Ravens, Owls and a nightingale

26. Revelry & Realizations

"Dear friends!"

Lord Rhodan-Omeasch of Deleon had a voice that could issue commands even in the roar of a battle. No wonder then that it rose so effortlessly over the joyful noise of the banquet hall, making people shush each other and turn to look at him. Within moments an awaiting silence had fallen over the hall.

"My beloved family, my trusted friends!" Lord Rhodan stood up from his chair. "I want to welcome you all once more to this party, and just to make sure that we all know what we are celebrating, let me list all the good reasons. This has been a tough summer to everybody, and thanks to the trouble with Moydherr it began badly enough."

Not a word in reference to his late wife's part in the entire mess, nor did anyone really expect any. In a sense, Lady Berissa had never existed. True, she had been the Lady of Deleon for seventeen years, and yet her treachery had wiped her memory away in a whiff. Only the things she'd left behind were still there to show that she hadn't been a mere phantom.

"But our troops beat back that attack, and now Moydherr is in the hands of our old friend and true ally."

Loud cheers rose from the festive crowd as the Lord raised his tankard in a salute to his old brother-in-arms, nowadays known as Krisyorr-Lerenn of Moydherr. Rhodan could still so well remember the rotund boy with whom he had competed in everything, and more than once exchanged blows when their supremacy couldn't be solved otherwise. Krisyorr, now an immensely tall and lanky man with a strong jaw and slightly crooked nose — which, incidentally, hadn't been broken by Rhodan — returned the gesture with a bow and a wide smile. He looked very comfortable and impressive in the handsome clothes that befit his status as the lord of a castle, as he sat there at the Lord's table, next to Count Daynar.

"Back then the situation was in many ways such that a proper party couldn't be arranged," Rhodan continued. "But now we have behind us another, much bigger campaign, from which we have also returned as victors. The attack by Eregal and her allies has been repelled, and we have officially entered into an alliance with the esteemed Lord Bardioll-Kardess of Eregal."

This time the cheering doubled in volume, not least thanks to Captain Brendel who was wholeheartedly bellowing his support to his overlord. Lord Rhodan acknowledged it with a broad smile and raised his hand for silence.

"Moreover, this is a farewell party for our sister-in-law Lady Bialka, who has decided to return to her childhood home in Eregal and will be leaving us in a few days' time."

He bowed towards Lady Bialka who blushed at the sudden attention but managed to nod a graceful thank-you to him, even if her hands were all the time fidgeting nervously with the big napkin in her lap.

"And last but not least..." Lord Rhodan turned to the person seated on his left, voice trembling ever so slightly. "Let every man and woman here today, and the gods above, be my witnesses now. I want everyone to hear me when I declare that this young man here, Karos-Daleot, is truly my own flesh and blood, even if born out of wedlock. Henceforth he shall be acknowledged by everyone as my lawful son, and brother to my son Bengor-Omeasch-nea and my daughters Benella and Bailenn."

Even though the Lord of Deleon had by no means kept his intentions secret, everyone in the banquet hall nevertheless held their breath as Karos rose slowly on his feet and was swept into a tight embrace. People were anxiously scanning the faces of the Lord's legitimate children, looking for the smallest sign of displeasure, but in that respect they were disappointed. Lord Rhodan and Karos hugged each other for a long while, both trying very hard to keep their emotions in check, until the Ranea and his sisters surrounded their newly official brother and loudly demanded to be given their chance to welcome him in the family, too. Only then did the crowd dare to cheer again, or perhaps the respectful silence had been caused by the fact that several people were surreptitiously clearing their throats or dabbing some moisture from their faces.

The subsequent rounds of toasts and accompanying speeches, full of praise and congratulations, took their fair time. At last the actual feast began, dinner was brought in, and the Lord could sit back once more. He looked around and sighed in satisfaction. Three long tables, arranged into a three-quarter square, were lined with smiling people who talked animatedly to each other and didn't hesitate to gorge themselves on the food that seemed plentiful enough to make even the heavy oak tables sag. Beer flowed, it made faces glow and loosened tongues, so that a happy clamor soon filled the hall once more.

Everyone was dressed in their most festive garb, including the women present. Very few of Deleon's captains were married, but those who had wives had certainly brought them to this grand occasion. As there were no actual castles in the vicinity, the captains' wives were mostly from the bigger farmhouses of the area, and had originally entered the decorated hall nervously and very round-eyed. Now they were clearly relaxing, but many wondering glances were being cast at the three Ladies sitting at the Lord's table.

The whole family had agreed that there was absolutely no reason why Lady Bialka should be in mourning for her good-for-nothing husband, and she had taken the hint. Her handsome dress had elicited more than one gasp as she'd entered the room, and people still kept stealing glances at her even now that she was sitting by the table and daintily tasting the various delicacies in front of her. Never mind that she was rather plain, shy and mousy; she had been brought up as a Lady, and that showed.

