PROLOGUE (41 page)

Like the great hall and the palace rooms, the biscop's cathedral—if one could dignify it with that word—had a raw newness about it. There were still artisans working on the ornamentation inside and out. Here in the marchlands, wood was easier tox;ome by than stone, and even a biscop's cathedral might appear humble compared to the old imperial structures still standing in the west.

Here, too, dour saints surveyed the multitude—some hundred souls—who crowded uneasily into the nave. These statues carved of oak and walnut looked so remarkably displeased that Hanna expected them to begin scolding the sinners gathering below them. Four remained unfinished, all angle and suggestion, a hand emerging from wood, the curve of a forehead half hewn from dark wood, a frowning mouth in an eyeless face.

Tapestries relieved the monotony of the oak walls, but they had been woven in such dark colors that Hanna couldn't make out their subject because so few windows cut the gloom. The largest win dow, behind the altar, faced east. Segments of old Dariyan glass had been pieced together to formed a mosaic, an image of the Cir- ; cle of Unity, but because it was afternoon, most of the light filtered into the nave through the open doors. Cold air licked in from out- | side, stirring cloaks. From her station in the front, Hanna felt the ; merest breath of it on her lips, cool and soothing. A hot, oppressive atmosphere weighted down the crowded chamber, a scent of fear, anticipation, and righteous wrath as thick as curdled cheese.

Every noble in Bayan's army attended, because not to attend might place them under suspicion. From her position close to the altar, Hanna scanned the crowd, but she hadn't enough height to see anyone except the top of Captain Thiadbold's head, recognizable because of his red hair, far to the back. The biscop had commanded the highest ranking Lions to witness as well, so they could report the proceedings to the soldiers under their command. No spiritual charge was graver than heresy. It was, truly, akin to treason against the regnant.

But all Hanna could think about was losing her head to a Quman patrol. Maybe she would have been better off letting magic carry her east. Maybe she'd been meant to choose Sorgatani over that glimpse of Liath. Yet hadn't that been only a dream? Couldn't she j be excommunicated if Biscop Alberada knew the extent of her involvement with sorcery? Sometimes it was better to keep quiet. In a way, that puzzled her most about Ekkehard, Lord Dietrich, and lost Ivar. Why did they have to be so obstreperous about their be-j liefs? Why did they have to keep rattling the chain?

But that was her mother, Mistress Birta, talking.” Why make a date to meet trouble," she would say, "when trouble won't go out of its way to avoid you should you happen on it in the road?" Like Prince Bayan, Mistress Birta saw the world in practical terms. Probably that was one reason Hanna respected Bayan, despite his annoying admiration of her—scarcely possible to call it a flirtation, given the chasm between their stations—that might well send her to her death. Of course, Birta had never cut off anyone's fingers, but there was no saying she wouldn't do so, if she thought it necessary.

A morose hymn came to its close. Hanna used her elbow to get room, nudging aside one of Sapientia's stewards so she could see better. Clerics walked forward in ranks. Each carried a lit candle to signify the Circle of Unity, the Light of Truth. These they set in a circle around Ekkehard, Dietrich, and the others, who had been herded into a clump at the front of the nave. Their light burned hotly, making Hanna blink. The bright light threw the expressions on the carved saints into relief, a lip drawn down in pity, a hand lifted with two fingers extended to show justice, a glowering frown under heavy-cut eyebrows, twin to that emerging on its unfinished companion. They watched, and they judged.

Biscop Alberada mounted steps to the biscop's platform. She raised her hands for silence.

"Let unsweetened vinegar be brought forward, so that the accused may taste the bitterness of heresy."

Her servants brought cups forward, each distinguished according to the rank of its recipient: for Ekkehard a gold cup, and a silver one for his noble companions; for Lord Dietrich a silver cup as well, and one of brass for his stubborn retinue. The common-born heretics had to make do with a wooden cup passed between them. One man refused to drink and was whipped, three times, until he did so. All of them choked and gasped, coughing, from the bite, all but Lord Dietrich, who drained his cup as though it were honey mead and did not flinch as his defiant gaze remained fixed on the biscop.

