In the Ruins
Page 179

Desire is a fiend that devours its victims while they still live and breathe.
And still. What she had refused him, Adica had offered freely and with the sweetness of meadow flowers. Who could say which woman valued herself more highly? The one who gave that which was precious to her, or the one who lied to hold it all to herself?
“I pray you, I beg your pardon, my lord. Forgive me.”
He almost overset the bench because he was so startled by the familiar voice. The hounds remained still. Rage’s tail thumped once. Cook bent into an awkward bow before him. Arthritis stiffened her back.
He wiped his forehead, shook his head to cast off his thoughts, and took her hand as he stood. “Do not bow, Cook. I pray you. Ah! Here is Blanche!”
The girl squeezed up against him, hugging his side.
“I must speak before the rest come in,” Cook continued, wheezing. “They’re holding them all outside. I snuck in the back way.”
“Sit, I pray you.”
“It’s easier for me to stand with my aching bones, my lord. Let me just say my piece, and I won’t bother you more.”
“Go on.”
She had lost several teeth, which made her cheeks sunken, but her gaze remained firm and intelligent. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I did not mean for Lord Geoffrey to discredit you. Last year I told him what I did know, because he asked me for the truth.”
“You said nothing but what you knew to be true. You have no need to apologize for it.”
“Yet I’m sorry. I never believed he would treat you so cruelly. I wouldn’t treat a dog so, chained and caged like that! So I told him!”
“Then you did me a service for speaking when you might have kept silent. Never mind it.” He patted Blanche on the head. “What of the girl?”
“Oh! This one?” The pinched look left her face. She gave a grand smile and tweaked the girl’s ear fondly. “What a hard-working little creature she is, isn’t she, then? She stuck beside me all this time and did everything I asked of her. Good with a knife! Very careful handed, which you don’t often see in a child this age. I can’t trust just any lass with peeling and cutting. Washed me up turnips and parsnips, cutting out the soft spots, of which there are plenty, for these are the end of our winter store and some of them mostly mush by now.”
Blanche blushed, face half hidden against Alain’s tunic, but she was smiling proudly.
“Will you keep her in the kitchens, then, as your helper? And keep care of her? Can you do that?”
“For you, my lord? Willingly. I swear to you I will do by her as I would for my own granddaughter.”
“You’ll stay here, Blanche.”
“I want to go with you, Uncle,” she said into the cloth.
“You can’t.” He only needed to say it once. “Here you’ll stay. Tell me you understand.”
She spoke in a muted voice while her arms clutched him. “I stay with Cook.”
A dozen soldiers tromped onto the porch and came into the hall, placing themselves to either side of the dais. A pair of servants carried the count’s chair in from another chamber and set it in front of the high table. Folk moved cautiously into the hall behind the soldiers, their movement like the eddying of river currents caught in a backwater. A few crept close to him and knelt furtively, whispering words he could not really hear because of the shifting of feet and murmur of voices.
A door banged—open or closed. The assembly quieted as Lord Geoffrey entered with his young daughter. It was difficult to tell her age. She had a childish face and was short and slender and in addition walked with a pronounced limp, but despite her pallor she kept her chin high and gaze steady as she looked first at Alain and then over the assembled soldiers and local people for whom she was responsible as Count of Lavas. The hounds growled, a rumble in their throats too soft for anyone but him, and perhaps Blanche, to hear.
Lavrentia alone sat. Even her father remained standing.
“Let me hear your pledge,” she said in a high, clear voice. She lifted a hand to give him permission to approach, and Alain smiled to see the gesture, which echoed Lavastine’s decisive ways.
He set Blanche aside, giving her into Cook’s arms, and mounted both steps to stand on the same level as the lady. He did not approach her chair nor kneel before her. Instead, he turned to face the crowd. The hounds stood side by side on the first step, and the soldiers nearby shrank back from them.
“I pray you, listen!”
As though a spell had been cast over the multitude, they fell quiet and listened. Not a murmur teased the silence, although one person coughed.