Bailenn, seated next to Lady Bialka, was obviously trying hard to imitate her graceful movements. Lord Rhodan eyed the girl approvingly and smothered a smile when he noticed how Bailenn wiped her fingers on her own napkin to remove obvious evidence of her failure to eat with equal neatness. Oh, he loved his younger daughter and her sporadic attempts at behaving like a young Lady should... Bailenn was so impulsive. In fact so much like her elder sister, except that Benella was considerably more successful in her increasingly frequent ladylike airs.

Benella looked very pretty in her close-fitting, eastern-style dress, and Rhodan's eyebrows quirked as his gaze strayed to the hint of cleavage. He blinked as it dawned on him exactly how curvy the body inside that dress was, and swallowed hard to cover his shock. Benella was rapidly growing into a becoming young woman, and would need to be married in a few years... very few. Such a pity that she was still just a little too young. As far as position and prestige went, Krisyorr would've been an eminently suitable match for Lord Rhodan's eldest daughter. Unfortunately Kris was about his own age, whereas Benella had only just turned fifteenth. That was definitely too much of a difference.

The Lord shifted a tad uncomfortably in his seat and turned his eyes again to the people sitting by the other two tables. It amused and delighted him that even his captains had obviously gone into extra trouble to appear in something less stern and military than their usual thick wool and leather. But then, for some time now they had been in the position to observe a striking display of how to combine military prowess with dressing handsomely...

A flash of black and blue to his left caught his attention, and Lord Rhodan raised a goblet to his lips to hide an almost-grin. Daynar sure had a remarkably expensive taste in clothes and one hell of a wardrobe, and didn't hesitate to show it off when the occasion arose. Was that really embroidered velvet? Not that Lord Rhodan minded, though. In fact he rather liked the touch of eastern finesse that Daynar added to the scene. It balanced nicely the spectacle of Lady Bialka, seated at the other end of the table, and gave the people something to ogle — when they weren't looking at the Lord and his children.

Rhodan's heart swelled with pride as he glanced first at Bengor, who glowed health and happiness on his right side, and then at the most recently introduced member of the family. Karos was his own silent, aloof self, clearly much less accustomed to his prominent position, and was doing his best to ignore the way the people around were looking at him and his father. Such a handsome young man he was, and seeing them there like that, side by side, everyone had been remarking on their astonishing likeness. They were like two pictures of the same man, only separated by some twenty years of age.

Yes, Rhodan-Omeasch had all the reason on earth to be happy tonight. He had his children by his side, his trusted friends and allies toasting with him, and could look forward to enjoying peace for quite some time. He was sure that when word of the latest victories spread, it would do a lot to discourage potential enemies from even trying their luck. What was more, there were now no castles within reasonable distance that could seriously hope to match the power of Deleon in battle, and marching large troops from far away was an undertaking with great potential for disaster, as Eregal's alliance had experienced. The Lord gulped from his tankard and closed his eyes for a moment, when emotions threatened to momentarily overwhelm him.

All faces around him were merry, a little flushed by the warmth and food and drink, and music had ceased temporarily to let happy laughter and talk fill the hall. The minstrels had given their instruments a rest and were sitting at the end of one table and eating their fill. Somehow they looked oddly young in the predominantly dark and tall company, but that didn't stop the older of them from entertaining their closest neighbors with a story that was received with loud roars of laughter and much clapping of hands. Lord Rhodan was ready to wager that the topic was more than a little raunchy; he was rather sure that Schean's red cheeks weren't caused by only warmth and beer.

The last courses had been brought in only a few moments earlier when Lady Bialka stood up and excused herself with a deep curtsey. Lord Rhodan looked at her in astonishment.

"What!" he exclaimed. "Surely you're not going to leave us yet? This early?"

"My gracious Lord," Lady Bialka said, tone slightly plaintive, "I am not used to keeping late hours, especially not recently, and —"

"If you're out of practice, shouldn't you start getting back into the habit?" Rhodan chuckled. "I bet your life in Eregal isn't going to be nearly so quiet and peaceful, as far as social life is concerned, as it has been here. You'll be facing quite a few parties more once you get settled there."

Lady Bialka blinked, looking more than a little shocked at the suggestion, and Lord Rhodan decided to show mercy to her. "All right, all right, of course we won't be keeping you up longer than you want. But I hope that at least you've enjoyed yourself so far?"

"Oh yes, definitely, my Lord!" the Lady hastened to assure him. "It really is a wonderful party, and I am sorry to leave, but I am getting tired..."

"By all means." The Lord rose from his chair and bowed deeply. "Sleep well, Lady Bialka. I hope our revelry won't keep you awake at night."

