Authors: beni
A servant scratched lightly on the door.
"What if we fail to take Gent?" asked Alain.
Lavastine simply looked at him as if he had uttered words in a language the count did not know. "They are savages, Alain!
We
are civilized people. The city of Gent fell because it was unprepared and overwhelmed. The same will not happen to us. Come now. We have spent far too long talking about a common Eagle who is no doubt more useful to us when she flies as is her nature than when she is left bound to a post for us to admire her beauty. Let us get on with our day."
JblLlh had not spoken words in a long time except to respond to taunts or to call down the dogs. Indeed, it took him a long time
—hours, perhaps days—to find the words that would say what he meant them to.
But he struggled, piecing them together. Never let it be said he did not fight until his last breath. He would not let Bloodheart and the dogs defeat him.
"Bloodheart."
Was that his voice? Rasping and hoarse, he sounded brutish compared to the light, fluid tones of the Eika, who for all their ugly metal-hard bodies had voices as soft as the flutes Bloodheart played.
Bloodheart stirred on his throne, coming to life. "Is this my who addresses me? I thought you had forgotten how to speak! What boon do you ask?"
"You won't kill me, Bloodheart. Nor will your dogs."
Bloodheart didn't reply, only fingered the ax laid across his thighs and the smooth bone flutes tucked into his girdle of glistening silver-and-gold chain links. Perhaps he looked irritated.
"Teach me your language. Let your priest teach me to read the bones, as he does."
"Why?" demanded Bloodheart, but he might have been amused. He might have been angry. "Why should I? You are only a dog. Why should you want to?"
"Even dogs bark, and gnaw at bones for sport," said Sanglant.
At that, Bloodheart laughed uproariously. He did not answer. Indeed, he left soon after to tour the armories and tanneries of Gent, to take his daily excursion down to the river.
But the next day the priest settled down just outside the limit of Sanglant's chains and began to teach him the language of the Eika, to teach him how to roll and interpret the finely carved bones he carried in his pouch. And every day, lulled by Sanglant's muted voice and intent interest
— for what else did the prince have to be interested in?—the priest edged a little closer. Even a dog could be patient.
PART FOUR HEARTS Ill A GLIMPSE BEYOND THE VEIL BECAUSE of the rugged terrain and the lay of the mountains, no roads fit for the king's progress led between the duchy of Avaria and that of Wayland. An Eagle had ridden straight west from the palace at Echstatt along tracks impassable for the heavy wagons that made up the train of the king's entourage. So after several weeks at Echstatt, the court itself moved north along the Old Avarian Road toward the city and biscophric at Wertburg. Although not as well traveled a road as the Hellweg
—the Clear Way—that ran through the heartland of Saony and Fesse, the road accommodated king and retinue without too much hardship for the royal party, though they moved slowly. Old fortresses, royal manors, and estates under the rule
of convents or monasteries provided lodging and food. Common folk lined the way to watch the king and his entourage ride by. According to Ingo, the king had not ridden this way for some five years, accounting for their enthusiastic welcome. To Hanna, their welcome resembled all the others she had witnessed, just as this land looked much like any other land with hills, vast forest, and the friendly sight of fields and villages, churches and estates. But the hills were steep and high while in Heart's Rest the wilderness gave way to heath; beech and fir dominated in open fields where she was used to a dense canopy of oak and elm and lime; and the village folk spoke in a dialect that was hard for her to understand.
Each day on the king's progress brought new fascinations for Hanna. Heralds rode ahead to shout the news of the king's adventus
—his arrival at the next stopping place. A levy of soldiers and servants forged ahead of the main party to clear the road of snow and debris. At the forefront of the main procession rode the king and his noble companions in full glory. After them came the swelling ranks of an army, growing with each day as nobles joined Henry or sent soldiers in their place. The horde of servants followed them, and farther back, wagons rolled, lumbering and jolting over the rutted road, skidding on ice, getting stuck in drifts. A century of Lions marched at the rear.
But of course there were always stragglers, beggars trailing behind, women and men hoping to hire themselves out as laborers. Peddlers, prostitutes, homeless servants, persons with grievances to bring before the king, and anonymous young men hoping to find employment or loot in the aftermath of battle, all of these followed in the track of the king's progress, some joining as others dropped out.
"Is it always like this?" Hanna asked Hathui. Fifteen days ago they had left Echstatt. Now she and the other Eagle pulled up their horses on a rise that looked down to the north over the episcopal city of Wertburg and down to the south over the road that wound away through the stubble of fields and lines of hedges before it lost itself in forest. Riding at the front, they had a good view of the king's train, a long and colorful procession strung across the landscape below. The line of stragglers still emerged from forest. Below them, the king ascended the hill. The hugely pregnant Sapientia rode beside him, mounted on a gentle mare, with Helmut Villam, Sister Rosvita, and Father Hugh in close attendance. At the Wertburg city gates, a large party led by the biscop and the local count had already begun its own procession out to meet the king.
"We'll be in Mainni by the thaw," said Hathui. "There are several royal palaces where we will sit out the floods. It's hard work traveling in the spring. How do you fare, Hanna?"
Hanna considered the question seriously; she knew very well what Hathui was asking. "I fare well enough. There's nothing wrong with Princess Sapientia that wise companions and fields of her own to plow won't cure, as my mother used to say."
"Are you her champion now?"
"It's true she's rash and proud and thoughtless, but from what I hear she lived for a long time in the shadow of her brother, Prince Sanglant
—"
"True enough," observed Hathui.
