Alain recognized her at once since she wore a gold coronet on her brow and a magnificent golden torque around her neck. She wore a tunic thickly threaded with gold, a belt studded with gems, and gold bindings on her legs. At her belt she wore a sword which boasted a hilt inlaid with gold. That she wore a sword was strange but not unheard of for a woman, but Alain shivered, seeing it, wondering what the count’s reaction would be. A woman of Lady Sabella’s high rank only wore a sword if she meant to lead an army in her own person rather than through the agency of a kinsman. She had a strong face, and she wore her hair plaited back, dressed with gold and silver ribbons but uncovered, like a soldier’s. All at once she reminded him of the Lady of Battles, whom he had seen in that vision almost one year ago.
Count Lavastine greeted her in the formal manner, but he did not help her dismount. One of her own vassals did so, holding the stirrup while she swung down. Then her husband—a paunchy man distinguished only by the gold torque at his neck—dismounted. There were several girls in the party so draped with shawls that Alain could see no outward sign by which to distinguish Tallia—Sabella’s daughter—from the others.
Alain sidled over toward the doors of the church, coming to rest near poor Withi, who had taken up her usual station on her knees by the door.
The biscop, staff in hand, led the company forward to the doors. Frater Agius had come out, and he knelt on the porch in greeting.
“Where is your deacon?” asked the biscop.
“Deacon Waldrada has been ill with the lungfever, Your Grace,” said Lavastine. “She is not yet recovered enough to lead the service.”
“So do we obey the dictates of Our Lady and Lord. While it is not traditional, nevertheless this brother of the church shall assist me today, together with my clerics and deacons.” Almost at the porch, with the lords and ladies following, the biscop caught sight of Withi kneeling in the mud. She lifted her staff and pointed it at the girl. “Who is this penitent with her hair stained with ashes who kneels forward before the others?”
So close behind her, Alain saw Withi’s shoulders tremble as the biscop spoke. He wanted to go forward, to comfort Withi, to tell her that surely this biscop, with her kindly face and her gentle but authoritative manner, could not be harsher than Frater Agius. He even took one step forward, only to halt at the sound of Agius’ hard voice.
“This sinner has confessed to the sin of fornication, Your Grace. She has repented of her sin and now kneels for the prescribed one hundred days here before the church, so that all may see and hear her cries to Our Lady, who is merciful.”
“Poor child,” said the biscop. She was an old woman, white-haired but robust, with cheeks rubbed rosy by evident good health. “Shall we not also act mercifully on this day of repentance?” She walked forward and extended a hand to Withi, who merely gaped at her.
All around, the crowd murmured at this sign of compassion from a great biscop, a noblewoman of high rank.
“Come, child,” said the biscop gently. “You must enter the house of Our Lady and Lord and be forgiven your sins.”
Withi burst into noisy sobs, but at last, under the biscop’s kind gaze, she put out a chapped, callused hand and the biscop took it in one of her own white, clean ones and lifted her up. With the girl beside her she led the procession into the church.
Agius remained kneeling to one side. He bowed his head, hiding his expression, so that Alain could not tell if he was furious, or shamed.
2
AS a man-at-arms in training, Alain was allowed to serve at the high table in the great hall. Dhuoda soon recalled that she had first noticed him serving at his aunt’s table, in Osna.
“Your manners are superior and your bearing is dignified,” Dhuoda informed him. “You may help serve wine at the high table.”
He did not get to pour the wine directly into the cups of the count or Lady Sabella or the other high personages, of course. They had their own servants to do that. But he was assigned the important duty of standing behind the table in order to make sure the servants’ pitchers never ran dry. Because, during Holy Week, it was customary to eat and drink sparingly—or to fast, as Frater Agius did—Alain had the luxury of a great deal of standing around and listening. And listen he did.
“I am a border lord, Your Highness. I have estates lying in both kingdoms.”
“Yet most of your lands are in Varre, are they not? As is this castle and your most ancient holdings. You are kin to my husband, Prince Berengar, and thereby a distant kinsman to the crown of Varre.”