Lady Bialka curtsied once more and exited, long skirts trailing after her. Rhodan followed her with his gaze and only sat down once the door had closed after her. So strange to think that she and the late Lady Berissa were really sisters. Sure, they shared some features that marked them as close kin, but anyway — probably her stern father and flint-hard big sister had made sure that Bialka learned early on to be humble and shut up. Too bad that they had also taught her to cower. It didn't become her.

Some time later Lord Rhodan realized with some astonishment that the party had somehow, inexplicably, grown a lot noisier. As if the presence of Lady Bialka had been keeping the revelry in check. She never did anything to draw attention to herself, and yet there was no overlooking the breath of eastern sophistication that always hung around her. She might be shy and plain and always look slightly lost and out of place, but still that touch was there. Now it had left the room with her, and what was left was a large group of people who were getting serious about having fun.

That group also included the Lord's children, very much awake and alert, nibbling on sweetmeats and watching the party around them with fascinated eyes. This was, after all, their very first such party. Deleon had seen some, but those had taken place when they'd been mere infants, some of them not even born yet. Nor had the girls had much chance to see parties in Moydherr, either; Lord Theren had thrown a few parties for his closest allies, but not even his wife had participated in them, let alone two badly underage nieces. Now each and every one of them was determined not to miss a thing.

Even Karos had relaxed and was watching the minstrels, probably marveling at their skill and stamina. They kept up a steady flow of music, mostly playing on their lutes and singing so that music vibrated through the air and intertwined with the talk and clatter of plates and drinking vessels. Every now and then Schean would pick up his flute, while the quickest, bounciest dance tunes received extra boost from Mioll's drum. Only the dancers were missing, and all of a sudden Lord Rhodan noticed the longing glances that the few women in the party kept casting towards the empty space arranged in the middle of the room. He frowned a little and then smirked.

"Sir Count!"

"My Lord?"

"I wonder if you might have learned some useful skills, and not just military ones, during your many years in the East?"

One of the Count's eyebrows climbed up. "What skills might you be referring to, my Lord?"

"Dancing." Lord Rhodan nodded. "It seems that nobody is bold enough to go dancing unless somebody from this table makes the initiative, and I think you and a certain young Lady sitting on my other side could show them that the floor hasn't been cleared for nothing."

Benella looked at him, eyes going wide in shock.

"Father!" she hissed, blushing heavily. "I don't —"

But Count Daynar was already standing next to her and bowing respectfully. "Will you give me the honor, Lady Benella?"

"I — I'm not sure that I know how to dance to this," Benella stammered, but the Count just smiled.

"Oh, I'm sure that the minstrels will be able to find a tune that you'll find familiar enough to dance!"

Bailenn sighed in jealousy as her big sister took the offered hand and let the spectacular Count lead her to the dance floor. The minstrels, mindful of the scant experience that Lady Benella had of this particular activity, immediately switched to a slower and statelier tune, earning a surreptitious nod from Count Daynar. To everyone's great delight the pair danced the entire garrasch through without a glitch, and loud applause broke out as they finally bent their heads in a graceful departing gesture. More than one person could also be heard observing aloud what a handsome couple the two of them made.

Benella beamed at the Count, who took her solemnly back to her seat and kissed her hand before returning to his own place once more. The minstrels struck up a different melody, and true enough, the display had encouraged others to dance as well. Within moments every lady in the room could be seen on the dance floor.

Bengor clapped his hands in delight. "This is so much fun!" he exclaimed. "Oh, I want to learn how to dance as well, because I want to have many parties here!"

Rhodan smiled at his darling son. "I promise you there'll be lots more," he said. "There'll be New Year parties, and harvest parties, and birthday parties..."

The Lord's voice trailed away as his gaze fell on someone who had just entered the banquet hall, carrying a large can of ale. He couldn't help the broad smile that crept on his lips when he saw that tall figure, those strong arms and full breasts and wide swaying hips. They made him feel hot and cold at the same time, they made his heart beat faster and blood — and beer — sing in his ears.

The chatelaine glanced at him and smiled minutely before turning her attention back to the banquet hall that she'd come to inspect. He could see her eyes assessing the scene. Was there enough of everything? Should some dishes be taken out and others brought in instead? Had the maids cleared empty plates and bowls away as they should?

Rhodan-Omeash wiped his mouth and stood up.

"Friends... may I have your attention for a while?"

The revelers still weren't too drunk, for they immediately perked up and turned to look at him expectantly. Lord Rhodan smiled — smugly, several people swore to themselves.

"My friends, it is wonderful to celebrate our victories with you today, and I can promise that this party will not be the last one of its kind here in Deleon. Besides, there will be other, different reasons for celebration coming up — such as weddings."

The voices had died down into a murmur, but now there was a dead hush and the people exchanged puzzled glances. The Lord grinned.

"Yes, weddings." He paused and nodded for emphasis, then added: "I am getting married soon."

