Deryni Checkmate Read Online Free PDF Page A

another for most of his twenty-nine years. Brion, victim of the same battle of ideologies that even now threatened to rend the country and plunge the Eleven Kingdoms into war.
    Now Brion was gone. And his fourteen-year-old son reigned uneasily with the power he had inherited from his illustrious sire. And the tension grew.
    Duncan’s gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door from the outer corridor. As he looked up, a very young page in Kelson’s crimson livery entered carrying a steaming silver bowl almost as big as he was. A snowy linen towel was draped over the lad’s shoulder, and a faint scent of lemon reached Duncan’s nostrils as the boy knelt beside Kelson and held out the bowl.
    Kelson nodded grave thanks as he dipped his fingers in the warm water and dried his hands on the towel. The boy bowed his head shyly and moved to repeat the performance for Nigel, but he would not look up at the lean figure in royal blue. Nor, when he moved to Duncan’s side, would he look at the priest.
    Duncan controlled the urge to smile as he replaced the towel on the boy’s shoulder. But when the boy had scurried from the chamber, he gazed across at Nigel with a mischievous grin.
    “Is he one of your pupils, Nigel?” he asked, knowing that it was so. Nigel was in charge of the training of all the pages in the royal household, but Duncan knew that this one was special. In confirmation, Nigel gave a proud nod.
    “Payne, my youngest,” he replied. “He has much to learn, but so does every new page. This was his first time to serve officially.”
    Kelson smiled and picked up his goblet, idly twirling the stem between his long fingers so that the faceted sides caught the reflection of tunic and fire and tapestried walls.
    “I well remember when I was a page, Uncle. Not so very long ago, either. The first time you allowed me to serve my father, I was scared to death.” He leaned his head against the tall chair-back and continued dreamily, “There was no reason to be afraid, of course. He was the same, and I was the same, and the mere fact that I wore court livery shouldn’t have made any difference.
    “And yet, it did. Because I was no longer a boy serving his father; I was a royal page serving the king. There’s a big difference.” He glanced across at Nigel. “Payne felt that tonight. Even though I’ve known him all his life, and used to play with him and the other boys, he knew the difference. Tonight I was his king, not a familiar playmate. I wonder if it’s always like that?”
    The squire Richard, who had been turning down the state bed on the other side of the room, approached Kelson’s chair and made a short bow.
    “Will there be aught else, Sire? Anything I may bring ye?”
    “I don’t think so. Uncle? Father Duncan?” The two shook their heads and Kelson nodded. “That’s all for tonight, then, Richard. Check with the household guard before you leave. There should be a coach standing by later on to take Father Duncan back to the basilica.”
    “You needn’t bother,” the priest protested. “I’ll be fine on foot.”
    “And catch your death of cold? Certainly not. The night’s not fit for man nor beast. Richard, there will be a coach ready for Father Duncan. Understood?”
    “Aye, my Liege.”
    Nigel drained his goblet and gestured toward the door as it closed behind Richard. “That’s a fine young man, Kelson,” he said, reaching behind to retrieve the wine bottle and pour himself another cup. “He’ll be ready for knighthood soon. One of the finest lads I’ve ever had the pleasure to train. Alaric concurs in that judgment, by the way. Anyone else?”
    He proffered the wine bottle, but Kelson shook his head. Duncan inspected his goblet and found it half-empty, held it out for more. As Nigel replaced the bottle, Duncan leaned back in his chair and ruminated aloud.
    “Richard FitzWilliam. He must be about seventeen now, isn’t he?”
    “Very nearly eighteen,” Kelson