Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 3 (20 page)

Lavastine raised a pale eyebrow. "She has just come from the convent. She might still feel some hesitation." Terror padded over from the window and sat stiffly beside the count, on guard. "Still," he continued, "the practical thing for a woman is to get herself with child as quickly as possible so that she has an heir."

Even thinking of Tallia lying pale and fragile on the bed beside him made Alain flush, and he felt all over again the ache of last night. "But it would be—" He dropped his voice to a whisper because he could not bear for anyone else, even the servants, to hear. "—a lie to exchange morning gifts."

Lavastine massaged Ardent's foot. He wore his most intent look as he focused on the hound's paw. "Perhaps. But I lied to you about my intentions, at the battle at Gent. I had to, knowing you could see the Eika prince in your dreams and that he could, perhaps, see yours. Others envy us what we have gained here. If they believe that the marriage has gone unconsummated, some may even begin to whisper that it is invalid, even though a biscop blessed your union and the king himself gave his consent. We cannot afford to give them a weapon to strike against us." All but one of the servingmen had retreated from the chamber, responsive as always to Lavastine's moods. He glanced at the one man remaining, gave a brief nod as at a job well done, and turned to look directly at Alain. "Therefore, exchange morning gifts. She is a woman, and even if she is timid now, women above all things want heirs for their lands and titles."

Alain wasn't so sure, but he nodded obediently, and as if his nod had summoned her, there came a swell of voices outside the door, and then Tallia entered the chamber, stopped short, and cowered back against the wall away from the hounds.

Lavastine stood but not before glancing at Alain as if to say: "And so here she is."

Alain's servingman came in behind her, and Tallia covered her eyes with a corner of her shawl as Alain, settling Ardent comfortably on the bed, stood to dress. When he was decently clothed, he coaxed her over to sit on the bed beside Ardent. Once she saw that the huge hound was too weak to snap at her, she gingerly sat down, clinging to Alain's hand.

She trusted him. That much he had won from her.

Lavastine smiled slightly and, with hands clasped behind his back, nodded to his servants to fetch the morning gift which Alain would present to his bride. Alain waited nervously, half on fire from the innocent clasp of Tallia's hand in his, half terrified that she would find inappropriate the gift he had himself commissioned. It was not his place as the one of lesser rank to attempt to outdo her gift to him. He could not in any case, since Henry had already settled rich estates on Lavas as part of the dower. But neither could the heir to the count of Lavas permit himself to appear like a pauper before the assembled nobles of the king's progress.

Many people had gathered outside to witness the morning gifts. When the king arrived, Alain coaxed Tallia to her feet, and they went outside to greet him.

What raucous and lewd comments greeted their appearance Alain tried not to hear. Tallia had pulled her shawl almost over her face, and she huddled against him, which only made people laugh and call out the louder, seeing it as a sign of the very transaction that had not taken place last night.

Henry was generous with his disgraced sister Sabella's lands: together with the estates marked as part of Tallia's dowry yesterday, the full extent of the gift in lands made as the marriage settlement doubled the size of the Lavas Holdings. Lavastine had a thin smile on his face, the closest he came to outright glee. Henry gestured, and his stewards brought two chests forward: silks, a magnificent furlined cape, silver plate and gold cups, handsome vestments for the Lavas clergy, rich clothing for Tallia and Alain, and brass dog collars embossed with springing roes and sportive hounds.

The crowd murmured in appreciation for Henry's generosity. Lavastine had known better than to attempt to outdo a king. His own servants brought forward chests filled with good cloth suitable for a noblewoman of royal lineage to clothe her servants in, silver-and-gold vessels for her to present to her clerics, and handsomely carved small chests that contained enough coins to grace an army of beggars. Last, Alain himself gave her the tiny ivory reliquary inlaid with jewels that he had commissioned. Unlocked by a delicate silver key, it contained dust from the shawl worn by the holy discipla, St. Johanna the Doubter, together with a perfect jeweled replica of a rose.

Tallia wept over the holy relic and kissed the petals of the jeweled rose. She gave the reliquary into the keeping of Hathumod, the young woman who had come with her from Quedlinhame. Lavastine gave Alain an approving nod, but her reaction troubled Alain. He had meant the jeweled rose to represent the Rose of Healing—the healing grace granted every soul by God's mercy—but now he feared she saw it only as the symbol of her heretical belief, the rose that bloomed out of the blood of the blessed Daisan.

But when she thanked him so earnestly and with her eyes so untroubled by any memory of their awkward night together, hope surged again in his heart—and not least an uncomfortable tingling elsewhere. He need only be patient.

The crowd began to disperse. The king's steward announced that Henry would hold audience in the great open yard after the service of Terce. Lavastine ducked inside his chamber, and quickly Alain followed him with Tallia drawn along behind as if she wanted only to stay beside him—or did not know where else to go.

Ardent still lay on the bed, whimpering softly. Alain went over to soothe her. Under his hands, she quieted. Lavastine had drawn Tallia over to the window and was laboriously attempting to converse with her. Alain caught the eye of a steward.

"Christof, an Eagle arrived at the palace last night, one called Liathano. Send for her to attend me."

The steward concealed his astonishment poorly. He was a jovial fellow, and too late Alain recalled that he was also a terrible gossip. "I know the one you speak of, my lord," he replied obediently, but not without a glance at Count Lavastine. He went out.

When he returned, he brought Liath with him. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the hounds began to whimper and growl, scrambling back to cluster around Lavastine like terrified pups. Ardent tried to shove her head under Alain's thigh.

"Peace!" said Lavastine sternly. They hunkered down nervously at his feet. "Alain?"

