King's Dragon (Crown of Stars 1)

“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.

“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?

“Truly Our Lord and Lady work in strange ways,” said Biscop Antonia. “Such a creature I have never seen before, and yet I know that the creation of all beings on this Earth are the work of God in Unity. But this kind is surely made more out of the things that grow within the earth, of stone and dark metals, than of light and wind.”

“You have received no messages, no offer for ransom?” Sabella asked.

“I fear he will be of no use to us except as a hostage,” said Count Lavastine. “Truly, he eats as much as two of my hounds and is less useful.”

“He does not speak?” asked Sabella. “Perhaps if persuaded he could give information about the ships and movements of his people.”

“We have tried. He speaks nothing of our tongue, and no one here speaks anything of his, if indeed these Eika savages speak in words and not just in animal cries.”

“Perhaps he could be taught,” said Sabella, but even she looked skeptical. “There are marks on the chains, here.”

“He tried to gnaw through the metal but could not, even with those sharp teeth. He has since given up trying to escape, or so we suppose.”

“Patience is a virtue,” said Biscop Antonia. “As is submission to the will of Our Lord and Lady. There may yet be hope that his kin can be brought into the Circle of Unity.”

The Eika prince said nothing, made no movement, only watched, surveying his captors as if to memorize their features. Alain wondered how much he did understand. He suspected, now, that the prince understood more than he let on. Two days ago he would have said, like the others, that the prince was unable to speak.

“If he is of no use to you,” added Biscop Antonia, “then I would gladly take charge of him when we leave here.”

Take charge of him? Alain was not sure he trusted anyone but himself to care for the prince. If they discovered the prince could speak, what then? They would torture him; it was the usual way to interrogate prisoners.

And why not? The Eika tortured and mutilated innocent villagers and the monks and nuns who haplessly bore the brunt of their merciless attacks. Why should he be merciful toward a creature who would kill him, given the chance?

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.

“Your Grace is most generous,” said Count Lavastine, “but it is not necessary. I consider him surety for the safety of my lands from further attack.”