"I have come with a message from her ladyship...er, that is Lady Alexandi. She wishes to speak with you on a matter of importance. I am to bring you to her at once."

"I see. Then I shall come with you at once. But first..." Erec looked to Drew. "Get a maiden to tend to Gwyn and set guards. Gwyn and the children must not be disturbed or frightened."

"It shall be done."

Erec watched as Drew turned and strode toward the stairs where the other men waited. Standing shoulder to shoulder with arms crossed and legs braced as they were, they made a formidable wall and from the quiet in the hallway, Erec knew it a very effective one.

"Alright lad, let us away."

---

"Bring wine and..." Alexandi looked to Erec who gave a shake of his head. "Just wine, then."

The boy nodded and disappeared. Alexandi closed the door behind him and crossed to a chair near the hearth. Though it was summer, the nights sometimes were cool this far north. Taking a seat, he was grateful for the warmth, but hoped it would not make him fall asleep.

"You asked to speak to me? The boy said it was a matter of importance?"

"It is of some importance, though I am not sure exactly how much. It concerns the Bishop...and your mother I think."

"My mother?" Erec was surprised. She had died when he was born and he never knew the woman. Nor had his father, nor anyone else that he could recall, mentioned her much.

"What do you know of her?"

"Nothing, save that my father loved her and that she died when I was born."

"You know nothing of her family then?"

"She had no family. I remember father telling me she was raised in the Abbey and that she was orphaned. She never knew of her family."

"Then first let me tell you of your mother. When you were first brought to us as a boy, I sent letters and learned what I could of your parents in case you should ever ask. You never did, and I quite forgot about it until recently."

"What has this to do with the Bishop?"

"First let me tell you of your mother. She was, as you said, raised at the Abbey. I was raised there myself, so I knew the records had been destroyed, but I also knew where to send my inquiries. It took many months and I despaired of learning anything but at last a letter arrived."

She held out a letter, indicating that he should read it.

Taking the letter, he looked at it. It was obviously very old, as he knew it must be as it was received by the Lady when he was but a child. He marveled that she had kept it for him all of these years. Turning it over, he saw it sealed with red wax and gold leaf with a bit of red ribbon that was frayed.

"It was quite beautiful when it arrived." Lady Alexandi said, noticing Erec fingering the seal and bit of ribbon. "I had to trim the ribbon off years ago, but the rest is as it was...except much older, of course." She offered a smile of encouragement.

Erec lifted the fold and continued unfolding until he beheld a rather long letter in an elegant and precise hand.

"The good Bishop Morchat has gone to his heavenly reward since he penned this. He was a kind soul and a true servant of God and mankind. He placed many orphans in the care of the church. And more than that, he remembered them and often would send letters upon marriages or other significant events. He is much missed."

"He had an elegant hand. Very precise. I imagine the man was all you say, and yet I imagine he also adhered strictly to the church."

"Very. He was above reproach in every way." The Lady seemed to wish for privacy as she stopped speaking when the servant returned with the wine.

When the servant left and the door was once more closed behind him, Erec read aloud in a clear voice, though just loud enough to be heard by the Lady without carrying, in case anyone should be lingering in the hall.

To his most beloved daughter of the church, the noble Lady Alexandi, Baroness of Brecken. From your humble servant, the Lord Bishop Morchat with the blessings of God.

"You see," Lady Alexandi said with a smile. I told you he was a true servant. Though he is first in age and rank and as Bishop, he places himself last."

"A good man, surely. It is too bad that there are not more men like him in this kingdom of ours. It would be a better place, would it not?"

The question was rhetorical and he did not expect an answer, so he turned back to the letter.

It is with kindest regard that this letter comes to you bearing good will and my prayers that HE, in HIS eternal love shall keep you in good health and happiness all of your days. That you have taken in an orphan to raise proves the goodness in your heart and your understanding of true Christian charity.

I maintain careful watch over the children that we take in but after our Abbey was tragically destroyed, we feared all souls were lost. Great was our mourning during those dark days. Therefore, your letter was received with much rejoicing.

Accept my gratitude for the kindness you show in advising that three of our girls survived that tragedy. The news also that they all married well and are living quite happily delights my old heart.

I was saddened to hear of the death of our beloved child Breenda Duplechain. I never knew if the child lived. I am grateful to you for the knowledge that a part of our beloved Breenda lives on in her son.

You inquired in your letter after Breenda and if I knew anything at all of her family. That was indeed many years ago, in the early years of my appointment. But as it would happen, I do recall Breenda very well, for her case was an unusual one.

Breenda Duplechain was a delightful child, blessed with beauty, intelligence, and a lovely disposition. I thought her a cherub when I first lay eye upon her wrapped in the softest wool and sleeping in that beautiful basket. I sent her to the very same Abbey that you were raised in.

All of that is not remarkable. Let me explain.

In most cases there is a donation made when the child is left with us. Or the child might simply be given to the church. Most of the time, in the latter case the child comes from an impoverished family. It is rare, but not entirely unheard of, that a devout family will give their child to the church, following the example of Hannah, mother of Samuel.

Breenda was neither such a case. As I have said prior, she was an unusual case.

Breenda was the daughter of Cleve Joseph Duplechain, a foreign noble of great note and wealth and his wife, Althea. Her story and subsequent care are what set her apart in my memory. I have the story of her family and birth from a second hand, but reliable source. It was the nurse of the child that told me all she knew.

