Rob T. Guerette is an associate professor of criminal justice in the Steven J. Green School of International and Public Affairs at Florida International University. He currently serves as the Director of the International Crime and Justice doctoral program. His research interests include situational crime prevention, problem- and community-based policing, transnational crime, and program and policy evaluation. He received his PhD from Rutgers University.
Wim Hardyns is lecturer of criminology in the Department of Criminology, Criminal Law and Social Law at Ghent University. He is member of the Institute of International Research on Criminal Policy (IRCP) since 2015. His current interests are crime mapping and statistics, environmental criminology, crime prevention, new security technologies, big data, radicalization and terrorism.
John R. Hipp is a professor in the departments of Criminology, Law and Society, and Sociology, at the University of California Irvine. His research interests focus on how neighborhoods change over time, how that change both affects and is affected by neighborhood crime, and the role networks and institutions play in that change.
Evelien M. Hoeben recently received her Ph.D. from the Netherlands Institute for the Study of Crime and Law Enforcement (NSCR) and VU University Amsterdam. She currently works as an assistant professor at the School of Criminal Justice at the State University of New York at Albany. Her research interests include peer influences on adolescent behavior, group dynamics, and situational explanations for deviance.
Dainis Ignatans, is a lecturer in criminology at the University of Huddersfield. His current research interests revolve around statistical examination of repeat victimization patterns as well as exploration of crime committed against, by and within diverse immigrant communities.
Helen Innes is a research associate at Cardiff University specializing in the secondary analysis of large social surveys. Most recently, she has been working with the Metropolitan Police Service on a field experiment examining the efficacy of crime prevention communications, as part of a larger project developing a theory of behavioral crime prevention.
Martin Innes is director of the Universities' Police Science Institute and Crime and Security Research Institute, both at Cardiff University. His most recent book is Signal Crimes published by Oxford University Press. His current research interests are in: counter-terrorism policing; the implications of open source communications technologies for social reactions to crime: and innovations in policing.
J. Bryan Kinney is associate professor, School of Criminology, at Simon Fraser University (Canada), and Director of the Institute for Canadian Urban Research Studies (ICURS) Laboratory. Kinney is a specialist in crime analysis and crime prevention and in the use of computer analysis. His current research interests also include public safety in northern, rural, remote communities, and historical reactions to crime and deviance.
Edward R. Kleemans is full professor at the School of Criminology, Faculty of Law, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, The Netherlands. His research interests include organized crime, drug trafficking, human smuggling, human trafficking, cybercrime, fraud, money laundering, social organization, and the interaction between offenders and the criminal justice system.
Charis E. Kubrin is professor of criminology, law and society and (by courtesy) sociology at the University of California, Irvine. Kubrin's research focuses on neighborhood correlates of crime, with an emphasis on race and violent crime. In addition to her work in peer-reviewed journals, Kubrin is co-author and co-editor of Researching Theories of Crime and Deviance (OUP 2008) and Introduction to Criminal Justice (Stanford University Press 2013).
Teresa C. Kulig is a doctoral student in the School of Criminal Justice at the University of Cincinnati. Her recent writings have appeared in Justice Quarterly, the Journal of Criminal Justice Education, and Victims and Offenders. Her research interests include testing theories of victimization, human trafficking and child exploitation, correctional treatment, and the organization of criminological knowledge through meta-analysis.
Brian Lawton is an assistant professor in the Department of Criminal Justice at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice. His areas of research include environmental criminology and spatial analyses.
Fernando Miró Llinares is professor of criminal law and criminology, director of the CRIMINA Research Center to the Study and Prevention of Crime and, dean of the Faculty of Law and Social Sciences, at Miguel Hernández University in Spain. Author of more than 80 publications, he has particular interests in applying crime theories to cybercrime, in environmental criminology, modern criminal law and also the new technologies in crime.e.
Tamara D. Madensen is an associate professor and graduate director in the Department of Criminal Justice at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV). She is the associate director of UNLV's Center for Crime and Public Policy and manages the associated Crowd Management Research Council. Her current research interests are place management, crime opportunity structures, and crowd dynamics and violence.
Andrew Newton is a reader in criminology and acting director of the Applied Criminology Centre (ACC), University of Huddersfield. He has a multi-disciplinary background in criminology, geography, and urban studies. His research interests include crime and place, policy analysis and evaluation; investigating and explaining crime patterns; crime, technology and society; and crime and the built environment.
Lieven J.R. Pauwels is professor of criminology at Ghent University, Department of Criminology, Criminal Law and Social Law and director of the Institute for International Research on Criminal Policy. He is interested in the integration of developmental, ecological and situational theories, measurement problems in quantitative criminology and the philosophy of science.
Danielle Reynald is a senior lecturer and criminologist at the School of Criminology and Criminal Justice at Griffith University and the Griffith Criminology Institute in Brisbane, Australia. Her main research interests include the role of guardianship in crime prevention and control, crime prevention through environmental design and offender decision making.
D. Kim Rossmo is the university chair and the director of the Center for Geospatial Intelligence and Investigation in the School of Criminal Justice at Texas State University. He was formerly the detective inspector in charge of the Vancouver Police Department's Geographic Profiling Section, the director of research for the Police Foundation, and a management consultant with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.
Reka Solymosi is a lecturer in quantitative criminology at the University of Manchester in the United Kingdom. Before that she was a data analyst researching issues around transport crime and policing at Transport for London. Her main interests are around crowdsourced data collection, transport crime, and perception of crime and place.
Justin D.S. Song is a research assistant in the Institute for Canadian Urban Research Studies as well as technical staff in the department of Geography at Simon Fraser University. His current research interests are spatial analysis of crime, geovisualization and geographic information systems.
Valerie Spicer is a post-doctoral fellow conducting research with the Institute of Canadian Urban Research Studies at Simon Fraser University. Her research interest includes environmental criminology, fear of crime and big data crime analysis techniques. She is an 18 member with the Vancouver Police Department and currently deployed as an operational sergeant in Vancouver's downtown core.
Lucia Summers is an assistant professor in the School of Criminal Justice at Texas State University (San Marcos). Her research interests include the spatio-temporal patterns of crime, offender spatial decision making, and situational crime prevention.
Kristin Swartz is an assistant professor in the Department of Criminal Justice at University of Louisville. Her research focuses on how offending and victimization is shaped by context with a special focus on cultural effects in the contexts of schools, communities, and correctional institutions.
Sema A. Taheri is a doctoral candidate in the School of Criminology and Criminal Justice at Northeastern University and a Senior Research Fellow at Measures for Justice. Her research interests include translational criminology and evidence-based criminal justice innovation.
Ralph B. Taylor is a professor of criminal justice and member of the Center for Security and Crime Science at Temple University. His research has been funded by the National Science Foundation, the National Institute of Mental Health, the National Institute of Justice, and others. His 2015 volume Community Criminology (NYU Press) confronts four challenges currently bedeviling work on spatial, temporal, and spatiotemporal ecologies of crime.
Nick Tilley is a professor in the Department of Security and Crime Science at UCL and an adjunct professor at the Griffith Criminology Institute in Brisbane. His main research interests lie in evaluation methodology, policing, situational crime prevention, and the international crime drop.
George E. Tita is a professor in the Department of Criminology, Law and Society and the Director of the Masters of Public Policy Program at the University of California-Irvine. His current interests include studying systems that generate crime patterns, social network analysis of crime, and the study of illegal firearms markets.
Lisa Tompson is a lecturer at the Department of Security and Crime Science of the University College London, London. Her research interests are spatio-temporal crime patterns and embedding evidence into police practice. She is a former police crime analyst.
Michael Tonry is McKnight presidential professor of criminal law and policy and director, Institute on Crime and Public Policy, University of Minnesota. He edits Crime and Justice--A Review of Research, and writes on a number of topics including criminal justice policy, punishment theory, comparative criminal justice, race and crime, and sentencing.
Michael Townsley is an associate professor and deputy head (research) in the School of Criminology and Criminal Justice, Griffith University. He is best known for demonstrating that burglary risk is infectious underpinning much of predictive policing and crime forecasting methods. More broadly, his research interests focus on diagnosing crime problems in order to reduce, prevent or alleviate their occurrence.
Andromachi Tseloni is professor of quantitative criminology and leads the Quantitative and Spatial Criminology Research Group at Nottingham Trent University. She is currently treasurer of the British Society of Criminology and member of the Nottingham Crime and Drugs Partnership Board. Her research revolves around crime victimization and inequalities; the 'crime drop'; crime perceptions; social capital; and cross-national comparisons.
Faisal Umar is a doctoral researcher at the Department of Geography, University College London, and a lecturer at the Department of Urban & Regional Planning, Ahmadu Bello University Zaria, Nigeria. His PhD research concerns with understanding the spatial patterns of urban crime in developing countries with a particular focus on Nigeria. Other research interests revolve around urban planning and environmental criminology (GIS techniques).
Matthew Valasik is an assistant professor of sociology and criminology in the Department of Sociology at Louisiana State University. His primary interests are the socio-spatial dynamics of gang behavior and problem-oriented policing strategies (e.g., gang units, civil gang injunctions) used by law enforcement.
Frank M. Weerman is senior researcher of the Netherlands Institute for the Study of Crime and Law Enforcement (NSCR) in Amsterdam, and professor youth criminology at the Erasmus University, Rotterdam, the Netherlands. His research interests focus on explanation of juvenile delinquency, in particular on the role of peers, groups and contexts.
Pamela Wilcox is a professor in the School of Criminal Justice and Fellow of the Graduate School at University of Cincinnati. Her research focuses on understanding the opportunity for crime and victimization in school and community contexts. She is past chair of the Crime, Law, and Deviance section of the American Sociological Association and former executive counselor for the American Society of Criminology.
Mats Wilhelmsson is the former director of Center for Banking and Finance and now the vice dean at the School of Architecture and Built Environment at Royal Institute of Technology (Sweden). He is also professor in applied financial economics and his research is focused on housing and urban economics.
Richard Wortley has been director of the UCL Jill Dando Institute since 2010, prior to which he worked in Australian university system for 25 years. His research interests center on the role that immediate environments play in criminal behavior and their implications for crime prevention. He developed the concept of 'situational precipitators', environmental events that induce individuals to commit crimes that they might otherwise not have contemplated.
Kathryn Wuschke is an assistant professor at Portland State University and a member of the Institute for Canadian Urban Research Studies at Simon Fraser University Vancouver, Canada. Her research focuses on spatial crime analysis, with particular focus on the impact of land use and urban development on local patterns of crime. | {
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Sandburg Elementary SchoolHeather Manke2019-03-29T18:40:36+00:00
Madison Metropolitan School District passed a $41 million referendum in 2015 to upgrade and expand 16 schools in the district. Sandburg Elementary School, located on Madison's Eastside, has a growing student body that had exceeded the size for which the school was built. With attractive and innovative programs like dual-language immersion and 4K, the school was over capacity. Vogel Bros. Building Co. was the successful low bidder on the $3.1 million project focused on alleviating some of the space constraints with construction of eight additional classrooms, designed as flexible learning spaces. The new 14,820 square foot addition also included a new gymnasium and remodeling of 2,500 square feet of bathroom space. The renovation doubled the available bathrooms and improved access for students with disabilities.
4114 Donald Drive, Madison, WI
Plunkette Raysich Architects LLP
Renovation/Addition
Deerfield High School / Middle School
Crystal Lake Middle School
Cambridge High School
Socrum Elementary School
Monona Grove District Office | {
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© 2019 The UK Contact Centre Forum Ltd. | {
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World's coolest jobs
28th April 2015 by brooke
Virgin Cool JobsVirgin Limited EditionVirgin Limited Edition Jobs
When it comes to cool jobs, working for a luxury travel brand has its fair share of perks. But it's not all glamour, as our Training and Development Manager Sarah Dunning can attest!
In her years working for Virgin Limited Edition Sarah has braved camping in the bush with lions for company and a close encounter with a cheetah, to name just a few adventures.
Sarah's job is ensuring service standards exceed our guests expectations no matter how remote the location, and this means she often has to spend weeks at a time with the teams at all our hotels. We asked Sarah to fill us in.
How did you get your job? I visited Ulusaba privately as a guest and on my return I kept asking Lyn Weimer (People Development Director) if she had any jobs for me as I wanted to work for this great company. It took almost seven years, but persistence does pay off! Lyn said they were recruiting a Training & Development Manager and would I be interested in applying? A nanosecond later I had my CV in the post to her!
What's your favourite part of the job?
Training of course! Whether it's in a 1-1 session or in a group, I love working with people to help them learn and develop.
It's great see the results when team members apply what they've learned. It's all reflected in the Virgin Limited Edition service style that we aim to deliver.
What's the most challenging part?
We operate in some far flung locations so I frequently jump off a plane (metaphorically speaking) and get into the swing of training as soon as I arrive. Different time zones and climates can be challenging and if you throw in the occasional lost luggage, it gets really interesting.
Any close calls with nature?
I should briefly mention my accommodation at Mahali Mzuri in Kenya. I lived in a tent for five weeks but it was nowhere near as glamorous as the real tents for guests, with a separate loo and shower outside. As the lions and hyenas paid us frequent visits overnight I elected not to venture out to answer the call of nature (either call for that matter). On the plus side I didn't have any TV or radio for the while time I was away bliss!
Surely you're forgetting something?
Oh yes, the cheetah! I was on a game drive at Mahali Mzuri sat next to our guide and we spotted a cheetah lurking in
the area. It approached the vehicle, which isn't that unusual, but then suddenly it jumped up onto
the bonnet of the car and was standing less than 1 metre away from me. It only stood there for about 20 seconds but it felt like a lot longer than that!
How important is the local culture?
Part of our Virgin Limited Edition philosophy is to employ locally where we operate and this is something that I'm really passionate about. We have some of the most beautiful and aspirational hotels and retreats in the world but it's our teams which set us apart. The local team members have so much culturally to share with our guests and we all learn from them every day. Their role is vital in delivering an authentic and truly local experience and it's such a joy to read the feedback about this and how it makes our guests experience so memorable.
Latest Virgin Limited Edition Articles
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Virgin Limited Edition: It must be love, love, love
Virgin Limited Edition: Lifestyle 2018 has landed | {
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San Antonio Injury Lawyers Carabin Shaw Home
Contact Texas Accident Lawyer Carabin Shaw
Over $500 Million Recovered for Our Clients!
Click for a Free Consultation
Paper Shredder Injury
Paper Shredder Accident Stories
Consumer Reports:
Lisa Broadfoot's son, Talan, was helping her shred documents, when suddenly his little fingers got sucked in.
"He screamed and then was begging me to get his hands out of this machine, 'Please Mommy, Please Mommy, get my hand out.' [He was] just screaming and crying and begging," Broadfoot said.
Lisa rushed Talan to the hospital with the shredder still attached.
"They started cutting the blades because there was no other way to get his fingers undone," she said. "It was like he could feel it. He just started screaming again and I'm holding him and trying to explain to him that it's going to be OK. It's going to be OK."
Talan ended up losing three of his fingers. In March 2006, TV's Inside Edition reported a similar case of injury to a child:
When you meet Hallie Mouritsen, you cant tell that there's anything wrong with this beautiful five year-old girl. But if you look closer at Hallie's left hand, her fingers are cut off at the knuckle. The doctor described them as being "crushed, mutilated and non-viable."
How did it happen? Hallie was feeding paper into a shredder in her home when her fingers got caught in its powerful blades. According to her father, Matt, "it grabbed her fingers and just began pulling."
And Hallie's not the only one. The Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) has issued a safety alert after receiving 50 reports of injuries from paper shredders since 2000, most involving children younger than five.
Mr. Mouritsen is an accounting professor in Salt Lake City, Utah who often works at home. He says he had just opened the shredder for the first time and after using it, left the room briefly. Hallie, who was just two, went into the room with her older sister.
"The next thing I know, while I'm making dinner, my five year-old is yelling, she's stuck, she's stuck!" he told Inside Edition's Investigative Reporter Matt Meagher.
Hallie's wounds took months to heal. Her dad still chokes up remembering Hallie's reaction the day the bandages came off. "She went like this with her hand" (hiding his left hand). "She couldn't even look at it. She asks us to this day, when are my fingers going to grow back?" Among household pets, dogs are particularly at risk from shredders, as they have a tendency to lick things, and many breeds have long, floppy ears that can get caught in shredder openers. The Spokesman Review published an account of an incident in which a puppy suffered injuries from a paper shredder so severe that she was euthanized afterwards (and her owner lost a portion of one finger trying to rescue her):
Adam Forney doesn't even own a paper shredder.
And he probably never will.
The 22-year-old was sitting on his couch in his south Spokane home watching television when his 7-month-old puppy licked the top of his roommate's shredder and the dog's tongue was sucked into the shredding mechanism.
"I ran into the room ... she was pulling so hard and the thing was dragging ... then she just ripped away," Forney said. "I will never forget the sound it made when she pulled away."
In the chaos of trying to help his injured dog, Forney's pinky finger was bitten off at the first joint, and another finger was fractured by the bite.
"I grabbed her head to try and get her to calm down, and she bit me," Forney said. "She ran out of the room and I just lost it. It looked like a murder scene in my house ... there was so much blood."
