Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 1 (78 page)

"I grieve," said Antonia, "but even I cannot interfere with the hand of Our Lord, when with His sword He cuts the thread that binds us to life."

"There are some who have accused you of sorcery," continued Constance, determined to have this out now. She did not look at Henry for permission, nor did he attempt to stop her. She was the only other person here whose spiritual rank was equal to Antonia's, and no secular power could intervene. "There are some who speak of amulets fashioned by your clerics at your order, and that their suffering is the mark of this cruel sorcery, the same sorcery that brought a
guivre
to the battleground and let Sabella's soldiers walk free of harm from its gaze while Henry's soldiers were stricken to stone."

Antonia unclasped her hands and raised them, palms up, in a gesture of innocence. "If their suffering is a mark of sorcery, and I the sorcerer who devised such amulets, then how is it I stand untouched by disease? How is it that Heribert
—" Here she signed toward the young cleric who stood, as always, one step behind her. "—remains unstained as well? Many things cause disease, including evil spirits. I am sorry they are suffering, and I do what I am allowed to ease their pain, for it grieves me sorely, but what has stricken them comes from other hands than mine."

"Enough," said Henry suddenly, interrupting just as Constance took a breath to speak again. "We have gone over this a hundred times, and I no longer wish to speak of it. Biscop Antonia will be taken under guard to the skopos in Darre, there to stand trial accused of certain sorceries condemned by the church at the Council of Narvone."

Antonia was led away with her retinue of one. But even from her vantage point to the left of the king's throne, Rosvita could see no sign of fear or regret or repentance in the old biscop's expression. She looked, indeed, as angelic as an ancient faultless grandmother who has seen all her children and grandchildren grow to adulthood.

Henry sat for a long while in silence. The crowd did
• not grow restless; indeed, they scarely stirred. They knew that next, surely, he would call his sister Sabella before him.

Finally, he made a sign, and young Duchess Liutgard came forward. "I will now agree to speak to the woman you hold in your custody," he said.

Liutgard gave a curt assent and glanced once up at Rosvita, as if to thank her for her part in saving Henry from rash action.

When Sabella was brought into the hall the hush was so profound that Rosvita thought she heard the barking of hounds in the distance. Perhaps she was hearing things, or perhaps some lord kept kennels nearby.

Sabella refused to kneel before her brother. Henry did not rise and go forward to greet her, nor did he extend his hand for her to kiss. Rosvita did not think Sabella would have granted him that honor, that homage, in any case.

"What do you have to say?" he asked instead, gaze jumping past her for a moment to linger on her entourage, whose expressions were certainly more contrite and fearful than hers was. A servant wiped spittle off Duke Berengar's lips. Young Tallia stood pallid in a green silk gown, looking more like a captured fawn than the princess she was.

Rosvita glanced toward the other princesses, Henry's daughters. Sapientia was, of a mercy, behaving circumspectly today, holding her temper, her tongue, and her enthusiasm in check. She sat as still as she was able and watched the proceedings with a dark and avid gaze, as if soaking it in, as if playing herself in the role of queen. The pool of stillness that surrounded Theophanu was of a colder kind; she had no expression on her face, nor did she react when each judgment was passed. Even young Ekkehard, who half the time looked as if he was about to fall asleep, had jumped and murmured in surprise at the clemency Henry had shown to Duke Rodulfs heirs. Next to these three handsome and robust children, Tallia was a colorless bloom, lost in the glare of her mother's ambitions.

"I have nothing to say," said Sabella. Henry's wrath was evident though he did not lose himself now to his anger. "You have conspired against the rightful king of Wendar and Varre, anointed by the hand of the skopos, named by our father, Arnulf, as his heir, confirmed as such by the great princes of the realm. This is treason, and the punishment for treason is death." A gasp from the multitudes, quickly stifled. Every soul crowded into the hall strained forward. The air itself seemed not to breathe or to allow for any breath, for even the rise and fall of a single chest might stain the clarity of sight and hearing that reigned within the hall.

