The Duke of Tremont

Chapter 17

Warning: Minor character death in a gruesome manner. Sorry.

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Winter hit Pennington with a vengeance bringing with it violent rainstorms and early snow. Fortunately all the new buildings had been completed in time and the King’s loyal soldiers were all protected from the elements.

Mel and Daphne had their hands full as the effects of so many people stuck in close proximity meant that illness was running rampant through the castle. Colds, fevers and even worse illnesses were hard to stop with so many germs flying around in relatively close quarters.

As Twelfth Night approached King Jonathan called his council together for the official vote on what the response to the Duke and Duchess of Balybonne would be. He had given permission for Justin and Molly to be absent from the session considering that their parents were still being held hostage, but both declined his offer. Both children knew their parents would want them there and they knew how they would want them to vote.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the council, the time has come to send an answer to The Duke and Duchess of Balybonne, who have now declared themselves King and Queen of those lands," he paused as noise of disapproval ran through the chamber. He looked around the room trying to make eye contact with as many of his councilors as possible; "I will go around the room and ask for your vote. Yea if you believe we should allow Balybonne to separate from Pennington or nay if you believe we must put a stop to this. Please remember to take into consideration that a nay vote will most definitely mean a civil war will commence come spring for they will not give up so easily."

"Your Highness," spoke a man, who was one of the barons from Pennington’s western border; "are you prepared to fight a war against your own sister? Your flesh and blood?"

The other councilors shifted uneasily in their seats and the King eyed the man for a moment; "I cannot deny that it will be difficult to wage war against my own family, no matter how distant we have become," he shot a quick glance to Brian on his right, "but we must do what is best for this kingdom, not what is best for my brother and I." The councilors all nodded their approval and Jonathan pressed on; "so what say you?" He looked to his brother first; "Brian, Duke of Tremont, what is your vote?"

"Nay, Majesty," Brian replied with a sure tone.

The King went round the room collecting votes, all of which were being tallied on parchment by Brian’s man Theodore. The tallies did not seem to be necessary though, considering there had yet to be a Yea uttered.

When Jonathan came to Justin and Molly, huddled close together in their seats his expression softened when he spoke; "Justin and Molly of Westlake, perhaps this vote is the most difficult for you. It only serves to show your loyalty and bravery to your parents and this land that you are at this session for I offered to dismiss you from it and having to make this decision." Jonathan let that information sink into to the council hoping to garner some sympathy from the others no matter what young Justin’s vote would be. "I don’t believe one of us would blame you if you made the decision that would most likely insure your parent’s safety."

Justin looked to Brian for a moment taking comfort in his lover’s encouraging gaze. "Your Highness though we love our parents dearly and fervently hope they do not come to harm they would not thank us to vote for usurpers and traitors taking over our lands." He squeezed Molly’s hand under the table and held tight; "therefore my vote is nay. Duke Sapperstein must not be allowed to rule Balybonne as it‘s own kingdom."

"Thank you Justin;" the King replied softly, "you are very brave," he turned his gaze to Molly understanding why his son admired the girl so much; "both of you."

Molly ducked her head blushing; "thank you Your Majesty," she replied.

Jonathan smiled at her then turned his attention back to the council; "now then, shall we continue?"

After polling all concerned the vote was unanimous. The Duke and his Princess must be stopped and come spring their country would be engaged in a civil war.

"Thank you for your votes and your confidence in us everyone;" Jonathan closed the session; "I shall send our answer today by fastest courier," he stood, as did everyone else to bow or curtsey as he exited the room.

Brian approached Justin and Molly who stood with their hands still tightly clasped together; "you did well," he smiled; "I am proud of you both." He hugged Molly, then Justin, careful not to cause too much of a scene in front of the more conservative council members. "Come, let us go and tell the others how it went today," Brian led them from the chamber.

Justin promptly sneezed and cleared his throat, wincing a bit; "my goodness excuse me," he said politely.

"Bless you," returned Brian, "are you feeling all right?" He asked with concern tingeing his voice; "perhaps you ought to go to our room and lie down."

Justin laughed; "don’t be silly, ‘twas just a sneeze. Now come I want to tell Uncle Patrick about the decision!"

Molly and Brian exchanged looks but followed Justin silently down the corridor.

