"No," he said. "I'm wondering what to tell the king tomorrow."

Matrona did not suggest he tell the truth. "Do you love the king?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then find a way to explain your actions to him in a plausible manner-one that he will believe-while clearing the lord Maeniel and lady Regeane of all wrongdoing. My lord is loyal to Charles and can be ofgreat help to him in his present endeavor, but only if he is free to do so."

"Yes," Otho answered. "Will I recover?"

"Yes," Matrona said. "If you do as I tell you. Possibly even if you don't, but it would be much better for your health if you did, in the sense that I am an accomplished healer and you would not want to lose my services prematurely."

"Oh, no. Definitely not. I fully understand your concerns and share them. Oh, yes, dear lady, you will never find me ungrateful for your services. You and your mistress saved my life and at no little cost to yourselves. I saw the fight, at least some of it. Of course, my mind and senses were somewhat disordered, so I can't be sure about everything I saw but, trust me, I am not only willing but eager to be of service to your lord and lady. And I am more than willing to believe you can be of great assistance to the king."

"Just so," Matrona said. "So pull yourself together and get your story ready for when the king arrives in the morning."

Out in the common room, Antonius, Barbara, and the Saxon were playing chess, or rather, Antonius and Barbara were playing and the Saxon was watching.

"Mate in three moves," Barbara told Antonius.

He studied her position for two minutes, then picked up the board and turned it over.

Barbara began laughing.

"This makes the third game," the Saxon said. "Why don't you try something else? Knucklebones, dice...

something she doesn't know as much about. Here, have some beer."

Antonius walked over to a side table that held wine, fruit, and cheese. "No! Lord deliver me from that German pig piss. And as for knowing the game, I... I taught her."

Barbara laughed even louder and elbowed the Saxon in the ribs. "Sore loser. You can give me some beer. I won't complain."

The Saxon filled a cup and pushed it over to her. Antonius poured a cup of wine for himself, then returned and began to pick up the ivory chess pieces and replace them in their box.

Satisfied she would hear Otho if he called her, Matrona strolled in and joined the players. "Where are they?" she asked.

"All in there." The Saxon inclined his head to indicate Maeniel and Regeane's room.

Matrona took a cup of wine also. Then she walked over and pushed aside the curtain and peered in.

"Oh, my heavens," she said. "And here, of all places."

"What are they doing?" Barbara asked. "We didn't look. We wanted to, but knowing too much about some things that go on..." Her voice trailed off. She took another sip of the Saxon's beer, a dark brew, malty and rich. "I like this," she said to the Saxon.

He nodded, grunted. "It makes you piss a lot. More than wine. It's healthier." He looked virtuous.

"Flushes your drains."

"I think that's the first time I've heard it put that way," Barbara said."What are they doing?" Antonius asked Matrona.

"Just sleeping together," she answered.

Antonius looked aghast.

"Sleeping. Just sleeping," Matrona repeated. "If you like, go look."

"No. I'm tired. It must be near morning. I think I'll turn in. There are many things I don't know and a still greater number of things I don't want to know and this is one of them." As a highranking court official, he had his own tent on a wagon.

The Saxon rose, wiped his mouth, went and pushed the curtain aside. The room was full of wolves. They were piled up on the bed, on the floor, and over the Persian carpets that covered the floor. As leader, the gray wolf was nearest to a brazier filled with coals. The silver wolf was nestled in the curve of his body, her muzzle resting on his neck. Gavin was pressed against his back. As the Saxon watched, he whined deep in his dreams, his paws twitching. The Saxon was able to recognize most of them even this way: Joseph; Gordo, a stray from the Spanish mountains; Silvia, fat as a woman and massive as a wolf. All sleeping deeply together as a pack. He let the curtain drop closed.

"Together as a pack," he said, repeating his thought.

"Yes," Matrona said. "They must remember that from time to time."

Antonius and Barbara were gone. All the ladies had their own wagons.

"We honor them," the Saxon said. "The wolf is a trustworthy friend, a bad enemy, faithful to his kind.

Gentle with his woman, devoted father to his children, chaste, and attentive in his duties to his pack.

What man could ask to be more virtuous?

"So it is said. So I believe. The gods placed the wolf here for our instruction, that we would know how to behave. Then they gave us a talisman, a mark of our covenant with them, that they care for us, as we care for them."

Matrona went to the table and blew out the lamp.

