[FONT="]October 1800: Royal Palace, York[/FONT][FONT="]:[/FONT]
[FONT="]Sir Euan Adamson waited in the chilly antechamber in his court dress. The ADC had apologised for the delay in his appointment, but assured him that it would be but brief. After five more minutes, the old king came out himself to conduct him to his study. He was quite grey now – Dark Edward no longer. Sir Euan followed him and accepted rather a moderate glass of port. [/FONT]
[FONT="]“My apologies, Sir Euan,” he said. “The meeting with the Home Office and Treasury about agricultural reform took considerable time this afternoon.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Never in life,” your Majesty, said the engineer. “I make no doubt that it was a weighty matter.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Indeed, Sir,” replied the king. “In addition to subsidising irrigation and drainage efforts, we are trying to establish wholesale prices for the leasing of farm equipment and draft animals for the smaller farmers. But, no matter, we must to business. Now, Sir Euan, could you give me a detailed report of your department’s operations since the Spring?”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The King’s Surveyor of Roads was able to report further steady progress in the development of infrastructure, in particular the secondary roads and bridges in Lancashire and Cumberland. Edward followed his account with close attention and asked about scheduling and budgetary details for the last quarter. He was quite satisfied with the response. The king then asked for the plans for the next year and queried various technical points about gradient in Westmorland and Dumfriesshire. It was an efficient meeting and no longer than necessary, but the king thanked Sir Euan sincerely and cordially at its close.[/FONT]
[FONT="]New Year’s Eve 1800, Red Dining Room, Royal Palace, York[/FONT][FONT="]:[/FONT]
[FONT="]Cynewulf Pateley looked around at the frescoes in the ornate dining room with awe and a sinking feeling of rustic inadequacy. A stooped and black cassocked clergyman with an Irish brogue approached him, smiled and said:[/FONT]
[FONT="]“You won’t see the like this side of Pompeii. The king’s father, Edward XIII, had exquisite taste, albeit ruinously expensive. The room is modelled on the triclinium in the Villa of the Mysteries. But forgive me, I have not introduced myself. I am Rev. Dr Patrick O’ Neill. Young Edward was my pupil in the Classics when I was younger and more spry. Now I am Dean of Armagh.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]Cynewulf bowed reverently and stammeringly introduced himself. It was not a large dinner, just a party of eleven guests to celebrate the final day of the eighteenth century, but the company was various and intimidatingly accomplished: the Secretary for War, an old baron with gout and the incongruous name of Fruity, Sir Leonard Hardy, Captain Wilberforce RN, Sir Offa Osgood, the famous engineer and ironmaster, General D’Avoult, the commander of the Royal Guard, a Winchester don whose name he missed, the Archbishop of York, the Earl of Pontefract and a dark-haired boy of about twelve. Cynewulf felt completely out of his depth, but was treated kindly by Fr Patrick. The Winchester Don, Osric Alfredson, was a most pleasant surprise, a natural scientist with a great knowledge of ornithology. They talked long over the madeira until the first of many courses began. It was an unusually sumptuous meal for the palace and the fireplace gave forth a mellow and warming glow. After Captain Wilberforce gave the loyal toast, Edward XIV arose and addressed them.[/FONT]
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[FONT="]“Gentlemen, my lords, this night we close with the eighteenth century. It has been in many ways a time of trial for Northumbria. But, with God’s good help and your own loyal service, we have weathered the storms and begun to build the basis of future prosperity. Each of you has played or is playing an important role in this transformation. Let us each go forth on the morrow into a new century with hearts rekindled by duty and service. Let us build a better realm for our subjects and the future of the dynasty. I give you all a toast to the dawn of a new age, to the nineteenth century and to my dear heir, Edward, Prince of York.”[/FONT]
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[FONT="]The company arose and responded with strong voice and heartfelt conviction. Young Edward turned quite pink and looking very young gave a toast in return to the marriage of tradition and progress and to Northumbria.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Fruity smiled affectionately at his old friend and brother-in-arms. How many times had he observed Edward use his charm, his wit and conviction to inspire his subjects, but it never lost the magic. It was a most moving evening. Edward presented each of them with an exquisite watch, inscribed with the date and their names and crafted with the precision and beauty of Polonian clockwork and silversmithing. When the clock struck twelve, they raised their glasses of 1743 port, laid down by Edward XIII at his son's birth, and toasted the New Year.[/FONT]
