The Black Swan

by Mercedes Lackey

  Wolfgang, without a servant, would take the third room, much smaller than the other two, which usually housed entire families or merchant groups,

  "What can I serve you for dinner, Highness?" the innkeeper asked anxiously, as Benno helped Wolfgang down off the cart and Siegfried gave instructions to the groom who came to take his horse,

  "What is in the kitchen tonight?" Siegfried replied.

  The innkeeper looked anxious. "Only a game pie, sausages, pickled cabbage—nothing suitable to Your Highness—"

  "In that, you are mistaken. That, your fine beer, a good cheese, and fresh bread will be fine," Siegfried said with a hearty laugh, only too pleased to have simple fare for tonight. Since the first princess had arrived, Clothilde had paraded a variety of fantastic dishes at each meal, and he was heartily tired of them. "Perhaps some apple tart to follow. Send it up to my room; the three of us will eat there."

  The innkeeper bowed until his nose touched his knees, as Siegfried, Benno, and Wolfgang walked past him into the common hall, a dark room lit mostly by firelight, redolent with the scent of garlic sausage and beer. The peasant farmers and foresters at the rough tables inside stood up and cheered as they entered; the prince gave them a friendly wave, but passed on without stopping, heading for the stairs at the back of the hall which led to the rooms above. It had been a long day in the saddle, and at the moment, he was more interested in dinner and a quiet conversation with his friends than anything else.

  A boy scampered ahead of them, up the stairs, and threw open the door to the first guest chamber; light from within streamed out onto the stairs, proving that the bedchambers had better illumination than the room below. "Your room, Highness!" the child said proudly, then turned and opened the doors at the top of the stairs that led to the other two rooms as Siegfried entered the best guest room.

  A fire already burned in the stone fireplace, chasing the slight chill in the air. A single massive bed dominated the room, a bed that could have (and probably had, more often than not) held six adults. Unlike his own bed, this did not have a canopy or bed- curtains, and the mattress was stuffed with straw, not feathers. But atop the straw mattress were a feather bed, fine sheets, pillows, and blankets from the palace, all brought by the luggage wagons.

  This was how most nobles traveled; though they might stay at rural inns, they seldom made use of the (possibly dubious) bedding provided by the innkeepers. Bedding and sometimes entire beds and other furnishings traveled with the noble, and all that the inn provided was a room. In this case, since Arno knew the keeper, and could trust that the beds were clean and had no unpleasant inhabitants, he knew he only needed to bring the bedding.

  A simple cot brought in the same wagon stood in the corner for Arno's use, and candles in silver holders (also from the palace) lit the room brightly. The prince's silver utensils waited on the prince's small folding table, and all of his hunting gear was neatly arrayed on stands beside it.

  Three clever folding chairs and a folding stool had been arranged around the table, furniture the prince took with him everywhere when he traveled, since they were relatively compact and easy to transport. It was just as well that he had ordered them brought along, since the bed was the only article of furniture belonging to the inn.

  This was because under normal conditions, the precious floor space would be sold to travelers who could not afford the bed, could afford a space on the floor. There was no point in burdening precious floor space with furniture.

  Benno's room would be like this one but half the size, with a slightly smaller bed. Wolfgang's—as Siegfried had reason to know—wasn't often used for sleeping; it was just large enough to hold the bed and a table and washbasin. Rented by the hour the services of a lady of negotiable virtue came with it; by renting the room and not the lady herself, the innkeeper neatly sidestepped any accusations of procuring. He only supplied the room; what the tenant did with it (and the lady who was already inside) was the tenant's business.

  The lady was probably plying her trade elsewhere for the duration of the royal visit, most likely among the visitors.

  A stream of serving wenches poured up the stairs and into Siegfried's room, carrying food and drink, just as Wolfgang and Benno joined the prince.

  The tutor backed himself into a corner, bewildered by all the bustling and flirtatious servers; Siegfried was amused to see that none of them carried more than a single dish. Judging by the coyly charming glances that the girls cast at him and Benno, they were probably hoping for attention, gifts, or both.

