PROLOGUE (120 page)

Fortunatus grabbed the map off the table and slid it up his sleeve, as if he expected guards to tromp in the next instant and arrest them all for treason.” The hounds. That hound the skopos keeps by her. Doesn't it look like Count Lavastine's hounds? Aren't the Lavas hounds very like the ones described in the poems about Emperor Taillefer?"

"You see them in all the tapestries," said Ruoda.” I never thought about it before, but that hound the skopos keeps by her is very like the emperor's famous black hounds."

'"He and his daughters led their black hounds with leashes around their necks, and in their excitement the hounds snap at any person who comes near them except for their master and his children, for even the dogs in their dumb loyalty bow before bright nobility.'" Heriburg blushed when the other three looked at her.” I beg your pardon. I knew the entire poem by heart before I entered the convent."

"No." Rosvita stepped away from the window.” We're asking the wrong question. We should be asking not how the black hound comes to attend the Holy Mother Anne, granddaughter of Emperor Taillefer. We should be asking how, and when, such hounds came to attend the Counts of Lavas."

A scratch came on the door and Aurea peered in.” My lady!"

"Ai, God," swore Fortunatus.” I forgot Sister Gerwita. She was quite out of breath." He was sweating, if possible, even more than before.

"You have news, Brother," said Rosvita, not needing an answer. His expression was answer enough.

Aurea opened the door all the way to admit poor timid Gerwita, who was indeed panting so hard that Rosvita herself hurried over to help her to the bed.” Dear God, child, I hope you are not falling ill."

"Nay, Sister, it was just the stairs and the heat. In truth, my heart aches for the suffering I've seen. There is so little we can do to help them." She wiped a tear, or sweat, from her cheek. The lamplight washed her thin, pale face to ivory.” Alas, Sister, that we come bearing such tidings. Brother Fortunatus told you ... didn't he?"

"Nay, he's had no chance."

"We found her, Sister." Gerwita sighed heavily, shoulders drooping.

"Gerwita found her," said Fortunatus sternly, never one to take credit where he had not earned it.” She was the only one not afraid to tour the plague houses and the poor houses and the infirmaries. She only took me there to identify the body."

"God have mercy," breathed Rosvita, seeing all too clearly where this would lead.” Go on."

"Found who?" asked Ruoda.

Gerwita waved a languid hand, unable to speak. Fortunatus went on.” Paloma, the lay sister from St. Ekatarina's Convent. Dead of the summer fever, so the sisters at St. Asella's infirmary reported. But she had none of the bruising on the cheeks. Her eyes weren't sunken in. You know how they look. I think she was murdered, Sister, for when I met her yesterday before Lauds, she was as healthy as I am."

IT was obvious even from the outside that Osterburg's walls were in poor repair. But a mob of prisoners, whipped forward with the lash, could not breach them, not with so many determined defenders pouring hot oil and a rain of arrows down on their hapless foe. Most of the captives died in agony at the base of the walls while Bulkezu and his army watched in a silence tempered only by the whisper of their wings in a steady autumn breeze. There was nothing Hanna could do to stop the killing, nothing she could do to save them.

Nothing.

By the time rudimentary siege engines were brought forward on the third day of the siege, the defenders had plugged the gaps with piles of rubble and quickly erected palisades. To Hanna's eyes, it looked as though they had ripped down entire houses for the beams and planks thrown up to fill in the weak spots, but of course from this distance it was hard to tell.

All she could do was pray that Osterburg would not fall too soon. All she could do was pray that what she had seen with her Eagle's sight two weeks ago had been a true vision, not a false one.

"Eagle." Prince Ekkehard's concubine, Agnetha, had been weeping. She wiped at her eyes as she joined Hanna on the slope between the begh's tent and the prince's. The guards glanced at her and away, pretending disinterest.” Tell me what I must do, Eagle. They took my uncle away yesterday. I was barely able to save his sons from being sent out as well." Two dark-haired, ragged boys knelt on the dirt outside Ekkehard's tent, heads bowed in prayer or in grief.” But they took Uncle away for the attack. I know he must be dead now." She began to cry again.” I should have gone in his place. Look at how many are dead, and I'm safe and dry and not hungry."

"There's nothing you could have done." But her words sounded hollow. In truth, she felt hollow.” Nothing."

Even had she demanded that Bulkezu cast her back into the crowd of prisoners, that he let his soldiers lash her forward with the rest, he would not have done so. That one night she had spent in the mob had only been a ruse to catch her out, to see what magic she might be hiding. After that, he had reeled in her leash once again and kept her close by his side, always close. She had never known that hate, like a fever, could burn you out until you were only a husk.

She had seen so much death and cruelty that she wondered if it had crushed her heart. She hated herself for ever thinking of Bulkezu as a handsome man. Outward beauty meant nothing if the heart within was misshapen and monstrous.

Bulkezu's pavilion and the main encampment stood on a low rise overlooking the river valley from the west. The Veser River flowed northward, mighty and broad, meeting a tributary that flowed in from the east through rugged countryside right where the fortress city had been built to take advantage of such a good defensive position. The Quman army had trampled the fields outside of the city, on the west bank of the Veser, although most looked as though they had already been harvested. - "They must have good grain stores," said Agnetha suddenly, betraying her background as a practical farm girl. Not even the rich gowns that Ekkehard dressed her in could disguise the strength of her callused hands. No doubt she had hoed many a field and wrung many a chicken's neck in her time, before she'd been forced to accept the privilege of gracing a captive prince's bed.” And with rivers on two sides, good access to water. They'll be hard to take, as long as the walls hold."

Hanna glanced at her, surprised.” You've learned a thing or two about war."

