King's Dragon (Crown of Stars 1)

“You have a compassionate heart, Alain. I will think on this before I act. Is there anything else you have seen or heard that you wish to tell me?”

The Lady of Battles. The vision he had seen in the ruins. The owl that had hunted that night, on Midsummer’s Eve. But he dared not speak of these things to Agius or to anyone except his kin. Afraid that he was about to blurt out these secrets, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Why is Lady Sabella not Queen of Wendar? She is the elder child, isn’t she?”

“The sovereign does not chose the heir only because of primacy of age. To rule is a great burden, and the child named as heir must have other qualities. Chief among them is the ability to produce an heir in her own right. A family only stays strong as long as there are strong children to carry on the line. Surely you have heard of the heir’s progress?”

Alain shook his head.

“When the heir apparent reaches his or her majority, then she or he is sent out on a progress around the realm, just as King Henry travels constantly on his own progress, seeing to the health of his kingdom. The Lady watches over this progress, and if She grants Her favor to the claimant, the woman will get with child, or the man will make a woman pregnant. So is the chosen one marked as heir, for so it is assured that this prince of the realm is fertile.”

“But couldn’t a man lie about getting a woman pregnant?”

“Both he and the woman whom he has gotten with child must swear before a biscop, in the name of the Unities, that the child is of their conception. And the child must be born healthy, to prove its conception was not tainted with sin.”

“What happened to Sabella?”

“She went on her heir’s progress and did not get with child.”

“But King Henry did?”

“Ah, yes. King Henry did, although in a strange fashion. But that is a tale in and of itself.”

“Then why can she rebel now? How can she claim she is the rightful queen?”

“Many years later Lady Sabella married and gave birth to an heir, thus proving her fertility. After the birth of Tallia, Lady Sabella demanded that Henry stand aside in her favor. Of course he refused.”

“Oh.” Although Agius spoke of the doings of the great nobles, this story had a familiar ring; an Osna family had two years ago gone through an acrimonious dispute over inheritance rights, settled (after one unfortunate death) only by the intercession of the deacon, who had made all the parties involved kneel for five days and four nights at the Hearth in the church while she recited from the Holy Verses. “Do you think her cause is just, Brother?”

“I do not concern myself over such worldly matters, Alain, nor should you.” He turned suddenly, skewing round on his knees, and an instant later Alain heard the scrape of the door.

Biscop Antonia, in a white cassock trimmed with gold thread, walked up the aisle to them. She had such a pleasant face that Alain could not help but warm to her. She reminded him of the elderly deacon in his own village, kind Deacon Miria, who treated all children in Osna village as if they were her own grandchildren and whose judgments were firm, compassionate, but always just.

“Frater Agius. I hoped to find you here, at your devotionals.”

“I endeavor to serve God, Your Grace, as well as this unworthy flesh can.”

She did not reply at once. Alain tucked his head down, trying to efface himself, but he felt her gaze on him. Then it lifted and he glanced up swiftly to see that she regarded Agius once again.

“I have heard from the count that there are old Dariyan ruins nearby. You will attend me tomorrow, and lead me there.”

“I am your servant, Your Grace.”

“Are you, Brother? I have heard whispers about you, Frater Agius. I have heard you profess a devotion to Our Lady so great that you often, I fear, neglect to pray to Our Lord, the Father of Life. But—” She looked again toward Alain. He ducked his head quickly. “We shall speak of that another time.”

Agius merely made, at his chest, the hand sign that denoted submission to his elder’s will: fingers curled down and clasped over his thumb.

The biscop moved to the hearth, where she knelt, said a prayer, and drew the Circle at her breast. Then she left the church.

“Go,” said Agius. “Meet me here tomorrow, after morning service. I would like you to attend me.” “Me?” Alain squeaked.

Instead of answering, Agius bent double and prostrated himself before the image of St. Lavrentius.

Alain nudged Lackling. “Come,” he whispered, afraid to disturb the frater, whose eyes were closed and whose lips moved in rapid prayer. The boy followed him willingly. Outside, Alain had to blink. The sun had come out from behind the morning clouds and now shone brightly. The light stung his eyes.

3

ONLY a small group walked by the isolated forest path to the old ruins: Biscop Antonia and two of her clerics, Frater Agius, Alain, and, of course, Lackling, who attached himself like a loyal hound to Alain and could not be shaken loose. To Alain’s surprise, the biscop did not ride her mule but chose to walk with the others, as any humble pilgrim might.