"Then our way of life troubles you not at all?"

"No," he answered. "I feel as if, after a long journey, I have come home."

Then he got his bearskin, rolled up in it, and went to sleep on the floor.

IV.

Silvie had been up only a few hours. She peered through the shutters that sealed her wineshop, wondering if it was worthwhile to open so early. Most of her clientele didn't begin to show up until after dark, and most of them were furtive even then, preferring shadows and dimly lighted eating and drinking places.

Silvie catered to them, keeping the lights low, the wine measures honest, and the food she served cheap, plentiful, and always fresh. To everyone's absolute and utter shock, she was a very successful businesswoman. Though tavern keepers even in the most rundown sections of the eternal city wouldn't have welcomed her customers, she accepted them for what they were and she prospered.None were even remotely honest, so she only took cash. Most were thieves, with a sprinkling of assassins, bravos who fought for pay covertly, and a more open group of killer mercenaries who hired out to the quarreling nobles and any other splinter group in all of sundered Italy. They welcomed a quiet place to eat, drink, and transact business before beginning their nightly rounds. Silvie provided this.

And, in return, her grateful if violent clients kept the peace in her wineshop. Although there were quite a few killings in the immediate area around the shop, none could be traced to its now very respectable proprietress.

It was no more than the seventh hour, late afternoon. The only creature that could be seen was her neighbor's calico cat, and all the cat was doing was sleeping in the sun, its white belly up, paws in the air, the picture of complete and utter relaxation.

Silvie yawned and thought about going back to bed. She might still be able to catch a short nap before nightfall. She was turning away when a man appeared and rapped on the shutters softly, so softly. The cat on the doorstep across the street didn't even stir.

She thought about going upstairs and returning to bed and ignoring him, but she was pretty sure he was one of her regulars. Few others went hooded and cloaked on warm afternoons. So she pulled the bolt and folded one of the shutters back.

The man slipped in.

Silvie went behind the counter. "I don't have any food cooked yet, but-"

Then she got a clear look at his face.

Hugo!

The slap knocked her down. He dropped to one knee and pressed a knife to her throat. "Where is your money? I know you own this place and it's prosperous. Now, where's the money?"

Silvie tried to pull away from him using her elbows. She was flat on her back on the floor, but Hugo grabbed her hair with one hand and pressed the knife closer to her carotid artery.

She hadn't been afraid of Hugo before; he had been utterly dominated by his father, Gundabald. But she was afraid of this Hugo. He was thinner, looked much older, and was already beginning to lose his teeth, but he had a savage, feral cast to his features that he hadn't had when he was a younger man. He looked as if he'd had to struggle to survive, and it hadn't improved either his judgment or his temper.

"Silvie." The knife tip drew blood.

"Yes, yes, Hugo," she whispered. "Money. It's upstairs in the bedroom. Let me up, just let me up. I'll go get it."

Another man entered the shop, followed by a third. They looked, if possible, older and more battered than Hugo. One's ears were cropped and the third lacked a hand.

"Wedo, go get it," Hugo ordered the crop-eared one.

Wedo hurried past them to climb the stairs at the back of the shop. The third man watched the street anxiously.

Silvie used the momentary distraction to get to her feet and try to put as much distance between herselfand Hugo as she could.

"Go ahead. Go ahead," the one-handed man urged Hugo. "She told you where it is. Finish it, you fool.

Finish it."

Hugo bared his teeth and lunged at Silvie. He stepped on the cat.

The cat wasn't hurt-this was ascertained upon later investigation-but the resulting ghastly screech probably awakened everyone on the entire block from their siestas, and Silvie went over the bar. She wasn't sure afterward if she high jumped, broad jumped, or just took wing and flew, but in one second she was over the bar and running down the street, letting fly with long, loud, wailing screams sufficient to end the siesta of anyone who managed to sleep through the cat's cry of anguish.

A half hour later, she was sitting in Lucilla's peristyle garden with Lucilla's maids applying restoratives while the redoubtable Lucilla tried to get a coherent story out of her.

"You're sure it was him?"

Silvie stopped her coughing and sobbing long enough to say, in high indignation, "Of course I'm sure it was him. He was going to killlll meeeee."

"You're beginning to make me wish he'd succeeded," Lucilla snapped. "Get some control of yourself, woman, and answer my questions properly."