"
—and if she has many companions now, I fear it's mostly because they expect King Henry to name her as Heir—not for herself. So it's no wonder she's—well, as my mother would say, if you bring up a child on table scraps, then it will surely gorge to sickness when you finally sit it down to a feast."
"A wise woman, your mother," said Hathui with a grim smile. "But I didn't mean to inquire about the princess. What of Father Hugh?"
"I am of no concern to him," Hanna said at last, but she knew she was blushing. "He pays no attention to me." Why, then, knowing what she did about him, did she sometimes still wish he did?
"If I did not have Liath's testimony, it would be hard for me to believe the things she has accused him of."
"Perhaps he's changed."
Hathui shot her a sharp glance. "Do you think so?"
"He's so...kind and gentle, so soft-spoken. So clever and industrious. You've seen him yourself, laying hands on the sick, giving out alms to the poor. He attends Princess Sapientia faithfully and advises her with care."
"As well he might!"
Hanna had to grin. "If it's a child of his own begetting, then it's no wonder he attends her so closely. But he doesn't seem . . . the same person as he was in Heart's Rest."
"He's with his own people now."
"That's true enough. We were only common folk in Heart's Rest, far beneath his notice."
"Except for Liath."
"Except for Liath," Hanna echoed.
"Did you ever think she might be lying?" asked Hathui casually. Ahead, the biscop's procession had unfurled banners and the bright standards representing the city and the local count. Behind, riders in the king's procession began to sing.
Clouds covered the heavens this day, and it was cold, yet surely no soul could be gloomy observing such pageantry. Hanna turned her face into the breeze and stared, the lick of the wind on her lips. Even in gloves her hands were cold, but she would have been no other place in the world than this one as the king and his party ascended the hill, reaching the crest behind them. Their song carried fitfully on the breeze.
"She's not lying, Hathui. I saw her carried in that day, when she miscarried. I know what he did to her. And he stole her book."
"Some would say the book became his when he bought off her father's debts. She
was
his slave."
"And many's the man or woman who uses a slave as they see fit, and no one would ever fault them for it. It still doesn't seem right to me. She never welcomed his attentions. Is it right that she be forced, to accept him just because he's a margrave's son and she has no kin to protect her?" Her tone came out more bitter than she intended.
"Some would say it is," remarked Hathui. "You and I would not. But you and I do not rule this kingdom."
There was more Hanna wanted to say, but she was ashamed to say it out loud: Hugh was a selfish, arrogant lord with the faultless manners of a cleric and a voice like that of an angel
—but sometimes beautiful flowers are the most poisonous. "Yet we can't help admiring them," she murmured.
"What?" Hathui looked at her side wise, then mercifully turned her horse aside. "Come, here is the king."
They made way, letting the king's standard bearers and then the king himself pass before them, and fell in behind, singing.
King and court celebrated the Feast of St. Herodia at Wertburg, with the biscop of Wertburg presiding. After a week eating from the biscop's table, they continued north for three days to Hammelberg, on the Malnin River, where they sheltered at a monastic estate. From here they cut across overland by the Helfenstene Way, a journey of four days, until they rejoined the Malnin Road at Aschfenstene. Turning northwest, they followed the river for five days until they reached the city of Mainni, where the Brixian tongue of the kingdom of Salia bordered the duchy of Arconia and lapped up against the duchy of Fesse. Once Biscop Antonia had presided over Mainni. Now, upon arriving, King Henry installed Sister Odila, a relative of the local count, as biscop.
Their arrival in the city coincided with the feast day celebrating the conversion of St. Thais. She had been a prostitute before embracing the God of Unities and walling herself up in a cell
—from which she did not emerge for ten years, and then only to die. Hanna heard more than one cleric comment that Henry had offered the biscophric first to Sister Rosvita, but that the cleric had remarked that she was not yet ready to wall herself up when there were many more places she needed to visit for her
History.
She had suggested Sister Odila as a suitable candidate, and Henry had taken her advice in this as in so many other things. The appointment, of course, was contingent on the approval of the skopos, though as yet they had no news from Darre about the case brought against Antonia.
"I wonder how Wolfhere fares," Hanna asked Hathui many nights later after the feast celebrating the miracle of St. Rose a'lee; the saint, a limner in a humble village outside the city of Darre, had painted a set of murals depicting the life of the blessed Daisan that had so pleased the Lord and Lady that a holy light had shone on the images ever after.
"Wolfhere fares well enough, I have found." Hathui heaped the dwindling winter fodder in the biscop's stables into a plush heap, over which she threw her cloak, bundling herself up in her blanket. With so many animals stabled below, the loft was a warm, if pungent, resting place. "I wonder how Liath fares. It's almost the end of the year and we've had no word from Count Lavastine."
"You don't think the count will refuse to march on Gent?"
"I think it unlikely. The question is whether the king will be able to meet him there." Hathui settled herself comfortably in the straw. "From Mainni, we can follow the road north to Gent
—or the road south to Wayland."
"Why would the king want to go to Wayland?"
"Answer that yourself, Hanna!"
"Duke Conrad's soldiers turned me back from the Julier Pass. Is that a grave enough offense that the king would march against the duke?"
"Picking a fight
—without the king's permission—with the Queen and King of Karrone? Remember, the King of Karrone is Henry's younger brother. And Duke Conrad also wears the golden torque that marks him as born of the royal line. His great-grandfather was the younger brother of the first Henry."