Prince of Dogs

“And I was granted a wealth of fathers,” he said, suddenly struck by how great his good fortune had been.

“How can you have a wealth of fathers? How can you have more than one?”

He hung his head, shamed to think with what anger he had left Merchant Henri at their last meeting, how badly he had behaved. Would Henri ever forgive him for that pride and anger? “I was fostered to one, a good man, and grew up calling him ‘Father.’ I came lately to the second.”

“Oh, yes.” She turned toward him, expression almost visible in the darkness. “King Henry granted Count Lavastine the right to name you as his heir. Isn’t that right?”

“And I only a bastard before,” he said lightly, but even so, and even though Lavastine’s soldiers and servants had now accepted him, the memory of their visit to the manor of Lady Aldegund and Lord Geoffrey still stung.

“Who was your mother?” she asked, then said, embarrassed, “I beg your pardon, my lord. I’ve no right to ask such a thing.”

“No, no, I asked you questions. You may ask me questions in my turn. She was a servingwoman here, gotten with child by my father and put aside when he married.”

“That story has been told before,” she said sharply. “Noble lords never ask if their attentions are welcome. That is the last thing they think of.” Then, while he was still so astonished by this accusation that he could only blink, eyes tearing from the smoke, she huddled away from him, cowering as if she expected to be hit. “I beg your pardon. I meant no such thing. Forgive me.”

But he could only gape, struck so hard by this new and unwelcome notion that it was only when a flea crawled up his ankle from the rushes matting the floor that he came to himself, scratching it off. “It never occurred to me,” he said, ashamed now. “Perhaps she loved him, too—it’s possible—or wanted something from him. But maybe she never cared for him at all and had no choice—” Hard on this thought, another flashed before him in all its brilliance. “Is there a noble lord on the progress who torments you in this way? Isn’t there anything the king or the other Eagles can do to stop it?”

“Ai, Lady,” she whispered, and because she began to cry again, he knew his guess was right. “There’s nothing Eagles can do. And nothing the king will do, for he’s cleverer than the king and all the lords and ladies at court. They can’t see him but only what he lays before them to see. There is no one to aid me in any case. He is the son of a margrave. I have no one to protect me!”

“I will protect you,” said Alain. “I am heir to the county of Lavas, after all. That counts for something.”

Suddenly she clutched his hands. Though the air was cold, her skin was hot. “I pray you, my lord, if you can do anything, if you can make it possible for me to stay here—to send someone else in my place back to the king’s progress….”

“Then what?” asked Alain, amazed by the intensity in her voice. “Is this noble lord so loathsome to you?”

She let go of him at once. “You don’t understand,” she said fiercely. “I have no kin, only the Eagles. Even if I had any fondness for this man—which I do not!—if I became his concubine I would be cast out of the Eagles. Then where would I be if he tired of me? I wouldn’t even have the protection of the Eagles. God help me, it doesn’t matter. He’ll never tire of me. He’ll never let me alone.”

He was afraid she was going to start weeping again. The confident Eagle he had seen on the road this morning seemed a distant memory now. She was all tears and fear. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense! First you say you fear he will cast you off, and then you say you fear he’ll never do so. It must be one or the other, surely, and in truth, my friend, I think you are right to fear the first more. If he favors you for a few years until he finds another younger, prettier woman, then you are kinless and without support when he puts you aside. If he never puts you aside, then surely you will live in good circumstances for the rest of your life, and any children you have by him will be well provided for.”

At that, she began half to cry and half to snort with laughter. Had she gone mad? “You sound like Mistress Birta. Always calculating what is most practical.”

“That’s what my Aunt Bel—the woman who raised me—taught me. No use worrying about the fox stealing the chickens when the henhouse is safely locked and it’s your house that’s burning down.”

Her sobs and laughter subsided into hiccuping chuckles. “That sounds like something Da would say. But you don’t understand. You can’t understand. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to have disturbed your rest this night.”