PROLOGUE (51 page)

"This is the work of Mistress Suzanne, whom I bring to your attention, Your Highness. Let me present it to you as a gift, for truly it is worthy of your eminence." Hrodik had gotten quite breathless with excitement as he draped the cloak over Sanglant's arms. His thin, pimply face shone with pride as he beckoned the young weaver forward, although she came reluctantly.

"Fine work, truly," said the prince in a tone that suggested that he praised the woman as much as the cloak. She still did not look at him.

"How many cloaks do you need for your soldiers?" demanded Hrodik.” Truly, you have full sixty soldiers in your retinue."

"Seventy-one," said Sanglant.

The weaver paled.” My lord, I can't supply you with so much cloth in so short a time!"

"Nay," cried Lord Hrodik expansively, "it need not be a short time. They can't ride east in this cold, nor with the spring thaws coming. I see no reason they can't abide with us for two months or more!"

The poor weaver looked ready to faint, but Zacharias had a strong hunch that it was not the order for cloth that made her anxious but the presence of the prince, who was still watching her as he ran a finger lightly around a tracery of dragon outlined in fine golden thread.

Lord Hrodik was clearly almost beside himself in his desperation to please the prince, and now he noticed Sanglant's fascination with the dragon embroidery. He leaped forward to take the linen-shrouded object out of the servant's arms, whipping the cloth off to reveal a stunningly beautiful helmet, glorious iron trimmed with gold to suggest the fierce visage of a dragon.

Prince Sanglant jumped up so fast that his chair fell over backward, hitting the rushes with a resounding thud. He thrust the cloak into Heribert's arms, had to brace himself against the table as if he feared his legs would give out.

"Where did you get that?"

Hrodik looked startled and not a little scared by the prince's vehemence.” It came from the crypt, Your Highness. We recovered a great deal of armor there, after the king and Count Lavastine returned Gent to human sovereignty. Lord Wichman had this piece restored and polished, but he allowed no man to wear it. Nor did he take it with him when he rode east to fight the Quman."

Slowly, Sanglant straightened.” What of the rest of the armor found there?" The casual words could not disguise a blossoming of pain in his voice, although truly his voice always sounded hoarse.

"Wichman's companions commandeered most of it," Hrodik said, "and his mother Duchess Rotrudis sent stewards to carry off the rest. Nothing as rich as this piece, of course, but all of it well made and—" He broke off, a look of horror on his face. Stammering nonsense, he set the helmet on the table between a platter of chicken eaten down to the bones and a bowl of fish stewed in broth.

"I pray, grant me your pardon, Your Highness." His hands were actually shaking.” I mistook myself. I cannot gift this to you, for it was yours once, was it not? When you were captain of the King's Dragons."

Sanglant hesitated, then touched the helmet as though it were an adder. After a moment, he slipped his fingers through the eye slots and lifted it to examine it more closely, turning it to study the dragon inlay, the raised wings wrapping around the helmet's curve, the gleaming face staring down its foe. Zacharias could not interpret the expression on his face, deep emotions surging beneath a taut control. Without a word, he tucked the helmet under his arm in a gesture obviously remembered more by his body than by his mind and strode from the hall without looking at anyone or making any polite excuses. He simply walked out, such a stark look on his face as might be seen on a man who had watched his beloved comrades fall one by one before him, without hope of saving even one.

So he had, hadn't he? Zacharias had heard the story of Gent from Fulk's soldiers, but it was a story they only told when out of the prince's hearing.

Yet wasn't that why soldiers followed him with their whole hearts? Because he gave his heart to them in turn? Prince Sanglant knew the name and history of every man in his retinue. Not one among them doubted that their prince would lead them bravely, fight with them until the end, grieve over any of the fallen, and pay fair restitution to the families of those who, if God so willed it, did not survive.

"Come with me," said Heribert in a low voice.

Zacharias didn't need to be told twice, but at the door he paused to look back just as Lord Hrodik, waking as though from a stupor, spoke in an almost apoplectic voice.

"Go now, Mistress, come with me. We must go to his chambers and discuss what manner of outfitting his soldiers need."

The weaver had a pleasant voice, low and melodic, although it shook a little.” I beg you, Lord Hrodik, it seems to me that the prince is in no humor to be plagued by a lowly common woman such as myself. I and the other weavers in Gent can provide what you wish, if you will only allow us to—"

"Nay! Nay! I will have him satisfied exactly as he wishes! I am still lord over this town. You will abide by my command!"

"I pray you, Brother." The whisper came from the corridor. Zacharias turned to see the servingwoman, Frederun, standing in the shadow where door met wall. Heribert had already vanished down the hall. With all the windows along the outside wall of the corridor shuttered, it was too dark for him to make out her face.” Does the prince know that woman? The weaver?"

"I have not been with the prince more than five months. I know little of his past. Yet I must counsel you, sister, do not let lust overmaster you. I do not know what binds you to this place, but surely you realize that the prince will ride on, and you will remain behind."

"I am bound as a servant here, Brother. Will you counsel me now to accept meekly what God have ordained for such as me? Is all happiness to be denied me?"

"Nay, sister, I am not what you think I am," he said, stung by her tone.” My kinsfolk walked east to the marchlands rather than suffer under the yoke of servitude to any noble. Yet carnal desire furthers no ends but its own. Truly, you must care for yourself before you surrender to carnal urges. What if you get with child?"

"I was forced to be Lord Wichman's whore for six months," she said bitterly, "and yet no child fastened itself to my womb. Ai, God." Her voice came as a sigh, ragged and desperate.” Did you see the way he looked at her?" Abruptly, she hurried away down the corridor.