"So I've had to," replied Agnetha bitterly.” Prince Ekkehard and his companions talk of little else." Although she was already speaking in a low voice, she leaned closer and whispered so softly in Hanna's ear that Hanna strained to hear.” He's terrified. That's his aunt's city, and you can see by the banner that she is in residence together with his cousins. All he's done the last three days is pray to God to not force him to commit treason against his own kin."

"It seems late to worry about that."

"That may be, but what else was he to do, taken prisoner and all?"

"He could have refused to fight on Bulkezu's behalf." "And been killed instead? His own kin haven't treated him with respect, have they? Why shouldn't he resent them?" "Is that what he tells you?" asked Hanna.” Why shouldn't he tell me? Who else will listen to him?" Hanna examined the pretty young woman. Not even red and swollen eyes could ruin the promise of her full lips and fuller bosom, nor tarnish the glory of her thick, dark hair. For all Ekkehard's faults, he was still a prince of the royal house, with fine manners, an elegant figure, and his own share of Henry's charisma. Thrown together with him in desperate circumstances, learning the best ways to smooth his feathers when he became agitated, comprehending that his protection could perhaps save her remaining family: nay, she could not find it in her heart to blame Agnetha for becoming his champion, in her own way. People did what they had to, to survive.

All the ferries and fords upstream along the Veser River were in Quman hands, and no doubt Bulkezu was in the process of sending out soldiers to take over those ferries a day's ride downstream of the city as well. The army fanned out along the eastern bank of the Veser, striking east into the forested country that lay between the two rivers, probing, burning, killing any poor soul unlucky enough not to have heard the warnings and retreated to the safety of Osterburg's decrepit walls. The main part of the force waited outside the city, ready for another assault once the siege engines had done their work.

"There are so many of them," whispered Agnetha hopelessly.” No one can ever defeat them."

Despite everything, Hanna still hoped a fierce hope.” They just look like so many because of the way they swarm over the ground. Look there." She pointed to the three fires burning about a stone's throw from Bulkezu's pavilion.” Haven't you seen how they signal to each other, using smoke?"

One of the boys kneeling by Ekkehard's tent leaped up and raced over.” You better come." He pulled at Agnetha's sleeve.” His lordship wants you."

With a glance, a murmured word that Hanna could not understand, Agnetha hurried away. As she went, the distant "thump" of the two catapults being released shuddered through the air. Hanna held her breath, trying to keep her gaze on the missiles rising, and then falling. A cloud of dust rose from within the walls, followed by a stream of smoke as the fire rags caught in thatch.

So it went as the morning passed and the afternoon bled away. Smoke rose at intervals but always got put out again. Hanna paced, four guards in ever-present attendance on her. Prince Ekkehard and his companions stayed in their tent, praying. Now and again she caught sight of Bulkezu's griffin wings below as he rode down to the ferry, over to the catapults, and then vanished north of the city. Cherbu rode beside his brother, easily identifiable because he wore no wings. A few pathetic prisoners, bloody and limping, fled west into the woodlands beyond the open fields, but Quman scouts rode after them and herded them in, driving them back toward the main encampment. At last, Hanna walked with a sick heart to the prisoners' compound, a makeshift corral guarded by the youngest and most inexperienced Quman soldiers, the ones who would more likely overreact to any least sign of activity among the prisoners and who were therefore the most dangerous sentries.

She did what she could, bringing water to the prisoners, tending wounds. Her guards watched without interest and made no move to stop her. They knew that any of these little things she did were useless. But she had to do them in order to live with herself, in order to sleep at night.

She had to listen to their stories, in order to report them to the king. Surely the king would be as horrified as she was, hearing of his loyal subjects driven forward at spear point to take the brunt of the assault, caught between a sure death, if they did not advance, and likely death if they did. One man had spent the night buried among the dying, hearing their screams and moans; even as he spoke, he kept slapping his ears as though he still heard their cries. Another had crawled to safety through a field of blood; his skin was covered in it, cracking and flaking off when he clenched and unclenched his hands. A woman had seen her own son fall with an arrow in his eye, and during the night she had crawled among the dead, searching hopelessly and desperately, until her sobbing brother had dragged her away before she could get cut down by the defenders on the wall or the Quman in the field.

There was no sign of Agnetha's uncle among the ones who had escaped the carnage.

Hanna noticed first that the attention of her guards slipped away from her as they pointed toward the trees and the encampment's flags, barely visible above the foliage. The smoke had changed. Three fat balls of smoke puffed up and dissipated. One of the guards whistled sharply, beckoning to her as he touched the handle of his whip. She wasn't the one who would be struck if she didn't obey immediately.

They got to Bulkezu's pavilion just as he rode up, attended by a dozen of his favored captains. His gaze marked Hanna, but that was all, before he called his brother over. The two spoke rapidly, words blending together so that she could pick not even one common word out of the conversation except a name.

Bayan.

Cherbu hemmed and hawed. He frowned and spat. He scratched his crotch and pried a tiny stone out of the sole of his shoe. Bulkezu wanted him to do something that he clearly did not want to do. But in the end he acquiesced, muttering and mumbling as he walked away with his odd, rolling gait. He had stripped down to almost nothing because of the heat, and the tattoos that covered his body seemed to shudder and move where sweat glistened, trailing down his dark skin.

Bulkezu returned his attention to the scouts who rode up at intervals and gave their reports. Hanna was too nervous to understand even a single word. Around her, men began breaking down tents and pavilions. Cherbu made a circuit of the camp, hopping from one leg to the other while he sprinkled dust onto the ground at intervals. His singsong chant interwove with Bulkezu's laughter every time a new scout rode in.

What was going on? Were they abandoning the siege? Had Prince Bayan tracked them down at last?