Read Online King Javan’s Year by Katherine Kurtz - Free Book Online Page A

the room with a slight bow and indicated that Hubert should follow.
    â€œI trust this betokens a change of heart, Brother Javan,” Hubert said in a low voice as the prince closed the door behind them. “Do I dare to hope that the king has managed to remind you where your true duty lies?”
    Javan controlled his growing disgust at the hypocrisy of the man and kept his voice equally low and uninflected.
    â€œIndeed, I am reminded of a Christian duty that takes precedence over any personal consideration, your Grace,” he said quietly. “It has always been my brother’s wish, as a faithful son of the Church, to receive the full solace of the Sacraments before he dies. I understand that you gave him Unction during the night, but that he has declined to receive Communion. Can you explain why that might be?”
    Hubert lifted both hands in a gesture of denial. “The King’s Grace is not himself, from the illness and the drugs. I offered him the Blessed Sacrament, but he would not receive it.”
    â€œHe is ready to receive it now,” Javan murmured, adding only in his mind, but not from you .
    A tiny, self-satisfied smile curved at the archbishop’s rosebud mouth. “It will be my privilege, of course. No priest could desire any greater fulfillment than to minister thus to a dying man.”
    â€œThen please do so.”
    â€œI shall need but a moment,” Hubert replied.
    Inclining his head in what he hoped the archbishop would take for a sign of conciliation, Javan opened the door to allow Hubert’s passage, then closed it behind him and leaned his head briefly against the door jamb, calming and centering himself before he turned back to beckon to Rhys Michael.
    â€œBe ready to follow my lead when he comes back,” he whispered to his brother. “And Oriel, please try not to look surprised at anything you may see or hear.”
    As Rhys Michael approached, both he and Oriel giving Javan odd looks, a quiet rap at the door preceded the turning of the door latch. Touching one finger across his lips in a gesture for silence, Javan drew Rhys Michael to one side with him and turned his gaze attentively to the opening door.
    Slowly the door swung inward to reveal two ornate candlesticks held by the two Custodes priests, who had donned wilted white surplices over their cassocks and looked very warm. Behind them, reverently bearing the veiled ciborium at his breast, came a sweating and pink-faced Hubert, his already-damp purple cassock now layered under a surplice lavish with lace. In the room behind him, everyone had gone to their knees in respect to the Blessed Sacrament passing among them.
    Crossing himself piously, Javan also bent in respect, but only to touch one knee to the floor in a genuflection. Rhys Michael haltingly did the same. As Javan stood, he moved forward with authority to put both hands on the candlestick held by one of the startled Custodes .
    â€œMy brother and I will serve as his Grace’s acolytes today, good Fathers,” Javan said to the priests, glancing back to call Rhys Michael forward, then looking beyond them at Hubert when his man did not immediately relinquish the candlestick. “I ask most humbly that you permit this, your Grace. We have served this way before. It would mean a great deal to us—and to the king, I believe.”
    Though a little taken aback, Hubert hesitated only briefly before nodding dismissal to the two priests. Javan’s candlestick was heavy in his hands as he took its weight, inclining his head in a proper ecclesiastical bow.
    When the door had closed behind the departing priests, Javan and his brother made Hubert proper bows as well, the candlesticks held carefully aloft, then turned to lead the way over to the royal bed, where Oriel had sunk dutifully to his knees as Hubert entered, though one hand still maintained contact with the unconscious king. Rhys Michael went to Oriel’s side; and when