The Quest for Saint Camber by Katherine Kurtz Page B

father’s face.
    â€œWith all due respect, Sire, I would be knighted with my father’s sword.”
    â€œSo be it.”
    A murmur of approval whispered through the hall as it gradually became apparent what was about to happen. Conall’s face seemed almost to glow as he raised his eyes to Nigel’s and watched his sire draw a sword nearly as distinguished by its battle honors as Kelson’s was hallowed by Haldane magic. Both Jehana and Meraude, Conall’s mother, were blinking back tears as Nigel reverently kissed the blade and then raised it above his son’s head.
    â€œIn the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, be thou a good and faithful knight,” Nigel said, dubbing Conall firmly on both shoulders and the crown of the head. “Arise, Sir Conall Haldane.”
    Kelson smiled and made appropriate murmurs of congratulation as Conall was girded with his new white belt by his mother, and presented by his father with a goodly sword that his brother Rory brought forward, but his thoughts were already flying to the next candidate, with whom he shared far more by spiritual kinship than he ever would share by blood with his eldest cousin. Dhugal had appeared at the far end of the hall now, waiting with the other candidates to be called forward next; and Kelson sent him a tight-focused greeting, mind to mind, before returning his attention to Conall. He slipped his sheathed sword into the hangers at his belt as the newly dubbed Conall knelt once more and placed his hands between the king’s to swear him fealty.
    â€œI, Conall, Prince of Gwynedd, do become your liege man of life and limb and earthly worship; and faith and truth will I bear unto you, to live and to die, against all manner of folk, so help me God.”
    No trace of Conall’s usual resentment marred the moment as Kelson returned the oath, pledging his justice and protection for Conall’s loyalty, and then raised Conall up with words of honest congratulation. He gave Conall his full moment of unshared glory while his parents and brothers embraced and welcomed him to his newly adult status. Only when Conall had put on the coronet of his rank and taken a seat on a stool to his right, just to the other side of Nigel’s chair, did Kelson turn to glance at Morgan, still waiting behind and to Kelson’s immediate right. Morgan stepped forward at Kelson’s slight nod.
    â€œDuke Alaric, I believe it is your intention to sponsor the next candidate. Please bring him forward.”
    Whispered asides rippled all through the hall as Morgan made his way down the aisle to where Dhugal waited, many a curious glance looking for Duncan, now legally and openly recognized as Dhugal’s father, but apparently to have no part in the knighting of his son. By most folk’s reckoning, that was only as it should be—for, notwithstanding the decree of the archbishop’s tribunal, the oddness of a bishop with a legitimate son still had many people off balance. An act of legitimation might have removed the last legal and religious impediment to Dhugal’s reception of the accolade or succession to his father’s titles, but there would always be those who continued to call him bastard, especially as his Deryni heritage became more widely known. Fortunately, most folk had not yet made that connection, just as most preferred not to believe that Duncan really was Deryni, no public evidence having been presented to the contrary.
    Today, therefore, Duncan was present, to be sure, but he had attempted to appear no kind of a bishop, lest his episcopal presence further confuse the court’s reception of his son. Rather than standing on the dais with the king, as was his due as bishop or duke, he waited anonymously in the ranks of other, lesser nobles come to witness the day’s ceremonies, but with no part to play. He also had eschewed his customary purple cassock in favor of a dove grey tunic