The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars #3)

The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars #3) Page 31

Sanglant was still cursing his dogs, who barked and lunged and snapped at their rivals. His right hand dripped blood where the chain, dragged through his grip, had scraped the skin raw. Alain approached him cautiously, knelt with extended hand, and reached out to touch the nearest Eika dog.

Rosvita shut her eyes as Amabilia gasped and Fortunatus swore under his breath. Constantine whimpered in fright. Then Rosvita cursed herself for cowardice and opened her eyes just as an uncanny silence fell upon the scene.

Alain had laid a hand gently on the head of the biggest and ugliest of the Eika dogs. It sat meekly, trembling beneath his touch. The other two hunkered down. Gobs of saliva dribbled down their muzzles to stain the dirt at his feet.

“Peace,” he said to them. “Poor troubled souls.”

He stood up. Sanglant regarded the young man with astonishment. Count Lavastine’s expression was so blank Rosvita could not read it.

A moment more they all stood so. Then raised voices drifted out to them from the hall behind. Sanglant grimaced and hastily dragged his dogs away just as Sapientia and Father Hugh emerged from the hall. An attendant carried infant Hippolyte, and the baby crowed and burbled as Hugh smiled at her and tickled her under her fat chin.

But Sapientia was staring around the courtyard, mouth pinched down. “Did we miss something?” she demanded as Sanglant vanished behind the stable. Hathui nodded curtly at Rosvita and left to find the king. Servants emerged cautiously from their bolt-holes and resumed their labors, and the messenger crept out from the safety of the stables and knelt before Father Hugh.

“My lord. Your mother rides not an hour behind me on the road.”

Father Hugh turned his smile from baby to messenger. “Ah, you are the younger son of old Tortua, the crofter over by Lerchewald. You’re much grown since I left Austra. You are wed now?”

“Nay, my lord. The farm has gone to my elder sisters and there was nothing left for me, so I came into your good mother’s service.”

“Indeed,” said Hugh with a gentle smile but a glint like the spark of fire in his eye, “that is often the fate of sons. Here.” He took a pouch from one of his attendants and gave a handful of silver coins to the young man. “For your dowry.”

The messenger flushed scarlet. “My lord Hugh!” He kissed Hugh’s hand. Hugh said a blessing over him and sent him off to find something to eat. As Count Lavastine came forward to pay his respects to Princess Sapientia, Hugh’s gaze roved the courtyard and came to rest, briefly, on Rosvita.

She nodded at him, to acknowledge him, although they did not stand close enough to speak. His eyes had a fever in them, as of a man caught at the beginning of the onslaught of an all-encompassing illness. He frowned at her, recalled himself, and offered a pleasant smile instead, then turned away.

Did he suspect that she was the one who had stolen The Book of Secrets from him? And if he did, what action would he take against her?

3

IT was well past dawn, but the procession was not yet ready to leave. Loaded wagons jostled past crates of chickens; a file of soldiers stood at their ease beside the wagons which carried the king’s treasure. As a mark of favor, the king had chosen to wait for Margrave Judith’s party to arrive so that they could travel together to Werlida. Alain stood restlessly beside Lavastine, who himself waited on the king. The sun’s glare made him wince as he squinted northeast, trying to make out the approaching party. It was so hard to wait.

Lord Geoffrey had caroused late the night before, and he finally emerged from the house rubbing his eyes, looking rather the worse for wear. “Cousin!” he said to Lavastine by way of greeting. He nodded at Alain, nothing more. “Is it true that Margrave Judith will arrive today?”

Lavastine’s frown was comprehensive as he studied Geoffrey. “Had you risen earlier, you would know the whole.”

“And missed the wrestling?” Geoffrey laughed heartily, and Alain flushed. A group of women who were no better than whores had come from the nearby town of Fuldas yesterday to entertain the king’s court.

“I would not have called it wrestling,” replied Lavastine. “Indeed, if you recall, their antics were so outrageous that in the end the king asked them to leave the hall.”

“Yet he did not forbid any of us to follow after them. The king does not begrudge the young their diversions.”

“The young will behave foolishly, as is their wont. But you are married, cousin.”

“And glad of it! So could you be married again, cousin, if you took a wife.”

Lavastine pressed his lips together so tightly that his skin went white at the corners of his mouth. He called Terror over to him, and Geoffrey fidgeted nervously, but the old hound merely snarled at him and then sat down to get his ears stroked. “I will not marry again. Alain will sire the next heir to Lavas county.”