He had tried to reassure her that Aaron would never send her away from the Watch. But as the night progressed, and some of the circulating gossip reached his ears, he thought that maybe her concerns were not so far-fetched.
His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by Alyssa’s arrival. She glowed with excitement and made a pretty picture with her hair elaborately plaited with ribbons that matched her gown of bronze and green. Hugh led her into the hall, where a light breakfast was being served as the guests assembled. The feast would start after the ceremony.
Outside, brilliant sunshine and vivid blue skies heralded a momentous day. Every corner of the keep was festooned in banners and flags. It seemed as if the Lady was trying to put on a bold face. Hugh thought she was optimistic.
Alyssa’s excitement rose to a fever pitch. Attending a confirmation was a great privilege, and she understood how important it was for a new holder to secure the Lady’s blessing. The link between the holder and the land was immutable.
The King protected the land, the land provided for the people, the people worshipped the Lady, the Lady blessed the Guardians, and the Guardians protected all. The Lady, Land and Liege.
She fairly hummed with expectation. Hugh glanced down at her. “Alyssa,” he murmured, “contain yourself; you’re not a child anymore.”
“I know, but I’m so excited! To receive the Lady’s blessing, I would be so proud!”
Hugh grimaced. “Somehow I don’t think the Lady has been invited today. Watch and listen. You know what should happen; watch what does. Remember we are guests here and this is Aaron’s day.”
Alyssa stopped fidgeting and flashed him a sharp glance. “Something is awry, isn’t it?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
“I am very much afraid so.” He was pleased with her perceptive question. “But it is too late to do anything about it. Just be your usual scatterbrained self,” he said with a grin.
“Papa!” she exclaimed as Peverill paused in front of her.
“Ah, Lady Alyssa, you look splendid; all ready for the ceremony?” He gave her a smarmy smile.
“Oh yes, Councillor Peverill,” she gushed, giving him a blinding smile which made him blink rather rapidly before moving on.
“Don’t overdo it,” her father cautioned, though he couldn’t help but smile at her.
At last, the procession from the manor began. Aaron and Lady Olivia led the way out of the house and down the slope towards the towering sentinal that guarded the deep lakes that gave the holding its name. There wasn’t room for everyone, so the villagers were held back whilst holders and local dignitaries thronged around the sentinal.
The first thing Hugh noticed was the complete lack of reference to the Lady, even though they gathered under her sacred Guardian. No one invoked her name; few hands fluttered in homage, no flowers stood on her stone altar; in fact, it was bare. He watched as Councillor Peverill stepped up to the altar and barely stifled a gasp as he climbed up onto it and raised his hands. A horrified ripple spread out under the sentinal as word passed of the sacrilege.
“Welcome,” he said. “Welcome all to this new age!” He flung his hands wide to embrace them all. “Welcome to the Council’s first confirmation: the confirmation of Lord Aaron of Deepwater.” He paused dramatically to give time for his words to take effect. “We are here today to announce the end of the holding by Lord Stefan and to proclaim his successor, Lord Aaron.” His voice droned on as he outlined the holding, its history and its dependencies, until he finally invited Aaron to join him. Aaron hesitated before committing the ultimate insult to the Lady and stepping up onto the altar beside Peverill.
“In the name of the Council do you swear to honour and protect the lands known as Deepwater?” Peverill intoned.
“I so swear,” Aaron responded, his voice firm and committed.
“In the name of the Council do you so swear allegiance and fealty to the council of all within Deepwater?”
“I so swear,” Aaron replied.
Hugh stiffened. These were not the incantations that he was expecting to hear. The council had made them meaningless, with no depth or commitment, just words that skittered off the surface and paid lip service to the true benedictions that should have been performed.
The correct words would have chimed through every believer’s soul, resonated in pure harmony with the Lady and bound the Guardian to his people and the land. A binding as base and immutable as time itself, which should have entwined with the Lady’s blessing. They either didn’t understand the intent, or they had deliberately destroyed that link and the power that went with it.
“In the name of the Council do you swear to abide by the rules of law so laid down?”
“I so swear.” Aaron’s reply rang out with conviction.
And so it continued; Aaron handed over his holding, his people, his lands and the Lady without lifting a hand to protect any of it. A voice raised in protest was swiftly cut off under the sentinal, and the low murmur of dissent stilled. The house guards stepped up and subdued the dismay that rippled through the villagers. The grove was utterly silent, no birds sang, not even the Sentinal rustled a single leaf. Lady Olivia stood stern-faced and pale; a single tear glistened on her cheek.
“So be it. In the name of the Council,” proclaimed Peverill resoundingly into the silence, “I give you Lord Aaron!” He blinked as he realised his words fell like stones into the deafening silence. He glared at the guards, who rushed to motivate the dumbstruck people.
Aaron stood awkwardly on the stone altar, uncomfortable at the lacklustre cheering. His mother turned away and left the circle before he reached the ground, which left him hurrying to catch up
