PROLOGUE (48 page)

"Come, now," she said, shaking off her reverie impatiently without responding to her companion's comment, "here's these two lasses who must be cold from walking outside in that wind just so Lord Hrodik can have his cloak the instant he desires it! Here, child, let you and your sister come in and have a bit of hot cider to drink for it's that cold Out, isn't it now? Sit by the hearth." She addressed one of the younger servants.” Give them a slice of apple, and be sure they have a bit of cake from the lord's table as well." She clapped her hands sharply twice.” Back to work! Let's have no sleeping in the hall. We've little enough light these months as it is. Fastrada!" The scarred woman had taken the cloak from her to fold it up.” I pray you, will you see that the cloak is delivered to Lord Hrodik?"

"Truly, Frederun, you know how he will complain if you're not the one to deliver it to him."

Frederun exclaimed sharply on a gusty sigh, but she reached for the cloak and finished folding it with practiced ease. She had strong hands from years of hard work, although certainly she couldn't have been more than twenty years of age.” Why must he believe he is owed what Wichman took?"

No one else appeared to be listening, perhaps only because of the boring familiarity of the situation.” Can you not speak to Bis-cop Suplicia?" asked Fastrada.

"She is kin by way of certain cousins to Lord Hrodik's family. Why should she feel any compassion for a bond servant like me? Do I not owe service to their noble house?"

"I thought you served at the mayor's palace, not in the lord's bed."

"You know as well as I that Mayor Werner was the last of his family. Nay, the noble lords have hold of Gent now, and they won't give it up."

The older woman frowned sourly.” Very well. I'll take the cloak up to him, and let him bleat as he may."

Frederun cast down her gaze, as though in exhaustion.” I thank you." She straightened one of her sleeves and wiped a fleck of ash, floating out from the hearth, out of an eye.” He has grown worse—

"Since the weather keeps him locked inside instead of out hunting. Truly, he has more cock than sense!"

°°

"Isn't that true of most men!" interposed one of the younger women. She had a pretty mouth, bright eyes, and pox marks on her cheeks.” Here, Fastrada, I'll take the cloak up to his lordship. He fancies me, and I want some of that honey he hoards, for my family to trade for cloth for my sister's dowry."

"Take care, Uota, that you don't walk into a fire so hot that it burns you," replied Frederun quietly.

"I hadn't heard you were so shy," retorted Uota with a flash of anger, "in the days before Lord Wichman took to beating you for his pleasure. It's said you gave yourself freely enough if the lord was of princely disposition."

"Hush, Uota!" cried Fastrada, although Frederun made no reply except to sink down on the bench beside Anna.” You're a latecomer here. You can't know what any of us suffered—

Uota took the cloak and flounced out.

"Here, now," began Fastrada as the other servants turned away to give the illusion of privacy, although truly there were no secrets in the servants' hall.” Frederun—

The younger woman raised a hand to forestall further comment, and after a moment Fastrada moved away to supervise three women polishing the silver plate.

Anna examined Frederun with interest and pity. It seemed to her that they shared something in common, she and the servingwoman: they had survived the worst kind of hardship and found themselves in a decent and even prosperous life, with a warm bed and two ample meals every day, yet she recognized in Frederun's expression a discontent like her own, bothersome and mysterious. Why couldn't she just be satisfied, as Matthias was?

Little Helen looked up suddenly, slid the rose from behind her ear, and presented it to Frederun.

"Ai, thank you, child!" Tears welled up in Frederun's eyes. She brought the rose to her face and sniffed at it, smiling ruefully.” All the scent's gone. Where did you find such a lovely treasure?"

Anna signed as well as she could, and unlike many people, Frederun watched her hands carefully, intent on what she was trying to communicate.” By the city wall? Nay, here, the palace wall. Ah, of course! It's one of the offerings folk leave." Her face shuttered, growing still and thoughtful, as she touched the wooden Circle that hung from her neck.” Some things are hard to forget," she
child
or
flame
muttered, stroking the rose's withered petals before collecting herself with a shake of the head.” Will your aunt make a wedding cloak as fine for her betrothed, the tanner she's to marry in the spring?"

Anna smiled and nodded, but what flashed across Frederun's expression was difficult to understand: Pain? Longing? Envy?

"She's done well, has your aunt. None knows better than I what she suffered in Steleshame at the hands of Lord Wichman. I remember pitying her there. How could I have known it was to come to me in my time?" She straightened up sharply with a frown.” No sense in sorrowing over what's past, is there, little sister? You've suffered more than I, poor child, not able to speak a word." She wiped a smear of soot off Helen's delicate face.” And this poor creature, what will become of her with such a pretty face to plague her all her years?"

Helen smiled beatifically up at Frederun, for she was always the happiest of creatures as long as she was fed and clean. A pang gripped Anna's heart, hearing truth in Frederun's words. Probably Helen would never be quite right in the head, and her child's beauty, if it held as she grew, would only bring her grief.

"Come now," added Frederun briskly, "you finish that up and get you home or Mistress Suzanne will be fearing for you and the little one with dusk coming on."

Standing, she had just turned to call to one of her women when the door slammed open, helped by a gust of wind, and two of the mayor's guardsmen came in, beards tipped with ice, slapping their hands together to warm them.

"Ho, Mistress Frederun!" cried one in a voice too loud for the hall, pitched to carry over the wind.” There's a great party of soldiers and their noble lord ridden in, come to beg hospitality of Lord Hrodik."

"And to grant themselves first pickings at the armory," added his comrade irritably.

Frederun froze, as might a rabbit when the shadow of an owl skimmed across it.” Who might it be? Is it Wichman, returned?"

"Nay. They come from the west. They're riding east to fight the Quman. I saw no banner, nor did I speak to the outriders. You'll have to go into the hall to see who it might be."