"Your Highness," said Liath, seeing Tallia. Although she was obviously surprised, she did not stumble over the formalities. "My lord count. Lord Alain, I have come as you requested."

"Alain?" repeated Lavastine. He stood with one hand on Terror's head, but his intent gaze never left Liath. "What means this?"

Alain could not rise because of Ardent, and in any case he was lord and she a mere Eagle, not a person he could meet publicly on an equal standing whatever private confidences they had once shared. For an instant he didn't know how to answer because he saw Tallia's expression: Was Tallia jealous? Or did he only hope she would be?

"I am reminded of this Eagle's service to us at Gent," he said finally, and firmly, because everyone was watching him expectantly, "and I am minded to gift her with some token as a reward for her efforts there."

Lavastine took a step forward and stopped short as Terror nipped at him, took his master's hand in that great jaw, and growled softly while trying to tug Lavastine back. The count shook his hand free impatiently. "Resolve," he muttered under his breath, so softly that maybe only Alain heard him, and he continued to stare at Liath as a man stares at that woman with whom he discovers some deep kinship of blood, or spirit.

"Resuelto," he repeated, looking now at his servants.

"The gray gelding?" they repeated, dumbfounded that a lord would blithely give away his second best warhorse to a common Eagle.

"And the saddle and bridle from Asselda," he added. "Rope. And saddlebags. And the good leather belt crafted by Master Hosel, the one inscribed with salamanders so that as the Holy Verses say, 'if you walk through fire, the flame shall not consume you.' "

"I would give her a token as well," said Alain hastily to divert attention from the count, who seemed inclined to arm her as he would a relative. "A quiver of arrows and—" What he wanted to say to her, to ask, he could not communicate in front of such an audience. His gaze lit on one of his rings, a gold band set with a brilliantly blue stone. He pulled it off. "Let this ring of lapis lazuli protect you from evil," he said, giving it to her. "Know that you can find refuge here if you need it."

"I thank you, my lord count. Lord Alain." But her gaze was more eloquent. He read gratitude in her expression, and yet he saw that she was still frightened, apprehensive of some event she feared would come to pass. Was Lord Hugh still stalking her? He had no way of asking, and even as he paused, a steward came in from outside.

"I beg your pardon, my lord count," the man said to Lavastine. "An Eagle stands outside with an urgent summons for her comrade—from the king."

One look she gave to Alain, nothing more. Then she was gone. As she left the chamber, the hounds rose unsteadily and shook themselves.

"My lord count, I have come as you requested." The king's stablemaster appeared at the threshold and Lavastine gave him permission to enter, although the man glanced nervously at the hounds. Still subdued, they growled softly and let him be.

The stablemaster examined Ardent, stroked his beard and looked puzzled. Neither adders nor any poisonous snakes were commonly found in this district, he explained, but he sent men at once to beat the bushes around the complex and to warn the king.

"Come, Son." Lavastine gave Ardent a pat on the head and rose to collect gloves and spear. "We must attend the king." Alain hesitated. "I will do what I can to help the girl," added Lavastine softly.

"Then I pray you, Father, let me stay with Ardent." Lavastine glanced at Tallia, who still stood by the window, nodded curtly, and left.

"She's a strange-looking woman," said Tallia. "I remember seeing her before, when we rode to Quedlinhame." "She fought with us at Gent."

"Then she was given a handsome reward by you and your father. People will speak of your generosity, and you will be known as a Godly man."

So was he reproved however gently for that brief desire that envy would prick her until she bled and, bleeding from jealousy, fell into his arms. He would have to win her over in a nobler manner than this. Ardent burrowed her head more deeply into Alain's lap and whimpered, and he stroked her ears and scratched her head, giving her such comfort as he could, knowing that his presence itself was comfort to her.

"Poor suffering soul," murmured Tallia. "I will pray to God for healing." She knelt, bent her head, and lapsed at once into a melisma of prayer.

Several young nobles stuck their heads inside the chamber to check on the progress of the hound. They all had their own dearly-loved hounds, and Alain could not help but be touched by their concern. But though they urged Alain to join them in their hunt for snakes, he would not. He could not bear to leave Ardent's side all through that long, hazy morning as she struggled to breathe and by degrees her leg turned, seemingly, into stone.

SANGLANT woke stiff and sore somewhat after dawn. After twenty-nine days sleeping in the second finest bed on the king's progress, his limbs had grown used to comfort. Now, rising from the ground, he ached everywhere, but he didn't mind it. The pain of freedom is never as harsh as that of slavery.

"My lord prince!" said one of the Lions in an urgent whisper.

He heard them coming down the narrow footpath that led from the bluff's height far above to the river's shore below: the king and a small entourage.

"Prince Sanglant." The Lion had a shock of red hair and part of one ear missing, the lobe sliced cleanly off and healed into a white dimple. "If we may—your clothing—

Only now did he glance at himself to see in what disarray he stood; tunic skewed around his body and stained with dirt; sandals scuffed; leggings half unwound on his right calf; his belt lying like a sleeping snake, all curves and loops, on the ground by his feet. Two of the Lions ventured forward—he smelled their caution—and tidied him up so that by the time his father appeared, skirting an old fall of rocks that had half obliterated the last bend in the footpath, he looked presentable.

Henry shaded his eyes against the rising sun. "Sanglant." Sanglant knelt obediently. Henry's hand, coming to rest on his hair, had uncomfortable weight. "You did not come in last night."

"I slept outside."

Henry removed his hand. Sanglant looked up in time to see the king gesture to the others and, together, entourage and Lions moved away until they waited out of earshot. "We must talk, Son, before I hold my morning's audience. Walk with me."

Sanglant rose. Though he was half a head taller than the king, he never felt he dwarfed him; Henry used his power too well.