Forney went to the emergency room, and his mixed-breed dog, Alice Lane, went to a local pet emergency clinic, where she was euthanized. Inside Edition offered a similar tale of a young dog's catching his tongue in a shredder:
A number of pets have also been injured by shredders.
For one dog owner, it was a horrifying experience. Sandra Clarke of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina told us when she was at home working on March 1st, her curious puppy, Cross, caught his tongue in a shredder. According to Sandra, it was not a pretty sight. "It looked like hamburger meat. It was shredded up about an inch. There was blood everywhere." A large part of the problem is that since shredders were originally designed as business equipment for offices (where they would presumably be used only by adults), many models did not have the kinds of safeguards built into them to provide adequate protection in household environments, where children and animals abound. Although consumer safety groups are working to get manufacturers and lawmakers to adopt more stringent safety standards for shredders (such as making paper slots thinner and placing blades farther away from openings), the adoption of new standards takes time, and plenty of the machines already have been purchased for home use.
Some veterinarians maintain that serious shredder accidents involving animals are rare, but the frequency of occurrence is difficult to estimate since there has not been any systematic effort to keep track of such injuries. Regardless, the subject merits attention since the potential for accidents (involving both people and pets) will likely continue to grow as more and more shredders make their way into households, and the likelihood of injury can be mostly eliminated by following a few simple precautions:
Try to place your shredder where it is not accessible to children or pets.
Turn off (or unplug) your shredder when you are not using it.
Never allow children to operate your shredder, even with adult supervision.
Keep your hands and fingers as far from the shredder opening as possible when feeding material into it.
Be careful to secure or remove ties, necklaces, bracelets, loose-fitting clothing, and long hair before using your shredder.
Avoid putting thicker material (such as food wrappers, product packaging, and padded envelopes) through your shredder.
It happened so suddenly. Sara Waters was shredding some paper in her southern California home. Her 22-month-old son Aaron was in the room. "I turn around for just a few seconds to grab more paper," she says, "and when I turned back around the paper shredder stopped, and his fingers were inside the feeder opening where the paper goes in."
Sara hit the power switch and pulled her son's fingers out of the machine. "It shredded two of his fingers," she says. Sara recalls the October 2004 incident as if it were yesterday. "It was just really awful. All you can see is just flesh, torn flesh, and blood everywhere." Aaron was incredibly lucky. Doctors were able to rebuild the tips of his fingers.
Sara tells me she never imagined that the opening of a paper shredder would be big enough for a child's fingers to fit through. But it is.
We understand the unique legal and practical problems associated with paper shredder accidents and have experience in representing the injured. Our Law Firm represents injured children across the country and also work to provide resources to help educate the public, in hopes of increasing your and your family's safety. Contact us today for further information. We offer free initial consultations and our Law Firm works on a contingent fee basis, which means that there is no fee unless we successfully resolve your case.
For immediate assistance, call us toll-free at 800-862-1260
Paper Shredder Accident Stories | San Antonio Injury Lawyers | {
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AVMAC can provide engineering support to project engineers in developing realistic scenarios and fielding perspectives to ensure accurate assumptions are made up front in the design process.
AVMAC can provide review of any design or drawing for aviation and aviation support products (i.e. Support Equipment, Facilities, Shipboard Spaces, etc.). AVMAC can assist on any project to develop and manufacture equipment and stand by to team with any vendor or buyer to fully analyze and integrate their product(s). | {
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Georgia's hotels are an important segment of the state's economy. 9.7 percent of all jobs in the state are directly or indirectly related to the lodging industry, with hotels, motels, resorts, or lodges generating $3.7 billion in direct sales. The lodging and food service industries comprise the largest sector of small businesses in Georgia.
GHLA is the state's non-partisan trade association representing the lodging industry. Originally founded in the 1907, its mission is to promote, protect and educate the lodging industry around the state and to ensure positive business growth for its members. The Georgia Hotel & Lodging Association is the voice of the lodging industry in Georgia. GHLA is the official state affiliate of the American Hotel & Lodging Association. Its membership includes the Atlanta Hotel Council, Atlanta Airport Hotel Council, Buckhead Hotel Council, Cobb Hotel Council, Perimeter Hotel Council, and Georgia Women in Lodging.
For more than 100 years, GHLA has been recognized by leaders in business, government and the media as the source of information on the lodging perspective. With more than 48 million visitors annually, "The Peach State" tourism expenditures exceed $25 billion, supporting $6 billion in resident wages and 209,500 Georgia jobs. Georgia's southern charm takes the best of the old historic south and melds it with the technology of the 21st century.
Headquartered in Atlanta, GHLA represents the states hotels, motels, resorts, campgrounds, bed & breakfasts and other companies. The staff is prepared to assist with governmental affairs, communication, education, hospitality services, member relations and technology. As the official state partner of the American Hotel & Lodging Association, GHLA's members have access to the Educational Institute, AHLA Educational Foundation and the many products and publications offered by AHLA.
or via e-mail by clicking on any of the names below. | {
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1. BSA Citi Couriers Pvt. Ltd.
2. BSA Logistics Pvt. Ltd.
3. BSA Infomedia Pvt. Ltd.
It has revolutionized the courier service industry for over two decades through unparalleled delivery and distribution services not only to retail customers but to international courier companies, such as DHL and UPS. The company had a turnover of INR 400 million during 2008 -09.
BSA CITI couriers is promoted and managed by industry professionals, with a zeal for excellence and an entrepreneurial soul. Under the able guidance and vision of Mr. Charanjeev Batra, founder and Managing Director of BSA Group, a team of dedicated professionals has transformed the start -up into a 459-strong employee company. The company's unflinching commitment to provide reliable and dependable services to its business clients and individuals has been the key to its success.
BSA has grown both organically and through diversification in the past 25 years. The company launched its operations as a bulk courier service provider to corporate, with the unique proposition of delivering quality par excellence.
With the continual evolution in the needs of our customers, we found it prudent to respond with a new set of product offerings, which involved getting into new avenues. With the concerted focus to excel in any field and to tap on opportunities, the company established BSA Infomedia in 1997 to cater to the verification and collection portfolio needs of the customers. The company since then has followed a highly disciplined course to achieve well -managed growth in the area. Sensing the need for expanding on its original portfolio and providing innovative services to its clients, the group launched BSA Logistics in 2001, its arm that offers a variety of same-day pickup and delivery services, with a more focused approach to customers. | {
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This paper presents a realistic modeling framework for ev aluating the performance of location management schemes in PCS networks. The framework captures complex human behaviors and has been v alidated through analysis of actual call and mobility data. Simulation results, showing the performance of IS-41, are presented. I. Introduction Personal Communications Services (PCS) presents many challenging problems in network data management [6;18]. A key problem in this area is location management. Location management refers to accessing and maintaining user information for call routing purposes. Important per-user information, such as current location, authentication information, and billing information, are stored in user profiles. From an operational perspective, location management relies on two functions: profile lookups and profile updates. The performance of any location management scheme is a function of the underlying database architecture and the location management algorithms. Performance variables of interest are: profile lookup and update response times, memory cost, and system equipment price. Previous studies have shown that for projected numbers of PCS users, existing location management standards, IS-41 [4;11] and GSM , will incur a large increase in database loads over the current levels. In recent years, many sophisticated location management schemes [7;14] have been proposed to reduce profile lookup and update response times and signaling traffc. These methods utilize techniques such as data replication and caching. It is important to note that actual performance of these proposals depends strongly upon user behavior. | {
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ADB Invests in Zenex Animal Health to Boost Livestock Farmer Income and Contain Antimicrobial Resistance
News Release | 8 December 2021
NEW DELHI, INDIA (8 December 2021) — The Asian Development Bank (ADB) has signed an agreement to take a stake in Zenex Animal Health India Private Limited (Zenex) with an investment of up to $10 million, to increase Zenex's production and distribution of quality animal health care products and help boost farmer incomes by mitigating livestock disease risk. ADB and Zenex will also work together on containing antimicrobial resistance across India, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Sri Lanka.
"This investment by ADB will help to promote healthy and productive livestock in India and improve farmers' incomes by enhancing their productivity," said ADB Investment Specialist for Private Sector Operations Tushna Dora. "This is ADB's first private sector venture in the emerging subsector of animal health. It reflects the importance of improving biosecurity, controlling antimicrobial resistance, and preventing zoonotic diseases as economies begin to recover from the impacts of the pandemic."
ADB will support Zenex's investments in working capital, maintenance expenditure, and research and development of new products. Quality health care products will help smallholder farmers control livestock diseases and increase productivity, thereby improving their incomes.
ADB will also provide a $575,000 technical assistance (TA) grant to support Zenex's training of 2,300 farmers and 580 veterinarians in Bangladesh, India, Nepal, and Sri Lanka to tackle the major public health issue of antimicrobial resistance. The TA will focus on antibiotic management, alternatives to using antibiotics, and best practices in biosecurity. At least 40% of target participants will be women.
Zenex is India's second-largest animal health company and has a diversified product portfolio. The company produces farm-care products, feed supplements, vaccines, and therapeutic products largely for cattle, buffalo, and poultry.
ADB's investment in Zenex is a co-investment along with Multiples Private Equity Fund III (Multiples) and other investors in Zenex. ADB is an existing limited partner in Multiples, who holds a significant stake in Zenex. A Multiples-led consortium bought out the animal health business from Cadila Healthcare Limited in July 2021, and formed Zenex.
Larkin, John Gerard
Principal Communications Specialist
Deol, Rajesh K.
Senior External Relations Officer, India Resident Mission
Zenex Improved Animal Health and Welfare Project
ADB's Private Sector Operations | {
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How best to control higher voltage relays with 12v/24v coils?
Know where I can get reasonably priced DPST/DPDT 240v/8a to 240v/10a relays?
Sound Sensor to catch a specific noise a saw motor gives off?
Is implementing stepper motor movement possible with my code?
Current and Voltage sensors, what are the options? | {
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… a site in the tradition of Fund Alarm
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By David Snowball | Dear friends, The theory says ...
Morningstar Investment Conference 2017: Six smart guys
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The Fifty Year Reich
By Edward A. Studzinski | "It is dangerous to ...
Observations from Morningstar Conference – Chicago 2017
By Charles Boccadoro | Morningstar held its annual investment ...
Planning a Rewarding Retirement, Part 4
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RiverPark Short Term High Yield Fund (RPHYX/RPHIX)
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Funds in registration, May 2017
By David Snowball | A couple of this month's ...
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By Chip | Each month, many funds under ...
Briefly Noted . . .
By David Snowball | On April 20, 2017, UMB ...
By David Snowball
On April 20, 2017, UMB announced that it signed an agreement to sell Scout Investments and Reams Asset Management to Carillon Tower Adviser, a wholly owned subsidiary of Raymond James. In announcing its 2016 creation, James described Carillon as "new company to provide transparency and create efficiencies among its asset management firms." As I note in our story on the Morningstar interviews, Carillon wasn't particularly transparent and the guy representing Scout was curt to the point of being rude.
Sentinel Asset Management has agreed to sell its mutual funds to Touchstone. Details aren't yet available.
The previously announced plan to organize Highland Opportunistic Credit Fund (HNRAX) into NexPoint Opportunistic Credit Fund has been scrapped for opaque reasons.
SMALL WINS FOR INVESTORS
B. Riley Diversified Equity Fund (BRDR/BRDZX) will no longer impose investment minimums and minimum subsequent investments for purchases of the fund.
Effective May 1, 2017, the Board of Trustees reduced the investment advisory fee payable by the Gotham Total Return Fund (GTRFX) to Gotham Asset Management from 2.00% to 1.00%. That's modestly less-impressive than it seems since an existing agreement limited the fee to 0.0%. Gotham estimates that the fund costs 5.07% to run but charges only the 3.52% attributable to the funds it invests in or shorts.
Jackson Square All-Cap Growth Fund, Jackson Square Global Growth Fund, Jackson Square Large-Cap Growth Fund, Jackson Square Select 20 Growth Fund and Jackson Square SMID-Cap Growth Fund have reduced their minimum initial investment for Institutional Class shares to $100,000. Woo-hoo!
Pear Tree Polaris Foreign Value Small Cap (QUSOX) has lowered its e.r. by 13 bps. It's now capped at 1.43%. The fund remains a top-tier performer over all trailing periods and now has about a half billion in assets.
RiverPark High Yield Short Term Fund (RPHYX/RPHYX) has reopened to new investors who are willing to invest directly through RiverPark. It's an outstanding cash-management fund with the highest 5-year Sharpe ratio of any fund in existence. We've published an updated profile of the fund in this month's issue.
All classes of the Touchstone Sands Capital Select Growth Fund (TSNAX) have re-opened to investments by new and existing investors. Assets are down by about 75% from its peak in 2013 when all share classes and its separate accounts were closed to all investors. The fund is very concentrated and very aggressive, which has been working poorly for the past three to five years. Morningstar continues to express their confidence in the managers and have assigned it a "Bronze" rating.
CLOSINGS (and related inconveniences)
AQR will soft close two more funds in June. The roster of their closed offerings will be:
Closed Fund Closing Date
AQR Diversified Arbitrage Fund June 29, 2012
AQR Multi-Strategy Alternative Fund September 30, 2013
AQR Style Premia Alternative Fund March 31, 2016
AQR Style Premia Alternative LV Fund March 31, 2016
AQR Long-Short Equity Fund (QLENX) June 30, 2017
AQR Equity Market Neutral Fund (QMMNX) June 30, 2017
Both of the new closures are excellent funds with $1 million minimums.
Harding, Loevner Emerging Markets Portfolio (HLEMX) closed to new investors on April 10, 2017.
Motley fool has decided to eliminate the institutional share class of Motley Fool Emerging Markets Fund (TMFEX and, oddly, FOEIX). The fund is tiny and, to be kind, "not stellar."
OLD WINE, NEW BOTTLES
361 Global Counter-Trend Fund (AGFQX) has been rechristened as 361 Global Managed Futures Strategy Fund.
American Beacon ARK Disruptive Innovation Fund has changed to American Beacon ARK Transformational Innovation Fund.
Century Small Cap Select Fund (CSMVX), a two-star small cap growth fund with a 17-year record is being reorganized as Congress Small Cap Growth Fund. The fund gains a co-manager, Gregg O'Keefe.
Effective June 1, 2017, Fidelity Global Bond Fund (FGBFX) will be renamed Fidelity Global Credit Fund. It will also get some (much-needed) fresh blood on the management team.
Goldman Sachs Fixed Income Macro Strategies Fund (GMMAX) is being rechristened as Goldman Sachs Strategic Macro Fund with a really substantial reduction in the fund's management fee from 1.50% to 0.95%. Over the past three years the fund has trailed its peers by over 300 bps, so reducing the management fee by 55 bps is at least a start.
Goldman Sachs Growth and Income Fund (GSGRX) becomes Goldman Sachs Equity Income Fund on or about June 20, 2017.
Oak Ridge Global Resources & Infrastructure Fund is a new name for Ridgeworth Capital Innovations Global Resources and Infrastructure Fund (INNAX), a solid but tiny fund.
Rainier International Discovery Fund (RISAX) is getting adopted by Manning & Napier sometime in the fall of 2017. I'm guessing that the name will change and hoping that the sales load will evaporate; it is, otherwise, an entirely solid small fund.
OFF TO THE DUSTBIN OF HISTORY
Absolute Credit Opportunities Fund (AOFOX) will liquidate on May 26, 2017.
Facing "limited prospects for meaningful growth," ATAC Beta Rotation Fund (BROTX) will liquidate on May 26, 2017. It's a large cap with $4 million in assets, 1700% turnover and a record of substantial underperformance, which might well contribute to the aforementioned prospects.
Because Cloud Capital Strategic All Cap Fund (CCILX) "is economically feasible to continue managing the Fund because of the Fund's small size and the difficulty encountered in attracting and maintaining assets," it will liquidate at the end of May, 2017.
CMG Global Macro Strategy Fund (PEGAX) will redeem all outstanding shares on May 26, 2017.
Crow Point Global Dividend Plus Fund liquidated on April 17, 2017 on rather short notice.
On April 11, 2017, the DFA Board announced that DFA International Value Portfolio IV would, "based upon information provided by Dimensional Fund Advisors," be liquidated the next day. Unless the information provided involved an Ebola outbreak, the haste seems curious.
Shareholders will meet in September to consider (and approve) the merger of Federated Prudent DollarBear Fund (PSAFX, formerly the Federated Prudent Global Income Fund and still more formerly David Tice's Prudent Global Income Fund) into Federated Global Total Return Bond Fund (FTIIX). The move makes relatively little sense beyond the fact that the funds share a management team; FTIIX is small and a serious underperformer with a mission pretty much unrelated to PSAFX's.
Goldman Sachs Focused Growth Fund (GFGAX) will merge into the Goldman Sachs Concentrated Growth Fund (GCGAX) during July 2017.
The Board of Trustees of Northern Lights Fund Trust (the "Board") has determined based on the recommendation of the Fund's Adviser that with respect to the GMG Defensive Beta Fund (the "Fund"), a series of the Northern Lights Fund Trust, that it is in the best interests of the Fund and its shareholders that the Fund cease operations. The Board has determined to close the Fund and redeem all outstanding shares on May 26, 2017.
Green Square Equity Income Fund was liquidated on April 13, 2017.
