King Javan’s Year Read Online Free PDF

gleaming in the torchlight. It was Rhys Michael’s signet, near mate to Javan’s own, which he kept hidden in a small leather pouch under the mattress in his cell.
    â€œ Brother Javan,” the abbot said pointedly, “this is highly irregular. You are under obedience to this Order. And where is the rest of your habit?”
    â€œI mean you no disrespect, Father Abbot, but I am under a higher obedience to my king, who is my brother,” Javan replied, ignoring the question of his habit as he glanced back at Charlan. “ Rhys Michael sent you, Sir Charlan?”
    â€œAye, my lord, for the king was too weak to make his wishes known outside his sickroom.” Charlan delved into the pouch hanging from his belt and produced a folded handkerchief, which he handed to Javan. “As further earnest that this is his personal request, the prince bade me give you this.”
    Carefully Javan unfolded the soft linen, deliberately angling it so that Father Halex could not see what it contained. The earring of twisted gold wire was mate to another he had been directed to remove prior to making his vows and bespoke the very urgency of Rhys Michael’s summons—that this, indeed, touched on the kingship of Gwynedd. He kept his expression neutral as he folded the earring back into its linen nest, deliberately ignoring the abbot as he slipped Rhys Michael’s ring onto his right hand and looked up at Charlan again.
    â€œI’ll need to boot up and change,” he said, handing the handkerchief back to the young knight for safekeeping. “Look after that, will you? And did you bring me a horse, or shall I borrow one from the abbey stables?”
    â€œNow, see here, Brother Javan!” the abbot began.
    â€œIt’s Prince Javan now, my Lord Abbot,” Javan replied, rounding on the older man with a look of fierce determination. “And I ride at the command of my king—and your king as well.”
    The abbot gaped and glanced indignantly at his two monks for support. “But you’re under vows. You owe me obedience!”
    â€œMy vows are and always have been temporary, my lord,” Javan said, quietly but firmly. “They now are at an end. I’m leaving. So unless you intend to take up the matter with Sir Charlan and the other knights waiting in the yard, I suggest you stand aside and allow me to pass. Sir Charlan, would you please accompany me?”
    The abbot gave way speechlessly as Javan pressed forward, Charlan at his elbow, and the monks likewise parted to either side, leaving them a clear path across the garden.
    â€œI did bring you a horse, your Highness,” Charlan murmured breathlessly as they made for the processional door, away from the now-muttering abbot. “I have a spare pair of breeches and a short tunic in my saddlebag, too, if you’re in need of proper riding clothes. It would be a grim ride, bare-legged.”
    â€œNo, I have what I need in my cell, from my last trip to Rhemuth,” Javan said. “Nothing fancy, but it will do the job.” He pushed open the processional door and led Charlan briefly into the south transept and around to the night stair. As they mounted the stair, Javan steadying his hobbling gait with a hand on the thick rope swagged up the wall, he glanced back over his shoulder at the following Charlan.
    â€œHow is my brother Alroy, Charlan? Did you see him?”
    â€œNo, sir. Only Rhys Michael. But he said he’d just come from the king, and he looked really worried. I’m reasonably confident we can get you back to Rhemuth in time, but I don’t think I’d have been sent like this, in the middle of the night, unless it was urgent. Rhys Michael took a big risk, too, sending me the way he did. It’s my impression that it was against the wishes of Archbishop Hubert and whatever other great lords might have been waiting outside the king’s chamber.”
    They had reached the landing now,