The Dog of the North (40 page)

‘How could he have evaded capture?’

Arren shrugged. ‘He has always been a rogue, but a resourceful one. Most likely he is hiding out in the hills somewhere.’

‘He said he would return and take vengeance – specifically on our family.’

‘He was always given to large pronouncements. Since he has no means of making good his threat, I should not worry, either for you or Oricien.’

‘I have been meaning to ask you: I never understood what you said at his trial about Jehan’s Steppe and letting Oricien die.’

Arren paused and looked into her deep blue eyes. ‘There is little to dwell on.’

‘Enough to make you call for his death.’

‘I thought he stood back when a Northman came on Oricien unawares. Fleuraume stepped in, and no harm was done.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I spoke to Fleuraume afterwards; he said I was wrong to be so certain. But I had no doubts then and I have none now.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘You never told Oricien?’

‘I had no proof; and Oricien never trusted him in any event.’

‘Let us sit here,’ she said, as they came to a bench. ‘My father thinks highly of you,’ she said.

‘It was always his intention that Oricien should have a counsellor when he grew older.’

‘It easy to forget that you come from nowhere,’ she said with a half-smile, her cat’s eyes shimmering.

‘I have never sought to disguise it.’

‘Your address is that of a gentleman, aside from your prowess on the field. And I do not forget the way you fleeced those rogues at the Molo.’

‘I should never have allowed that situation to develop as it did.’

Siedra plucked a leaf and crushed it between her fingers. ‘You are more of a gentleman than Lord Dinarre.’

‘That is a minor compliment. Dinarre shows every sign of growing into one of the most depraved and dissipated men of Glount.’

Siedra threw the pulped leaf aside. ‘You are talking, perhaps, of my future husband.’

‘Then I pity you. But your father’s plans may be changed with the accession of King Jehan.’

Siedra shook her head. ‘If he had intended me to captivate the court at Emmen, he would have taken me. He still wishes me to marry Panarre’s son, to bind them closer and to save gold
by merging my dowry with his tribute to Panarre from Jehan’s Steppe.’

‘You should not be so pessimistic,’ said Arren after a pause. ‘Many things can happen between now and a betrothal. Panarre may marry him to another bride, perhaps at
Emmen.’

‘You are thoughtful to offer such hope. You do not know how I have petitioned Animaxia for Dinarre’s death.’

‘I did not know you visited the Viatory.’

‘Of course not! I Find the Way in my chambers: the viators oppress me with their sermons.’

‘Technically that is the Gollain Heresy. I could denounce you for following the Wheel,’ said Arren with a grin.

‘Arren! You know that I do not care in the least for such nonsense. Wheel, Way, it is all nonsense. The viators fleece everyone and the Gollains have not the courage to reject the whole
notion of the Way of Harmony.’

‘Now that is heresy. To deny the Way altogether . . .’

Siedra laughed. ‘You are shocked!’

Arren frowned. ‘I am sure we all question the Way at times; deep down some may indeed feel it is false. But I have never known anyone admit it.’

‘In some places my views would be unremarkable. They say that Garganet is a haven of free-thinking.’

‘Overt heresy will not increase your chances of a good match.’

‘My arse to a good match. You are not repelled beyond measure by my views?’

‘No, but others—’

‘I am more concerned by your good opinion.’

You have it,’ said Arren. ‘But there are other, better judges you may wish to impress.’

She leaned against him on the bench. ‘At this moment there is no one else around, nor any prospect of there being. If you look upon me as I look upon you . . .’

‘Siedra – I do not understand . . .’

‘Or you choose not to.’ She ran her hand across his chest. ‘If I must marry Dinarre or some dissipated old lecher, first I would know something of how men and women should be.
Am I not beautiful, Arren?’

Arren looked into her eyes. ‘Beyond a doubt, Siedra. You are fated to a higher destiny than me,’ he said with a catch in his throat.

She stood up and pulled him from the bench by his shirt. ‘Let me worry about that, Arren.’ She pushed her face into his and kissed him.

