PROLOGUE (123 page)

Passing through the rock itself, it vanished from her sight, but if she concentrated, she could see with its senses as it forged forward on the track of its prey.

Mother Obligatia—once known as the novice Lavrentia—assembled all unsuspecting with her nuns in the refectory, laying their simple meal out on the table.

Now, at last, Antonia allowed herself to totter to the stone bench carved into the wall, back by the entryway. She sank down, shaking horribly, all the strength drained from her limbs. It might take her hours to recover, and the link that bound her to the creature she had summoned still sucked at her heart. When she had been a young woman, sorcery hadn't taken so much out of her. Age had weakened her. In truth, unless she could divine the secrets of immortality, she hadn't many more years before she might become too weak to impose her will on the church.

Resting, eyes shut, she prayed for strength and health and long life in order that she could continue to do God's work on Earth. On the floor nearby, Lucida's body cooled and stiffened.

ANNA found it hard to sleep, especially after listening to the intimate council held late that night under an awning strung up between three trees to give shelter while Prince Sanglant and Prince Bayan conferred, each man attended only by two trusted captains. Sapientia sat beside Bayan, but in truth she hardly spoke, mostly listened. She seemed as nervous as a rat caught in a box.

"You know these children born out of Duchess Rotrudis," Bayan had said.” Are Wichman and Zwentibold the best of them? Or are they the worst?"

"Zwentibold merely lacks imagination," Sanglant replied.” The sisters are as bad as Wichman, in their own way. There's a younger boy, too."

"God save us," murmured Bayan, apparently without irony.

Blessing had already fallen asleep. She stirred, snorting as she turned over, and Anna shut her eyes firmly, hoping that neither of the princes would notice that she was still awake. When Bayan went on, she peeked again, watching the figures silhouetted in lamplight as the awning swayed above them, stirred by the night's wind.

"Then can trust be put in the news Zwentibold to us brings?" asked Bayan.” His mother dying. Conrad rides to Wayland on a flimsy excuse, or as we call it, a lame horse."

"It is in Conrad's interest to protect his western provinces from the civil war in Salia."

"That horse still limps," retorted Bayan, glancing at Sapientia.” With sweet words he can sing to all three sides, and when they have done fighting each of the other and lie weak, so he marches in to take what territory he wishes."

"Do you know Conrad well?" asked Sanglant.

"By his reputation I know him."

"Ah."

"You do not agree?" Bayan laughed.” The crow of gossips says Conrad wishes the kingship of Wendar for himself. Also I hear he married Henry's niece, this Tallia, who wears a gold torque. Her mother is the elder sister of Henry, is she not? What does Conrad intend?"

"It's true that Conrad likes to be his own master, beholden to none. He may wait until we spend ourselves and our men driving out the Quman, and then send out scouts to see what remains. I don't know. What troubles me more is that Theophanu has retreated to Quedlinhame."

"She fears the Quman," said Sapientia.

Sanglant shifted impatiently on his camp stool, lifting his empty cup for more wine.” Only a fool doesn't fear the Quman," he said, hand drifting to touch his throat.” Theophanu does not lack courage, Sister. But she may lack an army, in which case she would have been foolish indeed to meet Bulkezu on the field. According to Zwentibold's report, she turned west before anyone in this region knew we were coming. I expect she retreated to Quedlinhame in order to protect it—'

"You always take her side," said Sapientia suddenly, falling silent again only after Bayan laid a hand on her arm.

—or to have a base from which to harry the Quman, in case Bulkezu took Osterburg and afterward chose to strike west into the heart of Saony. A wise enough decision, from a strategic point of view. But why has she such a meager army at her disposal?"

"Our father took Liutgard
and
Burchard and most of their host into Aosta, as well as many more, his own and others."

"Theophanu should have been able to draw from Varingia and Arconia," said Sanglant.

"True enough," reflected Bayan.” No news to us has come of the western duchies. Maybe they have troubles with Salia, too." "Maybe they do," echoed Sanglant.

Anna could tell that he didn't believe it. Anna could tell that something deeper was troubling him, and if the bold prince was troubled, then how could she possibly sleep? She tossed fitfully, dozing, waking, hearing a rumble of thunder that faded and did not sound again. The heat lingered, although a sprinkle cooled down the worst of the mugginess, thank God. After that, the erratic drip-drop of moisture trickling off leaves kept her awake. The river ran behind them, and once she heard voices raised in song, like the angels beginning their choir, but the rustle of wind through the autumn leaves muted the sound.

Like God's glory, snatched away just as the fallen soul came within sight of it. Had she been wrong to let Lord Thiemo tell Blessing the story of the phoenix? What would the prince do when he found out that Blessing was already beginning to ask questions about the martyrdom of the blessed Daisan, and the glory of his Holy Mother, who is God of all Creation?

Surely it wasn't wrong to tell the truth? Surely those young monks she had seen, with their paintings and their piety, hadn't been lying? Surely it wasn't a heresy, but the truth, concealed for so long. With the land itself torn by war and plague and famine, wasn't it fittingly brought back into the light?

But she was only a common girl, struck dumb by God's hand, recovered through a miracle, nursemaid to a princess by God's will. How could she tell what was true and what was false? How could she know what was God's will and what the Enemy's lies? The only thing she really knew was that Prince Sanglant would be very, very angry when he found out about the stories Lord Thiemo was telling his daughter.

At long last dawn gave color to the air. Where the sun's rays touched the ground, mist steamed up, making streamers of gauze among the trees. The river was cloudy with mist. She could barely see the other bank, although she heard the Lions at work, chopping, hammering, and swearing, as they prepared a blockade for the ford.

