Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 1 (23 page)

Count Lavastine greeted her in the formal manner, but he did not help her dismount. One of her own vassals did so, holding the stirrup while she swung down. Then her husband
—a paunchy man distinguished only by the gold torque at his neck—dismounted. There were several girls in the party so draped with shawls that Alain could see no outward sign by which to distinguish Tallia— Sabella's daughter—from the others.

Alain sidled over toward the doors of the church, coming to rest near poor Withi, who had taken up her usual station on her knees by the door.

The biscop, staff in hand, led the company forward to the doors. Prater Agius had come out, and he knelt on the porch in greeting.

"Where is your deacon?" asked the biscop.

"Deacon Waldrada has been ill with the lungfever, Your Grace," said Lavastine. "She is not yet recovered enough to lead the service."

"So do we obey the dictates of Our Lady and Lord. While it is not traditional, nevertheless this brother of the church shall assist me today, together with my clerics and deacons." Almost at the porch, with the lords and ladies following, the biscop caught sight of Withi kneeling in the mud. She lifted her staff and pointed it at

the girl. "Who is this penitent with her hair stained with ashes who kneels forward before the others?"

So close behind her, Alain saw Withi's shoulders tremble as the biscop spoke. He wanted to go forward, to comfort Withi, to tell her that surely this biscop, with her kindly face and her gentle but authoritative manner, could not be harsher than Prater Agius. He even took one step forward, only to halt at the sound of Agius' hard voice.

"This sinner has confessed to the sin of fornication, Your Grace. She has repented of her sin and now kneels for the prescribed one hundred days here before the church, so that all may see and hear her cries to Our Lady, who is merciful."

"Poor child," said the biscop. She was an old woman, white-haired but robust, with cheeks rubbed rosy by evident good health. "Shall we not also act mercifully on this day of repentance?" She walked forward and extended a hand to Withi, who merely gaped at her.

All around, the crowd murmured at this sign of compassion from a great biscop, a noblewoman of high rank.

"Come, child," said the biscop gently. "You must enter the house of Our Lady and Lord and be forgiven your sins."

Withi burst into noisy sobs, but at last, under the biscop's kind gaze, she put out a chapped, callused hand and the biscop took it in one of her own white, clean ones and lifted her up. With the girl beside her she led the procession into the church.

Agius remained kneeling to one side. He bowed his head, hiding his expression, so that Alain could not tell if he was furious, or shamed.

a man-at-arms in training, Alain was allowed to serve at the high table in the great hall. Dhuoda soon recalled that she had first noticed him serving at his aunt's table, in Osna.

"Your manners are superior and your bearing is dignified," Dhuoda informed him. "You may help serve wine at the high table."

He did not get to pour the wine directly into the cups of the count or Lady Sabella or the other high personages, of course. They had their own servants to do that. But he was assigned the important duty of standing behind the table in order to make sure the servants' pitchers never ran dry. Because, during Holy Week, it was customary to eat and drink sparingly
— or to fast, as Prater Agius did — Alain had the luxury of a great deal of standing around and listening. And listen he did.

"I am a border lord, Your Highness. I have estates lying in both kingdoms."

"Yet most of your lands are in Varre, are they not? As is this castle and your most ancient holdings. You are kin to my husband, Prince Berengar, and thereby a distant kinsman to the crown of Varre."

"Which resides now in the hands of King Henry." Count Lavastine maintained such a discreet hold on his tongue that Alain could not tell if he supported Lady Sabella or King Henry. Or, indeed, if he supported either one.

"Where it does not belong. I and my daughter are the last living heirs of the royal house of Varre, through my mother, Queen Berengaria. I am the only living child of Arnulf and Berengaria, whose names I remember in my prayers daily."

"King Henry is also the child of Arnulf."

"Through a woman who was not even a queen in her own right, but only through her marriage to Arnulf. I am the rightful queen, Count Lavastine, and when I am restored to my throne through the efforts of my faithful followers, I will give my daughter Tallia to the throne of Varre as queen and marry her to a man of noble birth among those who have supported me. Thus will Varre be restored, separate once again from Wendar and no longer subject to taxes and duties imposed by the reigning monarch in Wendar."

Alain could scarcely catch his breath, hearing Sabella speak so bluntly. Count Lavastine evidently had un-plumbed reserves of calm, because not a flicker of emotion escaped him.

"You speak rebellion, Your Highness, against King Henry, who has received the blessing of the skopos in Darre and of the assembly of biscops and presbyters at Autun. Henry was himself named heir by your father, the younger Arnulf. Did you not swear before Biscop Antonia of Mainni seven years ago to reconcile with your brother?"

"So I did reconcile at that time. I was younger, and my daughter not yet healthy. After many years of prayer and with the wise counsel of Biscop Antonia and the considered support of Rodulf, Duke of Varingia and Conrad the Black, Duke of Wayland, I have chosen again to put forward my case. Let us speak plainly, Count Lavastine. I seek your support as well."

Sabella had a bland, almost monotone voice, but the deep furrows of long anger that lined her face gave the lie to her seeming coolness.

"Such a decision cannot be reached lightly," said Lavastine. He glanced toward Alain as if he had known the boy was eavesdropping all along, then smoothly changed the subject to last summer's Eika raids and the prisoner he had captured in the battle at the Vennu River. Amazed by the count's notice, Alain stood frozen until, mercifully, one of the biscop's clerics signaled to him. Alain jerked himself away and hurried over to refill a fine glass pitcher. For a little while he was busy.

In the kitchens, where he refilled his own ceramic pitcher from barrels brought from the cellar, a different discussion was going on.

"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 Prater 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, Prater 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.

"Sit," Alain whispered to the hounds, and he edged toward the cage to watch as Sabella, Biscop Antonia, and the others stared at the prisoner. The Eika prince examined them coldly, but he remained utterly still. What an awful fate, to be stared at so, and so helpless in the bargain. The compassion Alain felt for the prince startled him. Shouldn't he hate all Eika for what they had done to Brother Gilles and the other monks at Dragon's Tail Monastery?