My stomach growled with hunger as I walked forward. The group of courtiers nervously cleared a space around the infuriated king. Only Hroudland had the courage to step out and accompany me as I approached his uncle.
Carolus was fuming. He caught sight of the hunting horn dangling against my chest.
‘Hroudland, take that away from him. I never want to hear its note again,’ he stormed.
‘Your Majesty, I beg forgiveness,’ I stammered. ‘I was lost and trying to find my way.’
‘No wonder, you numskull. You couldn’t find your arse with your own hands.’ The king swung round and confronted Vulfard. ‘You said you sent your son to keep an eye on this buffoon!’
‘I did, my lord,’ answered the huntsman. He was shrivelled up with embarrassment. ‘The lad will get a whipping when he gets back.’
‘Walo is not at fault,’ I intervened.
‘He knows well enough not to blow the death call in jest, and wreck the hunt,’ snapped Vulfard.
‘But the hart was dead,’ I said.
There was the pause of a heartbeat, and then the king growled, ‘What hart?’
‘A large one, maybe eighteen points.’
I saw derisive looks appear on the faces of the royal party. Ganelon, Hroudland’s stepfather, was smirking.
The king narrowed his eyes.
‘You claim that you killed a hart of eighteen points?’ He sounded incredulous.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
He turned to Vulfard.
‘Can this be true?’
The huntsman shifted uncomfortably.
‘Possibly. We never saw the beast ourselves.’
‘I know that!’ the king snapped. ‘Your dimwit son and this lout frightened off every creature for miles around, puffing away like low musicians at a fairground.’ The king swung back to face me. ‘When did you kill this wondrous beast?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.
‘Shortly after we reached the place in the line assigned to us, Your Majesty.’
‘And you are sure it has eighteen points?’
‘The rack was larger than the other one.’
The royal eyebrows shot up.
‘What other one?’
‘Back there, it appeared a little while later,’ I said weakly, indicating the forest behind me. ‘It had only sixteen points.’
‘Are you saying that today you killed two beasts, each fit to be royal quarry?’
‘I intended no disrespect.’
The king studied me for a long moment, scowling. Then Vulfard coughed discreetly.
‘I think he tells the truth, Your Majesty.’ He indicated to one side. Walo and Osric were entering the clearing. They were on foot and leading the two horses loaded with great slabs of meat. Dangling from the saddle of my bay gelding was an immense rack of antlers.
The king turned back to face me. He scowled, and for a moment I thought he was going to strike me. Suddenly he threw back his head and burst out in a great roar of laughter.
‘I hereby ban this young man from our forests and any future hunt of ours.’
I bowed my head obediently, and stared at the leaf mould on the ground. If I was forbidden from the forest, then I was unlikely ever to learn the identity of the mysterious archer who might have been an assassin.
Chapter Ten
Next day I was dismissed. I was ordered to Aachen while the king moved camp to a different area of the forest for another week of hunting. Hroudland later told me that his uncle’s good humour was restored when he personally killed a pair of wisents, bull-like animals with great shaggy hides, which ran wild in the forest.
I would have been happier if the king had stayed away even longer. Discipline in the royal household was slack in the king’s absence, and that made it less of a risk to continue my relationship with Bertha. Timing my visits carefully, usually well after dark and when the guards were drowsy, I was able to make my way discreetly to Bertha’s room on the ground floor and spend several nights with her. She encouraged my attendance and I was so smitten by her that I was convinced her affection for me was genuine, whatever Oton and the others claimed about her appetite for men.
‘We must think of an excuse for you to become a regular visitor,’ Bertha murmured. Her father was expected back in the next few hours, and we were lying side by side in her bed, contented and warm in the darkness. Before first light I would creep away to my own quarters.
I yawned and stretched.
‘I hate having to get up in the dark and cold when it is so delightful here.’
‘You were talking in your sleep just now.’
‘I must have been dreaming.’
‘About me, I hope.’ She leaned over and her tongue flicked around my ear. I shivered with delight.
‘I can’t remember.’ I slid my arm under her shoulders and drew her towards me. She pressed herself against me and I gloried in her softness and warmth for a few more precious moments.
At length she drew back so I could get out of bed.
‘You should try to remember your dreams. They could be important,’ she said.
‘I know,’ I said neutrally. With a sudden upwelling of melancholy I recalled my dream of a bull attacking a peaceful stag, and how it had been a portent of my father’s death and the destruction of his kingdom. I did not care to reveal just how important they were.
‘My father believes in his dreams.’
I groped for my shirt where I had dropped it.
‘Does he tell you about them?’
‘Yes. Especially when they worry him.’
‘What was the last dream he confided to you?’
‘A man attacked by a pack of wolves. He could not see who the man was, but it was in a wild place, among rocks and trees. The man was blowing a horn, desperately signalling for help. It never came.’
I smiled into the darkness.
‘Your father won’t be worrying about that dream any longer. I made a fool of myself with a hunting horn recently. I’ll tell you about it some time.’
‘Were you attacked by wolves?’ I was pleased to hear the note of genuine concern in her question.
‘There were no wolves. I was lost.’
‘Then that’s not what the dream was about.’
I decided to tell her about the Oneirokritikon.
‘There’s a book that explains what dreams really mean.’
I heard her sit up in bed.
‘Have you seen that book?’ she asked.
‘I have been given a copy, but it’s written in Saracen.’
‘You must get it translated!’
She sounded excited, and I already knew her well enough to guess that she had some scheme in mind.
‘But I don’t even know if there’s any truth in it. It could all be rubbish, written for the credulous.’
‘You’ll never know until you’ve read it,’ she said.
There was no response to that, so I stayed silent.
‘My father tells his family about his dreams, no one else. He hopes we might be able to explain them to him.’