HSBC Emerging Markets Local Debt Fund has merged with and into the HSBC Emerging Markets Debt Fund (HCGAX).
Kalmar "Growth-with-Value" Small Cap Fund (KGSCX) will cease its business, liquidate its assets and distribute liquidation proceeds on or about June 23, 2017.
Lord Abbett Value Opportunities (LVOAX) will be liquidated and dissolved by June 30, 2017.
"The liquidation of Nuveen Gresham Long/Short Commodity Strategy Fund is complete," just in case you wondered. I'm sure there's a legal reason for the fund adviser to announce the post-mortem, but I'm not sure what it is.
In more-timely news, Nuveen Core Dividend Fund (NCDAX) will merge into Nuveen Large Cap Value Fund (NNGAX), but not until July. At a yet-to-be-determined date, Nuveen Large Cap Growth Opportunities Fund (FRGWX) will merge into Nuveen Large Cap Growth Fund (NLAGX). In a unilateral move, Nuveen Symphony Dynamic Equity Fund will be liquidated on or near June 22, 2017.
Oak Ridge Global Equity Fund (ORGEX) was liquidated on April 28, 2017.
State Street/Ramius Managed Futures Strategy Fund (RTSRX/RTSIX) liquidated on April 28, 2017.
Tortoise North American Energy Independence Fund (TNPTX) will merge into the Tortoise Select Opportunity Fund (TOPTX) on or about June 19, 2017.
Victory NewBridge Global Equity Fund (VPEGX) will liquidate on June 16, 2017.
Virtus Strategic Income Fund (VASBX) will liquidate on May 10, 2017. It's a perfectly respectable fund that's been around just shy of three years but that hasn't drawn enough assets to remain viable.
Westwood Global Dividend Fund (WWGDX) will cease operations and liquidate on or about May 19, 2017.
William Blair Mid Cap Value Fund (WMVNX) will liquidate on or about June 15, 2017. It's another case where being "good enough" is simply not good enough anymore; it's a $3 million fund with a perfectly middling record, which won't be enough to make it a $4 million fund much less a sustainable one.
This entry was posted in Briefly Noted, Mutual Fund Commentary on May 1, 2017 by David Snowball.
About David Snowball
David Snowball, PhD (Massachusetts). Cofounder, lead writer. David is a Professor of Communication Studies at Augustana College, Rock Island, Illinois, a nationally-recognized college of the liberal arts and sciences, founded in 1860. For a quarter century, David competed in academic debate and coached college debate teams to over 1500 individual victories and 50 tournament championships. When he retired from that research-intensive endeavor, his interest turned to researching fund investing and fund communication strategies. He served as the closing moderator of Brill's Mutual Funds Interactive (a Forbes "Best of the Web" site), was the Senior Fund Analyst at FundAlarm and author of over 120 fund profiles. David lives in Davenport, Iowa, and spends an amazing amount of time ferrying his son, Will, to baseball tryouts, baseball lessons, baseball practices, baseball games … and social gatherings with young ladies who seem unnervingly interested in him.
View all posts by David Snowball →
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BUSINESS ORGANIZATIONS CODE
TITLE 1. GENERAL PROVISIONS
CHAPTER 7. LIABILITY
Sec. 7.001. LIMITATION OF LIABILITY OF GOVERNING PERSON. (a) Subsections (b) and (c) apply to:
(1) a domestic entity other than a partnership or limited liability company;
(2) another organization incorporated or organized under another law of this state; and
(3) to the extent permitted by federal law, a federally chartered bank, savings and loan association, or credit union.
(b) The certificate of formation or similar instrument of an organization to which this section applies may provide that a governing person of the organization is not liable, or is liable only to the extent provided by the certificate of formation or similar instrument, to the organization or its owners or members for monetary damages for an act or omission by the person in the person's capacity as a governing person.
(c) Subsection (b) does not authorize the elimination or limitation of the liability of a governing person to the extent the person is found liable under applicable law for:
(1) a breach of the person's duty of loyalty, if any, to the organization or its owners or members;
(2) an act or omission not in good faith that:
(A) constitutes a breach of duty of the person to the organization; or
(B) involves intentional misconduct or a knowing violation of law;
(3) a transaction from which the person received an improper benefit, regardless of whether the benefit resulted from an action taken within the scope of the person's duties; or
(4) an act or omission for which the liability of a governing person is expressly provided by an applicable statute.
(d) The liability of a governing person may be limited or eliminated:
(1) in a general partnership by its partnership agreement to the same extent Subsections (b) and (c) permit the limitation or elimination of liability of a governing person of an organization to which those subsections apply and to the additional extent permitted under Chapter 152;
(2) in a limited partnership by its partnership agreement to the same extent Subsections (b) and (c) permit the limitation or elimination of liability of a governing person of an organization to which those subsections apply and to the additional extent permitted under Chapter 153 and, to the extent applicable to limited partnerships, Chapter 152; and
(3) in a limited liability company by its certificate of formation or company agreement to the same extent Subsections (b) and (c) permit the limitation or elimination of liability of a governing person of an organization to which those subsections apply and to the additional extent permitted under Section 101.401.
Acts 2003, 78th Leg., ch. 182, Sec. 1, eff. Jan. 1, 2006.
Acts 2013, 83rd Leg., R.S., Ch. 9 (S.B. 847), Sec. 2, eff. September 1, 2013. | {
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Hello everyone, from this tutorial you will learn how to model Bathroom furniture. You will also learn how to create a basic room with illumination. At bottom of tutorial you will find link to download sample of this tutorial in .max.3ds.obj formats. Let"s move on.
Step 1: We will start this tutorial by creating the Mirror. This will be a simple ChamferBox. To create one go to Create, Geometry, Extended Objects, select ChamferBox and make one with the Length of 50.0cm, the Width of 90.0cm, the Height of 0.5cm and Fillet of 0.1cm and 3 Segments. Note: Press "V" on you keyboard to switch between viewports.
3 new boxes from Create, Geometry, Standard Primitives. For the top one make the Length of 3.5cm, Width 40.0cm and the Height 11.0cm. For the bottom one make the Length buy viagra in canada of 3.5, the Width 30.0cm and the Height of 11.0cm. Now for the side one make the Length of 57.0cm, the Width of 3.5cm and the Height of 11.0.cm. Using the Select and Move tool position them like you see below. Note: Press ALT W to switch between 1 and 4 viewports.
Step 3: With one of the boxes selected right click on the screen and select Convert to>Convert to Editable Poly. Go in the Modify tab click on Attach to activate it and click on the other two boxes to attach them together. You can rename this object to Mirror_Shelf. You can also rename the ChamferBox to Mirror.
Step 10: Select the middle 19 vertices and check the box for Use Soft Selection. Change the Falloff to 2.5cm and the Bubble to 0.9. Using the Select and Move tool move down the selected vertices to create a curve. Uncheck the Use Soft Selection box when you finish.
Step 13: To create the Bathroom cabinet we need to create 3 boxes. The top one with a Length of 45.0cm, the Width 65.0cm and the Height 1.5cm. Now create the side one with the Length of 2.5cm, the Width of 45.0cm and the Height of 50.5cm. Hold down SHIFT and using the Select and Move tool clone this box to the left. For the 3th box make the Length of 45.0cm, the Width of 57.0cm, and the Height of 25.0cm. Duplicate this box 3 times. Using the Select and Move tool position the boxes as you see below.
3ds max, blood and muzzle flash effects?
I have searched forever about this but can't find anything.
You're going to need a short video of a muzzle flash, from the side. This video needs to have an alpha channel. Map this onto a flat square at the end of the gun, parallel to the floor. Do this again with a square rotated 90 degrees. If you look at the gun, there should be a "+" made by the squares. Whenever the gun fires, the animation should play. It will look like a muzzle flash. This is how it is generally done in games.
Blender or Autodesk 3Ds Max ?
I'm confused a little about these 2 3d modelling softwares: Blender and 3Ds Max.
So, I am gonna learn about 3d modelling, animation, render, visual effects, game development, etc. and please suggest which is good.
Maya has better animation tools. 3ds Max has better game assets tools.
Blender has better sculpting and UV tools.
Blender has a complete VFX pipeline in one single software package. Blender has tools for modeling, sculpting, rigging, animation, rotoscoping, chroma keying (green screen), motion tracking, smoke, fire, and fluid simulation, particles, destruction, physics, color grading, node compositing, and video editing. | {
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Reply To: Mister Spy – site infected but not found in scan – Download this free Anti-Malware Plugin for WordPress.
It sounds like this could be a direct database injection. You should try changing your DB_PASSWORD and update the wp-config.php file to match.
Also, check to mat sure that there are no rogue admin users. | {
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LandVin team has experience in providing waste management services to public and private sectors in the region since 2013. We work in collaboration with International Oil Companies (IOCs) as well as International Environmental Engineering Companies to re-innovate our concept of waste management through not burial nor incineration, but through recycling. Our contemplated waste management plan is fully and successfully effective in workplace area, particularly in the field operation, thus supporting IOCs with their hydrocarbon exploration and production activities.
We have found several recycling strategy solutions, working hard to eliminate any waste to be buried with our recycling approach. Our aim is to maximize the benefits of recycling in the region as well as contributing the waste management culture among companies, residential area and government. | {
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One wonders why this Amalekite tells a different story of Saul's death than what we find at the end of 1 Samuel. Could they both be true? Could he come along after the fact, the armor bearer thinking Saul dead but he really wasn't or is he trying to curry favor with David, killing the one who was trying to kill him? David shows his regard for the crown independent of who wore it and explains he should not have been so familiar with killing the Lord's anointed. If he was lying, his own words condemn him. Then David and his men lament the death of Saul and Jonathan. And David saves the dearest expression for Jonathan, his dear, dear friend. | {
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Lessons from KPMG: be on guard, South Africans are on your case
Sep 26, 2017 | 0
[intro]South African residents and citizens have become acutely aware that they've been screwed. By many in the state, to be sure. But by as many or more in the private sector, for decades. And they're sick of it.[/intro]
Moses came down from the mount with tablets inscribed with 10 commandments. Most of us know (most of) them, and most of us fail to live by (most of) them. But if Moses had turned them over and looked in the fine print on the back, he'd have found the 11th Commandment:
That in essence summarises the rise and fall of the South African arm of the international accounting firm KPMG which has been caught with its hands in the slush fund jar. It stands accused of taking money from companies owned by the politically connected Gupta family.
Even more damaging is the charge that it submitted formal reports "confirming" that a "rogue" unit was operating inside the South African Revenue Service (SARS) – accusations that were used as the smoking gun to remove ministers and senior public officials who were seeking to hold the line against state capture.
KPMG has miraculously grown a conscience. Suddenly – having broken the 11th commandment – it was reborn as a hand-wringing, apologetic company living up to high ethical standards. It was now willing to fire its CEO and some senior managers, to reject its own findings and to "donate" Gupta-company earnings to education and anti-corruption NGOs. The latter gesture was a revolting display of supine reprehensibility – we got caught in corrupt deals so we'll hand the profits over to anti-corruption NGOs. Really? Go to jail would be a better outcome.
KPMG isn't alone. Throughout South Africa's history, and across the globe, the litany of private sector corruption is breathtaking.
Private sector corruption
South Africans can recall an unending litany of private sector corruption. In the recent past, there was the case of Tiger Brands making bread more expensive so the poor would pay more to eat. Tiger Brands paid a fine and carried on trading. And a clutch of major construction firms were found looting monies for the construction of stadiums for the 2010 Fifa World Cup in South Africa. They also paid fines and carried on building. The list continues.
The private sector, contrary to those who believe that 'market forces' will regulate the ethics of capital, is not taking a strong line against corruption. Those on the front line include, more recently, the portfolio committees in parliament, and previously, the Public Protector and a dwindling cluth of Ministers, MECs and the like.
NGOs such as Corruption Watch, the Socio-Economic Rights Institute of South Africa and the Council for the Advancement of the South African Constitution, have by a long distance, been the most vocal campaigners in the area, and academics have worked with them to uncover the scale and identify the perpetrators of corruption. The media has also played a massive part in exposing corruption.
So let's not fool ourselves that the private sector has set a benchmark for anything more than export-class venality.
South Africa's state is corrupt – "captured" makes it sound as if this occurred against its will. But – it has found a multitude of willing partners in the private sector. The match between corrupt state and corrupt private sector is perhaps South Africa's most functional display of "willing buyer, willing seller".
KPMG executives have not set any benchmark for probity, as claimed by some – they simply acted when they got caught. Their focus was on maximising profits, even if it meant signing off on the use of public funds for a private Gupta wedding (among other sins of commission), and now buying their way out of the mess with a few heads rolling and dirty money being donated to NGOs. If this is the standard for the private sector, South Africans are in more serious trouble than initially thought.
The KPMG "apology" can't come close to compensating for the damage done. Its report "confirming" that a rogue unit had operated in the South African Revenue Services fuelled developments towards state capture and triggered events that have had a disastrous impact on the country. These included the axing of ministers, deputy Ministers, and the subsequent haemorrhage of senior public servants from the state.
Everyone in South Africa is paying for the sins of KPMG.
Holding power to account
Governance is about the distribution of power in society, and the ability of citizens to hold power to account. This requires an engaged citizenry – whether in NGOs, ratepayer associations, street or block committees or faith-based organisations – who are sufficiently organised to call officials to account.
What is fascinating about South Africa is how engaged its citizen are. They kicked out the ruling party from running cities after just two decades of democracy and they've given the middle finger to e-tolls. They don't behave the way they are told to. And they've reached a tipping point. When South Africans of all shapes, colours, sizes, creeds share simply being gatvol (fed-up), there's trouble.
Ask the British public relations firm Bell Pottinger what it feels like. The company faces foreclosure following a concerted campaign – domestically and abroad – to shame it for stirring racial hatred.
Ask the Guptas how it feels now that all of South Africa's banks have said they aren't willing to touch their money.
South African residents and citizens have become acutely aware that they've been screwed. By many in the state, to be sure. But by as many or more in the private sector, for decades. And they're sick of it.
The world is watching – South Africans brought down Bell Pottinger. They're now going after the likes of McKinsey, KPMG and SAP, all of these companies tangled up by allegations of corruption.
The only way South Africans will ever get governance and accountability is by being organised, vocal, obstreperous, and demanding. So keep it this way – private and public sector are both on terms. And South Africans will hold them accountable, or if necessary, break them.
This article was originally published in The Conversation.
PreviousWe Cannot Be Silent: Multi-media exhibition offers space for healing and hope
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Historian Masilela dies in Thailand | {
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Now, we've been to a lot of the main locations in Cornwall over the years. We've caught crabs at Padstow, ate pasties in St Ives and even visited the infamous dungeons of Bodmin. I have loved it all. That's why even I'm shocked to say that nothing compared to the little hideaway we recently disappeared to a few weeks ago. I recently heard the area be described as 'the lost coast of Cornwall' which makes perfect sense. I never knew it existed!
So just where the heck where we? We were staying at Whitsand Bay which isn't too far from Plymouth and actually makes it a far easier drive from where we live near Basingstoke compared to other more well known locations which we've previously visited in Cornwall. I'll go into details later but although it's not over populated with tourist attractions it's got all of the essentials. Little fishing village. Tick. Surf school. Tick. Walking trails. Tick. Fried breakfast on the cliff. Tick.
My fiancee found this little gem on Unique Home Stays, a company i'd never actually heard of before. Turns out they have a tonne of hidden treats all over the UK and we couldn't recommend them highly enough.
We stayed at Tempest and every single element was damn right outstanding. The communication with the hosts was fantastic and they bent over backwards to make us comfortable. We were met with a beautiful pamper of high quality goods and all the essentials already stocked in the fridge. We even had one for the dog! Tilly loved it.
The interior of the house was insane. It took us a good day to even get used to how beautiful every room was. Every single little detail was thought out and cared about and it felt like you noticed a little something more every time you entered a room.
The crazy thing is that the house wasn't even the best bit. The location was one of the most breathtaking things I have ever seen. As I mentioned, we arrived when it was dark so it took me until the morning to see the true magic of Tempest. With a seven week old baby I wasn't sleeping at 5am so as light broke on that first morning I saw the ocean appear on our doorstep before me. The whole side of the house was pretty much glass which made the views and whole experience truly unfortgetable.
So let's chat about some of the specifics.
Practicalities - The property has unreserved on-road parking just a few steps up from the ront door. The kitchen includes two ovens and grills, a combination microwave and grill, fridge-freezer, washer-dryer, dishwasher and coffee machine. There are also non-slip dog bowls and dog towels for the little monsters!
Bedrooms & Bathrooms - Both the bedrooms have unbroken sea views reaching out towards the horizon. The king-size ground floor bedroom has a spa bath with WC room opposite, whilst there is a shower room and WC alongside the super-king zip-and-link bedroom upstairs.
Nearest Beach Set on the cliff at Whitsand Bay, Tempest is only 0.1 miles by footpath to Tregonhawke Beach (100+ steps), with a plethora of other beaches all around.
Fishing Villages There are some exceptional seaside villages close by. Polperro (within 30 minutes) has a natural swimming pool carved out of rock and a selection of quaint cafes and gift shops along the cobbled streets and classic cottages.
Beach Life You can see Whitsand Bay from the house with miles of sandy beaches fading into the distance.