The army, stirring like an ill-tempered beast, made ready to march. Prince Sanglant kissed his daughter and sent her with her retinue to stand on the royal platform—the planks on which Sapientia and Bayan had held court the evening before—to preside as the army moved west in marching order. Anna stood behind Blessing's chair while Heribert answered the young princess' endless questions.

"Why isn't my Daddy riding first? They don't like him."

"Nay, it is no insult to your father, sweetling. It is Princess Sapientia's right and duty to lead the vanguard. She is King Henry's heir and must prove herself as a leader."

"Why?"

"If she hasn't the luck and the leadership to command troops in battle, then she cannot reign."

"But she's married to Prince Bayan."

"He's a foreigner, who can only rule as consort, not as regnant, over the Wendish."

"Why—?"

"Hush, Blessing, no more on this subject if you please. Sapientia commands two legions."

"What is a legion?"

The army made a great deal of noise, horses neighing, men shouting, the tramp of feet, and the crack of branches as they pressed forward along the road, which wasn't much more than a track through the forest barely wide enough to accommodate two wagons abreast.

"A legion is an old Dariyan term, from the old empire. It designates a unit of soldiers who fight under one high commander."

"How many soldiers?" Blessing asked.

Anna tried to count as Sapientia's Wendish cavalry rode past, in lines of four, but she lost track after forty.

"That depends on what authority you read," said Heribert, slipping into that way of speaking he had when all his fine education grabbed him by the throat. At times like these, Anna found him difficult to understand.” Some say several thousand infantry—that's foot soldiers—and a few hundred cavalry. Some say a thousand men, organized in ten centuries, or what we call cohorts, each group consisting of one hundred men."

Sitting on the platform, the army seemed to take forever to go by.” Is that a thousand men?" asked Anna. She thought about this for a moment, remembering the sums Raimar and Suzanne had taught her when it came time to count up thread and wool and cloth so that you wouldn't get cheated.” If it was two legions, then it would be two thousand men, wouldn't it?" The number dizzied her. She had to shut her eyes and just listen to the fall of hooves on the track and the persistent drip of moisture from the damp leaves.

"I'd guess not more than eight hundred under Sapientia's command," replied Heribert.” We aren't truly an army the way the old Dariyans had armies. We just use the Dariyan words."

"Why?" asked Blessing. These days she was full of "why."

The last of Sapientia's horsemen rode away down the track. After a gap, a new banner came forward, following the path of the first.” Here is Lady Bertha and her legion of Austran and Olsatian marchlanders," said Heribert.

"Why?" repeated Blessing.

"Why do we use the old words? To remind us of the strength of the old empire."

"I will be emperor," said Blessing, "so I'll call my armies legions, too."

Lady Bertha's legion was perhaps half the number of those who had ridden out with Sapientia. After she had passed, Sanglant rode forward, saluting his daughter, and headed down the track with Captain Fulk and his men, Lord Hrodik's Gentish irregulars, and Lord Druthmar and the contingent from Villam lands. Prince Bayan and his Ungrians, the biggest and most experienced group of fighters in the army, came next, followed in their turn by Lord Zwentibold, Lord Wichman, and their legion of skirmishers and cavalry from Saony. Last came the baggage train under the command of Duke Boleslas, the Polenie duke with his bright silver tabard and feathered helm, the peacock of the army, as Sanglant had called him one night after the prince had been drinking too much.

The wagon in which Blessing was to ride trundled to a stop before the platform, and Blessing allowed Lord Thiemo to help her into the back as Heribert folded up her chair. Although she could ride a pony, she wasn't old enough to do so under the circumstances, so they had tied her pony behind the wagon. As she set ?o

tied down among sacks of grain, Captain Thiadbold of the Lions knelt before her.

"Your Highness, your father Prince Sanglant has charged me and my cohort of Lions to see that you remain safe until we come within the walls of Osterburg. I pray you, Your Highness, if there is any trouble, do as I command, and we'll see that no harm comes to you."

"I don't like riding at the rear," said Blessing.

He grinned, then hid the smile quickly, not sure of her temper.” Nay, but there are many fine and valuable things necessary to victory here in the baggage train. It is no insult to be left to guard them, Your Highness. Nor is it any insult to you to ride with the baggage train. Do you see?" He pointed toward the painted wagon belonging to Prince Bayan's mother.” You are not the only warrior who rides with the baggage train."

The sight of the wagon convinced Blessing not to argue.

Duke Boleslas rode up with a dozen frilled and colorful attendants to either side of his brightly caparisoned horse. He bowed before Blessing.” Your Highness," he said, before riding away again, circling toward the tail end of the train as the wagon lurched forward and they began moving.

Because the ground was still damp from the night's brief rain, there wasn't too much dust, but Anna could still tell that eight legions of fighting men had passed this way before them. Dirt soon coated her lips and tickled her nostrils. Any overhanging branches were snapped back or torn off by the press of bodies.

A feeling of dread grew in Anna's heart as they rolled onward and the sun rose higher. Would they be able to hear the clash of arms, ahead of them, when the vanguard met the Quman? Was it true that every Quman soldier carried a shrunken head at his belt, as a trophy? She touched her own neck, wondering if they chopped the heads off children, too, or if in Quman eyes she was old enough to be married or taken as a slave.

But at least, here in the rear guard, they were a long, long way from the front, where the battle would be fought.

By midday they came up along a ridge and caught a glimpse of the Veser River in the distance. Weapons and armor glinted in the trees below where the rest of the army wound away before them, closing in on the river plain.