Dulcinia, the singer, was with Lucilla, as she often was these days. Silvie had first run to Dulcinia, in terror that Lucilia might kill her. Hugo was, at best, a hunted man. Lucilla, the pope, and even just possibly the Lombard duke Desiderius would like to have a chat with him. The sort of chat one has in a room where racks, branding irons, and thumbscrews are the most prominent furnishings. Lucilla might believe-perish the thought-that Silvie gave him money of her own accord, or cherished some secret tenderness for him in her heart.

Dulcinia, seeing Silvie's emotional condition, understood this was manifestly not the case and conducted her at once to Lucilla. She promised to intercede with Lucilla if the lady became testy.

"Please, Silvie," Dulcinia pleaded. "Gain some control over yourself and try to tell our illustrious patroness what happened."

Dulcinia wrung out a cloth in a basin of water and pressed it with her long-fingered hands to Silvie's forehead and eyes, then handed her a clean handkerchief. "Now blow your nose, girl, and try to make some sense."

Silvie blew, then took a deep breath. In the darkness, where she didn't have to look at Lucilla's disapproving face, she felt better.

"There now," Dulcinia cooed. "That's a good girl."

"I really don't know anything except that it was Hugo," Silvie said. "He tapped on my shutters. He was cloaked and hooded, so I couldn't tell who it was, so I thought... I thought-"

"We're not interested in what you thought," Lucilla said in a terrible voice.

Silvie burst into tears again.

Dulcinia ran out of patience. "Now, stop. Both of you. Silvie, stop yowling like an alley cat in heat, andyou, Lucilla, stop frightening her.

"She thought it was one of her regular patrons. We all know what kind of people frequent Silvie's establishment."

Silvie gulped. "Yes, that's what I thought. But it wasn't. It was Hugo. I was on the floor and Hugo had a knife to my throat, and he said he wanted money. I told him where to find it."

"There were others with him?" Lucilla asked.

"Yes, two. Outlaws."

"Outlaws?" Lucilla asked.

"One had cropped ears; the other had only one hand. Hugo called the crop-eared one Wedo. He didn't say a name for the other, the one-hand man. Anyway-" Silvie's eyes were wide with terror. "That one told Hugo to finish it! He came after me and he stepped on the cat-"

"Who came after you? And what has the cat to do with anything?" Lucilla asked.

"Hugo came after me, and he stepped on the cat. The cat is a yellow, black, and white one. She belongs to my neighbor across the street and sometimes comes into my shop. To get scraps. I feed her because she catches mice for everyone, not only her owner, and besides-"

"I'm getting to know this cat entirely too well," Lucilla interrupted. "Now, Silvie, take a deep breath and tell me what Hugo did after he stepped on the cat."

"I don't know, because when the cat screamed, everyone jumped, and I ran and I ran and I ran... until I got to Dulcinia's villa. And..." Silvie began sobbing again.

"I don't think there's a bit of doubt. It's Hugo," Dulcinia said.

Lucilla rose and went to call her guards.

"Don't worry," Dulcinia told Silvie. "You have friends now, powerful friends. We will protect you. I'll send one of my men to the shop with you tonight, and then we can meet again in the morning and decide what to do. Now, calm yourself and go lie down. Lucilla's physician will see you."

"I don't need any physician. There's nothing wrong with me," Silvie added.

"Yes, you do, my dear. You may not have noticed it yet, but you have a very ugly black eye. Now, go with the servants and do as they tell you," Dulcinia said as Lucilla's maids shepherded Silvie away.

Dulcinia spent a quiet time alone until Lucilla returned. She wasn't lonely, however. Music played at all times inside Dulcinia's mind. She was famous for her singing and sometimes composed her own melodies for poems she set to music. Now she tried to find a theme to express the beauty of Lucilla's gardens at dusk. The beauty of the fountains' endless chime, the subtle aromas of the herbs and flowers growing along the paths and borders. A rose was blooming nearby, mixing its fragrance with white thyme and sage bearing soft blue flowers. Something-jasmine, perhaps- brushed her from time to time with its ravishing scent.

A wormwood with silvery foliage and downy yellow flowers glowed pale in the first moonlight. Lucilla returned and sat down beside Dulcinia.

"Thank you for bringing her here. This really is an important piece of information. I'm sorry I was soimpatient with Silvie, but I find her histrionics maddening."

"Yes, but you are irritable today. I think if I had the same experience Silvie had, I'd be hysterical, too."