(AU week)

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly has been telling himself that it's all right to be bound here, after the bitter defeat to their cause. Time isn't passing in Paris--however that works--he's using the time to rest, to study, to learn for the republicans' next attempt--

--he's resting with Harry, Prince of Wales, and studying the swordsmanship of four hundred years ago, and learning how to communicate a few faint ideas of 1830 to a long-gone English kingdom.

So now, spurred by Bahorel's restless energy, the news of Joly's illness, he's pulled out the work he's neglected lately, a sort of extract or paraphrase or adaptation--whatever you want to call it--of the Communist Manifesto. It's challenging work, pulling it together in terms for 1830 Paris, but it's not so very far past their time as all that. It's not a moment too soon for socialism!

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[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly takes one more long look before he nods. "All right. Over to see about a dog, next?"

[harryhotspur]

"To see about a dog," he agrees. He takes off down the stairs at that same reckless speed and waits at the bottom for Feuilly to catch up. The stables are close by, the kennels attached, both large enough that the absence of half a dozen dogs and horses for the hunt has not left them looking empty. Harry exchanges nods with the grooms, veers off to greet one of the horses and pulls away with a lingering, 'would that we could' glance.

"It will not be an ill place for a dog?" he asks Feuilly quietly. "With the magic and strangeness?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

It's hard to think how they'd manage to sneak a horse into Harry's bedroom. But a dog? Easily. "Oh, no--I see a lot of dogs there. Many people come with dogs, and they seem all right? I wouldn't let it go stray in the woods--there's more, I don't know, magical business there? But--no, I don't think it's a, an ill place for a dog."

[harryhotspur]

They set a boy to keeping the dogs, and he scrambles into a bow when Harry approaches, stammering apologies-- the hunting party-- he did not know-- but Harry holds up a placating hand.

"My friend is new come from France, where they keep not such fine dogs as we have, and I but wished to show him. You need not trouble-- indeed, you need not stay."

It's a subtler dismissal than the one Harry offered to the servant in the castle, but the boy still recognizes it for what it is and hurries to absent himself. The kennel is less like cages or stalls and more like a tiny paddock within which the dogs roam freely-- or, more specifically, are free to advance on Feuilly and Harry as they step inside, barking, tails wagging.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Even with many of the hounds gone with the hunters, it's quite a crowd. Feuilly isn't afraid of dogs--no more than makes sense in a time when dogs were often at work guarding farms and homes--but it's still a little daunting to be at the center of so many open mouths and swaying tail-tips and hard-nailed forefeet.

...they clearly like Harry.

[harryhotspur]

It's not that Harry likes most dogs better than most people, it's just that he-- does, a bit, actually. It seems for a moment like he might give in and just start wrestling with some of them there on the ground. But he doesn't! He just stoops down, nearly disappearing in the midst of them, and straightens with a smallish hound sprawled contentedly in his arms.

"This is Lady," Harry says solemnly.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"--I can see she is." Yes, the way she's lolling in Harry's arms, giving little wiggles and straining to lick his face: all very lady-like. "Well--shall we bring her with us?"

Feuilly is rather absently rubbing the ears of a larger hound, an old cloudy-eyed fellow who seems to have opted for leaning heavily against him instead of joining the busy throng around Harry.

[harryhotspur]

"That was called Hector," Harry says, nodding to the dog. "But now my brother Humphrey calls him Homer." Because apparently brother Humphrey is a dork.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Why? --Oh, of course. Can he see at all?" Poor old boy: but it's good to see that he's taken care of along with the dogs that still can work.

[harryhotspur]

"Oh, somewhat, I think. We have not had much conference on the subject." It's a joke, of course, but it also may not seem entirely impossible that Harry has discussions with the dogs on a variety of topics. "Well, then. That is our errand complete, is it not. Wouldst see aught else? I would not-- would not hurry thee..."

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly ruffles the short sleek fur on the dog's neck; the leaning intensifies. "Well--oh, I want to see everything, I want to walk from one end of the country to the other. But we shouldn't risk meeting many people, you already have to explain your cousin. John Fully, was it?"

