What a great roar of sound there was in the hall, shouts of “Henry! King Henry!” and others, acclaiming Constance as duke and biscop—an unprecedented act, to combine the two titles in one person. But Constance was being rewarded, of course, for her constancy. And the people of Autun were clearly happy about it; they loved their biscop.
Except Rosvita could not understand why she heard the sound of hounds barking so loudly and a sudden edge to the ovation of the crowd.
“Clear the way!” someone cried.
“Out of the way!” shrieked a woman.
“Lord protect us! Devil’s spawn!”
Quickly, guards hustled Sabella and her retinue aside.
Into the hall came a most astounding procession, the last fugitive, the only one unaccounted for after the battle: Count Lavastine and his famous black hounds. With him walked his captain and a finely-dressed youth caught in that twilight between boy and man.
King Henry blinked several times, but that was the only sign he gave of his astonishment. The count walked boldly forward and stopped below the king’s dais. He did not kneel.
“Last year,” said Lavastine, “you sent an Eagle to request my presence on your progress. I have come.” This was so brash that Henry almost laughed. But the situation was too grave for laughter.
“It is late, and the summons was long ago,” said Henry, “and you rode all this way in strange company, Count Lavastine.”
“So I did, Your Majesty, but not of my own will. I have witnesses to prove that another’s hand controlled me and that I did not march with Lady Sabella because I wished to, but because I was compelled to.”
“It is a good excuse, Count Lavastine. Indeed, an elaborate and cunning one, now that Biscop Antonia has already been accused of other condemned acts of sorcery.”
These words were spoken so harshly that Rosvita expected Lavastine to respond in kind, but for once he restrained his famous irritability. “I will give sworn testimony before your clerics,” said the count. “I have others who will bear witness in my favor including, I hope, my kinsman Lord Geoffrey, whom I treated very badly while under this compulsion.”
“Your testimony will be sent south with the party who accompanies Biscop Antonia to the skopos,” said Henry. “But I will tell you truly, Count Lavastine, that I know you withdrew your forces from the field of battle while the tide still flowed in Sabella’s favor. This will tell in your favor, when I come to pass judgment on you. But tell me, we all thought you had escaped. Why do you come before us now? I know you have no love for me.”
“I am not a conspirator, Your Majesty, and I intend to clear myself of these charges. I have nothing to hide. But I do have a boon to ask of you.”
“Ah,” said Henry.
“Ah,” whispered Theophanu, her mouth parting slightly as she leaned forward, intent now.
“He wants something,” murmured Sapientia wisely to Ekkehard. “That is why he has come here now when he could have escaped back to his own lands.”
“Hush,” said Constance.
The crowd quieted. There was a great rustling of cloth as people shifted position. The hounds that sat in attendance on Lavastine—the only retinue he needed—growled. One rose up and bared its teeth at an importunate lord who inched too close.
That was when the strange thing happened. Count Lavastine did not move. His captain, of course, got a brief sick look on his face. It was well known that Lavastine must be a fine and generous lord to command the loyalty of so many good servants and soldiers, since they were any of them at any time likely to rended limb from body by the black hounds.
But the youth spoke a quiet word, and the hounds subsided.
“Kneel before the king,” said Lavastine, and the boy came forward obediently and knelt. He was tall, lanky, with black hair and amazingly clear eyes; he was not precisely handsome or elegant, but Rosvita found that it cheered her heart in some inexplicable way to look upon him.
“You know I am twice widowed and without an heir,” said Lavastine, “and unlikely to get one now, for reasons I have long since confessed and done penance for. So I come before you, Your Majesty, to ask this of you. That this youth, my bastard child Alain, be recognized as my heir so he may inherit my title and my lands when I am dead.”
Lady above! Rosvita’s knees almost gave out from under her. She turned her gaze to study Henry’s expression. Indeed, by the crawling feeling she had on her shoulders and her back, everyone looked at Henry. His children—his three legitimate children—stared fiercely at him. Constance had laid the back of a hand against her cheek, and her eyes were closed.