Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 3 (123 page)

The Salavii lad was skittish. He would not accept food or drink from them, nor did he speak a single word for the rest of the day as he led them first east, then south down a narrower track, and then northeast along a broad but shallow stream running through woodland and meadows. In late afternoon they were challenged by half a dozen mounted scouts, and by the time Hanna had established that they had, indeed, met up with Princess Sapientia's army, the lad was gone, vanished into the ash and aspen that lined the stream, which she now saw was only a tributary of a larger river.

At the confluence of stream and river, where the river itself curled around a small hill, Bayan had set up camp with his usual keen eye and cunning. To the north lay denser forest, mostly oak and pine, and to the west and south scattered woodland and grass. To the east, hills rose in a steep escarpment, and the rise which Bayan had chosen seemed like the last straggler, or first scout, of that army of hills. Some ancient people had built a structure on this hill, worn now into low earthen ramparts that crowned the height. It reminded her of a fort gone to ruin, the kind of place where people and livestock could defend themselves against an enemy. There might have been some tumbled stones there as well, but from this distance, and angle, it was hard to make out. Bayan—for she'd no doubt that Bayan had overseen the placement of the encampment—had pitched the royal pavilion on the hill itself where one rampart, like a curling finger, gave it shelter. The wagon in which his mother traveled rested about ten strides away, hard up against a curve in the rampart. Was the Kerayit princess still with the old woman? Or were Hanna's dreams true dreams?

Now she would find out.

The rest of the encampment straggled down from that central point in rings, each ring of tents protected by fresh ditches, none particularly deep but enough to break up a cavalry charge. Riding at the van, she could see the doubled sentries as well as restless scouts roaming in pairs and half dozens on horseback. Woodland covered the western vista; to the east, woods followed the river's valley where it cut a wide pass into the hills. The camp was ready for war. On high alert, men napped in their armor with their spears lying as close beside them as might lovers. Many of the horses remained saddled, and the rest were being groomed or watered. To the northwest, riders oversaw the foraging of perhaps forty or fifty horses in the open woodland.

Half the camp came out to welcome them. Hanna wasn't sure she'd ever seen so many soldiers assembled in one place before, except at the battle of the Elmark Valley, near the town of Kas-sel, when Henry had defeated Sabella. Princess Sapientia's banner stirred in the breeze. There were other banners as well at tents and pavilions only somewhat less grand than that of the princess, but she only recognized one of them: the leaping panther of Margrave Judith.

As they came into camp, the army split into factions according to a complicated and confusing maneuver which she couldn't follow, but in the end she approached the royal pavilion in the company of Prince Ekkehard, Lord Dietrich, who led the cavalry sent by King Henry, and Captain Thiadbold, representing the Lions.

The princess sat at her ease beneath the awning of her pavilion, eating a plum as she watched her husband roll dice with a young Wendish nobleman and a flamboyantly dressed Ungrian who boasted mustachios so long that he had tied them back behind his neck to keep them out of the way of his game. Brother Breschius stood quietly in attendance, and it was tie who delicately interrupted the game, although by this time Sapientia had risen, seeing Ekkehard or, perhaps, Hanna. Maybe it wouldn't be such a joyous reunion.

Bayan hadn't forgotten her. He leaped up enthusiastically. "The snow woman to us returns!"

"You have come from my father," said Sapientia, more coolly, glancing at her husband with the sudden pinched mouth common to those who distrust their intimates. "And who is this?
Ekkehard?"

"Sister! Aren't you glad to see me?" He dismounted and came forward, not waiting for permission. She embraced him in a sisterly fashion, kissing him on either cheek. He was taller than Sapientia, but she had gotten a little stouter in the past months, broader in the shoulders, and set against his youthful slimness she looked quite able to out arm wrestle him, should they set to it.

"God help us, little Cousin," said the young nobleman who had been playing at dice with Bayan, "I thought for sure you'd be eaten alive by the Quman."

"No thanks to you, Wichman!" retorted Ekkehard, and for a moment they looked ready to come to blows, but Bayan stepped neatly between them.

"God have blessed us," he exclaimed. "New troops to us come. With this number, we can meet the Quman."

Tallies were quickly made, but Sapientia's humor did not improve. "Two hundreds of Lions? Thirty heavy cavalry and no more than two score inexperienced light? And Ekkehard with twelve untried boys and a few servants? Is this all my father could spare. Eagle? Didn't you tell him how urgent our situation is here?"

"I relayed your message faithfully, Your Highness," said Hanna.

"Come now, wife," said Bayan, interceding. "The lioness must not upon the Eagle pounce who is the messenger only." He seemed amused by his own wordplay and laughed heartily. "Also the margrave's forces we have, and so this is more than what before we had, is it not?"

"So it is," agreed Sapientia grudgingly as he caressed her shoulder. "But where is my father? I thought he would understand how grave our situation is and ride here himself. Where is he, Eagle?"

"Riding south to Aosta, Your Highness."

"Aosta! Always Aosta!" She flung the plum, which narrowly missed striking one of her attendants and instead rolled off into the dirt. "Why is he wasting his substance in Aosta when the real threat is here? He hasn't—" She broke off. But a moment of stillness exhausted her resources. "There hasn't been word of Sanglant, has there?"

Hesitation is always fatal.

"I knew it!" cried Sapientia in cold triumph. "Tell me what you've heard—!"

"I know nothing official, Your Highness. But it has come to the king's attention—" She had no chance to finish. Her cautious recital was interrupted by the arrival of Margrave Judith with a retinue of servants and companions at her back. The margrave was, manifestly, in a cold anger.