  Arno handled the latter by choosing one of the girls at random, handing her a pouch of small coins, and loudly telling her to see that all the girls got a fair share. Benno and Siegfried disposed of the former with little compliments that made the girls giggle and blush as they filed out of the room.

  "Well!" Benno said cheerfully, "Looks to me as if every girl in the village volunteered to 'help out' tonight."

  "Very probably," Siegfried agreed, entirely amused. "We wouldn't have gotten this sort of treatment if we'd followed my original plan."

  "By the time this visit is done, they'll have collected a substantial addition to their dowries, if you continue to be so generous, Siegfried," Wolfgang noted, and chuckled. "That may be more of an incentive than a glimpse of their Crown Prince."

  "That is entirely likely, old friend," the prince replied with good humor. "Far be it for me to object to a little honest greed when it ensures our dinner arrives at the table so promptly. Now, no ceremony among friends. Hunger makes the best sauce, so let's do justice to our dinner." He pulled up one of his folding chairs and sat down to help himself; Benno and Wolfgang lost no time in following his example. When they had heaped their plates full, taking his cue from the prince, Arno poured their drink, then served himself, retiring to his stool by the fire to eat.

  Nothing broke the silence for some time except the sounds associated with hearty eating; it had been a long time since the midday meal, and they all had good appetites.

  Siegfried was the first to finish, and pushed his chair away from the table with a sigh of content. "God's teeth, but it's good to have a simple repast for a change!"

  Benno sopped up the last gravy from the pie with a bit of bread, and popped it in his mouth. "If I'm faced with another pie of lark's tongues or mess of dormice in honey, I'll turn monk," he agreed.

  "Better just retire to the lower tables," Wolfgang advised with a discreet belch. "Ridiculous dainties like that are reserved for the queen's table. Good God, think how many larks they'd have to slaughter to provide everyone, with a pie!"

  "Ah, Highness, don't let Her Majesty know, but those so-called lark's tongues' weren't nothing but slivers of calf liver," Arno offered diffidently from his place beside the fire. "Spiced up till they weren't fit to eat, so's no one would guess."

  Siegfried burst into delighted laughter. "You don't say! Damn! And the cook probably pocketed a fine sum, charging up the ingredients for that dish on the household budget!"

  Very likely, Your Highness," Arno agreed. "But I reckon he's earned it, with all the trouble those princesses have given him since they arrived. Hot water at all hours, all manner of things they swear they can't eat, hot possets and sweet cakes at bedtime—"

  "I suspect you're right." Siegfried had heard something of this, but it didn't disturb him. The princesses were each so determined that no rival receive preferential treatment that once one made a request, they all made demands so as not to lose status. "So long as he doesn't line his pockets overmuch, I doubt even the household steward will complain."

  Then Siegfried yawned hugely. "My friends, I intended to have a fine discussion about our guests with you, but I'm so weary I doubt I could hold up my end of it. Shall we call the wenches back to clear this away, then retire?"

  Wolfgang nodded, his old eyes showing his fatigue. "I am relieved to hear you say so. I think perhaps such a discussion would be better postponed until breakfast."

  "And I," Benno agreed.r />
  "I'll see to the mess, Your Highness," Arno said promptly, jumping to his feet as Benno and Wolfgang got to their own in a more leisurely manner. Arno saw them to their rooms, then fetched up servants to clear away the debris of dinner. It was notable that this time it was only two scullery boys who arrived to bear away the plates, and not a bevy of giggling girls.

  Siegfried stripped and climbed into the bed, leaving Arno to close the shutters against the night air and tidy up. It was a measure of the fact that he was just as tired as he had claimed, that Arno hadn't done more than cast the last debris of dinner into the fireplace, when sleep overtook him.

  Chapter Twelve

  SIEGERIED had planned to wake early, and just as the first sunlight crept through cracks in the shutters, he stretched, yawned hugely until his jaws ached, and grinned to himself. Good, I haven't lost the knack of waking myself up, the way I used to when I was a boy.

  He slid out of bed and dressed quietly in the same clothing he'd worn yesterday so as not to wake Arno. He was of a mind to slip away alone, and indulge in a somewhat plebeian pastime that he seldom enjoyed at the palace, which didn't precisely fit into the concept of the "noble hunts" his mother proposed.