"But we are kin, and you wear the gold torque of the royal house." Henry did not touch the one he wore at his neck, but Sabella
—as if involuntarily—reached up to touch hers. "I will not stain my hands, nor the hands of my children, with the blood of my kin. But this I will do. This judgment I will pass." He rose.

"Your child, Tallia, I take as my ward and remove to my custody. Your husband, Berengar, duke of Arconia, I judge unfit to rule, and I strip from him his rank as duke. He will retire to Hersford Monastery, where the holy brothers will care for him as is fitting. And you, Sabella
—"

No one moved. No one spoke.

"From you also I strip the title of duchess, and from your heir I take this title, for all time. The duchy of Arconia is without a duke, and so it comes to me to dispose of this title and the authority it grants. I give it now into the hands of my sister, Constance, Biscop of Autun, and you I give into her custody, as you once held her unwillingly in yours,"

The crowd could no longer restrain its astonishment. They burst into a haze of noise so loud Rosvita could scarely hear herself think. Sapientia, echoing the crowd, leaped to her feet and a moment later, sheepishly, with her brother tugging on her sleeve, seated herself. Theophanu had not stirred, but she had a thin smile on her face.

Sabella said nothing, showed nothing except a deadly and bitter anger, but there was nothing she could do. She had gambled and she had lost. Duke
—no longer duke!— Berengar was blowing his nose onto his sleeve, and at once his servingmen led him away. Poor man. He would be better taken care of in the monastery, Rosvita supposed. Tallia was crying. Tears made her fair skin blotchy and her nose red. Sabella turned and snapped angry words at her daughter, but it was too noisy for Rosvita to make them out.

What a great roar of sound there was in the hall, shouts of "Henry! King Henry!" and others, acclaiming Constance as duke and biscop
—an unprecedented act, to combine the two titles in one person. But Constance was being rewarded, of course, for her constancy. And the people of Autun were clearly happy about it; they loved
their biscop.

Except Rosvita could not understand why she heard the sound of hounds barking so loudly and a sudden edge to the ovation of the crowd. "Clear the way!" someone cried. "Out of the way!" shrieked a woman. "Lord protect us! Devil's spawn!" Quickly, guards hustled Sabella and her retinue aside. Into the hall came a most astounding procession, the last fugitive, the only one unaccounted for after the battle: Count Lavastine and his famous black hounds. With him walked his captain and a finely-dressed youth caught in that twilight between boy and man.

King Henry blinked several times, but that was the only sign he gave of his astonishment. The count walked boldly forward and stopped below the king's dais. He did not kneel.

"Last year," said Lavastine, "you sent an Eagle to request my presence on your progress. I have come."

This was so brash that Henry almost laughed. But the situation was too grave for laughter.

"It is late, and the summons was long ago," said Henry, "and you rode all this way in strange company, Count Lavastine."

"So I did, Your Majesty, but not of my own will. I have witnesses to prove that another's hand controlled me and that I did not march with Lady Sabella because I wished to, but because I was compelled to."

"It is a good excuse, Count Lavastine. Indeed, an elaborate and cunning one, now that Biscop Antonia has already been accused of other condemned acts of sorcery."

These words were spoken so harshly that Rosvita expected Lavastine to respond in kind, but for once he restrained his famous irritability. "I will give sworn testimony before your clerics," said the count. "I have others who will bear witness in my favor including, I hope, my kinsman Lord Geoffrey, whom I treated very badly while under this compulsion."

"Your testimony will be sent south with, the party who accompanies Biscop Antonia to the skopos," said Henry. "But I will tell you truly, Count Lavastine, that I know you withdrew your forces from the field of battle while the tide still flowed in Sabella's favor. This will tell in your favor, when I come to pass judgment on you. But tell me, we all thought you had escaped. Why do you come before us now? I know you have no love for me."