So there you have it. If you are looking for a magical, relaxing few days away from the hustle and bustle of every day life then you have found it. We already have no doubt we will be back again to create more memories and get a little bit more of that well needed serenity. | {
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Bhopalbazaar.com offers you a wide range of mobile wallpapers for download that will change your handset into an ultimate infotainment device. We have a number of breathtaking mobile wallpapers download feature for mobile phones. Download and have fun with our latest free mobile phones wallpapers, free mobile phones ringtones, free mobile phones games. We support the following wallpaper screen formats: 128x128, 220x220. Let us know if you face any problems or have any suggestions for this section. | {
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1 Address major issues on rural development, community transformation, empowerment, peace-building and education through seminars, workshops, conferences, vocational and leadership trainings.
2 Organize sustainable community development and awareness programs for the benefit of the poor and disadvantage rural people.
3 Improve living standard of rural people by helping them develop their skill and subsequently by assisting them in implementing income generating activities in close coordination and cooperation with national and international organizations.
4 Implement gender specific programs, HIV/AIDS prevention and care, population activities, peace and governance activities.
5 Educate community members to avoid at risk behaviours that manifest violence, community rivals and clashes.
6 Alleviate poverty and unemployment through creation of basic social and economic infrastructure, provision of training to rural unemployed youth and providing employment to marginal Farmers/Labourers to discourage seasonal and permanent migration to urban areas.
9 Train and equip community leaders in order to lead, direct and educate their community members.
10 Facilitate scholarship awards to the less privileged in the communities. | {
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Energizer activities are like hitting a refresh button for the brain and body. They not only redirect the brain to an alert and focused state in order to process new or complicated information, but also allow for a change in perspective, which can lead to generation of different ideas and solutions. Energizers benefit learners through enhanced concentration, re-activation of creativity, and improved brain and physical health. The Afterschool Leader's Guide to Meeting and Training Energizers provides professionals with a variety of activities that can reinvigorate meeting participants.
NAA is the membership association for professionals who work with children and youth in diverse school and community-based settings to provide a wide variety of extended learning opportunities and care during out-of-school hours. Learn More! | {
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It is important that customers are fully aware of the process of taking up a loan.
Below is a list of frequently asked questions (FAQs) for your reference.
Is Advance Cash Credit Pte Ltd a license moneylender?
Advanced Cash Credit is a creditable Licensed Money Lending Company approved by IPTO (Registry of Moneylenders) in Singapore.
How to qualify a loan?
Currently have a stable, permanent job.
Must be staying in Singapore and show document proof by either owner or renting a property.
*Please ignore if you are staying with parents, children, sibling or or friends.
If you do not meet the requirements stated above, please submit an enquiry form via our website or call us for a discussion.
Complete our simplified online application form and submit to us. You shall hear from us shortly. Or, you can call us or drop by our office for a discussion.
What documents are needed when applying for a loan?
What kinds of loans does your company offer?
Do you disburse loans to credit less-than-perfect personnel?
We fully empathise with your reason to take out a loan.
We will review your case and do our utmost best to customize a loan package that suits your financial means.
Can I take up another loan if I already have an existing loan?
Yes, please give us a call and we will assist in processing your application.
Once you have complete the loan repayment, please come down with the relevant documents to take up another loan.
How long do we need to wait for approval?
Our loan officers will inform within one working day when your loan has been approved.
You can then visit our office to complete the paperwork and receive the loan amount within 30 Minute.
Am I able to reject an approved loan?
Yes, you can. You are not obliged to take up a loan with us.
We do not use hard sell techniques, instead we offer sound advice and consultations should you have any future needs.
Can I refer my friends or relative for a loan?
What are the available repayment plans?
We offer various loan repayment plans that cater to suit different needs. We have weekly, bi-weekly and monthly repayment plans.
When applying for a loan, you can discuss with our loan officers about your preferred repayment plans and they will advise you accordingly.
What are the repayment methods?
How do I apply for early repayment of my loan?
Early repayment is always welcomed. There are no additional costs to pay.
Simply call us to discuss with our loan officers about early repayment options.
Can I defer my repayment?
If you are unable to repay the full amount on the due date, you may like to request for an extension of the loan by contacting our loan officers via phone and we will set up alternative payment arrangements.
Are my personal information safe with Advance Cash Credit?
We treat all customers' personal data with the highest levels of confidentiality.
All personal information is strictly confidential and will never be disclosed to any third parties for any marketing purpose unless is for the purpose of the loan you applied.
What if I still have any other questions to ask?
You can call us. Our friendly loan officers are on standby from 9am to 12am daily.
Loan Approved in Principle does not constitute a guarantee in the interest, number of installment and loan amount offered. Advance Cash Credit Pte. Ltd. reserves the right to alter and offer a different loan amount, interest and repayment schedule to the borrowers at its sole discretion and as for the amendment and changes will be discuss with the applicant before proceed with the loan contract. The applicant has no obligation to take up the loan if the loan package offered is not to the applicant's satisfaction.
* Calculator is base on Payday Loan. For Instalment Plan, please visit our office for discussion. T & C apply. | {
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Open Data: What are the Implications for the Smaller Business?
What exactly is meant by the term "open data"? More specifically, what does it mean for your small business?
Open data is the concept of certain data being freely available to anyone who wants to use it, without concern for patents, copyrights, or other methods of control. It is not a new concept; it was first broached in the 1950s, when the concept of open access to scientific data led to the creation of world data centers for scientific data. The concept is an old one; however, the formal definition is relatively new, and the concept gained in popularity due to the rise of the internet, the World Wide Web, and fast networks. These three things make the movement of data, to all intents and purposes, instantaneous and world-wide.
What Open Data Means For You
Think of the terms open source or open hardware. These terms mean source code or hardware are not proprietary; the developers have made the code components or the design of the hardware available to the world.
Open source originated with the UNIX operating system, first developed at Bell Labs. The code for UNIX is not proprietary to AT&T, but open to whoever wants to develop it. Consequently, there are several versions of the operating system shell in production, and all are slightly different. Microsoft gave the open source movement a boost when it made the Windows Application Programming Interface Library available to any developer wanting to write applications to run under Windows.
Open hardware started with the microcomputer revolution; the makers of the PC-style computers collaborated on open hardware designs, to make the manufacture of the computers cheaper than the proprietary manufacturers charged. The concept of open data precedes the microcomputer revolution by decades. In the 1950s, the open data concept was devised by the scientific community, to make scientific data available to all participating countries. Open data is gaining in popularity, but it has some drawbacks. If you create data that falls into the open data category, you are essentially making the product of your creativity available to whoever wants to profit from it.
To License Or Not To License
If you are not in the business of making money off of your data, making it available is not a problem, but if you are, putting the data into the open community can severely limit your ability to profit from your efforts. The current school of thought is you would license your data to a company for them to use, and so protect your investment, much as software companies license their software for use, and earn profits from each copy, or license, sold. This is something to consider when formulating your business plan.
Is your data suitable for open data? Generally, scientific data lends itself to sharing far better than most types of data, but if you deal with analytics, or statistics, you may find your data fits into the open community concept. If it does, you need to consider how you will make profits from your data while making it available to the community. After all, you didn't open your business to be altruistic, you opened it to provide for your family's needs. Sharing your results shouldn't mean not bringing home a paycheck, but you need to think about the ways you would share your data and still be able to pay your mortgage.
Generally, An Opportunity, Not A Threat
For the vast majority of small businesses, the open data concept is not a problem; most small businesses are not in the business of data. For those that are, and the number is growing, as social media drives the need for statistical analysis of the user population, for marketing trends, for advertising methods, and for placing product pages, to name a few, they need to consider carefully whether or not their data falls into the open data concept, and if it does, how they can share their efforts without shrinking their profits.
Data Breach Costs Up 30 Percent, Is Your Business Secure?
Dark Mode On Android Phones Extends Battery Life
Microsoft Edge Browser Getting Automatic HTTPS Web Security Feature
4 New Improvements in Windows 8.1 Update
Mobile Devices Connected To Windows Known As Phone Link | {
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AMAZING! How have I gotten this far in life without this font?? Great work, the bold is exactly what I was looking for!
coling. A great favorite. Very useful.
Great Font! How do I give you credit on my blog for using the font? Thanks!
Love it! Had my website done in this font. | {
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The corporate structure has three holding companies and numerous operating companies.
The Monarch Corporation has operated businesses in three Canadian provinces for over 70 years and in twelve States for 35 years. It is a privately held Company with a diverse portfolio of operating companies on both sides of the 49th parallel. The shares of these companies are held in three holding companies, Monarch Ventures Inc. (Canadian assets), CSH International, Inc. (US assets), and TRAXX Holdings Inc.
Owns and operates a number of sports franchises and a golf course.
Accredited Canada-China Inbound Tour Operator serving transportation needs in Western Canada.
Owns private companies operating in Canada. | {
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If you ask a person how long a marathon is, you will get an extremely wide variety of answers. Of those answers, it is absolutely maddening to a full marathoner when someone tells you that they themselves have run a marathon, or their cousin has run a marathon, only to find out that they were referring to a random 5K that they did once. I don't want to burst your bubble, but a 5K is only 3.1 miles. The "marathon" that these people supposedly ran can range anywhere from a friendly 1 mile charity run to an actual full marathon. I wish that when co-workers, family, friends, and strangers shared with me the tales of their tragedy and triumph, knee pain, and shin splints which resulted from their "marathon" that I could just smile and celebrate with them, but, in fact, I seethe inside. I arrogantly wonder how your 3 mile walk can compare to the 1700 miles I logged in the past 12 months, as if the marathon was my lover and you offended him.
You see, a true full marathon is 26.2 miles in distance, but it is, in fact, much more than that. The marathon is the story of a full season of dedication and preparation, discipline and dedication, fun and labor.
A marathon tells a deeply personal story.
I feel sorry for the people who have signed up for a marathon on a whim, and are just lucky enough to have youth on their side, so they finish this majestic event without giving it the proper training and respect that it deserves. Sure, if you are youthful and you haven't let your muscles atrophy with disuse, you can stumble your way through this event. You might not be able to walk the next day, and you might curse the moment you were born, but you will receive a medal nonetheless.
To truly appreciate the marathon though, one should get a training plan, set a goal, and persevere through the entire season. The marathon won't change you unless you fully invite it in. I would venture to assume finishing a marathon without embracing its essence is like the difference between a one night stand and a monogamous blissful marriage. They are incomparable.
As I train this season for my 10th full marathon, I am reminded to respect the distance, lean into process, and know that this journey to the finish line has very little to do with the actual event and everything to do with putting the work in day in and day out. This year, at least for the Pittsburgh Marathon, I am freeing myself from a time goal at the actual event and attempting to run each training run with the respect that it deserves. My daily and weekly mileage exists for more than an arbitrarily set time by my ego and my comparisons of myself to others, it exists to make me stronger. I have no control over many of the conditions that I will face on race day, but I can determine the degree to which I allow myself to celebrate my trip to the starting line. Even a bad run for me is a good run because I am becoming the person I never dreamed I could be and yet always wanted to be.
I am alive. I am healthy. I am strong. I am fit. I am fierce. I am free.
The marathon, with all of its agony and beauty, has made me a better leader and person, but most importantly it gave birth to my identity as an athlete.
Marathon, you might be 26.2 miles on race day, but my journey has no finish line.
I get asked a lot about my training plans, nutrition, weight loss and maintenance, and running journey. I look forward to sharing with you about this and encouraging you on your path.
Here is Jessica, with her amazing cousin Paul, before she and running hooked up. This photo was taken exactly 1 week before I began my nutrition and fitness journey, and about 4 months before I started run/walking to speed up my fitness journey. The rest is a beautiful love story because running spoke to my soul and no long was about weight.
Today my husband asked me if I needed any help. I had worked all day to get several projects finished and was in the post school, cook and scarf down dinner, clean it up, wrap up loose ends and run frantically out the door for a church function whirlwind. That morning between packing lunches, dressing boys, doing my daily devotionals, hiking in a blizzard to the bus stop, and working out at the YMCA, I had stripped all of the beds, washed the sheets, and somehow also managed to wash my sweaty run streak clothes.
I asked my husband if he was sure he wanted to ask that, and he assured me he was. Do you know that wonderful man not only asked me if I needed help, but then followed through? He put the clean sheets on the boys bunk beds and made their beds. For sure it benefited him to do this, otherwise the boys would be up all night waiting for me to finish after we got home from our event, but it was an unnecessary act of kindness.
The life lesson in all this is that any wonderful relationship is made up of a series of these unseen, untouted, simple grand gestures. A phenomenal marriage is usually the outcome of a daily choice to carry the weight of life, responsibility, family, and fun with each other. Although he's always good at speaking my love languages, it's the unexpected extra mile in a frantic moment that keeps a girlish smile on my face. Yes. It is possible to have the rush of an adolescent crush in a mature, seasoned relationship. I'm racking my brain to see what I can do to one up him. Let the games begin.
What simple, unexpected thing can you do today as a grand gesture of love, commitment, and relationship?
At the finish line of the 2013 Akron Marathon together after running 26.2 miles side by side. He's the best pacer.
I am Jessica and I have become a Chobani addict. I absolutely love their Greek Yogurt. In fact, to make it affordable, I buy it by the truckloads at Costco. I have been known to make special trips to Costco just to ensure that my supply never runs low. The highlight of my January was that both Target and Giant Eagle had Chobani on sale at different moments, opening up the opportunity for me to explore and indulge in the flavors not offered in the Costco superbox.
Upon opening up my Chobani this morning, (which by the way is a perfect pre-run food item) , and promptly licking off any excess yogurt that stuck to the lid (I am that person), I had a flash of inspiration. What if I approached everything in my life like I approach Chobani yogurt? It may seem like my daily Chobani obsession was easy to come by, but in fact, my relationship with it started very tumultuously.
I have always been a lover of yogurt and a calorie counter. Even when I was at my highest weight and was totally out of shape, I was still aware of every calorie that I consumed. I was never mindless about my destructive choices. That being said, I was locked into eating "Light and Fit" yogurt because it was 80 calories and fat free. I kept hearing about Greek yogurt and all of its benefits, and yet I just kept eating the yogurt that had little to no protein and that had artificial sweetners just because it was 80 calories versus the 140 in most Chobani individual fruit cups.
The Chobani principle, which I invented in case you didn't know, has turned out to be a small step to a lot of big change. I had honestly never eaten Quinoa, Hummus, or a whole other host of body nourishing and delicious items before because I was stuck on eating "diet" foods and ate what was familiar. It is an educational experience to learn that not all health foods are diet foods. In fact, chia seeds have an enormous amount of calories and almonds are chock full of fat. There are a lot of good things in life, like calorie counting and watching what you put in your body, but there are even greater things like focusing on your health and achieving specific wellness goals. There are containers of Chobani in every area of your life just waiting for you to peel the lid off and give it a shot.
Can you believe that I used to cook and serve Minute White Rice for my family and myself? I am horrified every time I think of it. My 899 pound bag of organic brown rice that I buy at Costco tastes so much better, fuels our bodies, and the only change it required for me was to actually buy a rice cooker and realize that minute rice might have been a good choice for one season, but greater choices were out there.
FYI: Rice cooked in a rice cooker is infinitely more delicious that what is cooked on the stove or microwaved in some lab generated instant package.
I guess the point I'm getting at is that the Chobani Principle applies to everything. What paradigm shift do you need to make (for example obsessing about calories at the expense of true health and nutrition) that will take you to the next level? What products do you have brand loyalty to that might not be the best option for you and your long-term mind, body, spirit goals?
I used to hate running and could never run even a mile—I'm now a marathoner.
I used to think texting was horrible and didn't even have it on my cell phone plan. I mean, why can't you just call me?——I finally added it to my plan and now hate being called. Hooray for convenience!
I used to obsessively clean up every single item my kids played with and dragged out without concern of the stories they would tell their therapist about Type A mom one day—–I now wait until they are on the bus to restore the order I need or wait until Sunday night/Monday morning before I take everything they own and hide it somewhere. They actually are now allowed to play in the family room and have books and toys in there and their therapist can be regaled with stories of how cool and fun mom is instead of how she was obsessively cleaning 24/7. It's almost like they live in their own home and have rights associated with that just like I do… Fancy that!!
As you can see, there are many ways to apply the Chobani principle. How will you step out of your comfort zone today to see long-term goals realized?
A picture I stumbled across yesterday of myself with my cousin Paul 2 weeks before I started my mind, body, spirit transformational journey.
Today I had a reminder of how powerful habit is in our life. Besides celebrating Day 807 of my runstreak (which means for that length of time I've run everyday with no breaks), I had an interesting conversation with my husband. I don't like to talk about our fasting a lot on the blog because I feel like that is a personal decision that we make to honor God in our lives, however, I feel that in the interest of exposing how I achieve my mind, body, spirit balance and how I am going about my "one word" for 2014, alignment, I thought I could let you in a little bit.
We begin each year with a 21 day Daniel Fast. I have spoken about it before in previous blogs, but you can also google it if you are unfamiliar with what it entails. We also fast at least one day a week, and in addition, kick off each month by fasting 3 days at the start of said month. The purpose of our fast is multi faceted, but one of the benefits of it is increased health and vitality. It is not a magical spiritual, mental, or physical bullet, but step by step you grow in every area of your life and start to see God's blessing increase with each new season of fasting and prayer.