"Let any who wear the Circle be stripped of it, for they no longer rest within the protecting ring of its light and truth. Let their hair be cut, to be a badge of their shame."

One of Ekkehard's youths was vain of his blond hair, and he began to weep while Ekkehard stood at a loss to aid him as clerics moved among them with knives, chopping off their hair in ragged bunches. Only when Lord Dietrich moved to comfort the lad and speak to him softly did the young man stiffen, clench his hands, and lift his chin with tremulous pride as a sour-faced cleric hacked off his beautiful hair.

"Let them see in truth that the light of truth no longer burns in their hearts." Descending from her pulpit, she paced the circle, extinguishing the candles one by one by capping them. Smoke drifted up in wispy ribbons.” Thus are you severed from the church. Thus are you become excommunicate. Thus are you forbidden the holy sacraments. Thus are you cut off forever from the society of all Daisanites."

Light died. Afternoon dwindled to twilight. Colors faded into grays.

"Let any woman or man who aids them be also excommunicated. They no longer stand in the Circle of Light. God no longer see them."

Ekkehard staggered as if he'd been struck. One of his companions fainted. Others sobbed.

"I do not fear," said Lord Dietrich.” Let God make Her will known. I am only Her willing vessel."

There was silence. Alberada seemed to be waiting for a sign. Back in the crowd, a man coughed.

Lord Dietrich gave a sudden violent jerk that spun him out of the circle. Three candles went rolling as he fell hard to the floor. He twitched once, twice, and thrashed wildly, struck by a fit of apoplexy.

"So you see," cried Alberada triumphantly.” The Enemy reveals its presence. An evil spirit has taken control of this man. This is the fate that awaits those who profess heresy."

The bravest of Lord Dietrich's noble companions knelt beside the afflicted man and got hold of his limbs, holding him down until he went unaccountably still. Foamy spittle dribbled from his lips. A single bubble of blood beaded at one nostril, popped, and ran down his lax cheek. He shuddered once, and then the floor darkened and a stink rose where he had voided his bowels.

"He's dead," said Ekkehard in a choked voice, shrinking away from the distorted corpse.

In the shocked silence, Biscop Alberada's voice rang as clearly as a call to battle.” Take the excommunicates to their prison. None shall speak to them, for any who do so will be excommunicated in their turn. The Enemy dwells deep within. Tomorrow we will scourge those who remain, so that we may drive the Enemy out of their bodies."

No one objected. They had just seen the Enemy at work.

The church cleared quickly. Alberada left with a phalanx of clerics at her back. Guards carried away the corpse, and servants stayed behind to clean up the mess. Hanna waited, because Sapientia did not move away immediately. The princess waited because Bayan knelt at the altar, as if praying. Somehow, Brother Breschius had gotten hold of one of the silver cups, and when the church was empty except for Bayan, Sapientia, and several of their most loyal servants, he offered it to Bayan.

Bayan wiped his finger along the lip of the cup, touched it to his tongue, and spat, making a face.” Poison," he said softly.

There was a long silence while Hanna willed herself invisible, hoping they would not notice she had witnessed this horrible revelation. If it were even true.

"Will she poison Ekkehard?" asked Sapientia.” Should we try to stop her if we think she might?"

They had their backs to Hanna still, examining the silver cup and the sooty smudge left on the floor by the overturned candles. She edged sideways into the shadows.

"Ekkehard is not threat to us," said Bayan heavily.

"Not now. He's still young. But he might become a threat. And what of the church? Surely my aunt knows what she is doing if this heresy is so terrible. We must support her."

Bayan shook his head just as Hanna touched the border of one of the tapestries.” If we not defeat Bulkezu, then are we dead or slave. This war must we finish first. Let the church argue heresy after. Eagle."