9

That afternoon Arren lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep would not come. The morning’s events with Siedra had been extraordinary, sudden and unexpected. He
had no idea that she had such feelings, or was willing to express them with such abandon. He should be delighted, he thought. Siedra was ardent, passionate, delicious. No man could fail to be
flattered by her attentions. He did not delude himself that he was ill-favoured: he was already a warrior of repute, with a quick intellect besides. Nonetheless, he was uneasy. There was no
possibility that a dalliance with Siedra could have any happy outcome. She was destined for a political match, if not to Dinarre then to some other lord of her father’s choosing. He had
already shown Thaume considerable disrespect by consorting thus with his daughter. Lord Thaume’s temper had always been quick, and recently he had been more ready than ever to decree flogging
or hanging for those who displeased him. It would be wrong to call Thaume a tyrant, but his keen sense of justice took a mordant slant. It would be better for him never to find out about this
morning’s episode.

Arren realized that even this, bad as it was, was not the whole nor even the worst of his malaise. If he truly cared for Siedra, he would be less concerned about Thaume. The truth was, flattered
as he was by her attention, and overcome as he had been by her allure, he did not regard her with any true ardour. She had the character of a cat, charming and malicious by turn, and never
motivated by anything other than self-interest. Unbidden, the image of her as a child blackmailing Sir Langlan after Illara’s performance in The Hanged Raider came to his mind. She was a
young woman now, but her beauty concealed a warp in her heart. She was not a safe associate, particularly in a situation as secret as theirs would have to be.

He pursed his lips. The matter would have to stop here. Alluring as Siedra was – and he could not deny that his heart beat faster at the thought of being alone with her again – he
could not allow their intimacy to continue. He puzzled for a moment. Surely a short diversion could not do any real harm – at least until Lord Thaume returned.

He jumped from the bed and shook his head. More resolution was necessary. He barely had the willpower to keep away from her now; if he became more accustomed to her favours it might become
impossible. Then there was the prospect of quickening: if he thought the situation was complex now, imagine the horror if he got her with child. Thaume would hang or geld the man who made his
unmarried daughter pregnant. There was nothing for it: he would have to keep away from Siedra. The risks and the rewards were simply incommensurate.

He stalked from his room, out through the castle gates and into the streets. He did not want to be caught alone, by anybody.

It was market day and by some unseen force he was pulled towards the marketplace. He remembered the day Eilla had stolen a cow. How long ago it seemed, although it could only have been five or
six years.

‘Arren! Ignore me if you choose!’

He looked around guiltily. Surely Siedra could not have found him in the market. But it was Eilla herself. He embraced her before he realized what he was doing.

‘Seigneur, you forget yourself,’ said Eilla with a grin, her cheeks red from the sun.

‘Sorry,’ said Arren. ‘I had just been thinking about the cow, and there you were.’

‘I am not sure I understand what you mean. Eulalia has sent me for some fish. There will be nothing decent left at this time of day, and she will berate me for slackness and
incompetence.’

‘Let her fetch her own fish.’

‘You may say as much to her; I cannot.’

Arren rubbed his chin. ‘She is unreasonable.’

‘I am learning nothing new.’

‘I will speak to her on my return to the castle.’

Eilla paused and inspected Arren. ‘You seem distracted,’ she said, ‘unsettled in some way.’

‘Shall we walk down to the wharf?’ said Arren. ‘We might yet pick up some fresh bream.’

They turned and walked the short distance to where the last of the fishing boats was unloading.

‘Will you not tell me what is troubling you?’ said Eilla gently.

‘You would not thank me,’ said Arren with a wry grin. ‘The matter is trivial, especially compared with your own concerns.’

‘Arren . . .’

‘If I mention the Lady Siedra, that should be sufficient.’

Arren saw Eilla tense. She spoke to one of the fishermen unloading his wares. ‘Is that your best catch?’

‘Depends what you have to pay,’ grunted the fisherman.

Eilla spoke again to Arren. ‘There can be no tale involving Siedra which makes good hearing – You there, I am buying for Lord Thaume’s table, so I’ll thank you for some
civility.’

‘Thaume’s silver is as good as any, but I’ll not part with my goods on the cheap.’

‘Siedra has conceived something of a fancy for me,’ said Arren in a quiet voice.

‘How much for your five best bream? – You are deluding yourself, Arren. She has a fancy for no one but herself.’

‘Two and a half florins.’

‘My lord will have you whipped for insolence. Twenty-five pennies is more the sum I have in mind.’

‘I have all the proof you could ever need,’ said Arren.

