Alain relieved himself. The moon had already set, but a thin line of red rimmed the eastern sky. From the far side of camp he heard the sound, muted by distance, of clerics and fraters singing the service of Lauds, first light. As he turned to move out of the trees, Sorrow closed his jaws over Alain’s wrist and tugged. Alain tripped over undergrowth.
“What’s that?” A harsh whisper sounded from deeper in the wood.
Sorrow leaned so hard on Alain that the young man fell to hands and knees. Now he was partially screened by low bushes. He peered out through their branches to see two figures carrying between them a bulky weight. They had stopped to rest.
“Hush,” said the other.
Alain was silent. Sorrow was silent. The two mysterious men were silent. The clerics and fraters sang, distant voices blending in the chill air as the sky faded from black to gray.
“Nothing,” said one of the men. “We’d best hurry before camp wakes.” He hoisted the thing they carried up higher against his chest and they moved away through the curve of the wood toward the eastern end of camp.
They were carrying a body.
Alain’s heart went cold. Sorrow licked his hand. Together they crept after them, Alain keeping one hand on the nape of the hound’s neck. To reassure himself, he slipped a hand inside his tunic to touch the rose, still alive, still in bloom. The prick of its thorns gave him courage.
He could not tell if the body was man or woman, alive or dead. They carried it all the way round to the outskirts of Lady Sabella’s encampment, where the kitchen tent was set up, and then even past that and past the livestock, to where a shrouded cage rested fifty paces away from any tent or fire. A man, face hooded, arms bound in heavy leather wrappings, met them.
They spoke in low voices. At first Alain could not hear; no man would have been able to. But an Eika …
Alain strained, stilling himself until he heard Sorrow’s soft panting, heard each individual voice, some true, some off, as the clerics sang the final cadences of Lauds. He heard the scraping of claws against wood, the clack of twigs in the dawn breeze, heard even the loam as it crushed down beneath his fingers.
“… will have no questions being asked.”
“Brought him from the estate by Autun. Them are the Biscop of Autun’s lands, and so they be the false king’s lands. So does Biscop Antonia say, that false king’s men are fair game.”
The keeper grunted. “As long as we get no trouble of it. You must have walked all day, then, from the lands outlying Autun. Is he still alive?”
“Seems to be breathing. I gave him the drink, just as much as you said. Hasn’t woken or eyes fluttered once. What’s it for? Make him taste better?”
The keeper’s voice radiated his distaste. “No need to make him suffer more.”
“You feel mercy for the false king’s man?”
“I do my job. Now stand back.”
“We can’t watch?”
The keeper snorted. “Watch all you wish. You’ll regret it.”
Some tone in his voice made the other two back away. But Alain knew suddenly he could not stand by, not this time.
He jumped up. Sorrow nipped at his backside but missed, and Alain crashed out of the undergrowth.
“Stop!” he cried.
The two men grabbed him at once and wrenched his arms behind his back. He struggled briefly, but together they were much stronger than he was alone. A thud sounded, inside the cage, as if something had thrown itself against the slats.
“We could throw this one in,” said one of the men. “He’s fresher and younger.”
Sorrow bounded, growling, out of the trees. The two men instantly let go of Alain and backed off, drawing long knives.
“That’s one of Count Lavastine’s hounds,” said the keeper nervously. “Do naught to harm it.”
Sorrow sat himself down, leaning against Alain’s legs.
“Don’t do it,” pleaded Alain. “It isn’t merciful. It isn’t right”
This close, Alain saw the keeper had but a stump of one hand; his face was scored with old deep gashes on forehead and jaw, one of which had torn out his right eye, now healed as a mass of white scar tissue. A bronze Circle of Unity hung at his chest. “It must be fed, boy. Fed with fresh blood. Or do you volunteer to throw yourself in?”