Lord Duplechain was in this realm conducting business. He brought his wife with him as they were newly married and he could not bear to be parted from her. As is the natural course of things, she was soon with child and so Lord Duplechain made a home for them at Greenwood.

Though his family beseeched him to return, he would not hear of them leaving until after the child was safely delivered and his wife was fit to travel again. he was absolutely devoted to his wife, I am given to understand, and he was elated at the prospect of fatherhood.

Lady Althea, I was told, was a beauty and the babe took after her in coloring. Lady Althea was reported to be beautiful, charming, etc. The very picture of refinement and a proper lady. Unfortunately, when the birth came, it was a difficult one and Lady Althea lived only long enough to name her daughter.

According to the nurse, Lord Duplechain was brought very low. He wailed, wept, and tore at his hair and his clothes. He would not eat or drink and he rarely slept. The servants feared for their master and sent for the physic. Mayhap it was this visit that brought Lord Duplechain to his senses, but we shall never really know.

I do know what the nurse relates next. Lord Duplechain closed himself in to his rooms, allowing no one save the nurse to care for the bairn and to bring a little food and drink for him. Nurse said he spent days writing dozens of letters and then sent them all off. He spent each eve sitting in a chair and holding his daughter...and weeping for Althea.

The next part of this story is from the man that delivered the child and the nurse to me. He said that he visited Greenwood many times delivering letters that arrived. The nurse confirmed this and added that afterward, Lord Duplechain was once more occupied with the writing of many letters.

It was after this second flurry of correspondence that the Lord Duplechain kissed his daughter fondly. He said a prayer over her and told the nurse to look after her. And then he simply left the castle.

No one knows where he went, only that he was never seen or heard from again.

A sennight after he left, another man arrived. He was noble in bearing and dress according to the nurse. He began ordering the household dismantled. Everything was sold and the money was put aside. The man who brought the letters was summoned. The nurse and the child were put into a cart and sent to me along with a letter.

I no longer have the letter but recall the content. It advised who the child's parents were, that the mother was deceased and that her father could not care for her. It detailed that as there was no one else, she was sent to the church.

The church in turn, would receive gifts each annum in the form of livestock and a purse for her care. Also gifts and new clothes would be sent as she grew. The letter asked that she be educated and raised as a lady, since her family was old nobility and she was the last.

I remember holding the promise with much disbelief at the time. Such promises are often made with good intentions but are rarely kept. However, as per the instructions in the letter, I advised where the child was sent, expecting never to hear anything more.

Imagine my surprise a year later when I received a letter from the Reverend Mother of the Abbey that a cart arrived with livestock and the driver carried a purse and gifts and clothes for the child. And each year, such arrived each year until the girl left us to marry a soldier in the Royal Army.

His name was Eamonn and he too was an orphan. His story was not so blessed as Breenda. He was left with a note and a donation. His note said only that his name was Eamonn and that he had distant connections to nobility, though there was no fortune, no living family to care for him.

Eamonn was raised in a monetary and from the letters I received in response to my inquiries, I learned that he was an excellent student and a fine upstanding Christian. He was honest and loyal and Father Garoth assured me that he would make a fine husband for our dear Breenda. And so, we consented.

I was greatly saddened to hear that she died in childbirth a year later. As per the letter I received when she first came to us, I wrote to advise of both the marriage and the death. I never heard anything more.

Even as I rejoiced to learn of his birth, I was saddened to read also that he was orphaned. But I am truly happy that he will be well loved and cared for. Breenda was a remarkable child and Father Garoth said the same for Eamonn.

I can only imagine that their son will be a great man one day. He will be brave and loyal and he will have a kind hear and become beloved of many, even as his parents were. I see good things for the boy.

This is all the knowledge that I have on the matter, but I am ever at your service should you desire anything further.

By the grace of God, which ever have you in his keeping,

Your most humble servant, the Lord Bishop Morchat

In witness hereof, I set my seal at the palace in Kingstown

Erec finished and sat silently. He always considered himself an orphan and knew that his parents were also orphans. He was no one of significance and was ever grateful for any opportunity given him to better his place in life. To learn now that his mother was the last of a long line of foreign nobility and that his father had distant connections to nobility...

"It is quite a lot of information, is it not?"

"Aye, milady."

"I never meant to keep it from you. I wrote with every intention of giving it to you should you ever ask. You never did. In my joy of your acceptance of Norbert and I, I simply forgot about this. For that I am very sorry indeed.""

"Do not be sorry for it. I have no regrets. You and Lord Brecken were good to me and I loved you in the way a boy loves his parents. I still do." He reached out and took her hand, pretending not to notice the tears welling in her eyes, because she smiled so tenderly at him.

"Then I shall not feel sorry for not telling you of this. I have told you now and discharged my duty to you in this regard."

"Aye. But..."

She waited. He waited, trying to ask without sounding ungrateful or judging. Finally, he drew a breath and squared his shoulders.

"You said that this matter you wished to discussed involved the Bishop? Did you mean Bishop Morchat's letter?"

"Only in part. Did Gwyn tell you of my fears regarding Norbert? That the Bishop, that is Bishop Anouk, has been writing to him and visiting him frequently for the better part of a year? Each letter leaves Norbert very anxious."

"She did. Do you believe the Bishop is somehow involved in treason?" Erec asked incredulously. His voice rose and as he spoke the last word he stood and began to pace.

"I know not. I think mayhap...?"