Frederun hadn't time to answer before a trio of flustered servingmen hurried into the hall through another door, calling out Lord Hrodik's orders.

Anna grabbed a last bit of cake and wolfed it down before getting her arms around her load of cloth and hustling Helen out of the way. The winter wind hit hard as they came out into the courtyard. Men called to each other in the stables, and the yard had the look of a hive of bees stirred into action. Two outriders stood chatting with the stable master, but they wore no device to indicate to which noble kin they owed allegiance. No one paid any mind as she and Helen left by the western gate, nor did she see any war party on the streets as they cut through the town square, past the cathedral, and came back around to the other side of the mayor's palace. The eastern gate here was a tumble of stone. More than one child had broken a leg or an arm climbing these ruins. Beyond the marketplace, quiet in winter except for a flurry of activity around the butchers' stalls, lay a number of workshops: smaller compounds made up of a house, workshops, and outbuildings surrounded by a wall.

With Helen tagging at her heels, Anna crossed the marketplace to the open gate that let her into the place she now called home, the workshop taken over by the woman everyone called her aunt, Suzanne. Once known to all of Steleshame as Mistress Gisela's niece, Suzanne was now known in the city of Gent simply as the weaver, although of course in a city as large as Gent, crammed with fully five thousand people so the biscop claimed, there were other weavers. None of them were asked to supply fine cloaks and tunics to the lord who resided in the mayor's palace.

Out in the courtyard, by the trough, a donkey stood patiently, one leg cocked slightly as its ear twitched at each shudder of wind. Raimar was sawing a log into planks, his pale hair caught back with a leather thong. He had stripped down to his summer tunic. The light fabric showed off the breadth of his shoulders. Flecks of sawdust flew from the wood, scattering like pale gold dust around his feet on the hard packed earth.

Young Autgar held the other end of the saw. He was singing in an off-key voice about the pain roasting his heart because it had been three days since he'd caught sight of the beautiful shepherd girl, which was after all a strange song for Autgar to be singing since he'd been married two years before in Steleshame to one of Suzanne's weavers and had two children already.

Raimar whistled sharply, and they laid up the saw. He turned to grin at the two girls.” Take those into the wool room, Anna. Suzanne was just asking after you. I see you still have some crumbs on your face. I told her you'd be dining at your ease at "the mayor's palace!"

Anna smiled back at him, and Helen ran over to watch the bubbling dye pot, this day stewing yarn to a strong tansy yellow.

Anna left Helen outside and went into the workshop, a long, low room hazy with smoke. Four looms stood in the workshop, and Suzanne's three assistants worked, each with a girl at her side learning the trade. A toddler raced around the room, shrieking with delight, while an infant slept in a cradle set rocking by one of the girls.

Anna crossed through the side door that led into the darker chamber, shuttered in, where fleeces, raw and scoured wool, and spun wool stored in skeins as well as unsold cloth were stored. The weighty scent of all that wool comforted her, dense and pungent. Suzanne was standing at the table, haggling with a farmer out of West Farms over the skeins of yarn he'd brought her.

"This just isn't as good quality as the last lot. I can't give you as much for it."

Anna set down her cloth on the table and got out her spindle so that she could spin while she waited for the negotiations to end. In time the farmer took away cloth as payment for his yarn.

"You've crumbs on your face, Anna," said Suzanne as she sorted through the yarn, setting some on one shelf and some on another, according to its quality and fineness.” I hope they fed you well at the palace, for we're fasting tonight. Raimar brings news from the tannery." She examined Anna with a smile. That smile, no doubt, had gotten her into trouble before, just because of the way it made her face turn rosy and sweet.” Nay, I'll let Matthias tell you himself! Come, give me a hand with this yarn. Move what's at the back of the shelf forward. That lot. Prior Humilicus came by. They're bringing in a dozen novices on St. Eusebe's Day and he wants enough cloth for a dozen robes by summer. Did you know that Hano the saddler's daughter is to marry next autumn? To a young man all the way from Osterburg, if you can believe that!"

She chatted on in this companionable way as they tidied up the wool room. It was her way of making Anna comfortable. After they got everything in order, Suzanne returned to her loom while

Anna picked up the baby, who had woken and begun to fuss, so that her mother could finish off a line before nursing.

In the afternoon, with winter twilight sighing down outside, Matthias came in with Raimar and Autgar. He was taller than Suzanne now, filled out enormously from a combination of steady meals and hard work. He stank of the tannery, and as he washed the worst of the stink off his hands, he broke his news.” Anna! I'm to be taken in as a journeyman at the tanning works!"

His words left her cold, although she managed to hug him. They all expected her to be happy for him. He continued to speak as he stepped back from Anna, exchanging a look with his betrothed, the youngest of the weavers who had fled Steleshame with Suzanne. She was a girl about his age who had round cheeks and clever hands.” I'll live at the tannery now, and I'll have every other Hefensday off."

They all fell to talking as they made ready to attend the Hefensday Eve service, washing their hands, tidying their clothing, the women relying their hair scarves. Because Anna couldn't join in the talk, she waited by the door like a lost child peeking in at a feast of camaraderie she could never share in. Matthias would move on with his life. After everything they'd survived together, he was leaving her behind. She could never be more than an afterthought in his new life. She wasn't more than an afterthought in any of their lives, not really, no matter how kindly they treated her.

Reflexively, she drew her finger in a circle around her wooden Circle of Unity, the remembered gesture that her mother had habitually repeated in moments of fear or sadness or worry. What had become of the Eika prince who, when they had crept to the door of the crypt in the cathedral, had watched them silently and let them go? He had drawn his finger, just so, around the Circle of Unity he wore at his chest, although she still could not fathom why a savage Eika would wear a Circle, symbol of the faith of the Unities.