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"It is that I want this one," said little Catia. The girl had a piercing voice that cut through the wattle-and-daub walls, and though Esca was inside, he heard her clearly.
"But the pup is black," said Adginna. Adginna was Catia's mother, and their cook.
"That is why I want him. He is so pretty, with his shining black fur. Trexa said I might have him, please may I? Please?"
Esca went to the door. Catia was looking hopefully up at her mother, a squirming puppy in her arms that was nearly as big as she was.
"Black dogs are of evil things," said Adginna severely. "They bring bad luck. People say there is a heath hound made of mists and shadows that walks this countryside, a huge black dog with fiery red eyes, and all who see it or hear its howls will be dead by morning."
"No! Dubbo would never, he is a good dog!" Catia was starting to cry, and that set the puppy to whining as well. Esca sighed and stepped out into the yard, drawing the attention of both mother and daughter.
"I am sorry, Master Esca," began Adginna. "I will make sure she returns the beast to Trexa. I don't know why she did not drown the black ones as soon as they were whelped."
That set Catia to wailing even louder. Esca frowned at Adginna, then knelt before the girl, so that his face was level with her tear-streaked one. "You have a very fine pup there. Na, na, Catia, do not cry."
"Mother says black dogs are evil omens," she sobbed.
"Your mother is right about many things," he said, with a quick glance toward Adginna. "But in this, I think, she may be mistaken."
"But the heath hound," said Adginna. "I have heard stories of such a beast. I would not have an ill-omened hound in our household."
"No more would I," said Esca. "But I have seen the heath hound with my own eyes, and it brought me good luck, not ill."
"You saw it? And lived?"
"Aye. Mind you the night of the storm, when our ox broke the fence and went wandering?"
Adginna nodded. "Catia was a babe at my breast then. And you and Master Marcus went off in the gale, and brought the animal back safe."
"That was the night I saw it," he told her. "Marcus had gone searching in one direction, and I in another. The rain had washed its tracks away, and the mud slowed our search – that and the dark of the night, and the mist that lay on the land. I stumbled about in the mud, not knowing if I should continue or turn back, when I saw the hound."
"But if it was a black night, how could you see a black dog?"
"Catia," said her mother warningly, but Esca smiled and shook his head.
"It was blacker than the night around it, and its eyes glowed like flame. I could see at once it was no ordinary dog. It was as big as I am, and in that moment I was afraid. I had heard the same stories your mother has heard, and I was certain it had come for me. I knew it meant my death. I stood there frozen to the ground like a stone, waiting to die."
"But you are here now, and you are not dead," said Catia, with the implacable logic of the very young.
"I am not dead," Esca agreed. "But that night, I thought I must be. Then the black hound made a noise, and it padded a few steps forward, then looked back at me. It came back and circled me, then moved down the path and turned its head back to me again."
"Like Dubbo when he wants to play!"
"Just like that, yes. I knew the hound wanted me to follow."
Adginna made the sign of the horns. "It wanted to lead you to the other world!"
"No, it wanted to lead me to Marcus, and our ox, for that is where it took me. I followed the heath hound through the mizzle until I saw a dim light shining in the distance."
"My lantern," said Marcus, who had come up behind him. "I had found the ox. It had slid into a muddy hollow, but I could not push it out by myself, so I had to wait in the cold rain, shivering, until Esca came to help me. I thought I might be there all night. I might have frozen to death had Esca not saved me."
"It was the dog that saved you," said Catia knowingly. "The dog brought Esca. Like my Dubbo." She rubbed the black puppy on its forehead, and it licked her face with a long, red tongue, making her laugh.
"It was the dog," agreed Esca. "So you see, Adginna, she must keep the pup. Perhaps it will be that Dubbo will save some poor farmer out searching for his ox on a rainy night." He turned to Catia. "But you must take care of him, and feed him every day, and teach him how to be a good dog and not a bad one."
"Oh, I will, I will!"
Adginna pursed her lips, but she could do nothing; Esca had given his permission. "Well, I suppose another dog about the place will not be a bad thing," she finally said. "Even a black dog. But now you must take him to the barn, for it is past time I started supper, and you must come help me."
They watched them go, Adginna leading Catia by the hand, Dubbo running joyously around their feet. "I suppose we'll be eating burnt porridge and half-raw vegetables for a week or two, until she forgives you," said Marcus as they turned to head back into the house. "But Catia will love you forever. And after all, it was a kind thing you did."
"A kind thing?"
"Inventing a story, so the girl might keep her pup."
Esca turned to look at him. "That was no story. Do you not mind my telling you, when I found you?"
"I remember you appearing out of the rain like a ghost," said Marcus. "But I do not remember a hound with you, or you telling me of one."
"It was many years ago. We were both cold, and wet, and tired. Perhaps I told you, perhaps I did not tell you. But I did see the hound, and it led me to you." He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering. The storm had softened to a steady rain, and the mist was thick around him. It had felt to him as though he walked through a dream. He knew the land, knew that a stream lay to his left and the curve of a cliff to his right, but all he could see was the mist, and the hound capering before him, running ahead, looping back, never coming close enough to touch, never disappearing wholly in the mist.
Perhaps it had been a dream. When they finally returned to their farm, leading the ox, it had been only hours to dawn. They'd both fallen into an exhausted sleep, and Esca had relived the night many times in many ways; finding Marcus, not finding Marcus, finding him sprawled lifeless on the muddy earth. He'd woken with a start more than once, heart racing, terrified that the visions in his dreams had been real. He had needed to turn to the man sleeping beside him, to listen to his steady breaths and feel the warmth of his skin, to reassure himself that all was truly well.
He felt Marcus touch his shoulder gently. "Then it was a good hound, even though it was made of mists and shadows, for it led you to save me."
"Yes," Esca said, opening his eyes. "It was a good hound, for it saved us both."