Eilla paled. ‘Would I care to know the nature of this “proof”? – No, even a florin is too much. Let us say forty pennies and be done with the matter.’

‘We should discuss this elsewhere,’ said Arren with a meaningful glance at the fisherman.

As you wish – No, forty or nothing. Thank you. That need not have been as difficult as you made it.’

Eilla took the bream which the fisherman had wrapped and followed Arren over to the wharfside railing.

Are you going to tell me about Siedra? Are you trying to tell me you—’

Yes.’

Eilla jerked her gaze away and stared down at the turbid water.

‘Eilla?’

You are a – Arren, do you love her?’

‘Of course not! She is Siedra!’

Eilla shook her head. ‘Then why, by the Wheel – Do you even like her?’

Arren looked down at his feet. ‘She is not as bad as you may think.’

‘Perhaps not, since I see her as spite and selfishness incarnate. Have you forgotten how she treated me?’

‘No, of course not. It’s just—’

‘No further, Arren. You have not forgotten how she treated me?’

‘I have just said that I had not.’

‘In that case, you clearly regard it as inconsequential.’

‘Eilla,’ said Arren miserably. ‘It was not like that.’

Eilla folded her arms and looked him in the eye. ‘You have a choice to make, Arren. You cannot be her friend and mine. I will say nothing about how ludicrous the notion of any kind of
match between you is. I hate Siedra second only to Lady Jilka. She has behaved abominably to me. You may disport yourself with that hussy to your heart’s content, and I do not
care.’

Arren too looked down into the murky water. .

‘Eilla, there is no one as precious to me as you.’

‘Do not continue. I cannot hear your voice without hearing it honeying up to Siedra. I will judge your acts, not your words.’

‘Eilla—’

‘I must return to the castle. Mistress Eulalia will not thank me for bringing back stinking fish.’

Arren leaned against the railing and watched Eilla’s straight back as she marched back towards Lord Thaume’s castle. He should have known better than to raise the topic with her.

1

The King’s Council met by tradition on the first day of the week. On one morning in late winter a cariolo drew up before the Occonero with four occupants. The first
of them, Beauceron, alighted on paving damp from melted frost. Monetto leaped down immediately behind him, and Mongrissore clambered down more slowly. The fourth figure, a man of middle years,
carried himself with a stiff and watchful gravity. He licked his lips and surveyed the scene. Beauceron, in his crispest black coat and starched white breeches, gave the man a wolfish smile.

‘You can relax, Quinto,’ he said. ‘No harm will come to you in the Occonero. Soon you will be free of your burdens. Are you a religious man? Think of today as a long march on
the Way of Harmony.’

Quinto climbed gingerly down from the cariolo. ‘I have never taken much notice of the viators,’ he said. ‘I make my own way in the world.’

Monetto said: ‘The approach has brought you neither wealth nor happiness thus far. Speak true today, and you may start afresh.’

Quinto narrowed his already thin eyes. ‘Neither of you seems to me a man of the Way. Your concern is not with my welfare.’

‘Naturally not,’ said Beauceron. ‘Nonetheless, what helps us helps you.’

‘But Davanzato will be present.’

‘Allow us to worry about Davanzato,’ said Monetto. ‘Your safety is assured. You have Mongrissore for company.’

Mongrissore bared his crooked teeth in what might have been a reassuring smile. ‘I have been present at many confessions,’ he said. ‘The penitent always feels a lightening of
spirit as a result.’

‘And on occasion a lightening of his neck, by the weight of his head,’ said Quinto with a morose glare.

‘Where did Cosetta find such an avatar of joy?’ asked Monetto.

‘Tush, Monetto,’ said Mongrissore. ‘You too might tend to the lugubrious if you had Quinto’s crimes at your account.’

Monetto gave a rueful smile. ‘If only you knew,’ he said.

‘Enough,’ said Beauceron. ‘We must be ready soon. Mongrissore, you are sure Lady Cosetta will be here?’

Mongrissore nodded. ‘For whatever reason, she feels she owes you a debt. She will be on hand when she is needed.’

‘Good. Shall we step inside?’

Beauceron and Monetto strode along the marbled corridor, their boots echoing against the plastered walls. Mongrissore and Quinto made their own soft-footed way along some distance behind.