Faerie Lord

One Hundred and Two

There was fresh gravel on the streets and banners hung from every house. Henry couldn’t believe the crowds that lined the streets. He waved through the window of the ouklo, the way the Queen did in London on a State occasion. The cheering never stopped, not for an instant, as the carriage carried him towards the great cathedral. His heart was thumping so hard he wondered if it would survive the ceremony.

The carriage sank down slowly onto the cathedral courtyard, a footman opened the door with a flourish and Henry stepped out. He’d been here once before, for Pyrgus’s coronation, and the scene wasn’t all that different. The cathedral itself towered above the soldiers on parade, the courtiers, the waiting crowds. It was a gigantic building, much larger than anything he’d ever seen at home, yet the architecture was a lacelike filigree that could be supported only by magic. Or perhaps divine intervention. Henry thought in passing. Now he’d seen an angel with his own two eyes, he was prepared to believe anything was possible.

Pyrgus was walking towards him, grinning broadly. He was dressed in some elaborate naval uniform that presumably went with one of his titles. He shook Henry’s hand, then hugged him, patting his back furiously. ‘You dog,’ Pyrgus murmured. ‘You old dog.’

‘Is she here?’ Henry whispered. There was a part of him that knew this simply wasn’t happening, or if it was, it was too good to be true. He wished Lorquin was with him for moral support, but Lorquin was back with his tribe now and would have been totally bewildered by what was happening here anyway. So Henry had to face this all alone, afraid Blue wouldn’t turn up, or she’d turn out to be already married, or something else would go wrong. There was no way Henry would actually get married, not to a Faerie Princess, not to Blue.

‘Not yet,’ Pyrgus whispered back. ‘She mustn’t come until you’re in your place. The Royal Barge is moored at Cheapside, but they’ll send off a signal now you’re here.’

If it hadn’t been for Pyrgus, Henry would never have found his way into the cathedral. As it was, he had only a confused impression of military salutes and cheering crowds and a soft pinkish snowfall he finally discovered was rose petals.

It was even worse inside. The cathedral was a confusion of colour and incense smells. There were at least a hundred Priests of Light in startling golden robes and rank upon rank of the nobility, each vying with the others in the elaborate structures of their costumes. In the centre of the cathedral floor was an enormous fire that sparked and crackled, yet somehow failed to give out too much heat.

The waiting was terrible.

Every few seconds Henry kept asking Pyrgus, ‘Is she here yet?’ Every few seconds Pyrgus grinned and shook his head and told him, ‘No.’ Henry craned his head to watch the doors until his neck ached. She wasn’t coming. She’d had second thoughts. She’d run off with someone who was better looking.

‘How long does it take the Royal Barge -?’ Henry began. Then he heard a commotion behind him and knew she must be there. He turned and she was there, standing alone without servants or retinue and so beautiful he nearly cried.

The whole proceedings went by in a daze. There was a thorny branch, symbolic of God-knew-what, and a spreading tree that actually appeared to be growing inside the cathedral, and they had to walk around the fire a lot. (He’d caught a glimpse of Nymph’s face in the crowd while they were doing that. She was smiling broadly, but seemed to be weeping too.)

The ceremony was conducted by Archimandrake Podalirius, an almost overpowering bearded figure with a voice that rumbled up like thunder from his boots. ‘Do you pledge yourself to Henry?’ he asked Blue at last. ‘Do you promise the great Lords of Light that you will hold to him and love him, here, now and in worlds beyond? Do you agree, before the Realm and those who gather here, to marry him?’

And Blue, quite clearly, said, ‘I do.’