"Is it true that Prince Ekkehard has arrived among us? By God, so it is. Where is he?"

"Ekkehard is here," said Sapientia, although it was obvious to everyone else that Judith knew exactly where Ekkehard was.

To give him credit, he did not shrink away from her. "He wants a divorce," he said as calmly as any lad of fifteen or so years could to a furious, formidable, and armed woman old enough to be his grandmother.

Someone in her crowd of followers tittered and was hushed.

"A divorce is within my right to obtain, not his. He has no grounds for divorce, nor has his family power enough to abrogate our agreement. Nor can the marriage be annulled since I recall quite vividly that it was consummated. So the marriage remains binding. Where is he?"

Ekkehard was not a king's son for nothing. "I swore that I would protect him. If I give him up to you, then I cannot count myself an honorable man."

"You are not even a man, Prince Ekkehard. You are only a very foolish boy."

"You can't talk to me like that!"

"Of course I can. I am sure your father feels affection for you, but you are only the third of his three healthy, and adult, children. Princess Sapientia is all but crowned as his heir. You are not necessary to your father's rule. I am. And I want my husband back."

The one called Wichman broke into snorting laughter. "Ai, Lord! Now you're reaping what you've sowed, little Cousin. Which one of those delightful boys is the missing bridegroom? Nay, it all comes clear now, it must be the angel. Not one of the others would have been missed, ugly little rats. Although I fear that Baldwin can scarcely be called an angel now since who knows how many have shared his favors."

Margrave Judith was generous with her anger. "I recall, Lord Wichman, that your reckless behavior caused problems at Gent. Do not forget that your mother and I are old friends. Pray do not forget either that while a king's third son may be of minor utility to him, a duchess' superfluous sons are even less valuable than that."

"Come now, Cousins," said Bayan. He set a deceptively light hand on Wichman's shoulder, more like that of a doting uncle, but steered him nevertheless away from Margrave Judith. "Arguing among ourselves we must not." He swore in his own language and said something hurriedly to Brother Breschius.

"Prince Bayan reminds us that this is not the time to argue," said Breschius with the amiable smile of the accomplished courtier. "We have a war to fight, and none of us knows when it may come to a fight—"

Perhaps God had a sense of humor, except, of course, that war was only amusing in the odd detail, never in the naked face of battle.

"Make way!" guards shouted, and scouts rode up in that instant.

"Prince Bayan! Your Highness!" Two men flung themselves to their knees before their commander. "News of Prince Bulkezu! His outriders have been sighted not an hour's ride east of here, coming down along the river valley."

"Ale for these men," said Bayan.

The news spread from the royal pavilion as though carried by a plague of flies, lighting everywhere. Hanna could almost see it wash through the camp as men bolted up from their naps or huddled in groups or hastily threw saddles over their mounts. Bayan remained calm.

"Where do we fight them?" asked Judith. "Surely we won't retreat
again!"
cried Sapientia. Bayan took his time. He asked many and more detailed questions while the army made ready below. He interviewed the two scouts thoroughly, and when a second pair came galloping up, he had ale brought for them as well. They had seen the van of the Quman army, a terrible, whistling many-headed beast swarming over the ground along the northern bank of the river. One of their number had fallen to Quman arrows, and they had themselves been slightly wounded and only barely escaped capture. "We must hold our ground here," he said at last, speaking in Ungrian and letting Breschius translate. He could not afford to be misunderstood. "This hill fort gives us strength. But, in addition, if their numbers are overwhelming, we can hold the ground to the northwest and retreat that way, across the river. They will hesitate because they are superstitious about crossing water. Also, this summit will give my mother the sight necessary to aid us."

Everyone glanced nervously toward the small wagon. Two slaves waited, cross-legged, beside the steps, one a pale handsome man with an iron bracelet closed tightly on his left arm and the other a very tall, lean man whose skin had the blue-black color of ink. Not even Liath had skin so dark. Did the Kerayit princess wait inside? Hanna caught Brother Breschius' eye then, and he smiled encouragingly at her, but at this moment he could say nothing.

Bayan made a sharp gesture and the guards leaped to attention as one among their number blew into a ram's horn.

The call to arms blazed, and all activity in the camp came to a halt as everyone paused to look up at the hill, toward the royal pavilion. Bayan took Sapientia's hand and they stepped forward so that they could be seen by most of the army. A great shout rose up, and then every man and woman there made ready for battle.

The call to arms came unexpectedly, because it was late afternoon, only a few hours until dark. In all the great poems battle was joined at dawn, with the first glint of the rising sun splintering off the spears or swords of the enemy as they closed.

But this wasn't a poem.

Ekkehard's boys huddled together at the base of the hill, lead-erless, confused, unsure what to do, while Prince Ekkehard himself still remained at the royal pavilion.

"I say we bolt north, while everyone is confused," Baldwin was muttering. "No one will notice we're gone. Then we can cut back west to that village."

Ivar checked his saddle girth for the third time. "God Above, Baldwin! It would be dishonorable to desert Prince Ekkehard now. They'll call us cowards."

"What do I care what they call us?" demanded Baldwin. His spear lay on the ground, rolling as he caught a foot on it and almost tripped. "I just want to get out of here before she finds me!"

"How will we escape alone? We'll more likely just get ourselves killed, and if we're dead, we can't preach the True Word."

"Why should God honor us with Her Truth if we act like base cowards?" said Sigfrid. He looked so frail and ridiculous with a spear clutched in both hands. He wasn't strong enough to wear a mail coat, so he rode unarmored.

"Just so!" said Ivar. "We have to stay, Baldwin. At least until the battle is over. Then I'll do whatever you say."