With a frown, Zacharias returned to the chambers allotted to the prince, but the sight that greeted him there gave his heart ho peace. Prince Sanglant stood in the center of the room, his tall, broad-shouldered form made daunting by the magnificent dragon helmet he now wore. He turned at the sound of Zacharias' footsteps, pulling the helmet off as though he didn't want anyone to see him wearing it.

"I fear you are about to be visited by Lord Hrodik, Your Highness," said Zacharias.

"Lord preserve me," muttered the prince, cocking his head to one side to listen. He held the helmet, two fingers crooked into the eye slot, as though it were a comfortable weight.”
She's
with him."

"Who is
she?"
asked Heribert softly from his station beside the table. He watched Sanglant closely, a compassionate half smile on his face.

"Mistress Gisela of Steleshame had a handsome niece, whose name was Suzanne. She was a fine weaver. She wove cloaks for the King's Eagles, among other things. My Dragons and I spent a week's worth of nights at Steleshame getting refitted by the Steleshame armorer, when we rode to Gent." He swore then, half laughing, and tossed the helmet to the boy, Matto, who had been left in the chamber to sit in attendance on the sleeping Blessing, her slack toddler body bundled all cozy in the middle of the big bed where Sanglant took his rest.

Matto caught the helmet, grunting at its weight, and ran his hands over the gold fittings in astonished awe.” Lord bless me. I've never seen aught like this in the whole of my days. Not even the king has a helm so grand as this!"

"Hush, Matto," said Sanglant, not unkindly.” Do not speak disrespectfully of King Henry, to whom God have granted Their favor."

"No, Your Highness," said the youth obediently.

By now, they could all hear Lord Hrodik as he approached down the hall, calling orders to one of his stewards in his wheedling, ill-tempered voice.” Go, therefore, and let the prince know we attend him at his pleasured"

Sanglant sat down in the chamber's only chair, a richly carved seat set on a thick Arethousan carpet woven with flowers and vines. He gestured to Matto to stand by the door. The youth scarcely had time to position himself there before a flustered steward made a great show of announcing Lord Hrodik.

By sitting down, Sanglant made the gulf between his authority and the authority of the young lord quite plain. He knew how to use his presence and his size to intimidate, and he did so now by leaning forward to brace his hands on his knees. Hrodik simpered and stammered and finally moved aside to let the young weaver step forward. She had such a high blush in her cheeks that she looked feverish. Still she would not meet Prince Sanglant's gaze.

"Well met," he said without any seeming irony.” It seems you are a renowned weaver in this town, Mistress."

"Yes, Your Highness." Boldly, she lifted her gaze to look at him, before sweeping it around the chamber, marking Heribert, Zacharias, the youth Matto by the door, the three young hounds panting under the table, who had been given to the prince as a gift by the monks of St. Gall, and finally at the bed. Now she was startled, eyes widening as she recoiled slightly.” Is this your child. Your Highness?"

"So it is," he agreed, still watching her.” That is my daughter, Blessing."

Mistress Suzanne found the carpet a fascinating sight, compared, at least, to the child on the bed. Such currents ran between the man and the woman that Zacharias thought that probably he could trace them, had he only the ability to see emotion as light.” A handsome and well-grown child. Your Highness. Any child must be accounted a blessing." She faltered as though brought up short by the snap of a whip. Her flush washed pale, but her voice remained strong.” Yet not every child is conceived in blessed circumstances. Some of us become pawns, Your Highness, to those whose worldly power is greater than their fear of God." She glanced for the first time back at her little retinue, her eager household, who stood clustered behind her staring at the prince in awe and trepidation. The man standing at the fore nodded reassuringly to her in the way of a good companion tied by bonds of trust and affection. Nothing like as handsome as the prince, he had the broad shoulders and thick forearms of a laborer, and a certain grim fatalism lay on his shoulders as he eyed the prince.

His rival, thought Zacharias, knowing the thought for truth as soon as it surfaced.

Mistress Suzanne continued to speak, and as each word fell it seemed to make the next one easier.” After the fall of Gent I was given against my will to Lord Wichman, while he lived with his retinue at Steleshame and harried the Eika. After the Eika were driven out, I left my aunt and Steleshame and came to Gent to begin anew, and to escape Lord Wichman. I was already pregnant. In time I gave birth to his bastard child. Because he had taken up residence in Gent, as its lord, I feared letting him know of my presence in Gent because I did not want him to—" This was too much, and she could not finish the sentence.

"Knowing my cousin Wichman, as I do," Sanglant said softly, "I can see that you would not have wished him to know that you lived close by him."

She sighed gratefully, gathered her resolve, and went on.” Yet the child must be baptized, Your Highness. In this way, it came to the attention of Duchess Rotrudis. Before the babe was six months of age, a cleric came to our house and took the child away." She remained dry-eyed and confident.” I confess I was thankful to have that burden taken from me. I am sure the duchess has given the child a better life than I ever could. Truly, I could never love it, remembering what I suffered in its making."

Sanglant could never be fully still, yet even with one foot tapping quietly on the carpet beneath his chair he knew how to listen with his full attention. His attention became almost a second presence in the chamber, the cloak of power any great prince carries beside her. Even Hrodik dared not speak without permission. But the prince's silence, like assent, gave the weaver leave to go on.

"My household has prospered, Your Highness. Duchess Rotrudis was generous in paying me for the trouble of bearing her a grandchild. I used that restitution to improve my workshop. I had already pledged myself to this man, Raimar. With our newfound prosperity we were able to make our vows of betrothal before the biscop. We will marry in the spring. Raimar was able to leave the tannery, for he was put there as a slave by the Eika in the last weeks of their occupation but had apprenticed before the invasion to a carpenter. With our servingman Autgar, he built two new looms and added on a wool room, as well as shelves and beds for the household, and other small projects."