  He intended to go fishing, by himself; with no attendants to bait the line and hand him the pole, or fetch the fish he caught so that he would not get splashed.

  There was a fine trout stream near the inn, and trout fishing required little in the way of equipment, but a great deal in the way of skill. Siegfried left his room so quietly he didn't wake anyone, and when he descended to the common room, he found only a couple of early risers there, breakfasting on fresh bread and butter. He borrowed fishing tackle from the innkeeper and slipped away without even the escort of a single servant.

  This early in the morning, the trout were cooperative, rising eagerly to his fly, and he returned to the inn before even Benno was awake with a fine catch for breakfast. It gave him an odd little surge of pleasure to devour the freshly fried fruits of his own labor at a sun-dappled table beneath the enormous oak tree in front of the inn, and share them with his sleepy-eyed friends. It was even better to see their astonished faces when he told them who had caught the fish they'd just eaten with such relish.

  When the remains were cleared away, Siegfried and Benno had a stable boy bring their horses around, and mounted up. It was time for one of the official hunts: hunting with falcons while the day was still early. Wolfgang elected to remain behind, not being of a mind to hunt with the rest.

  As they walked their horses toward the encampment, Benno glanced at his friend with an odd expression. Finally Siegfried laughed and shook his head. "Out with it, friend," he chuckled. "Just what are you thinking?"

  "That it would be an odd thing to see you wedded," Benno said mournfully. "I cannot imagine you, who have never been without a half-dozen wenches at your call, tied down to a single woman. The very idea seems preposterous, and yet here you are, and you'll be picking out a bride within days."

  Siegfried laughed even harder at Benno's long face. "And why should that change my life?"

  "But—" Benno looked at him askance.

  Siegfried sobered. "My friend, of the six beauties that my mother has assembled here, there are two whom I do not care to wed, four I am considering, but none whom I love—or could love. Nor do I believe that I have struck such a spark in any of their hearts. The only way I would sacrifice my habits would be in the unlikely event that I found a true love to wed; acquiring a consort to please Mother and her advisers is not a powerful enough reason to make me change. My bride will be an ornament to the court, and comely enough to make siring a son a pleasure, but that is all." His smile turned a little cynical. "And I rather doubt that any of them see me as anything other than a way to a crown. No, Benno, nothing will change very much in my life."

  "But what about—" Benno began, "—I thought you'd been changing!"

  Siegfried had no intention of trusting Benno with his dream- visions. "Not because of any plans of my mother's I assure you," he retorted. "I just found some ways to make my life more pleasant. No longer waking up with a pounding head was certainly more pleasant, and I decided to let the wenches approach me rather than pursuing them, that's all."

  Benno sighed, but with relief rather than regret. "And here I thought you were smitten with Angelique," he teased.

  Siegfried shuddered theatrically. "I fear that one is too talkative for my taste. I would never again be able to hear the sound of my own voice. On the other hand, my friend, if you have a taste for her—"

  "Not I!" Benno exclaimed, and laughed. "No, the lovely Angelique should only wed a man who is deaf and mute; that way they will both be happy for the rest of their lives! Now, the lovely falconer, on the other hand, never speaks but what she has something intelligent to say."

  "Indeed?" Siegfried raised an eyebrow, and urged his horse into a pace slightly better than the lazy amble it currently wanted to take. "Did you speak of aught but falconry with the lady? I did not."

  Benno nodded as his horse moved to keep up. "She has some Latin, though no Greek; she has not read the Roman philosophers, but is learned in other areas. She has read the Confessions of Saint Augustine, for instance."

  Siegfried made a face and flicked a fly away with his riding crop, "it would be difficult to make love talk out of Saint Augustine. Still, it is something. Do sound her out further for me, and see if she is opposed to reading the works of pagans, would you?"

  "Surely—what is toward for the morning hunt?" Benno asked. "I can contrive to partner her, if you like."

