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Here, on the grounds of the palace, they waited in the large, open interior field—not quite a courtyard—for the king to make his way to his quarters, which lay on the other side of a stone chapel. A stately timber hall with its foundations set in stone graced the southern side of this complex of buildings. The king’s stewards parceled out quarters according to rank and favor, but no sooner had Alain gotten the hounds settled in a makeshift kennel outside their assigned guesthouse than the count came looking for him.

“King Henry has asked that we attend him in a private council. Come, Son. Make yourself presentable.” He glanced toward the kenneled hounds who, hoping for a caress, wagged their tails and whined. “Bring two of the hounds as well.”Advertisement

The king received them in a spacious room with all the shutters taken down to admit light and air. Only Helmut Villam, a half-dozen servingmen, and Sister Rosvita attended him. Henry sat on his traveling chair, carved cunningly with lions as the four legs, the back as the wings of an eagle, and the arms as the sinuous necks and heads of dragons. The king leaned forward as his favored Eagle spoke softly into his ear. Seeing Lavastine and Alain, he straightened.

“Let him come to me at once if you can coax him within the ramparts. Otherwise—” He glanced toward Villam, who gave a barely perceptible nod. “—let him range as widely as he wishes at this time. Better that the court not see him when he is in such a restless and wild humor.”

She bowed and strode briskly out of the chamber. Henry gestured to a servingman, who left the chamber in the Eagle’s wake. Then he nodded to Sister Rosvita and, with a troubled expression, she read aloud from a letter.

“‘To my brother, His Illustrious Majesty, Henry, regnant over Wendar and Varre. With a heavy heart and a disquieted mind I must relate to you these tidings, that our niece Tallia cannot remain at Quedlinhame. She has been spreading the taint of heresy among my novices and has polluted over twenty young innocents with her preaching. I advise caution even as I commend her into your hands. It seems to me that marriage would best distract her from these falsehoods.’”

Henry signed, and Rosvita stopped reading. “Do you still want the marriage to go forward?” he asked Lavastine bluntly. “The charge of heresy is a serious one. Mother Scholastica has taken Tallia’s youth into account in judging her fit, at this time, for mercy. The girl claims to have had visions, but whether they have come to her through the agency of the Enemy or merely through her innocent trust in bad counselors we cannot say. If she does not repent of these views, the church may be forced to take more drastic action.”

Lavastine raised an eyebrow, considering.

Heresy. Alain knew in his gut to whom Tallia had listened: Frater Agius. It was as if the heresy of the flaying knife and the sacrifice and redemption of the blessed Daisan was a plague, passing from one vulnerable soul on to the next. Agius had been granted the martyr’s death he so desired. Wasn’t that a mark of God’s favor? But why should God favor a man who preached a heresy against God’s own truth?

Yet the thought of losing Tallia because of Agius’ preaching infuriated him. Anger welled up in his heart, and Rage growled beside him.

“Peace,” murmured Lavastine, and the hound settled down to rest its head on its great paws. He turned to the king. “Lady Tallia is young yet, Your Majesty. And she has not, alas, been exposed to the wisest of counselors. A steadying influence—” He nodded toward Alain. “—will calm her young mind.”

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“So be it,” said Henry, not without relief.

“The sooner this transaction takes place, the better,” added Lavastine. “I must return to my lands before autumn so that I and my son can oversee the autumn sowing. A hard winter awaits us because of the men who died at Gent … those same men who gave up their lives to return Gent—and your son Sanglant—into your hands.”

The door opened and the servingman returned with two young women in tow. One, with a plump and eager face, stared at the king with mouth agape and then recalled herself and knelt obediently. The other, shawl askew to reveal wheat-pale hair, was Tallia.

Alain had to shut his eyes. He was overtaken by such a surge of anticipation and relief and simple, terrible desire that he swayed, trembling all over, until Sorrow nudged up under a hand to give him a foundation to steady himself on.

“Uncle,” said Tallia so softly that the commonplace noises from outside almost drowned out her words “I beg you, Uncle, let me retire in peace to a nun’s cell. I will take vows of silence, if that must be, but do not—” pqdm.com