“Don’t you look beautiful,” I commented. Sarah was dressed to the nines in a deep green tailored suit and a luscious cream silk blouse that set off her red hair. She looked both glamorous and festive.
“Agatha made it for me. She knows her stuff,” Sarah said, turning around so we could admire her further. “Oh, before I forget: Ysabeau called. Matthew should ignore all the cars parked along the drive and come straight up to the door. They’ve saved a place for you in the courtyard.”
“Cars? Parked along the drive?” I looked at Matthew in shock.
“Marcus thought it might be a good idea to have some of the knights present,” he said smoothly.
“Why?” My stomach somersaulted as my instincts warned me that all was not as it seemed.
“In case the Congregation decides to take exception to the event,” Matthew said. His eyes met mine, cool and tranquil as a summer sea.
In spite of Ysabeau’s warning, nothing could possibly have prepared me for the enthusiastic welcome we received. Marcus had transformed Sept-Tours into Camelot, with flags and banners twisting in the stiff December breeze, their bright colors standing out against both the snow and the dark local basalt. Atop the square keep, the de Clermont family’s black-and-silver standard with the ouroboros on it had been topped by a large square flag bearing the great seal of the Knights of Lazarus.
The two pieces of silk flapped on the same pole, extending the height of the already tall tower by nearly thirty feet.
“Well, if the Congregation didn’t know something was happening before, they do now,” I said, looking at the spectacle.
“There didn’t seem much point in hiding it,” Matthew said. “We shall start as we intend to go on.
And that means we aren’t going to hide the children from the truth—or the rest of the world.”
I nodded and took his hand in mine.
When Matthew pulled in to the courtyard, it was filled with well-wishers. He carefully navigated the car among the throngs, occasionally stopping by an old friend who wanted to shake his hand and congratulate us on our good fortune. He slammed on the brakes hard, however, when he saw Chris Roberts standing with a large grin on his face and a silver tankard in his hand.
“Hey!” Chris banged on the window with the tankard. “I want to see my goddaughter. Now.”
“Hello, Chris! I didn’t realize you were coming,” Sarah said, lowering the window and giving him a kiss. “I’m a knight. I have to be here.” Chris’s grin grew.
“So I’ve been told,” Sarah said. There had been other warmblooded members before Chris—Walter Raleigh and Henry Percy to name just two—but I had never thought to count my best friend among them.
“Yep. I’m going to make my students call me Sir Christopher next semester,” Chris said.
“Better that than St. Christopher,” said a piercing soprano voice. Miriam grinned, her hands on her hips. The pose showed off the T-shirt she was wearing under a demure navy blazer. It, too, was navy and had SCIENCE: RUINING EVERYTHING SINCE 1543 spelled out across the chest along with a unicorn, an Aristotelian depiction of the heavens, and the outline of God and Adam from Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. A red bar sinister obliterated each image.
“Hello, Miriam!” I waved.
“Park the car so we can see the sprogs,” she demanded.
Matthew obliged, but when a crowd started to form, he said that the babies needed to be out of the cold and beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen, armed with a diaper bag and using Philip as a shield.
“How many people are here?” I asked Fernando. We had passed dozens of parked cars.
“At least a hundred,” he replied. “I haven’t stopped to count.”