"I am not a conspirator, Your Majesty, and I intend to clear myself of these charges. I have nothing to hide. But I do have a boon to ask of you."

"Ah," said Henry.

parting "Ah," whispered Theophanu, her mouth slightly as she leaned forward, intent now.

"He wants something," murmured Sapientia wisely to Ekkehard. "That is why he has come here now when he could have escaped back to his own lands."

"Hush," said Constance.

The crowd quieted. There was a great rustling of cloth as people shifted position. The hounds that sat in attendance on Lavastine
—the only retinue he needed— growled. One rose up and bared its teeth at an importunate lord who inched too close.

That was when the strange thing happened. Count Lavastine did not move. His captain, of course, got a brief sick look on his face. It was well known that Lavastine must be a fine and generous lord to command the loyalty of so many good servants and soldiers, since they were any of them at any time likely to rended limb from body by the black hounds.

But the
youth
spoke a quiet word, and the hounds subsided.

"Kneel before the king," said Lavastine, and the boy came forward obediently and knelt. He was tall, lanky, with black hair and amazingly clear eyes; he was not precisely handsome or elegant, but Rosvita found that it cheered her heart in some inexplicable way to look upon him.

"You know I am twwx NKviwit-d
•asvd *«vttvoiav •&« Yveii," said Lavastine, "and unlikely to get one now, for reasons I have long since confessed and done penance for. So I come before you, Your Majesty, to ask this of you. That this youth, my bastard child Alain, be recognized as my heir so he may inherit my title and my lands when I am dead."

Lady above! Rosvita's knees almost gave out from under her. She turned her gaze to study Henry's expression. Indeed, by the crawling feeling she had on her shoulders and her back, everyone looked at Henry. His children
—his three legitimate children—stared fiercely
at him. Constance had laid the back of a hand against her cheek, and her eyes were closed.

In the silent hall, a laugh rang out.

"What will do you?" cried Sabella mockingly. "What will you do, brother? Make one bastard a count, and the other one a king?"

Henry made a sharp and angry sign with his right hand. The guards escorted Sabella out of the hall and back to the tower where she was being held prisoner.

Henry took one step down from the dais and laid his ringed hand on the boy's head. He met Lavastine's gaze, and the two men remained locked that way for some moments.

"Many a lord might claim a bastard so as not to lose their lands to an unloved kinsman. How can you prove this?"

"My deacons keep careful records of all the births and deaths at Lavas Holding, but I believe you need no better proof than this," Lavastine whistled.

The hounds swarmed forward, and even Henry stepped quickly back up onto the dais. The youth started up, eyes wide, and called the hounds to order. Like so many meek retainers, they obeyed him instantly and threw themselves at his feet. When Henry took a step forward, they growled.

The boy snapped his fingers and chased them back to a safe distance away from the king.

"What of you, child?" the king said, looking finally at the youth. "What is your name?"

"I am called Alain, Your Majesty." He had a clear voice, and he did not falter in his words, nor did he speak coarsely, as a low-born boy would have.

"Is it true?"

He bowed his head modestly. "Count Lavastine has acknowledged me as his son."

"What do you know of your birth?"

"I was born in Lavas Holding to an unmarried woman who died three days after I was born. I was raised by

freeholders in Osna village and promised to the church. But
—" he related quickly a story of Eika and a burned monastery. "So I came to Lavas Holding to serve for a year."

"And saved my life," interrupted Lavastine, who had been tapping his feet impatiently throughout this recital, "and freed me from the compulsion laid on me by sorcery. I was not the first to suggest the connection, indeed, Your Majesty. Prater Agius, who served at my holding, mentioned the matter to me some months ago, but I was hesitant to believe him." Constance lowered her hand from her face. Henry blinked several more times and raised a hand to his lips. "This is the youth who killed the
guivre,
then!" he exclaimed. "Many stories were told of what happened that day, but we searched and none could find the man who saved my kingdom. Come, child, kiss my hand."