Read Online The Wolf King by Alice Borchardt - Free Book Online Page A

owlish look on his face. “Yes?”
    “My lord,” Antonius said, “wishes to be sure that you suffer no deprivation because of your courtesy. He instructs me to give you this,” and he offered the ring to Arbeo.
    The youngster took it gingerly and stared at it in wonder. “This is too much.”
    Antonius opened his mouth, but Maeniel spoke. “Not if you tell us what’s going on. Why are we being treated this way?”
    Arbeo weighed the ring in his hand, then, with a look of regret, he placed it on the table. “Sir, I was specifically forbidden to discuss anything about your arrest with you.”
    Maeniel fumbled in his scrip and found some silver. “Then take this. I still don’t want you to have to pay for our supper. And take the ring, if you care to. The lady who gave it to me would have liked you.”
    Arbeo half drew his sword, unscrewed the top of the pommel, and placed the ring in the hollow.
    “Won’t it rattle?” Antonius asked. “Can you tell me if my wife is safe?” Maeniel asked. “Oh, yes, sir, I can tell you that. She is. The lady is, after all, a relative of the king.”
    “Is Count Otho here?”
    “Yes.” The boy looked mystified. “Good. Can you take a message to my wife?”
    “The lady Regeane? Yes, sir! I would be honored.”
    “Fine. Tell her to roust that fat—” Antonius gave him a hard look.
    Maeniel took a deep breath and began again. “Ask her to call on Count Otho and… and… ask for his protection and… assistance.”
    When the boy was gone, Antonius spoke. “You handled that well. For a moment I had my doubts, but you came through at the end. By the way, who did give you that ring?”
    “Never mind,” Maeniel said. “I paid that snake’s prick, Otho, enough that he should be willing to do me some favors. Quite a few in fact.”
    “Do snakes have pricks?”
    “Assuming they are male, yes.”
    “I have never known anyone who has seen one,” Antonius said.
    “They are retractable.”
    “My,” Antonius said. “I imagine that’s necessary, given their method of locomotion. You watched a pair in the act of sexual congress?”
    “Yes, one long, boring afternoon, I did.”
    “Indeed.” Antonius nodded and stroked his chin. “Indeed.”
    Arbeo delivered the message. “Otho! I should have thought,” she said, and gave the young man some gold. Then she set out, with Arbeo as a guide, in search of Otho’s tent. Barbara, Matrona, and the Saxon accompanied her.
    She did need protection.
    The great king’s army was in a mood for revelry. There were lines in front of the tavern and brothel wagons. Some whores accommodated customers publicly, lying on the baggage in the back of the ox carts while men lined up in front of them. Regeane took in the sights as well as she could with her veil and mantle pulled up over her mouth, but Matrona and Barbara strolled along, looking around insouciantly.
    The higher-paid ladies of the
professional friedelehe
, those who preferred longer associations—courtesans, in other words—presided over loud and occasionally violent parties. One man, naked, ran past. He was bleeding and being pursued by two others carrying weapons. Screams erupted from another tent, sounds indicative of a battle royal in progress, punctuated by shrill female cries. When Matrona wanted to investigate, she was hustled along by the Saxon and Arbeo. She allowed herself to be urged to greater speed by the men, but bestowed a heavy-lidded look of disgust on them both.
    “It’s not proper for a lady to be exposed to such scenes of debauchery,” Arbeo said.
    “Why? Are you afraid one or more of us just might want to join in the fun?” Arbeo looked horrified.
    Regeane sucked in her cheeks to keep from laughing out loud and saw the Saxon was struggling with his own attempts to suppress mirth.
    “Fear not, I’m too old,” Barbara said. “Speak for yourself,” Matrona told her. “I’m not, but I am busy right now. Come visit me,” she purred at the young man,