[harryhotspur]

"As I stood there, it seemed simpler than to give you out as French-- for what makes a Frenchman here?-- but it was a foolish notion, I confess," he says. Lady yawns (perhaps that is agreement?). "But we must return to the door yet."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"It's as good as anything. Any conversation I had about France would be as much of a disaster--I don't even know who's king! --Yes, all right, let's go back."

With regret, he detaches himself from the elderly hound. Who's a good boy.

[harryhotspur]

"Charles VI," Harry replies at once, because he actually knows that one! He glances down at the old dog and asks with a grin, "Why, wouldst take him, too?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Charles VI, then." Feuilly grins at Harry's prompt schoolboy answer--and then looks guilty. "Oh, well, I don't--he's not going to be running with you while you ride--"

Yes, he very obviously wants to take the dog. Emilia bites his ear. Ow.

[harryhotspur]

"They like not solitude, dogs," Harry says innocently. Because of course he would never try to talk anyone into anything! "They are best pleased to have a pack to return to, even if it is a pack of but two."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"And--and, you know, I spend a lot of time reading. Writing. Not riding." He'd be quite happy with an old dog that wanted to lie down all morning and snore. "But--of course he's your dog--"

Feuilly is hopelessly transparent. Emilia bites his ear again, more gently.

[harryhotspur]

"Bid him follow and he will," Harry says cheerfully, starting back towards the kennel gate. "He is well practiced in commands."

The other dogs swarm around the door as he moves towards it, anticipating the possibility of going out. It takes some nudging to make his way through without enabling a mass escape.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly has no idea what commands medieval English dogs know. But calling "Hector" and setting out through the throng of dogs seems to work; and he has a collar that Feuilly can catch hold of once they're out.

Right. So they've...borrowed...some dogs, and the servant is bringing Harry's sword, and--and they don't have many more excuses to stay. And there are so very many people Feuilly can't possibly talk with.

[harryhotspur]

Harry has set down Lady at last, and she trots contentedly at his heels, occasionally getting distracted and scampering off to snap at a cart horse's heels or try to chase a chicken, but always coming back when she's done.

He's completing a similar mental checklist: dogs, sword, not too many questions asked.

"It may be we could return," he says as they pass back into the inner court, back towards the hall. "Some disguise more clever, thou couldst see more--"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Do you think so? A second time I would, I would know a little better what to prepare for--" Though he knows better, really, than to believe that he'd ever be able to pass any sort of conversational test. And Emilia's patience for playing the role of a tame parrot is--limited. She's already muttering things into his ear.

Hector is above such frivolities as snapping at horses' heels or chasing chickens; he does occasionally stop at a smell and refuse to move or be moved until he's quite done with it. The first time Feuilly gives Harry an apologetic look; after that he decides that Harry knows these dogs well enough to expect it.

[harryhotspur]

Harry doesn't mind it, he's moving slowly anyway, for what he hopes it Feuilly's benefit: a last look at the people, the stones, the sky.

"And why could we not?" Harry asks. "We might wait until the dead of night-- sneak away, perchance, travel to Coventry--" Nevermind how they'd manage to get back, how long they'd be away, how much time might pass while they were gone.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly takes it all in gratefully, even the light rain that has started in again. It's another nation's rain! Falling on another nation's people, from a sky that France shares, but elsewhere--

It's also chilly and wet. Feuilly wipes his face. "I don't--" He doesn't think they possibly could. But then he remembers: when I so little love the thing I am. Why not dream of running away? "--I would love to see Coventry."

[harryhotspur]

"It is not so grand as Paris," Harry laughs, picking up his pace to escape the rain. "But if thou wouldst see a town, why, it may claim that title."

He ducks back into the covered passageway that leads from the inner court back into the great hall, but pauses before he goes inside. "It were best we now move quickly, and bear an air that brooks no questions-- that we do seem to say, while saying nothing, we must have these dogs, and it is not for you to question."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Like smuggling rifles," he mutters. "Or proscribed journals." Eh? Of course I'm supposed to be here in this neighborhood carrying this crate after dark, what do you think?

Some of the urgency even conveys itself to the dogs, who fall behind with a business-like trot.