They all leaped, all but Breschius, looking as surprised and anxious as conspirators as they turned round to see her. The tapestry could not hide her now. Bayan had known she was there all along.

"Eagle," he repeated, now that he had her attention.” At dawn you ride to King Henry."

"Yes, Your Highness," she said, barely able to get the words out. She had a sickly vision of her shrunken, blackened head dangling from the belt of a Quman warrior. Was Bayan sacrificing her because of what she'd heard? Or was this only a sop to his wife's jealousy while they hatched their plans for the succession?

"Wife." He rose to take Sapientia's hand. The princess hadn't moved. One of her stewards held a ceramic lamp, a rooster crowing a lick of flame, and the light softened her expression and made her black hair glisten like fine silk.” To you, this task. Ekkehard must ride at dawn with the Eagle."

"Is this wise?" demanded Sapientia.

"He and other prisoners must ride. We need no—what is this, Breschius, nothing to make our minds fall away from the war."

"No distractions, Your Highness."

"Yes, none of this thing which I cannot pronounce. Consider, how matters are desperate. The biscop is a godly woman, I know this. But she believes God come before war. Bulkezu waits not for God." He indicated the altar and the wreath of candles burning there, the light of the Unities.

"But where do we send Ekkehard?"

"Let him go to the march of the Villams. There he can fight. There he will die or live, as God will it. He and his retinue can escort the Eagle so far, out of danger. She must to Henry go, and speak our trouble. But Ekkehard will I not have in-Handelburg. That he is prisoner here makes strife in our camp. We have very bad of a situation. If King Henry send no reinforcements, if he not march east himself, then Bulkezu will burn all these lands. This is a hard truth. Maybe we can hold here for a while. // we have no strife in our army. If we have no dis—ah! No
distraction."

"It's a good plan," said Sapientia slowly as she considered his words. That was the great change Bayan had wrought in her; she had learned to think things over.” Ekkehard might still die, fighting the Quman, but that would be a better death for him than being executed for heresy. As a prisoner, his presence can only make things more difficult for us. Some will surely sympathize with his plight. He may still whisper his wicked words to the guards, and maybe there are some in the army who still believe him but lied about it at the trial because they did not want to get punished."

Bayan nodded.

"But how will I free him from my aunt's tower? She will excommunicate me for aiding him."

Brother Breschius stepped forward.” You are the heir, Your Highness. You have already proved your fitness to rule. Think of this as a test of your regnancy. Biscop Alberada would not contest King Henry, were he to tell her that Prince Ekkehard must be sent to the Villam fortress for safekeeping, with or without a large escort, for surely in such times of trouble we cannot afford to lose a large number of men to guard duty. Nor should she contest you, who are destined to rule after your father, may God will that he be blessed with a long life."

Sapientia twisted the fine embroidered border of her tunic in her hands, crushing roundels between her fingers. The gesture made her look a little like a goose girl about to scold her lover. Yet even a humble goose girl might develop the habit of command.

For an instant, Hanna remembered what Hathui used to say: God make the sun rise on noblewoman and commoner alike, for all folk are equal before God. What truly separated Hanna from Sapientia?

Sapientia lowered her hands. She had a queen's bearing; in that moment, in the gloomy church with the silent saints staring down at them from on high, one could see the luck of the regnant in her face.” I will speak to my aunt. Ekkehard will ride out at dawn, to escort the Eagle until it is safe for her to ride on alone."

Hanna laughed softly to herself.
At
herself. God had long since separated the lowborn from the high, no matter what Hathui said. A few words exchanged, and Hanna's fate was sealed.

"Eagle." Bayan rose. His gaze on her was steady, a little admiring still, but quite final, as though he knew he had said farewell to her for the last time.” By no means turn south until you have come west of the Oder River. Even then, be cautious. The Quman range far."