Physically, there is no doubt that when you eliminate grains and animal products, your body isn't using as much energy in the food/digestion area which releases it to execute more exciting uses of energy. I will be dabbling more into different food choices and detox strategies later this year that I will write about and keep you informed on, but for now, I just want to encourage you on the power of habit. The Daniel Fast is much more spiritual for us than it is physical, but you can't separate the two. Some of my food detox journeys and research undertakings have little spiritual focus. They are just me pursuing the best physical and mental me I can be, but without a doubt, every time I'm my best physically and mentally, I'm also my best spiritually. It is a circle.
We ended our 21 days at the end of last week, and yet when faced with what to eat for lunch today, my mind only gave me the options that were "Daniel" approved. It was like I had forgotten that my typical egg sandwich was even an option or that pretzels weren't "forbidden" foods. Am I cured from my cravings? I doubt it. When my mileage amps up the closer to the marathon we get, you better believe I'll be elbow deep in all natural ice cream and other treats, but for now my new and reset habit system will allow me to further my health goals with little to no effort on my part.
Because I've been making good choices, good choices have become automatic. One decision for a cheeseburger won't derail my life, because my habits are set. One busy day will not keep me from a life of bible reading and devotions because my habits are set. There will be occasional steps out of the healthy habit train and that is fine with me. I'm in this for life. I'm not an ethical vegan or vegetarian and I have no known food allergies, therefore I have no real deep and meaningful reason to "deprive" myself.
The cool thing about habits is that once the correct ones are cemented, you don't feel deprived, ever. Habit makes the automatic wise choice for you 96% of the time and that makes it possible to be "bad" the other times. See, there is no black and white. Gray is where the party is at, but your brain and body won't let you "party" too much because it will desire to return to its setpoint or habit structure.
God created us for far more than we give ourselves credit for. We are generally so busy fighting our human nature with its impulses and temptations that we forget to lean into the momentum that God has stored up for us. God created our brains and bodies to embrace habit and instead of utilizing this amazing computer program he downloaded into us, we are constantly trying to uninstall the very thing that could take us to the next level. We stop celebrating how far we've come and start seeing how far we have to go.
Black and white. Good and bad. Wrong and right. Cold and hot. Pessimism and optimism.
Could it be that many things we weigh ourselves down with mentally, physically, and spiritually were never meant to be categorized? Could it be that we have never embraced gray areas?
We stunt ourselves by not embracing the gray areas. There really is no good or bad. Something is better than nothing. Take it step by step. The reason this lifestyle change has stuck is because I approached it with the lens of legacy and the long journey.
Never stop celebrating how far you've come. Always build an altar of memories poised for praise (photos in this blog are to jog my memory and celebrate the journey). Sure there is still a long way to go. Sure there are still mental, emotional, spiritual and physical demons to slay, but what if instead of worrying about the unseen, we just baby step our way to the legacy we want to leave.
One day at a time your habits will change to match your dreams and decisions that once stressed you out will become automatic no brain choices. How would it feel to use your willpower for greater things than survival mode? What if instead of fighting food cravings and a lack of desire to exercise you could use your energy and will power to fight for social justice? Seem like a leap? It isn't. You can do it. I did it.
My brain and my body were created for more than considering what to eat and what to wear. God put greatness in me and I'm going to live a long healthy life pursuing his promises, living out my purpose, and declaring hope. | {
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Home → An Evening with Rebecca Front (English, 1982)
An Evening with Rebecca Front (English, 1982)
To mark International Women's Day, 8 March 2021, St Hugh's held a virtual evening with celebrated actress and writer, and Honorary Fellow of St Hugh's, Rebecca Front (English, 1982), which was attended by alumni, students, Fellows, staff and friends of the College.
Hosted by the Principal, the Rt Hon Dame Elish Angiolini DBE QC, this was the first in a series of College events to celebrate 100 years of Oxford degrees for women.
English actress, writer and comedian Rebecca Front read English Language & Literature at St Hugh's, matriculating in 1982, and it was the study of English during this time which Rebecca said gave her "the ability to get inside a text which is immensely valuable as an actor". Rebecca became involved in comedy while studying at the College, and indeed her first comedy performances were at St Hugh's itself, in a sketch show co-written with her brother Jeremy. She toured with the Oxford Theatre Group in 1984, becoming the first female President of the Oxford Revue and taking part in their 'Stop the Weak' tour.
During the evening Rebecca reflected on her time as St Hugh's College where she said she had "the time of my life"; notwithstanding her abiding memory of the old-fashioned smell of cabbage wafting from the kitchens up to her room on the first floor, which boasted beautiful views of the gardens, but also fell victim to swarms of flies from a plant that grew outside her bedroom window! Dame Elish assured Rebecca that today those smells have been replaced by more exotic aromas of modern cuisine, and the offending plant has been removed.
Rebecca recounted growing up in a "house full of books" where both parents enjoyed literature, particularly her mother who specialised in English and drama, and who used to read Keats, Shelley and plays borrowed from the library to Rebecca, all of which sparked her interest in English and acting. Rebecca was also inspired by her father who was a natural entertainer and had the enviable talent of being able to make people laugh, which really appealed to her even at the tender age of seven.
As the evening progressed, Rebecca talked about her collaborations with Armando Iannucci OBE, in particular the TV series The Thick of It (2009-2012), where she plays Nicola Murray MP, saying it was "the most fun job to do".
Rebecca and Dame Elish also discussed Rebecca's work with several charities to raise awareness of mental health. She is a Patron of Anxiety UK and is also an ambassador for Together for Short Lives and the deaf-blind charity Sense.
Watch the full event:
Professor Anne Hudson (English Language & Literature, 1957), Honorary Fellow and St Hugh's alumna, has died
It is with the deepest sorrow that the College has learnt of the death of Honorary Fellow Professor Anne Hudson (1938–2021), who studied English at ...
Professor Loretta J Ross delivers inspirational talk at inaugural 'Lady Ademola Lecture'
We were delighted to welcome so many guests to our inaugural 'Lady Ademola Lecture' which is part of the College's series celebrating the life and wor...
Congratulations to St Hugh's alumna, Professor Rebecca Shipley, recognised in Queen's Birthday Honours list
We are delighted to announce that Professor Rebecca Shipley, who matriculated in 2001 and completed both her MMath and her DPhil at St Hugh's, has b... | {
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Weak sunlight illuminated the morning mist carpeting the vast expanse of cracked tarmac.
Parco peered through the foggy windscreen at the lines of cars, searching for a space.
"Some days it gets a bit tedious," he sighed.
He turned the vehicle as it reached the end of the line of tightly packed cars and drove into the next row. | {
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"Flavor Partition and Fat Reduction in Cheese by Supercritical Fluid Ex" by Jessica L. Yee, Hany Khalil et al.
Postprint version. Published in Lait, Volume 87, Issue 4-5, January 1, 2007, pages 269-285.
The definitive version is available at https://doi.org/10.1051/lait:2007020.
Developing low-fat cheese with flavor to match that of full-fat cheese has been a challenge in the dairy industry. The objective of this investigation was to develop lower fat Cheddar and Parmesan grated cheese using supercritical fluid extraction (SFE) and characterize its flavor profile comparative to a full-fat product. Specifically, enabling flavor compound partition between the matrices of cheese and extracted lipids. Carbon dioxide (CO2) was the supercritical fluid for fat extraction. Extraction took place in a 500 mL SFE vessel using 100 g of grated cheese. Fractional factorial design was utilized to investigate two levels of treatment for each pressure (200 and 350 bar), temperature (35 and 40 °C) and CO2 level (500 and 1000 g) for each extraction trial. The most efficient parameters for lipid removal resulted in 51.00% fat reduction (wet basis) for Cheddar extracted at 200 bar, 40 °C, 1000 g CO2, and 55.56% fat reduction for Parmesan extracted at 350 bar, 35 °C, 1000 g CO2. Thin layer chromatography (TLC) was utilized to assess the lipid composition of each cheese and the lipids extracted by SFE. TLC analysis for Cheddar and Parmesan cheeses showed only nonpolar lipids (triaclyglycerides and free fatty acids) in the recovered lipids extracted by SFE; indicating that polar lipids such as phospholipids are being retained in the cheese matrix. Gas chromatography/mass spectroscopy techniques were used to characterize volatile flavor compounds for each cheese sample. SFE treatment of the cheeses altered the ability to detect flavor compounds and allowed partitioning of those compounds, which varied with the type of cheese. This study suggests that SFE technology can be used in the dairy industry to develop cheese products lower in fat, which retain flavor compounds that may not be typically fully developed with alternative methods of low-fat cheese processing.
The original publication is available at www.dairy-journal.org. | {
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Football starts fast, cruises to win over Whittier
Whittier (0-4) 0 0 10 14 24
Chapman (2-2) 21 10 14 0 45
Marek Spooner-LeDuff (Photo by Larry Newman)
Pa: Miguel Avina - 265
Ru: Chance Trammell - 120
Rec: Bryson Sanders - 130
ORANGE, Calif. – Big plays on both ends of the field led the Chapman University football team to a 45-24 win over the Whittier Poets on Homecoming night at Chapman Stadium. The Panthers (2-2, 2-0 SCIAC) scored in the first minute of the game and ran up a 31-0 halftime lead.
Two plays into the game, senior Ricky Bautista came around on a reverse but pulled up for a pass. Senior Jacob Isabel was all alone behind the Whittier defense and Bautista hit him in stride for a quick 62-yard touchdown. With the quick TD, the rout was on as the Panthers were "firing on all cylinders," as head coach Bob Owens put it after the game.
The long play to Isabel was just one of five plays of over 30 yards. Chapman racked up 632 yards of total offense – just 12 yards shy of the school record set in 1996. The Panthers accumulated 343 yards through the air and 289 yards on the ground. At halftime, Chapman was up 31-0 and had outgained the Poets (0-4, 0-2 SCIAC) 335-124.
Defensively, junior Marek Spooner-LeDuff ended each of Whittier's first two drives with an interception. It was the first multi-interception game for a Chapman player since 2015. Spooner-LeDuff now has four interceptions in his first four games as a Panther with at least one pick in three games this year. The Panthers also dragged down Whittier in the back field seven times, including four sacks.
His first pick came on an overthrown pass in the end zone. Chapman turned the takeaway into points with a nine-play, 80-yard drive that ended with a five-yard touchdown run from junior Marcellus Hunter. Senior Joe Mudie broke off a 34-yard in the middle of the drive to move the Panthers into Whittier territory.
Mudie had his second consecutive 100-yard game on the ground with 131 yards on just 10 carries. He also grabbed a pair of catches for 20 yards. His 151 total yards was the highest total in his career. Hunter ran for 27 yards on seven carries.
Three plays into the next drive, Spooner-LeDuff grabbed his second interception at the 36-yard line and ran it back to the 25 to set the Panther offense back up with prime field position. Bautista hit Isabel for a 25-yard touchdown on the next play to make it 21-0.
Junior Ben Bruce caught a six-yard touchdown pass in the second quarter and senior Lucas Alfonso knocked through a 26-yard field with 18 seconds left in the half to make it a 31-0 halftime score.
Bautista was 16-of-20 at halftime for 233 yards and three TDs. He hit Isabel five times for a total of 142 yards and a pair of scores. He ended the game with 320 yards passing, completing 21-of-27 attempts. It was his second 300-yard game of the season and third of his career. He hit nine different receivers.
Whittier was able to get on the board with a 47-yard field goal in the third and followed it with three touchdowns. However, Mudie broke off a 46-yard run to start the drive after the field goal in the third and ended it with a four-yard TD run to make it 38-3.
Another Whittier score was followed by a couple of punts and a one play drive that scored the Panthers final points. Bautista took advantage of a short Whittier punt with a 45-yard touchdown toss to senior Kayvan Aminzadeh.
Whittier made a couple more trips to the end zone in the fourth quarter before the Panthers were able to run out the clock on their second straight win.
Chance Trammel totaled 120 yards on the ground to lead Whittier. Miguel Avina passed for 265 yards, hitting his favorite target Bryson Sanders eight times for 130 yards and a touchdown in the fourth quarter.
Freshman Chris Tsirtsis led the defense with eight tackles while sophomore Ricky Medeiros has a pair of tackles for loss to lead the front seven.
Chapman remains home next week to take on Redlands as two of the three remaining teams unbeaten in SCIAC play face off. Kickoff is scheduled for 7 p.m. | {
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Darkness abounds, creeping into the corners and sweeping over all life, all hope, all freedom.
In Gathering of Shadows, Meyari McFarland explores the dark corners of the heart, mind and reality in ways that will haunt you after you put the book down.
Also includes an excerpt of the chilling Steampunk Mystery Emerald Blast! | {
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Before we get started, I'd just like to clarify that this post isn't about new gardening ideas but rather, ideas for our new garden. You see, just a few weeks ago we moved into a new house primarily so we could gain a garden for our little girl to play in and us all to enjoy. I've also been working on a few gardening copywriting projects this year, so I'm feeling rather inspired and eager to get stuck into remodelling our small patch of land. Steve is also quite particular about what he'd like to include, so this garden plan is a mish-mash of both our ideas and hopefully will accommodate the needs and wants of the whole family.
This is how our garden looks right now. See if you can spot Alex lounging in the background and Ruby soaking up a little sun.
As you can see, we've got a relatively blank space to work with. There are a few obvious things on our to-do to-do list like trimming the hedge, painting the fence and treating or potentially re-laying the moss heavy lawn. After that, we plan to zone the garden into three areas for growing fruit and veg, space for Alex to play and a very important small area for cooking, eating and entertaining. The first zone starts at the patio as we work backwards towards the fence.
We love a barbecue, my parents have always thrown the best barbecues and I've had the pleasure of helping to cater for some of them in the past with pizzas cooked on my pizza stone and summer cocktails. I'm hoping we will be able to hold our own soon. We've already got a patio table and chairs that my parents gifted us, which makes a perfect spot for a sunny breakfast. Ideally, I'd like to upgrade our barbecue and invest in something like one of the small garden gazebos from this garden camping range. It would be good to have somewhere guests can dive under cover if a little drizzle comes our way or where Steve could maybe set up a pop up bar. He's a firm believer in barbecuing whatever the weather brings and wanted an awning for the yard in our previous home so that he could barbecue in the rain!
Also on the list is some pretty lighting. There are some solar lights on the back fence, however, I'd love some colourful festoon lights or fairy lights to brighten the space. I've already been looking around for lights but if you have any recommendations of where to buy some, give me a holler!
It's hard to know what to do with Alex's play area as inevitably, what she's into now will not necessarily be the same in a couple of years. She loves swings and we don't have a park with them very nearby, so we're hoping to install a small swing and slide but leave plenty of space for running around or playing with other outdoor toys like paddling pools and balls. Her Grandad has mentioned he might build her a small wooden bench and table too where she could have her lunch or do some colouring in outdoors, which I think is a lovely idea.
Steve and I both love cooking, so we're very excited to have a little more space to grow our own produce. We already have a fairly good collection of potted herbs and a bay tree, which we use for flavouring food and drinks (mmm, a spring of fresh rosemary in gin is lovely). We're hoping to put a little greenhouse in the back right corner of the garden so we can grow some fruit and veg. Where borders have previously been dug along the path, we've started lining them with our herb pots. We'll re-dig the borders when we get the chance.
I'm feeling really lucky to finally be in our new home, it's nothing flash but it has space enough for the four of us and has a great layout for us too. Alex is showing a real love for gardening already and has her own tool set at my parents, she's obsessed with bird spotting. Magpies in particular (maybe she'll be more into football than me). While we don't plan to have a dedicated 'wildlife' zone in the garden, we would like to encourage wildlife into the garden. I've found this guide from Ulster Wildlife helpful with planning. So far, Alex and my Dad have added a bird box on the back fence and a feeder on the side fence. I'm hoping that by next year we'll have a border of flowers to attract butterflies and bees and perhaps a little log pile somewhere at the back too.
Up until now, I've never been a huge garden fan but more of a garden party enthusiast. Whether it's age or the excitement of having our own little plot of earth I'm feeling really inspired and keen to get stuck in. If you're a keen gardener and have factored similar priorities into planning your outdoor space, I'd love to see what you've done – leave your links in the comments.
This weekend marked my second Easter as a dairy-free mum and in all honesty, it was pretty damn good. With 18 months of avoiding cow's milk behind me, I found it much easier to hunt out alternatives, including Easter eggs for me and the little miss. She was far too young for chocolate of any kind last year. However, while we don't make a habit of giving her super sweet things like chocolate on the regular, this year she had a dairy free egg all of her own. Here she is preparing to crack open her Tesco white chocolate button egg mid morning.
I'm not much of a white chocolate fan personally, but it went down a treat with Alex, even if it tasted slightly like icing or frosting to me! Luckily, this year I was very happy to receive a few Easter packages of my own, featuring some fantastic goodies from two of my retail favourites, M&S and Hotel Chocolat.
I've always loved a bit of M&S for a treat. Percy Pigs have a special place in my heart and since going dairy free I've been delighted to discover the growing Free From range at M&S. I was invited for an introduction to the range at my local M&S Silverlink last year and was suitably impressed with the efforts the retailer has put into this growing market. Their coconut & chocolate cream Bailey's alternative caused a frenzy at Christmas and the Coconut Cream Dessert they sell is a consistent favourite here served with strawberries.