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It was a week and a half since the message had been sent off to Balybonne and still no reply had come. Jonathan and Brian were a bit perplexed, expecting at the very least a long and defiant tirade from their sister. As days passed their attentions were pulled to the upcoming war instead of dwelling on the lack of reply from their misguided sister and her husband.

Justin’s sneeze had eventually turned into a head and chest cold, which had him confined to his bed, by orders of Mel and Daphne. He was Daphne’s special patient as she tried out all of her newfound knowledge on him. He complained to a very amused Brian that if he was forced to drink one more potion he would surely turn into a toad.

On the eve of Christmas Justin was complaining bitterly about still being bedridden and unable to attend the ball that Lindsay had insisted on throwing for the festive occasion. "I don’t see why I must remain in bed;" Justin griped, "I feel fine." He punctuated his sentence with a sneeze and a cough.

Daphne was going to retort, but thought better of it when she caught the death glare he was sending in her direction.

Emmett breezed into the room dressed in his holiday finery; "I’ve come to relieve you of your nursing duties Daphne so you can enjoy the party for awhile."

"Oh thank you Emmett," Daphne smiled and moved to look at herself in Justin’s dressing mirror.

The young man sat propped against his pillows looking decidedly sullen; "I‘m not a baby. I don’t need someone here every moment."

"Duke Brian’s orders My Lord," Emmett replied cheerfully; "but this should cheer you up," he gushed; "a gift from your mother has arrived. The messenger is bringing it up as we speak."

"Mother?" Justin sat up excitedly, "that means she must be well if they let her send a gift."

"My thoughts exactly My Lord," replied Emmett.

"I am going to stay long enough to see what it is;" added Daphne, then I can tell Molly when I see her at the party.

"Good idea Daph," they all moved out into the sitting room to receive the messenger and Justin’s eyes lit up when they heard a knock at the door. Emmett let the man, dressed in the livery of Westlake and carrying a rather large and ornate chest inside.

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At the party Deb rushed up to Brian who was chatting with Bishop Vic, Jonathan, Patrick and Lindsay; "oh Brian (Deb always forgot titles when she was excited) isn’t it so wonderful?"

"Isn’t what wonderful Deb?" Brian and the others looked puzzled.

"The Christmas gift from Justin’s mother," Deb exclaimed; "had you not heard?"

Brian felt a small inkling of fear creep up his spine; "no I had not heard. What gift Deb?"

Deb smiled; "well from what Emmett just told me in the corridor a messenger from Westlake just arrived with a gift for Justin. He is on his way to give it to him even as we speak. Isn’t it good news?" She asked.

"Yes good news," Brian repeated absently as he slowly rose from his seat.

"What is it Brother?" Jonathan asked laying a hand on Brian’s shoulder as he too rose.

Brian’s eyes met his brother’s and they both had the same thought; "Claire!" They exclaimed softly in unison.

"I must stop him!" Brian shouted as he hurried out of the hall and up the nearest staircase followed by the other men.

Lindsay and Deb trailed behind them, hampered by their formal eveningwear; "what is it?" Asked Deb, "what’s happening?"

"I’m not completely sure," replied a winded Lindsay, "but I believe this package may be no gift at all."

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Brian rounded a corner and was almost to his apartment when he heard horrified cries coming from down the hall. Then he actually staggered under the emotions that were emanating from Justin. Through the link with his young lover he felt horror, rage, despair, grief and blinding guilt all in the matter of a few moments.

Jonathan and Bishop Vic caught him between them; "Brian what is it?" Asked Jonathan as they continued to hurry down the corridor toward the ruckus.

"We are too late," Brian gasped out as they arrived at his door and burst in.

The four men stopped short at the chaotic scene before them. The dead body of the messenger lay in a pool of blood near the library table where an ornate chest stood open upon the table. Daphne and Emmett clung to each other next to the fireplace; both of them weeping, and huddled in the far corner of the room, as far away from the chest as he could get, was Justin. The boy still clasped his bloody dagger in his blood stained hands and his eyes cast about the room wildly, obviously not focusing on anything.

Needing to know exactly what they were dealing with the four men approached the open chest cautiously and then peaked inside.

"Good Christ," Brian and Jonathan swore in unison as they turned away from the sight.

"No!" Cried Patrick as his tears also began to fall.

Bishop Vic crossed himself and began quietly reciting last rights.

In the chest, her beautiful blue eyes turned up to them, open and unseeing, was the head of The Lady Janniver of Westlake.

King Jonathan had received his reply.

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