Jaws dropped, and several people turned spontaneously to look at the chatelaine who had stopped to stare at the Lord and pursed her lips giving him a chastising little shake of the head.

"I want to tell you all that a most excellent and capable woman has indeed agreed to be my wife," he continued. "And our next celebration will be our wedding, once Lady Merania of Deleon has got everything arranged to her liking."

"I am still not quite sure that I like that name," the chatelaine said calmly. "Lady Merania of Deleon sounds so very odd."

"Nothing odd about it, I swear!" Captain Brendel stood up raising his goblet and bowed. "If anyone deserves to be the Lady of Deleon, it is you who have lived here all your life and looked after this castle like no one else could have. I will be glad to address you thus, Lady Merania."

He drank to her health, others joined in, and her protests were drowned by the flood of congratulations pouring from every direction. Amidst loud demands the chatelaine finally conceded to let Lord Rhodan grab her by the waist and kiss her solidly on the mouth, then she pushed him away with a stern scowl.

"Now, my Lord, we'll have none of that any more tonight!" she said. "I have people to supervise and a party to run, and you have your guests to entertain."

The Lord spread his arms in surrender and everyone laughed.

"Where's the warrior hero now?" someone shouted. "Where's Lord Rhodan the conqueror?"

"Goodness me!" Lord Rhodan replied with a wide grin. "This isn't war, my men. Enemies are to be conquered, allies to be persuaded."

Roars of laughter followed the remark, and luckily everyone was either still enough in their senses not to make any unfortunate comparisons to the Lord's previous wife, or just too inebriated to even try to elaborate on the topic. As it were, the subsequent jokes remained on the safe side and only increased the already exuberant mood of the room.

Lord Rhodan sat once again in his seat and grabbed his tankard, then his gaze skimmed over his younger son and he blinked in confusion. Why did Bengor suddenly look so thoughtful, lower lip pulled between his teeth? Wasn't he feeling all right? Was he getting tired? Rhodan leaned closer.

"Is something wrong, Ranea?" he asked in a low voice. "Would you want to go to bed?"

"I'm no baby, father!" the boy snapped so sharply that the Lord started. "I can decide by myself when I'm tired and when I'm not."

"Of course you can," Rhodan said, eyes narrowing in concern. "But still I'd like to know if something's wrong. You looked quite different just a moment ago."

"Maybe." Bengor shot him a slanted glare and continued to demolish a large cookie with the tip of his knife. "Maybe I'd have appreciated if I'd been the first to hear about your marriage plans?"

The Lord frowned, puzzled. "All right, granted, maybe I should've told the three of you first," he said. "But I can't see how that should be such a big deal for you or your sisters. They sure don't seem in any way put off by the news. And I thought you liked her?"

"That's not the point!" Bengor huffed in exasperation. "I do like her. But still I would've liked to know."

He stared stubbornly at the pulverized remains of the cookie on his plate, mouth in a disgruntled line and eyebrows screwed together. Lord Rhodan shook his head in confusion and was about to reach out and ruffle the boy's hair, then his hand stopped and fell limply on the armrest. Under the thick beard his jaws clenched together as he struggled not to swear aloud.

So Bengor was going to have a stepmother. So would his sisters, for that matter, but Merania had no daughters of her own to compete with Benella and Bailenn. But she did have a son — a bastard several years older than Bengor, sired by Bengor's own father. A bastard who was a young man already, who was the hero of the day, and whom Rhodan had that very same evening publicly acknowledged as his own.

Bengor had grown up to take it for granted that he was undeniably the Ranea, Lord Rhodan's sole legitimate male child and heir, but all of a sudden that position seemed far more precarious. He wouldn't be the only one to see that Karos, the firstborn, was now only a tiny little step away from being the actual heir of Deleon. And even though the boy genuinely loved his half-brother, how could he possibly not feel threatened by this development?

Lord Rhodan cursed himself profoundly. How could he let himself be so carried away by the beer, the general jubilant mood, and his own pursuit of personal happiness, as to blithely ignore the possible implications of his announcement? But there was no taking back what he'd done, and it was really no wonder if his intelligent, perceptive son was hurt and confused, breathing hard and avoiding his father's eyes.

"Ranea," he said softly, leaning closer to Bengor. "I am sorry for not talking to you before. I'm drunk and deliriously happy, and let my tongue run away with me."

Bengor snorted. "You're not that drunk."

"Drunk enough not to think ahead, it seems. But I meant only what I said — I'll marry her, and that's all. Nothing else will change."

"Nothing?" The boy raised suspicious eyebrows and finally met his father's gaze.

"Nothing else, Ranea," Rhodan said, letting his big hand close over his son's slim fingers. "That's a promise."

Bengor granted him a tiny smile and Lord Rhodan sighed in wary relief. He had a feeling that it would take quite some convincing before he'd be fully forgiven.