For Easter, the brand put together some nice non-egg options, including some gorgeous little sweet boxes with deliciously juicy jellies, which just happen to be my personal weakness. Dark chocolate eggs also feature in the range. I know some parents would prefer to have a 'milk' chocolate alternative for little ones, but Alex rarely gets chocolate and is very happy with a little taster of dark chocolate as a result. Plus -the egg came in very shiny and elaborate wrapping – which she's usually far more interested in.
Hotel Chocolat is another brand I'm pretty smitten with. When friends, family, clients or colleagues are due a gift, it's my go-to retailer for choosing something tasty to send. Two years ago I completed one of their Bean to Bar experience days and along with being a heap of fun, it helped me learn a lot about the brand's ethics, sourcing and ingredients and in turn won my customer loyalty. Buying boxes of Hotel Chocolat at Christmas for clients has become a little envy inducing since I've gone Dairy Free but I'm glad to see the retailer stepping up and offering more vegan products within their range. For Easter they had a really decent range of dark chocolate eggs. We received some delicious almond and raisin studded dark chocolate eggs from my mum and Hotel Chocolat were kind enough to gift Alex and myself these beautiful eggs too. Again the child option is dark chocolate, but it was wrapped to appeal to littles. The ginger studded slabs with the adult egg make the perfect accompaniment to a coffee and if you act fast, you can snap them up at half price in the Hotel Chocolat Easter sale. Egg-cellent!
Alex is now over half way up the milk ladder. In fact, if we can just get her to happily eat some baked cheese and not stay up all night screaming, her next rung up is milk chocolate. This means there's a very real chance that next year we won't need to launch a dairy free egg hunt at Easter. The reintroduction of dairy still produces mixed feelings for me as her mum. I'm excited for us both that a future without vigilant label checking and restaurant managers who make me cry is well within sight. However, I'm not too sure I can go back to consuming dairy to the scale I once did. I won't go back to using it in my coffee or cereal at home because I simply don't think we need to. Nowadays, I much prefer the taste of a good quality dark chocolate than milk chocolate too. In fact, chances are I'll be hoping for something from the M&S or Hotel Chocolat dairy free ranges next Easter too. It's amazing what a difference a year makes. Last year, I felt a bit deprived at Easter time and Easter weekend 2018 has been thoroughly indulgent. Here's to retailers continuing to step up by providing delicious dairy-free alternatives ,so kids with allergies and intolerances never need to feel left out!
I was lucky enough to be gifted Dairy Free Easter packages by M&S and Hotel Chocolat. However, all the opinions expressed in this post are my own and I received no money for publication of this post.
Oh what a joy it is to eat out stress free. I do wish I'd appreciated the luxury a little more before I went dairy free. Last week myself and my boyfriend headed to Tapas Revolution in Greys Quarter, Eldon Square, Newcastle to try out their food and drinks and put their allergy handling skills to the test. Spoiler: the outcome was pleasingly good.
When Tapas Revolution first opened I missed being cooked for by the company's founder, chef Omar Allibhoy as Alex was still fairly new and poorly and I was more than a little miffed. This was a real shame as it would have been nice to add Omar to the list after enjoying Jean Christophe Novelli's cooking as part of the festive feast with Aldi a few years back. Tapas Revolution has since launched an adjacent bar de tapas that boasts an impressive happy hour or sangria time Sun-Fri 12-7 which also includes 2-4-1 on gin and tonics and cocktails. We'd originally planned to visit Tapas Revolution to celebrate my boyfriend's birthday but a family bout of norovirus unfortunately delayed proceedings for a week.
On our rescheduled visit, as we headed in to town I was more than a little excited at the prospect of having a proper 'date day' along with a few drinks. I'd scoped out the menu online and was beyond overjoyed to find a really good Tapas Revolution allergy menu. Hallelujah! I really can't praise restaurants enough when they make a nice clear menu that's simple to read. Where allergens in dishes weren't broken down on the menu we found staff at the restaurant knowledgeable and able to tell us how dishes could be adapted to make them dairy free, suggesting what we might eat on the menu. Yes, they had a heads up that I was dairy free but take not other restaurants at all levels, this is how it should be done.
I was completely put at ease by first manager Sam then our Spanish waiter, Javier. My dietary requirements never felt like a problem, there was lots on the menu I could still eat and a few things that simple adjustments like leaving the aioli off made safe for me to eat. We chose eight tapas dishes and all eight were safe for me to eat. How amazing is that? Sometimes I struggle to find one or two safe options on a menu.
Tapas already has a special place in my heart and a nostalgic spot in my stomach thanks to visits to Primavera and Sonar festivals in Barcelona back when I was child free. How happily did I roam drinking Rioja and Cava and eating pinchos as I went. In honour of these sunny times we selected one of the spring Cava cocktails from the menu. The Sparkling Tropical Sangria, was light and fruity without being overpoweringly sweet and the watermelon chunks in it were delightfully alcoholic. It would be a perfect tipple for drinking in the restaurant's bar looking out onto the street as an afterwork drink in the summer or during a shopping pit stop. A cute little plate of Iberian ham and some bread sticks accompanied our drinks and made us wish we'd ordered the Jamón Ibérico tapas plate.
The food came out fairly quickly in succession and was so bountiful we thought we had made a mistake ordering so many plates but we underestimated our sleep-deprivation fuelled appetites. I had ideas of taking some snazzy flat lay snaps but when the food arrived I just pointed and papped quickly because my tummy was growling.
My favourite was the arroz negros – black rice with prawn and squid. I could happily eat a huge bowl of this comfort food and was so pleased to find the squid was cooked perfectly. I easily polished off most of the potatas bravas myself as they were nice and crisp and not at all greasy. The saffron touched paella also went down too easily. I'd have liked a few more beans in that but there was plenty of chicken. The caramel pork was more of aconfusing affair. The pork and fat were rendered lovely and crisp and served with a caramelised sauce, flavoured with tasted like smokey pimento. It was really quite spicy too and while I couldn't decide whether it was for me, I ate a lot of it! I think maybe I'd prefer a different sauce but the pork was cooked to perfection. The tomato bread hit all the right notes with my boyfriend who demolished most of it himself. While I enjoyed the meatball sauce I found the herb flavouring of the meatballs a little strong for my taste. The chorizo was both salty and sweet with a little smoke thanks to being cooked in cider.I wasn't sold on the sweetness even though I recognise it's traditional to put Chorizo with cider or Sherry but as my boyfriend has much more of a sweet tooth it really appealed to him and he happily dunked his bread in the sauce.
I've become accustomed to not having too much in the way of dessert options when we dine out. Our lovely waiter said he believed I could have the churros without the chocolate but we were pretty full from our savoury feast so we passed. We liked Tapas Revolution a lot. With our jug of Sangria at half price plus eight plates of tapas our date day feast came to a very respectable £52.30. We were being greedy guts though as I swear being a parent makes you hungrier.
promised her a visit when we next head out on a family shopping trip.
Big thanks to the staff at Tapas Revolution for making us feel so welcome!
*The cost of our meal was covered by Tapas Revolution but our review is an honest representation of the food and service we encountered.
When I was pregnant, I did the sensible thing and batch cooked loads of my favourite meals and put them in the freezer to make life a little easier when baby arrived. Smashing, eh? Except all of those meals contained milk, butter and cheese to some extent, so when we discovered three weeks into the rollercoaster that is being new parents that our screaming, sick but beautiful bundle had CMPA (cow's milk protein allergy) it was up to Steve to eat every single one of those meals out the freezer, while I needed to adopt a whole new shopping and eating strategy. Over the last 16.5 months I've learned to scan a label pretty darn quick and made clever swaps in all of my favourite recipes. We do a monthly online shop at Tescos for special allergy treats and a weekly top up of fresh veg at Aldi.
I get hangry pretty quickly, a trait my daughter shares with me, so it's important we're never caught out without suitable easy meals or snacks to grab. If you're just starting out on your CMPA breastfeeding or weaning journey, here are some of the habits we've adopted to ensure meal times go smoothly and we never have a food SOS. I hope you find them useful.
I've planned evening meals for years. Not only is it cheaper but it makes organising cooking and eating around multiple work schedules much easier. When Alex began weaning she was still struggling to gain weight, so we wanted to make sure she had exposure to lots of interesting, nutritious and high-calorie foods. To help with this I wrote out a meal plan for her breakfast, lunch and dinner for the week ahead and popped it in the fridge so whoever was looking after her that day knew what was on the menu. This really helped to ensure she was getting lots of good fats and calcium in her diet. As a plus, when we have a dietician appointment and they ask what she's eating, we can just take along a few of the old menus as examples. My dietician was pretty taken aback with how organised we were but doing these little meal plans really helps to give me peace of mind. Now, we generally only plan our evening meal but I'll pore over our cookbook collection regularly to look at new meals to introduce. I find looking through cookbooks really relaxing so this is never a chore to me.
As anyone who has a baby or toddler knows, cooking time isn't in plentiful supply some days. However, since neither I or Alex eat milk or soya products, it's not really easy to grab lots of prepared packaged food. It's not too healthy to do so either ,so we still do a lot of batch cooking or making extras for the freezer. We use products like Oatly cream, Oatly creme fraiche and Violife cheeses in some recipes, and I've been experimenting with a lot of vegan recipes lately.
We're really not fans of eating the same thing every day for a week anyway, so extra portions always go in the freezer in those nifty tinfoil trays, so that we can take them out on days we know cooking from fresh will be a squeeze. We also make mini versions for Alex that we can just lift out of the freezer the night before and send to Granny and Grandpa daycare with her if needed. I love having soups for lunches, so I throw extra portions of those into those special freezer bags so I can have a different flavour every day.
Below is a sample of what's nestling in our freezer right now. We always have plenty of frozen veggies in there too as accompaniments, including things like broccoli, chopped butternut squash and green beans. As you can imagine, the freezer is pretty packed out, so much so I'm starting to wonder whether when we move it might be wise to invest in some kind of huge commercial type freezer like these from Alexanders Direct.
Oh how I miss takeaway. Eating takeaway with an allergy to cater for has unfortunately proved an absolute minefield. I've become a bit of a grump about it and hate hearing delivery drivers ring the doorbells in our street. Luckily, I now have a plan for when the desire for takeaway type foods arises and that's to reach in the freezer. Sainsbury's stocks a breaded cod fillet that's milk free in their fridge section, which goes down a treat with some Mayflower curry sauce (buy in B&M) and some frozen peas blended with mint, a squeeze of lemon and Oatly cream, not forgetting some home cooked chips. Tesco has a few different options in its free from section including a sweet and sour. Asda has a chilli beef, lemon chicken and prawn toast in its fridge takeaway section, which we simply add some stir-fried noodles and veg, and voila! Waitrose has a couple of super-tasty curry options that Alex loves too. I've a future post earmarked to cover current options in more detail because I've personally found the odd takeaway ready meal to be a shopping saviour. The key is to know what's in your nearest supermarket for if the takeaway urge should bite or like us, have a few things stashed in your freezer.
We've had some horribly unsuccessful attempts at ordering from takeaways including one attempt to have a Chinese when trialling soya. This ended up with me in tears and eating toast because the takeaway called us just as we plated up our meal to tell us it did have milk in after all. I wanted to eat that takeaway so much, after that I made a concerted effort to look for fakeaway options every time I go to a new supermarket. I love cooking Thai, Indian and Chinese food from scratch but sometimes you just want to put your pyjamas on and take the easy option. Keeping a stock of safe alternatives at home makes these occasions far more stress free for us.
Alex isn't much of a sandwich fan at the moment, despite being a carb lover generally. If she does decide to change her mind on that front I'll be following Nomi Palony's tip of freezing sandwiches to grab and go on days we go to soft play. We've only just recently felt brave enough to start going to soft play with Alex but have quickly learned that the ones in our area are absolutely terrible for catering for CMPA, so we're developing our own SOS strategy for that too.
If you're breastfeeding a CMPA baby and wondering how you'll adapt, hopefully this post has given you some reassurance and ideas. It's a learning curve but with a few shopping strategies under your belt it's easier than you'd think.
If you have any questions about our transition to a dairyfree diet, please pop them below. I'm always happy to help other CMPA Mamas get into the swing of things.
You'd be forgiven for thinking I'd dropped off the edge of the coastline into the sea or given up eating out or something. However, after some decidedly dodgy dining out experiences in 2017 I've been working hard to put my positive pants on for 2018 and quietly plotting some exciting changes for Foodfables and lots of adventures with my little family.
Since becoming a mother, my world revolves around my daughter more than I could have ever imagined. It was a driver in my decision to change jobs at the end of last year so that we could spend more time together, and of course, Alex's allergy is the reason why I'm still eating dairyfree too. It's lovely therefore to be able to include Alex in bloggers events and to introduce her here too. Recently, we were both invited to Fratellos in Jesmond to enjoy brunch with some other toddlers at an event organised by Messy Little thing. It was lovely to be catered for confidently and provided with a delicious dairyfree lunch and Alex had lots of fun posing in her new long sleeved weaning bib, which we had the pleasure of reviewing and taking home. Here she is examining her bib and Messy Little Thing bib on arrival. Notice the Kiddilicious blueberry wafers in shot – we go through approximately 20 packets of these a month as Alex loves them, even though as far as I can tell they are pretty much blueberry flavoured skips in stick form.
Alex and I both ate dairyfree choices from the menu, which were variations on a tomato pasta. I had the puttanesca, which had a little spice, olives and potatoes added, except Alex stole all my olives. Cheers babes. It was pretty tasty though and filling too, double carbs for the win. Not much to look at but safe food without stress gets a big thumbs up from me, especially if it has a bit of flavour. I've been to Fratellos before and didn't rate the service too well but we'll give it another go after this positive experience.
Now on to the purpose behind our outing, which was to try out the Messy Little Things Bib. With cameras on hand, Alex did some unofficial modelling for the brand and as a natural poser with blue eyes that love the camera, I think she did rather well. In fact, I've been considering whether it would be ethical to sign her up for some modelling so she can pay for family holidays. Of course, I could just think she's the cutest toddler around because I gave birth to her. Here she is prancing and smooshing in the full length bib, which as you can see covers arms and legs as well as the front.
We usually use the kladdig ikea bib (£5) at home and Jojo Maman Bebe's slightly thicker sleeved bibs (£12) with pockets when we are out and about. The Messy Little Thing bib measured up well – it's easy to put on, washes well and comes in it's own bag. At £14.95 it's slightly more expensive than our usual go to but it is lighter weight and an obvious choice for a special occasion or meal out where toddles is wearing a nice outfit that we don't want to cover in food stains. It was a lot easier to wash than our JoJo bib and comes out cleaner than the Ikea ones we use on a daily basis. It's probably not what we would choose for everyday use as Alex refuses any kind of bib a lot of the time but it's perfect for packing in your changing bag (mine's in there now). Since Alex's meal of choice when we do dine out as a family is spaghetti bolognese, I'm confident this bib will be getting plenty of use and I may well be picking up some extras to give as gifts along with a Yumbox or two, which Alex doesn't like to go to softplay without!
It was espeically lovely to chat to the founder behind the Messy Little Thing brand, Dawn, about her own experience with breastfeeding and weaning and how Alex's allergies have shaped my breastfeeding and blogger journey. Thank you to Dawn and Fratellos for hosting us and do let us know if you need a model in the future, though Alex may not get out of bed for less than a blueberry Kiddilicious wafer.
How have you found the mess of weaning? Do you love seeing your little one play and explore food or cringe when they splat food up the walls? I am definitely betwixt the two but after Alex's early problems with weight gain it's a real delight to see her enjoying new tastes and textures and getting stuck into a big bowl of pasta, just like her Mama. | {
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SJ mayor, state legislator announce net neutrality bill
Posted Jan 09 2018 07:37PM PST
SAN JOSE (BCN)-- San Jose Mayor Sam Liccardo hosted state Senate President pro Tempore Kevin De Leon in a news conference outside City Hall this morning to introduce a new net neutrality bill.
Senate Bill 460, the California Consumer Protection and Net Neutrality Act of 2018, proposes blockiing internet service providers from using deceptive and discriminatory business practices.
Specifically, it bans bandwidth throttling or the intentional slowing of service and paid prioritization or the option for an internet service provider to pay a fee to get ahead of their competitors.
De Leon said the bill aims to preserve the heart of the original net neutrality rules before they were repealed by the Federal Communications Commission last month.
He said the biggest motivation for creating this bill is the protection of the fundamental rights of free speech and free expression.
Liccardo's role on the advisory board for the FCC is one of the main reasons he is backing De Leon on the senate bill.
Liccardo went into detail about "regulatory capture," a term used for agencies that are stripped of their independence to the liberties they regulate. He said he believes the FCC is victim to that process and can no longer act in the best interest of the public, but rather of larger profits.
Liccardo emphasized that the preservation of net neutrality is imperative in California not just because it is an issue of equity but also because of the need for growth and innovation.
While Silicon Valley and its use of free and fair internet within the tech industry were discussed, De Leon said the bill would aid the everyday man in California as well.
De Leon discussed how the FCC's repeal of net neutrality contradicts the will of the vast majority of Americans, as well as allows internet providers to pass their competition by slowing down service speed.
