Prince of Dogs

“But where will you be?” Alain demanded, confused and troubled by these orders.

“I go now to inspect the camps and the work on the ditch and rampart.”

Torches flamed below in a ring midway around the hill that rose like a bubble from the fields below. Men worked diligently there in a silence punctuated by brief orders or sudden laughter, and an occasional grunt as stones were hacked at, uncovered, and moved up to reinforce the growing rampart of earth. Alain heard, as distantly as the flies, the stab of shovels into the dirt, the spray of earth flung up onto the earthen rampart that would be their first bulwark against an Eika attack.

“Ditch and wall will protect us,” murmured Lavastine, setting one hand on Alain’s shoulder and the other on Terror’s great head, “but it is our hearts and our determination and our wits that will see us to victory. Remember that, Alain.”

Leaving Alain with the hounds, he called his servants to him and went to inspect his army.

Alain called the hounds over and staked them out in a ring around the pavilion, all but Sorrow and Rage, who sat placidly beside him. Then he stood for a while, gazing at the full moon. Were those ragged shadows to the east the outline of Gent’s walls and towers? He would see the city again if he slept. What would Fifth Son learn from him? What had Lavastine told him that Bloodheart would wish to know?

“I beg pardon, my lord Alain,” Lavastine’s captain appeared before him, inclining his head respectfully. “The men will work in shifts all night. We should have rampart and fosse finished by dawn, though I’m not sure we can have much faith in it. You’ve seen them Eika, my lord. Fought them, too, and killed your share.” He grinned, remembering the skirmish last autumn, and his praise warmed Alain’s heart and gave him courage. The captain hadn’t stayed so long at Lavastine’s side because he handed away praise to curry favor for himself. Lavastine did not tolerate fools and sycophants; they did him no good. “Though I pray to Our Lord that no such thing will be the case, I’m still betting that the Eika will swarm that wall like mice into a granary. Ai, well, your father the count knows what he’s doing.” He said it not to reassure himself but with complete confidence. “We’ll leave three gates for the mounted troops, each blocked by wagons. All’s proceeding as planned. I’d advise you to get some rest, my lord. When battle comes, you most of all will need your head clear.”

Alain nodded. “Very good, Captain,” he said, but the words sounded lame. He felt helpless and, what was worse, useless. Many of these men were veterans of numerous campaigns against the Eika. Here, after a single battle in which he had killed a guivre that was already wounded and probably dying and one skirmish in which he’d been unable to strike a blow and yet been praised for his killing, he was second in command—albeit watched over by an old veteran.

Like the mail shirt he wore, the weight of this responsibility weighed heavy on his shoulders. But he had no one he could confide in, only the Eagle, and Lavastine had sent her and a small contingent back to search for King Henry. Ai, Lady, he could not even protect poor Liath.

“Come now, my lord,” said the captain, who had not yet moved away. “I remember when I was a lad. There’s no use in worrying about the tide coming in, as it’ll come whether you wish it to or no. Just get off the beach, that’s what my old dad always told me.”

Alain could not help but smile. “Spoken like my aunt—” He broke off, for it was still painful to speak of Aunt Bel— his aunt no longer—but the soldier only nodded and indicated to Alain that the entrance to the pavilion lay open and servants waited to attend him.

He had this responsibility now. He was Lavastine’s son and heir, and this night and in the days to come, whether the Eika attacked or waited, he had his duty.

Dismissing the captain, he went inside with Sorrow and Rage at his heels. He lay down on a pallet, still in mail and tabard, with his helmet, sword, and shield beside him. Behind the pavilion he heard horses snuffling, that group of riders under the command of the captain who would remain with him here on the hill. His hand, drifting over the side, came to rest on Sorrow’s head. Rage whined, turned a few tight circles, and settled down.

Perhaps there would be no battle. Perhaps if Henry arrived in time, then peace might be forged between Henry and Bloodheart. Perhaps Fifth Son dreamed of peace as well.

But peace did not come to his dreams.

Battered and still weakened by loss of blood, he sat as silent as stone in his chains and listened as the Eika held a war council. His six dogs ringed him. They scratched at the flagstone floor, sensing the excitement. Blood and death: At times like this Sanglant wondered how much the dogs understood, how intelligent they really were. Voiceless they might be, but they did not act mindlessly—yet neither had they the cunning of men, or of their Eika masters.