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“I heard that fifty of those pigs will go to the beast that hides in the cage,” said one of Cook’s assistants.
“Hush, now,” said Cook. “We needn’t have your gossip here. Go back to your chopping.”
“I heard it, snuffling and clacking its teeth, and one of the handlers is missing a hand. Bitten off, it was, I’d wager.”
“It’s a monster!”
“Nay, it’s only a leopard, that’s what one of the servingmen back by the wagons said.”
“Has he ever seen it? Why must they shroud that cage, then? Why do they keep it outside the palisade, back by the forest, as if to hide it? It’s a basilisk, mark my words. One look and it will turn you to stone.”
“I won’t have this!” said Cook sternly, then turned her sharp gaze toward Alain. “You, lad, aren’t you serving wine?”
He hurried back into the hall, poured, fetched more wine, only to find himself in another lull. A monster in a shrouded cage! He was not quite sure what a leopard was, anyway. Was it like a basilisk?
He eased down the dais toward the count but came to a halt somewhat behind the chair of Biscop Antonia. Next to her sat the sallow, quiet girlchild whom Alain had identified as Tallia, daughter of Sabella and Berengar. Alain studied her surreptitiously. No longer truly a girl, she was not yet quite a woman. She had pale features that resembled neither her mother nor father strongly. A fine linen scarf woven with golden lions on a wheat-colored background, whose effect was to render her even paler, concealed her hair. The gold torque around her slender neck was so thick and heavy it appeared to imprison rather than elevate her.
Fish—for of course the noblefolk fasted for Penitire by eating no meat—and vegetables and savories lay untouched on her plate. She ate only bread, although twice he saw her drink watered wine from the cup urged on her by the biscop, who tended to her charge solicitously. Farther down the table, Prince Berengar drank and ate with gusto.
At last, pale Tallia leaned toward the biscop and spoke. “Why can my lord father not observe Holy Week in a Godly manner, Your Grace?”
The biscop patted her kindly on the hand. “You must never mind it, my child. We must each accept the burden that the Lady and Lord have given us to bear.”
“My lord father is an idiot,” murmured Tallia, and then blushed deeply.
“Nay, child, say not so. He is a simpleton, and is it not said in the Holy Book that ‘the simple soul is closest to God’?”
“You are kind to say so,” replied Tallia, looking mortified as Prince Berengar called loudly for more wine. Beyond Biscop Antonia, Lady Sabella seemed not to hear her husband’s shrill voice. But the servants hastened to assist him, and soon after Alain noticed Sabella make a hand sign to her steward. Within moments, a pair of burly young men deferentially escorted Prince Berengar, who was now singing the opening stanza of a song Alain usually only heard coming from the barracks, out of the hall.
“Has Frater Agius been with you for long?” asked the biscop, turning to Count Lavastine.
“He came a year or two ago,” said the count. “You must ask my chatelaine if you wish more particulars.”
“And is he a good man?”
“He is devout. No scandal attaches to his name.”
“He is harsh, my lord, in his reading of penance, which is a virtue best left to those exalted brothers who devote their lives to the eradication of their own spiritual deficiencies. But not all souls born onto this earth are granted such vigor in their spiritual pursuits. I would draw your attention to that poor child I found kneeling outside the church this morning. Surely forty days of penance would have sufficed. She is young and pretty and not freeborn, I take it. Would it not have been better for such a young woman to marry the young man in question? So that she might then perform her duty to Our Lord and Lady by producing many fine young daughters and sons while lawfully allowing her body to take part in those earthly pleasures which are also a part of the nature of those of us who are human—for we are all of us, even the blessed Daisan, admixed by darkness, are we not? And then these fine strong children can work your fields, Count Lavastine. If we but aid the Lady and Lord in reaching the hearts of the faithful, in lending aid to all so they may also serve, then so will we all prosper the more.”
He inclined his head briefly. “I thank you for your counsel, Your Grace.” It was hard for Alain to tell if the count spoke sincerely or sardonically. “Since my men-at-arms do not marry without permission, I must assume that the young man was indeed unmarried. If it is your will, I will speak to my captain and to my chatelaine about the matter. They will resolve it speedily, I trust, and to everyone’s satisfaction.”
Sabella watched this interaction with a lifted eyebrow, as if waiting. But for what? Biscop Antonia merely nodded, smiling, then turned to make sure that Tallia had eaten all of her bread.
“Your love for Our Lady and Lord is an example to us all, my child, but you must keep up your strength.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said the girl dutifully, and she fingered the crusts and then, at last, ate them, washing them down with a sip of wine. Alain’s mouth watered. He had drunk only water and eaten only a little bread, as was fitting, and the rest of Holy Week loomed ahead, six days of fasting broken on the seventh day by the Feast of the Translatus. He sighed and went to get more wine.
* * *
The next morning at dawn, Alain woke to a knocking on the gate. He climbed the ladder and found himself looking down on Master Rodlin.
“Up quick, now!” said Rodlin sharply. “The count will be bringing Her Highness the Lady Sabella here after morning service, to view the Eika prince. You must make all secure so they may come inside safely. I have five handlers here, and I can send more if need be.”
But Alain chose to chain down the hounds himself, and he stood beside them while the count and his guests entered the stockade. Chatelaine Dhuoda, Frater Agius, and the captain walked in attendance as well, so that all together a goodly number crowded into the stockade, pressed toward the side of the enclosure well away from the black hounds. The hounds whined and yipped, calling out to their master, and Count Lavastine came over and acknowledged each in turn: Joy, Terror, Steadfast, Ardent, Bliss, Fear, Good Cheer, Sorrow, and Rage. Old Enmity had died over the winter. Joy had come into heat two weeks before and was believed to be pregnant by Fear. The hounds licked Lavastine’s hands and thumped their whipcord tails hard against the wood bar that held them. A few growled at the visitors. Prince Berengar made as if to come over and pet “the sweet dogs,” and had to be restrained, but Alain saw that this was all done delicately. Sabella was evidently careful that her husband received no outright insult to his person. Lavastine nodded curtly at Alain and returned to the others.
iscop patted her kindly on the hand. “You must never mind it, my child. We must each accept the burden that the Lady and Lord have given us to bear.”
“My lord father is an idiot,” murmured Tallia, and then blushed deeply.