"There's nothing then that can stop the companies that already monopolize the internet from blocking websites or information altogether," De Leon said. "We cannot allow the interests of the internet providers outweigh the public good."
The bill is brand new but is already backed by the California Public Interest Research Group, or CALPIRG, a consumer group that advocates for consumer health and safety, financial security or right to full participation in society.
Organizing directors Ana Montes of The Utility Reform Network and Tim Molina of the Courage Campaign were among the speakers at today's news conference.
Montes elaborated on how the use of the internet has become an irreplaceable commodity for many. She talked about how it is utilized for opportunities that could potentially change someone's quality of life, like scheduling appointments with doctors or applying to job opportunities.
Molina discussed a petition in favor of SB 460 that was created last week and already has over 10,000 signatures. It asks all California legislators to support the bill in an effort to lead the pursuit for unimpaired access to free internet.
Another state senator, Sen. Scott Wiener, D-San Francisco, introduced a net neutrality bill last week that requires cable franchise agreements as a condition for use of public internet infrastructure and
adherence to net neutrality as a condition for attaching wireless communications equipment to utility poles.
De Leon said that the state Assembly and Senate will be working together closely to further the defense of net neutrality for California.
"I do think that the bills will complement each other," De Leon said. "No one is going to have ownership specifically when it comes to this measure. It's all about finding common ground to move forward quicker."
De Leon said he plans to meet with Gov. Jerry Brown next week to walk him through the details of the bill and expects him to support the idea of protecting consumers' right to the internet. | {
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The use of renewable energy for desalination might be quite different in many places of the world. In Mexico, specifically in Baja California, there is an abundance of "traditional" renewable resources like sun and wind but also some others like hot springs at the coast, tidal currents and tidal amplitudes of over six meters in the upper part of the Gulf of California associated with a severe scarcity of fresh water. The National University of Mexico (UNAM) started two years ago a well organized research program to assess the amount of these resources and to find the way to use them for desalinating sea water. Very exiting results have being obtained: The abundance of hot springs at the shore, some of them over 84°C, lead to the design of thermal desalinating prototype plants with very little energy consumption. It was found by geochemistry that at a few meters deep, some 50 m, very high temperature can be obtained, easy to use in binary geothermal power plants to generate electricity for desalination. During the survey it was found that the amount of electrical power that can be generated with tidal storage and from deep sea hydrothermal vents is of the order of several thousands of MW. A special approach is also presented for the use of solar energy and the tidal currents of the Gulf. The IMPULSA research group at UNAM has been already consolidated with more than 30 students, dedicated to the design of appropriate equipment to make use of these resources and to characterize and quantify this huge amount of renewable energies that will permit to desalinate sea water. | {
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Now that fall has officially arrived, it won't be long until the holiday celebrations begin. In fact, there is a pretty good chance your local stores have already begun setting out the festive decorations, toys, and holiday gift items. And before you blink, it will be December. This time of year is filled with jolly good times and a whole lot of spending. While it is fun to buy gifts, decorate your home, and make holiday plans, the money can add up quickly. In fact, according to a Gallup poll, holiday spending averages over $750 per person!
If you have this kind of money to spend, that is awesome. Unfortunately, not everyone does, yet with the help of the good old credit cards, they still spend it. One Consumer Reports survey showed that over a third of all people who make a holiday budget end up going over it. FreedomPlus recommends that you start preparing for the holidays early (like now) so that you are not hit with a financial burden right before the holidays. This 6-week plan could help you better prepare for the holidays.
Write down a list of all your anticipated holiday expenses. This includes gifts to friends and family, teacher gifts if you have children, extra tips for those whose services you use regularly (such as your hairdresser), holiday clothing, entertainment, and anything else that normally spend money on during the holidays. Add up the amount and make sure that you can afford everything in the next 10 weeks. If not, either find a way to scale it back or cut out some of your other spendings during this time and allocate it to your holiday fund.
Granted, your friends and family might think you are a little "gung-ho" if you start your holiday shopping before it is even Halloween, but it is worth it. (And they may wish they had don't the same as they are fighting those holiday crowds at the shopping mall in December.) Starting early allows you time to watch for the best deals, use coupons. According to FreedomPlus, this is also a great time to cash in some of your credit card rewards.
These days you can find all sorts of rewards to use. Whether through your credit cards of with apps like Ibotta and Swagbucks, there are plenty of ways to earn rewards. And now is the time to cash them in. Plan to invest them in your holiday spending if you haven't already. If you aren't using these reward sites already, it is never too late to start. You can always let them accumulate for next year.
Another great way to shop (and save) is online. Using your budget, write down a list of items you want to shop for that stay within your limits and start looking for deals online. Not only can you find good deals online, you won't be as tempted to buy things impulsively as you would be when you are in a store shopping. Just remember to shop safely and use only secure, trusted sites. FreedomPlus recommends that you change your passwords regularly for added safety.
Hand-made gifts make wonderful gifts (especially if you are shopping for someone who seems to have everything already). They are personalized, meaningful, and easy on your budget. This can be anything from a great craft that you found on Pinterest to a "coupon" book offering services such as free babysitting. Get as creative as you want with this. The person receiving your gift (and your pocketbook) will thank you. It is a win-win situation.
As tempting as those Black Friday sales may be, avoid the temptation of charging that brand new television (that you didn't budget for) because it is a good deal. Stick to the budget you created and examine it regularly. See where you managed to save money, and always check your budget again before you make another purchase. FreedomPlus suggests that you are diligent about using cash or your debit card when buying gifts. So many things come up during the holiday season, so don't kid yourself with the idea that you are going to pay off the balance in December when your credit card bill comes in.
As the holidays draw near, take another good look at your budget. Did you go over it? If so, look at the purchases you made and see if there are some things that you could return. You can always find a smaller, less expensive gift that fits within your budget. Review your gift list once again, and make sure it is reasonable for your situation.
Let's face it, the holidays are times of indulgence. Food, drinks, sweets galore….there is plenty to go around at the office, at school and holiday gatherings. So who needs to eat out right now? Save money by eating at home. Think you are too busy or not a fan of cooking? There are plenty of tasty frozen meals out there that require little more than popping in the microwave, and they are much cheaper than eating out.
At FreedomPlus, we wish you all a happy and safe holiday season that filled with joy and not debt. | {
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Drake Brought His A-Game To The NBA Awards And He Was Absolutely Hilarious
The rapper knocked it out of the park with a "Get Out' parody and Will Ferrell sketch.
By Sydney Scott · June 27, 2017 October 26, 2020
Monday night, Drake took the stage to host the inaugural NBA Awards, ready with a slew of jokes up his sleeve.
Drake kicked-off the show with a hilarious sketch that featured Will Ferrell in which they teach a couple NBA players the art of the handshake.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRhockDe6Ak
"Guys, we've seen a lot plays from you today, but your handshakes…," Drake tells the players before Ferrell interjects, "Your handshakes aren't worth dog crap. If you score and your handshake sucks, we will trade you!"
Honestly, a good handshake is super important, you guys.
Drake also poked fun at Steph Curry in a hilarious Get Out parody, which featured the film's sidekick Lil Rel Howery as Draymond Green.
The sketch sees Curry's NBA championship victory cut short when he's sent to the sunken place by a fake Ayesha Curry.
It's not surprising that Drake would nail his duties as host. He's hosted the ESPYs and Saturday Night Live, killing it every time. And, we all know Drake's roots as an actor.
Hopefully, the rapper will get a call soon to host more award shows. Or, maybe he'll return next year to host the NBA Awards.
TOPICS: Drake
Kelly Rowland Is Having A Blast As She Prepares To Deliver B... | {
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Patents in Asia 2018/2019: Singapore
Top legal experts in Singapore provide an exclusive insight into the country's patent prosecution and litigation strategy for 2018
As part of the drive for Singapore to become a hub for quality IP filings, the country's patent regime has undergone significant changes since 2013. The Intellectual Property Office of Singapore (IPOS) has a notable search and examination unit, which is accredited by the WIPO as an international searching authority and an international preliminary examining authority. In terms of examination efficiency, IPOS now ranks as one of the fastest IP offices in the world with initial action being taken 60 days from initial patent filings, provided that the request for search and examination is logged together with the initial filing. In quality and competency, IPOS examiners are well versed in both English and Chinese and IPOS is well positioned to search for related patent and non-patent literature in the growing Chinese market.
How do you get a patent in your jurisdiction?
Types of protection and eligibility criteria
The Singapore patent regime allows for patents to be granted for inventions provided that the general criteria of novelty, inventive step and industrial application are met. There are no petty patents or utility models under the Singapore patents regime and all patent applications have to satisfy these requirements.
Any inventions which would generally be expected to encourage offensive, immoral or anti-social behaviour are statutorily excluded from patentability.
In addition, there are statutory exceptions to industrial application. Inventions relating to surgical or therapeutic methods of treatment of humans or animals or of diagnostic methods practised on humans or animals are not capable of industrial application. Notwithstanding the above, a substance or composition can be considered industrially applicable even if its intended purpose is for use in an excluded method of treatment.
Unlike many jurisdictions, legislation in Singapore does not provide a statutory list of excluded subject matter in relation to patent eligibility. Each invention is assessed based on whether the technical features defined in the claims are expressed in structural, functional or mathematical terms. A patent examiner will make their assessment of technical features and patent subject-matter eligibility based on the actual contribution of the invention in accordance with the Aerotel/Macrossan test in Aerotel Ltd v Telco Holdings Ltd & Ord Rev (1 [2007] RPC 7). The Aerotel/Macrossan test is especially relevant for computer-implemented inventions.
Technology-based considerations (eg, software and pharmaceuticals)
There are no explicit statutory prohibitions of software-related inventions. However, claims related to software (typically system or method type) are assessed based on whether the actual contribution relates to the technical features defined in the claims.
Pharmaceutical compositions are patentable provided that they meet the general criteria of novelty, inventive step and industrial application. For new medical use, IPOS accepts claim formats in the form of first medical use claims and second medical use claims (in the Swiss style format).
The Singapore Court of Appeal established that discoveries do not necessarily lead to inventions, and therefore distinguishes discoveries from inventions. This is particularly relevant for isolated or purified materials or microorganisms. An isolated or purified material or microorganism from nature is not considered an invention and is therefore not patentable. However, if a new use of the material or microorganism is discovered, then this can be patent subject-matter eligible.
In line with Singapore's attempts to become a smart nation, IPOS established a Fintech Fast-Track initiative which was launched on 26 April 2018 to advance the file-to-grant process in relation to technology in specific areas (eg, electronic payment, investment platforms, insurance technology, blockchain and banking, security, fraud and authentication). The claims in patent applications in these areas will be subjected to the same Aerotel/Macrossan test for patent subject-matter eligibility. This aims to facilitate the development of enabling technologies – such as in data analytics, the Internet of Things, mobile payment platforms, cloud computing, artificial intelligence and machine learning and cryptocurrency – which demonstrate the requisite technical features, which would otherwise be regarded as a business method.
What are the major administrative procedures in your jurisdiction?
A key advantage of the Singapore patent regime is that it offers applicants various examination options to obtain a granted patent, depending on their appetite for cost, and desire for a good-quality patent, which is less vulnerable to invalidation.
A cost-sensitive patent applicant can choose to rely on a positive final examination report issued for a corresponding patent application in an approved patent office outside Singapore and request for supplementary examination under Singapore patent law. In this supplementary examination, IPOS conducts a patent examination covering specific issues of Singapore patent law, which does not include a re-examination of the invention based on novelty and inventive step merits. Under this option the local examiner does not conduct a further search for prior art documents.
Conversely, an applicant who wishes to obtain a robust patent – with a view towards future enforcement – can request a full search and examination report from IPOS, which is the most expensive examination option.
A balanced approach is a mixed examination where search results from an approved patent office may be utilised for further examination by a Singapore patent examiner. This treads the fine line between cost and robustness as novelty and inventive step can be considered. In some cases the patent examiner may carry out a top-up search.
The Singapore patent regime also offers an option for a decoupled search and examination. This provides an applicant with the choice of performing a search before incurring further examination costs. However, this is rarely utilised as the cost of search and subsequent examination is more expensive than requesting local search and examination together.
Appealing patent office decisions
If an applicant receives a negative examination report, the system provides for a one-chance appeal through a request for an examination review within two months from the date of the application refusal. If applicable, the applicant may at the same time amend the specification of the patent application to overcome any objections. However, the review is still performed by the patent office.
Decisions made by the patent office (eg, the validity of granted patents) can generally be appealed to the High Court. For example, patent office decisions which revoke a granted patent may be appealed to the High Court. However, there are exceptions where the patent registrar has sole discretion (eg, the determination of a patent abstract and the omission of any subject matter from publication).
Applicants who are nationals or residents of Singapore can file a Patent Cooperation Treaty (PCT) application with IPOS as a receiving office of the International Bureau. On 1 September 2015 Singapore became the first country in the Association of South East Asian Nations to be appointed as an international searching authority (ISA) and an international preliminary examining authority (IPEA). Since 1 January 2017, applicants have been able to file Chinese-language PCT applications. This includes filing a PCT request form through IPOS as the receiving office. International applications filed in this way have the international search conducted in Chinese at IPOS in its capacity as an ISA and IPEA.
A patent granted in Singapore may be re-registered in Cambodia, provided that the Singapore patent has a filing date on or after 22 January 2003 and meets the Cambodian requirements for patentability.
Third-party challenges – oppositions and invalidations
Currently there is no formal mechanism for pre-grant opposition actions. The revocation of a patent is a post-grant action that may only be initiated at IPOS. However, the IPOS decision may be appealed to the High Court.
In the pre-grant stage, third parties can submit third-party observations in relation to a patent application on an informal basis with IPOS. However, there is no guarantee that a patent examiner will take into account third-party observations.
Administrative enforcement options
Subject to the agreement of both the patent owner and an alleged infringer, patent legislation provides that the question of whether the alleged infringer has infringed the patent can be referred to the registrar of patents and following this, the patent owner may make a claim of damages or for a declaration that the patent is valid and infringed by the alleged infringer. However, this seldom occurs, partly because the registrar of patents can decline to deal with the issue of infringement and refer the matter to the High Court.
How are patents enforced through the courts?
Key forums and their composition
Patent infringement proceedings are civil actions which take place in the High Court. Specialist IP judges are appointed to hear patent cases, which are usually heard by one judge.
Infringement proceedings culminate in a trial – which is usually a public hearing unless there is confidential information or trade secrets involved – in which the court will consider evidence before deciding whether a claim has been proven against the infringer.
Trial flow – discovery, trial, witnesses, timing and cost
Proceedings can be commenced by the patent owner by way of a writ of summons, which is normally accompanied by a statement of claim that sets out the facts of the case against the alleged infringer. The writ of summons must be served on the named defendant according to procedural rules.
Expert witnesses may be appointed by the court or called on by the parties to opine on any question of fact. Such evidence is particularly important in claim construction or interpretation, which must be read through the eyes of a person skilled in the art, who is deemed to be unimaginative and uninventive, but is equipped with the required knowledge to work the invention as defined and described in the patent. While the expert is typically engaged by the parties concerned, they have an overriding duty to the court in terms of providing as balanced a view as possible (ie, to be impartial and independent).
Expert witnesses are typically cross-examined in trial proceedings, otherwise their affidavits may not be received in evidence.
Following the serving of the writ of summons, the relevant timelines begin. Within a prescribed time period, the infringer must then enter an appearance by filing a memorandum of appearance (MOA). This document signifies to the patent owner that the alleged infringer intends to contest the claim. If the MOA is not filed in time, then the possibility of filing for judgment (in default of appearance) may be considered. After entering an appearance the alleged infringer will have a prescribed time period to file a defence to set out the facts supporting their position and challenge the contents of the statement of claims. If the defence is not filed in time, then there is yet another possibility of filing for judgment.
In many cases, the alleged infringer may consider filing a counterclaim at the same time the defence is filed. Thereafter, the process for discovery and exchange of evidence will follow.
Document disclosure is a key and essential part of proceedings. In this regard, parties are required to disclose all 'relevant documents' – defined very widely to cover items such as e-mails, drawings, maps, photographs and recordings – which they have access to, regardless of whether the documents are beneficial or detrimental to their case.
A typical patent infringement trial lasts between 16 and 38 months. The trial itself usually takes place over a minimum of two to three days and can last up to four weeks if there are numerous complex issues.
For a three-day trial, on average the costs (without appeal) are between S$200,000 and S$300,000.
Legal doctrines, available remedies and the appeals process
The possible remedies a patent owner can seek are:
an injunction (eg, to restrain future infringement of the patent);
damages or an account of profits – an award of damages and an account of profits are mutually exclusive;
an order for the infringer to deliver up or destroy any products in relation to which the patent is infringed; and
a declaration that the patent is valid and has been infringed.
The decision by the High Court may be appealed to the Court of Appeal, which is the highest appellate court in Singapore.
How are patents commercialised in your jurisdiction?
Laws and rules applicable to licensing (including FRAND)
Although patents are not required to be commercialised to maintain validity, if any anti-competitive practice is suspected, a party may apply for the granting of a licence on grounds that the licence would remedy an anti-competitive practice. In addition, there are mechanisms in place to facilitate patent transactions and commercialisation.
