The child said, "Dog. Dog."

He reeked, the poor thing, and as they came out of the woods and to the open fields striping the land around the distant walls, he peed. Warm liquid trickled down Alain's side. There wasn't much urine in the child, but the scent of it stung. Rage barked, swinging his head around to sniff Alain's hip.

Out here farmers ploughed, although it was late in the season for such work. A pair of soldiers patrolled on horseback. They cantered over, looking him up and down while circling clear of the hounds. The younger was a freckled lad about sixteen and with a tentative grip on his spear. His companion looked tougher, twice his age, with darker hair and a scaly patch of skin on one cheek that had been scratched until it bled.

"Who are you?" the elder asked. "What's your business in Autun?" He indicated the child with the blade of his spear. "Beggars not allowed in Autun. Go elsewhere."

"I found this child abandoned in the woods. Has the biscop no foundling home? Is there no monastery nearby that takes in orphans?"

"I don't know," said the man, "but not likely, I'd say. Haven't grain enough to feed the lady's household and her army. Certain there isn't spare for a dirty crippled brat like that one. See you there Jochim," he said to the lad, "see his twisted legs."

"He's crippled," said the lad brightly.

"So he is, but was he born with the twisted legs? Or did his mam or uncle gave it a twist so as folk would pity him and give bread and coin?"

"Nay." The lad shook his head. "Nay, no mam would do that. Would she?"

"Some might. Or a handsome uncle, like this one who carries him. Look at his decent clothes, who leaves a babe wrapped in only a bit of torn cloth. He found a babe forgot in the woods? I know what lurks in the woods. All those driven out of town by my lady's order. Thieves and whores and murderers. Nay, fellow." He lowered his spear to block the path. In the distance a pair of farmers looked their way. "We want none of your kind in our town."

"His cloak is shorn off," said the lad. "See? That's what the babe is wearing. Why would he tear his own cloak, if it's true he cares nothing for the babe but only his own comfort? He could buy a rag from a peddler for nothing and save the cloak."

"Dog," said the child.

"Unless he were kicked out of town and the babe's rag lost in the wood."

Alain sighed. "I'm no beggar. If you'll tell me where I can find a foundling home, I'll take this child there."

They shrugged. The youth seemed eager to depart. The elder lingered. "Don't matter whether I believe you or think you're lying. You can't enter the city with that begging child. Everyone can see he's a beggar's child. No entrance."