Prince of Dogs

From outside she heard the return of the hunters and the clamor of horses, hounds, and voices in the forecourt. She rose, needing an excuse to stretch her back, and crossed to the door. In the yard beyond, King Henry laughed at a comment by his trusted companion, Margrave Helmut Villam, while Father Hugh dismounted and turned to help Princess Sapientia dismount. Behind, courtiers crowded around; farther back, servants carried in a number of deer, several brace of partridge, an aurochs, and a boar.

Sapientia hurried away toward the necessarium and, as smoothly as a silk robe slips down over a body, Hugh turned to assist Princess Theophanu in dismounting—though, as good a horseman as she was and with a servant already prepared to take her foot in his hands, she scarcely needed such aid. But Hugh offered kindnesses to every person, regardless of rank. Did Theophanu’s hand linger longer in his than was necessary? Was that blush in her cheeks from the wind, or his touch? Turning away from the door, moving back to make room for the king’s entrance, Rosvita wondered what Brother Fortunatus might say had he witnessed that little scene and was then irritated with herself for even thinking such a thing.

The courtfolk flooded into the hall, brash with their success at the hunt. Ekkehard followed at Hugh’s heels like a love-smitten puppy. King Henry seated himself in his chair. Servants brought water and linen and wiped his hands clean of dirt and blood. Luckily, this hall—the third at which they had stopped—was the largest of the royal hunting lodges in Thurin Forest; though the crowd of people entering was large, it did not overwhelm the gabled hall. Sapientia entered and shed her cloak, then seated herself in the place of honor beside her father. Now poor folk who had walked a half day from the forest’s edge were let in to receive alms from the king. As they left through a side door, Hugh assisted Ekkehard in dispensing bread to them while Sapientia, from across the hall, watched with greedy eyes.

Theophanu came, as she always did, to sit beside Rosvita. Her cheeks were still flushed.

“I hope you have not taken a fever,” said Rosvita, setting aside her work.

Theophanu flashed her a startled glance, then, as quickly, composed herself. “I trust I have caught no fever from which I cannot recover.” She played with the fabric of her riding tunic, rolling the cloth up between thumb and forefinger.

Amabilia looked up from her copying on the other side of the long table but, mercifully, did not speak.

“Where is my most valued cleric?” asked the king after all the alms seekers had been led back outside. “Rosvita.” She rose obediently. “Read to us, I pray you. Something eloquent and pleasant to the ear that may yet educate us.”

Rosvita signed to Amabilia and the younger woman set aside her pen so that Rosvita could take up the Vita. “Shall I continue to read from the Life of Saint Radegundis, Your Majesty?” she asked.

He nodded.

Ekkehard, settling himself at his father’s feet, piped up. “Let Father Hugh read. He has such a fine voice. I am sure I learn more than I might otherwise just from listening to his cadences as he reads.”

Theophanu’s cheeks burned. The king looked startled. Sapientia gloated.

Hugh stood over by the door next to the young Eagle, Liath; he was wiping crumbs from his hands but he looked up and smiled gently, giving the cloth into the care of a servant before walking forward. “Your notice would flatter any man, Your Highness,” he said to Ekkehard, “but I am unworthy of such praise. Our esteemed Sister Rosvita has by so far outshone me in every branch of knowledge and in good manners that I know only too well how poorly I compare to her. ‘To one desiring to know by what path blessedness is reached, the reply is, “Know thyself.”’” He bowed respectfully toward Cleric Monica, who was seated on a bench near a shuttered window, close by the hearth and yet out of the worst of the smoke. But Rosvita thought for one instant that his gaze skipped to and halted on the figure of the young Eagle, Liath, hovering by the door as if she wanted to escape outside.

Interestingly, the Eagle’s expression seemed composed of equal parts loathing, fear, and humiliation, though she struggled to maintain a blank facade. No one else was looking at her, and by now Hugh’s gaze had traveled on. Only Rosvita kept half an eye on her, still curious about that book—Had she stolen it?—and her ability to read.

“Your humility is a good example for the others, Father Hugh,” said Cleric Monica.

“Do please read to us,” said Ekkehard.

Rosvita was too wise to protest. She presented the book to Hugh. “I, too, hope that you will read to us, Father Hugh.”