For example, in exchange for a 50% reduction on the renewal fees of a patent, a patent proprietor may apply for an entry to be made in the patent register indicating that licences under the patent are to be available as of right. Acting on the registrar's direction, IPOS may facilitate the process by determining the licence terms.
Patent legislation in Singapore provides that any condition or term of supply contract or a licence to work a patented invention is deemed void and unenforceable if it is found that the condition or term results in an unfair extension of monopoly rights in other markets not covered by the patent or in the duration of the monopoly rights.
Inventor remuneration issues
Subject to any agreements or contracts to the contrary, an invention made by an employee generally belongs to their employer if the invention was made in the course of normal duty. There are no statutory provisions relating to remuneration and this should be negotiated between the employee and employer.
Yusarn Audrey
24 Raffles Place
27-01/02 Clifford Centre
Tel+65 6358 2865
Fax+65 6358 2864
Web www.yusarn.com
Audrey Yap Su Ming
Audrey Yap is the managing partner of IP specialist and commercial law firm Yusarn Audrey. Ms Yap is a qualified lawyer in Singapore and Malaysia, a solicitor of England and Wales, a registered patent agent in Singapore and a notary public. Known as one of Singapore's outstanding IP experts, Ms Yap has an international reputation and has helped shape the IP portfolios of companies and industries focusing on value and monetisation and advises countries on government IP policies. She is a board member of Enterprise Singapore, the Ministry of Trade and Industry of Singapore, a member of the board of directors at the IP Office of Singapore (IPOS), an adjunct fellow at the IP Academy of Singapore and director of IPOS International, a subsidiary of IPOS.
Kwan Chung Min
Kwan Chung Min is a registered Singapore patent attorney and a partner at Yusarn Audrey's patent department. He graduated with a bachelor's in electrical engineering from the National University of Singapore and has a graduate certificate in IP law from the same university. Mr Kwan's main areas of practice include electrical engineering and medical devices, particularly in integrated circuit control, medical device control and apparatus, fintech and applications of artificial intelligence. In addition, his work frequently involves construction technology, logistics application and industrial control systems. Increasingly Mr Kwan's work involves IP due diligence. He was the inaugural recipient of the IP Academy of Singapore and the Franklin Pierce Centre for Intellectual Property summer institute scholarship in 2013.
Patents, Litigation, Law & Policy, Strategy, Asia-Pacific, Singapore
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Have your own freedom once at Alexander Bay Airport and rent your own car. Find our best ALJ Alexander Bay Airport Car Rental Deals.
We currently do not have any information on Services and Amenities at the Alexander Bay Airport.
Are you a ALJ Alexander Bay Airport ground transportation or tour operator? | {
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Road Trip South Africa's Coast from Cape Town to Jbay.
You'd think that by now we would have road tripping down to a fine art as we have driven to so many parts of our beautiful South Africa. But now that we do it with a toddler, things have changed drastically and we have started to do things so differently. Everything from where we choose to stay, to how many times we stop along the route to driving times change when you have a little person in the car with you.
This July we embarked on a road trip with the FreshStop Goodness Gang Minis from Cape Town to East London. In this post we will share some tips, highlights and travel hacks on our leg of the trip from Cape Town to Plettenberg Bay.
Off we go! Road Tripping time.
Only and hour and a half from Cape Town, our first stay of the road trip was 8km outside of Caledon at Chavonnes Farm Cottage. After a dusty drive along farm roads, with green hills cascading outward in every direction; we were overjoyed to have chosen this self-catering cottage. With nothing else around except for the owner's farm house, sheep and blue cranes, it was bliss, especially for Caleb. Every morning he could run out to the bleeding sheep, play in the sand, paint pictures on the grass and go for walks beside the stream.
If you're flying into Cape Town, the airport FreshStop is one of their flagships and has won retailer of the year award globally. With multiple healthy options for snacks and food, Caltex to refuel and seattle coffee company for coffee, this store is a winner. The Victoria Street FreshStop is a smaller one but very neat with essentials for a quick lunch and refuel on the go.
Loving the Seattle Coffee Company at all the FreshStops: Coffee is essential to our all road trips.
Given that the winter cold has already crept in, the Caledon Hot Springs was the perfect answer on what to do during the day. R165 per person over holidays and weekends ( Kids under 6 are free), we put on our swimming trunks and enjoyed the many pools available. The really hot pools ( over 40 degrees celius) were the highest up and as the lower you went down the stairs ( all the way until the changing rooms), the cooler the pools became. There's also an outside kids play area and loungers beside the victorian bath.
Bongi Blueberry, Sally Strawberry and Benny chill poolside.
This was one of our favourite FreshStop as it has a grassy outdoor area with a jungle gym for the kids to run free plus a diner insider with a spacious area to sit and eat. There are multiple options of food here ranging from the healthier options to grills and more. And of course, always top of our list is the Seattle Coffee Company stand with every form of espresso-based goodness to fuel your journey.
With a toddler, this was quite a long stretch and whilst we didn't stay in George, we recommend spending a night or two here as we love Victoria Bay for surfing, bodyboarding, beaching. Carmel Guest Farm for stays with kids, the botanical gardens and the 'Map of Africa' lookout point plus the neighbouring Wilderness area with its beaches, kaaimans River for kayaking and abseiling and much more.
In more of an industrial area, this Fresh Stop is not too far of the N2 with a hot food stand and coffee machine. Plus a place to have your car washed. A true highlight here are the friendly staff and great manager.
There is so much goodness between this route. And it will take you through Knysna, a town very dear to our hearts and looking surprisingly great after a fire ravaged large parts of it. Already the town is back on its feet and inviting visitors to stay. With so many wonderful options of where to stay don't forget to take a boat cruise to the Knysna Heads and visit the market in the main Road.
There are two fresh stops here: one in the Knysna Quays store which has an outdoor seated section, a seattle and a spectacular view over the Knysna Lagoon.
Bongi Blueberry and Sally Strawberry enjoying the sunset at Knysna Quays FreshStop.
Our second overnight stay was just outside of Plett at Bella Manga Country Lodge. We couldn't believe our luck at finding another farm stay where Caleb could feed nguni cattle, wake up and play with chickens and run free on the huge land. When he permitted, we lazed on a hammock on the wooden deck and enjoyed lazy breakfast on the stoep. This is a truly special stay and owned by a wonderful family who have amazing plans for this space.
Monkeyland is a brilliant place for families and friends. A tour guide will take you around for an hour as visitors are not permitted to walk around without a guide. Monkeys of all species roam around and live freely throughout the forest and you get the chance to see them eating, swinging and playing together.
There's a great restaurant enclosed only be a net so you can watch the monkeys while eating. Something your kids ( and you) will love.
Home of one of the world's best right-hand point breaks, Jeffrey's Bay is fondly known by locals and visitors alike as JBay. If surfing, and surfing lessons are not for you, there's horse-riding, restaurants, the Billabong Sale shop, coffee shops and a kids waterpark to enjoy.
1. When booking places to stay, it's best that you state the age of your child when booking on an accommodation site or directly with the place. They can then advise whether it's child-friendly or if it's unsafe for kids under a certain age. With Caleb being under 2 years old, we look out for places with stairs inside, pools ( right near the accommodation), balcony's with big openings and tiny rooms with no outdoor areas and avoid all of the above. With toddlers you always want an outdoor space, places that have places for them to play without having to leave and ones that hopefully provide a camping cot.
2. With driving distances you really want to remain modest with these. When Vaughan and I road tripped alone we could drive for hours at a time with no worry about the time or when we stopped. With Caleb unless he's sleeping, we have to stop multiple times for nappy changes, loo breaks, play time and lunch. So factor this into your travel time and don't be overzealous with your route planning.
3. Make sure your car is kitted out with everything that could keep your child happy. We no longer go anywhere without the Tab and we put Caleb's favourite videos on it to keep him occupied. Travel cds, toys, cooling in books and books plus loads of snacks are all necessary to maintain their peace and your sanity.
Which tips do you have for road tripping with a toddler?
Eating his banana with the Goodness Gang Minis at the Caledon Hot Springs.
Don't forget that you can redeem Standard Bank UCount rewards at all FreshStops. To refuel and refresh for your road trip journeys, FreshStop at Caltex is a great option with healthier alternatives for on-the-go snacks.
You still have a chance to win FreshStop vouchers and Goodness Gang Minis, so follow our journey until the 14th July 2017 and enter. | {
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How To Bounty Hunters Get Paid
Bounty hunters are typically paid a percentage of the bail set by the court. The percentage varies depending on the contract between the bail bond agency and the bounty hunter, but is typically 10-20%.
1 Steps to Bounty Hunters Get Paid
Bounty hunters typically receive a percentage of the bail set by the court, which is typically 10 percent but can be more or less depending on the state. In some cases, bounty hunters may also receive a percentage of any assets seized from the fugitive.
Bounty hunters are people who are hired to capture fugitives in exchange for a monetary reward. They play an important role in the criminal justice system by helping to bring fugitives to justice. Bounty hunters are typically paid a percentage of the bail set for the fugitive's capture. This can vary depending on the difficulty of the capture and the risk involved. In some cases, bounty hunters may also receive a bonus if the fugitive is considered to be particularly dangerous. While bounty hunting can be a risky business, it can also be very rewarding. For those who are good at it, bounty hunting can be a great way to earn a living.
Step 1: The Most Common Way To Get Paid As A Bounty Hunter Is To Receive A Commission When The Bounty Is Captured. This Commission Is Usually A Percentage Of The Bounty Amount, And Is Typically Split Between The Bounty Hunter And Their Team. Other Methods Of Payment Include A Flat Fee, Per Diem, Or Salary
The most common way that bounty hunters get paid is by receiving a commission when the bounty is captured. This commission is usually a percentage of the bounty amount, and is typically split between the bounty hunter and their team. Other methods of payment include a flat fee, per diem, or salary.
How To Bounty Hunters Make Money
How To Become A Bounty Hunter In Hawaii
How To Watch Dog The Bounty Hunter
How To Rabbit Hunt With Dogs
How Much Money Do You Get If You Are A Bounty Hunter?
There is no set amount of money that bounty hunters receive. The amount of money that a bounty hunter makes depends on the bail amount set for the fugitive, the bounty hunter's fee percentage, and whether or not the fugitive is captured.
How Does A Bounty Hunter Earn Money?
A bounty hunter typically earns a percentage of the bail that is set for the fugitive, which is typically 10%.
How Do Bounty Hunters Get Money?
Most bounty hunters are paid a percentage of the bail amount set by the court for the defendants they capture.
Bounty hunters receive a percentage of the bounty, which is typically 10-25%. The bounty hunter is also responsible for any expenses incurred while pursuing the fugitive. | {
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Unlike other express couriers, Seabourne provides together with their selected worlwide partners genuine flexibility and adapt to our customer's needs. Rather than simply providing set courier options, Seabourne provides a world-class, tailored service that puts the customer at the heart of what we do, every time. With an unrivalled attention to detail, and genuine care for our customers, Seabourne builds trusted partnerships. | {
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Patna: Bihar's ruling alliance partner RJD on Wednesday organised sit-ins at Patna and all district headquarters against the demonetisation, with party chief Lalu Prasad accusing Prime Minister Narendra Modi of cheating the country's people.
"Modi has derailed the economy through demonetisation, which had led to increased job losses," Lalu Prasad said while participating in the 'maha dharna' held at Gardanibagh here.
The former Bihar Chief Minister urged the people to remove Modi to save the country.
"People across the country are facing problems and are forced to struggle for their own white money and for survival of small businesses to farming after demonnetisation. Modi has cheaated the country," Lalu said in his address at the protest venue.
The Rashtriya Janata Dal is part of the 'Maha Gathbandhan' or state-level Grand Alliance with Nitish Kumar's Janata Dal-United and the Congress.
The RJD chief dubbed demonetisationn as "anti-poor, anti-worker and anti-farmer".
"The Modi-led NDA government at the Centre is against the poor, labourers and farmers," the former Union minister added.
Lalu Prasad said a large number of migrant workers from Bihar were returning to their native villages following the shutdown of factories after the Centre scapped old Rs 500 and Rs 1,000 currency notes.
"More than anyone, the poorest of the poor have been badly hit by demonetisation. The poor are in deep trouble and battling for survival," he said.
Lalu Prasad said his party planned to hold a massive rally here early next year.
Thousands of RJD leaders and workers staged sit-ins at all district headquarters.
Bihar Chief Minister Nitish Kumar has supported demonetisation, while the RJD chief has opposed it.
Earlier, Lalu Prasad had said he hoped Nitish Kumar will join his party's protest programme. | {
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2006 Pontiac Solstice Convertible
View Carfax
20GKM2006PS
1G2MB33B96Y000703
"The First 1000"
- One Onwer with just 219 Miles!
- 2.4L 4-Cylinder
- 5 Speed Manual
- No. 703 of The "First 1000"
- MINT Example
(Please note: If you happen to be viewing this 2006 Pontiac Solstice on a site other than GarageKeptMotors.com, it's possible that you've only seen some of our many photographs of this vehicle due to website limitations. To be sure you access all the more than 190 photographs, including a short walk-around-and-startup video, as well as a link to its clean, accident-free, pristine Carfax documentation, please go to our main website: GarageKeptMotors.)
"This is a serious, purposeful, affordable sports car." Motor Trend, November 2005
The Motor Trend first-impression review went on: "The Solstice is a legit sports car just because it fits like a glove and melds with you to become one on a mountain road, despite the nearly 350 pounds it has on the new Mazda MX-5. It hunkers down into quick third-gear turns, and its tail feels like it's biting down on the back tires, the rear suspension compressing a bit. Pontiac says the Solstice will beat its competition with a maximum lateral g count of better than 0.90. Steering is light, quick, communicative, and fully up to the best moves the stiff chassis has to offer."
Car and Driver's road testers—as impressed with the car as the Motor Trend writers—described the Solstice driving experience: "Getting up to highway speed is only a couple of redline shifts away. The 177 horsepower and 166 pound-feet of torque aren't going to smoke the tires, but there's a willingness to please that will keep you grinning." The magazine went on to describe the handling: "…entering a corner near the limit is easy because the steering offers crisp turn-in and the wide all-season 245/40R-18 Goodyear Eagle RS-As are predictable and easy to slide around. If you do carry too much speed into a corner, understeer will rear its shuddering head, but a slight lift off the accelerator will transfer enough weight off the rear tires to cause them to slip wide, which has the effect of tucking the car back into the corner." And finally, comfort: -"The seating position is comfortable, the seats have useful bolsters, and visibility is excellent. Gauges are borrowed from the Chevy Cobalt, and HVAC controls come from the Hummer H3. The steering offers solid on-center feel, and the ride smothers imperfections. In cruise mode, the Solstice takes on a relaxed personality--no sudden movements, no darting."
If you're reading this and kicking yourself thinking: "Too bad I can't just go to a Pontiac dealer now and buy one brand new." Guess what? Except for the part about the Pontiac dealer, Garage Kept Motors has your brand-new Solstice… right now!
The classic silver-over-black 2006 Solstice offered here—production-sequence number 703 of the first 1,000 made—has just 219 (not a typo) total miles on it! So, while 14 years old, this is effectively a brand-new sports car. It also happens to be identical to the Solstice that Pontiac launched on a segment of "The Apprentice," during which none other than Donald Trump, always quick with a moniker, called it a "badster." (Copies of correspondence from Pontiac Division verifying this story are included with the car's other launch documents.)
Not surprisingly, the exterior paint and trim are in uniformly excellent condition. The car has been treated with kid gloves and properly stored over the years. From the twin-kidney grilles, to the brushed aluminum windshield surround, to the twin-hump bodywork behind the driver and passenger, to the five-spoke wheels, all the characteristic details of the car are as-new. Underneath, the chassis surfaces are all in perfect condition, too.
Motor Trend opined: "The Solstice is a legit sports car just because it fits like a glove and melds with you to become one on a mountain road…." The car's interior features the manual five-speed transmission, to the delight of enthusiasts, the only choice in the model's first-year. The driver-focused, red-lit instrument cluster with adjacent "First 1,000" emblem, high-back bucket seats with gray stitching, and simply designed, but purposeful switchgear all speak to sport driving. The steering wheel's center-mounted Pontiac emblem serves as a reminder of the performance-oriented, storied GM division.
Under the front-hinged hood, the 2.4-liter twin cam Ecotech inline 4-cylinder engine—rated at 177 horsepower and 166 foot-pounds of torque—shows the same new condition. Because the torque in the middle of the engine's power band is high, "… you won't feel compelled to race it up to and past its 6750-rpm redline," according to Car and Driver.
The more than 190 high-definition photographs together with the short walk-around-and-startup video available on the GarageKeptMotors site faithfully present the condition and character of this Solstice. That said, when it comes to appraising a collector car of this quality, there is no substitute for an in-person, up-close inspection. To that end, we encourage interested parties to visit our Grand Rapids, Michigan showroom to spend some time getting to know this pristine Solstice. We ask only that an advance appointment be made with us by phone or email so that we can devote our full attention to our visitors.
Car and Driver summarized their review of the 2006 Solstice calling it: "A surprisingly pure roadster." Fourteen years after that review was written, there's the rare surprise of finding a virtually brand-new Solstice waiting for its next curator… or its first enthusiastic driver. | {
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-100
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