The searing of his very soul.
The fire that could not be evaded, at any price.
*
Bartholomew awakened with a jolt, his fingers locked in a fist over the scar on his chest. He was breathing quickly, as if he had run miles, and there was perspiration on the back of his neck. He could smell again the burning flesh and feel the heat on his skin. He touched the scar, recognizing that it had been a long time since he had dreamed of its making. He could feel the indent of it, the shape of his father’s signet ring, the mark that had been burned into his body that night.
His throat was tight with the memory. It had been the last time he had seen his mother. He had been dispatched from Haynesdale before the wound had cooled, entrusted to a loyal group of knights.
He had lost everything that night.
It took him a while to calm his breathing.
Why did he recognize only the dog?
The dream was a reminder that he had a quest to fulfill, that he had arrived at Haynesdale, that he had to finish what had been begun.
Then he realized the dream had given him a gift. Anna said she was the daughter of the smith. Was it the same smith? Could she take him to her parents that he might be recognized as the son of Haynesdale?
Was this the aid he needed to reclaim his legacy?
*
Leila awakened to the sound of the dog snoring. She was nestled in the great curtained bed along with Anna, Bartholomew, and the dog, and there was a faint light coming through the shutters. When she sat up, the dog’s tail thumped against the mattress. Its expression was so entreating that she imagined it expected her to abuse it.
Instead, she rubbed its ears. She didn’t know much about dogs, but Bartholomew evidently did. This one had his favor and was both large enough and mellow enough to put her at ease. She was accustomed to horses, after all. She wondered what the dog had endured in this place—for she thought little good of Sir Royce and Lady Marie—and was glad that its past had not made it vicious. It seemed well content to nestle amidst them, though she could see that its ribs were too prominent.
She felt as strongly as Bartholomew that they should take the dog with them. She rose and stirred the coals to life then opened the shutters. The sky was a pale hue and it looked as if it would be a fine day. The dog followed her, putting its paws on the sill to share the view. It wagged its tail at her again and tried to lick her cheek, which made Leila smile.
She supposed it was hungry.
So was she.
There was only the sound of slumber from the curtained bed, but then, after their race through the woods and their performance the night before, Leila could believe that Bartholomew and Anna were tired. She knew she should act like a maid and picked up the bucket she had used to bring water for Anna to bathe the night before. The lidded bucket with the slops had been left outside the chamber door, and she hoped someone had taken it to the sewer.
She straightened to find the dog watching her with a hopeful expression. She supposed it had matters to tend in the morning, as well. Would it return to her when she called it? She did not want Bartholomew to be disappointed by the dog’s disappearance. It had seemed to matter greatly to him to let the dog remain with them.
Leila rummaged in his belongings and found a bit of rope. She made a loop at one end, ensuring the knot could not slide and slipped it over the dog’s head. They left the chamber together and she was glad the dog walked calmly beside her, because she ended up with two buckets. She dumped the contents of one into the sewer at the back of the stables. The dog cocked a leg and relieved itself, then darted ahead and watched her expectantly as she stepped into the bailey again.
“He must be hungry,” a man said softly, expressing her own thoughts aloud.
Leila spun to find the priest watching her from the shadows. He carried a sack and removed a loaf of bread from it. Leila was certain there could be no fresh bread already baked this morning, for the keep was quiet. The priest tore off a piece of bread and offered it to the dog. It was sniffed and then quickly devoured. The dog sat before the priest, waiting for more.
“I think itishungry,” Leila said. “What should it eat?”
“Meat, but not so much fat. Some like other fare, but they are wolves in truth and meat is what they all like best. He does not look to have had much, but then the hounds of Haynesdale tend to be kept hungry.”
“My lord said he was too thin.”
“Some of this will not do him more injury than a hollow belly.” The priest gave the dog more bread.
“Will they mind?” Leila asked.
The priest smiled. “The bread is old, given by the baker Denley as alms to the poor. But there are few remaining in Haynesdale village. They are poor enough, but Denley has already shared with them. I thought the squires might have been given less last evening, since the baron had guests, and they are mere children.” The priest looked up suddenly. “You are Lady Anna’s maid.”
“I am.” Leila bowed.
The priest considered his words as he fed the dog more bread. He took his time about it, ensuring the dog chewed and swallowed each portion before granting another. “I understood that she prayed in the morning, so I thought to linger and unlock the chapel for her.”