  "We hunt the fields with falcons—at which she will shine, as you will not," Siegfried teased, and Benno flushed. In that form of hunting alone, Benno did not excel; he had no rapport with the birds of prey, and after an unfortunate experience with a goshawk that left him with a scarred hand, no longer even tried to man them.

  "Then I shall serve as her beater, and flush the game," he said staunchly. "So long as she does not ask me to take up her bird from its quarry."

  "I doubt you could offer her a costly enough jewel to give that honor to you," Siegfried replied, as they came within ear shot of the camp, "She allows no one to handle her birds but herself."

  The camp was abuzz with activity, as the hunt formed up. The queen was not taking part—no great surprise there, as she had no greater liking for falcons than Benno, About half of the nobles would remain in the camp with her, the other half going out into the field with Siegfried and the princesses.

  Some of the nobles had brought their falconers and half their mews—far too many hawks, in Siegfried's opinion. They couldn't possibly put all of them up, and it would frustrate the ones left in their hoods to be taken out and not allowed to fly. He had already left orders with his falconer that he would hunt only with his gyrfalcon, and if he did not find prey worthy of her, he would work her with the lure to give her exercise. Of the princesses, four either had dainty little sparrowhawks on their gloves, or were followed by a servant with one. Honoria, as he had expected, had the gos she had praised so highly on her fist, her falconer following with a fine peregrine.

  As Siegfried rode up, he signaled to his falconer, who brought him a glove and his gyr. As he took the bird up, he was pleased that it did not bate and embarrass him in front of Honoria, whose goshawk sat so quietly on her fist that it might have been stuffed.

  "Well, my lady," he said, as the hunting party formed up for the ride out to the mown fields where birds would be foraging on the gleanings left by the reapers. "You only spoke the truth of your bird, I see."

  "Better still, I can carry her unhooded, if I choose," Honoria replied demurely, astonishing him by gently stroking her hawk's breast feathers and even scratching it beneath its wings. Any goshawk he had ever owned would have rewarded such caresses by sinking a talon into his hand. "Valeria is a bird worth more than all the rest of my mews put together, both for steadiness, and hunting spirit. I would not carry her unhooded in company, however
," she continued, with a subdued twinkle in her eyes. "It would not be fair to her to tempt her with all the savory little merlins and sparrowhawks about us."

  Knowing that a goshawk would happily make a meal of any bird that was smaller, and a good many that were larger as well, Siegfried grinned. "I think we should let the other ladies fly at wood-pigeon and starling until they are tired, which should not take long, and then we true hunters can take the field."

  As Honoria chuckled, Siegfried gave the signal to form up the hunting party, with the riders at the front, followed by the beaters and the falconers with cadges of birds. The cadges were unwieldy creations, a square perch of padded wood surrounding the falconer, carried by straps over the shoulders and holding at least one bird on each of the four sides. Siegfried never used a cadge unless he was hunting close by, for they were an infernal bother, in his opinion. He tried not to hunt with more than two birds at a time, but sometimes in duck season the peregrines tired before he did, and he had to fly several over the course of a day.

  But he and his men had already planned this hunt well—the nobles who only wished to show how many birds they owned, would stop at the first fields and remain there for the morning, having the farthest tracts to the real hunters. The gamekeepers had already scouted the best fields for pheasant and grouse, and those would go to Siegfried and those who actually flew their birds, rather than watching their falconer do the work.

  "Sound the call!" Siegfried ordered, and the huntmaster wound his horn, signaling to the entire party that it was time to get into the field. The very sound of the hunting horn made Siegfried's spirits rise, and with a grin, he led the way out under a brilliant sun, and a sky so blue it could not presage anything but fine luck.

  AS Siegfried anticipated, the ladies tired in less than an hour, and retired from the field with game bags of rock-dove and wood- pigeon. Those that were not made into a pie for the high table tonight would go to feed the birds themselves. Siegfried and Hon- oria unhooded their birds and took advantage of their rank to claim the privilege of the first flights. When a fine hare was flushed by the beaters, Honoria cast her gos without blinking an eye or hesitating a moment. Hare wasn't a good quarry for a gyr- falcon, but it was perfect for a goshawk. Honoria urged her bird on with eager shouts of "Ho! Ho! Hawk!"