Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 1 (53 page)

But something in the way Brother Fidelis had said the words, his hesitation, his suggestion that creatures who were not human worried at him in his solitude, plaguing him to make him speak of these "seven sleepers," made her think this was more than just a legend.

"You are solemn, Sister Rosvita," said Villam, understandably trying to draw her out.

"I have much to think about," she said. He was too well mannered to press her.

ri AI night they celebrated the Feast of St. Susannah, saint beloved by cobblers and goldsmiths and jewelers. The king's retinue filled up the old monastery's guest houses and half the villages within an hour's walk of the cloister, in addition to those who stayed in tents pitched in the surrounding pastures. The brother cellarer, in charge of provisioning the monastery, was actually heard to mutter that the king's retainers were too many and too fond of their food and wine.

Henry presented a sober face to the assembly. Only Rosvita and Villam knew why she had spoken to the old hermit. Only Rosvita knew the content of that interview and Henry's reaction to it when she had told him the whole.

He had thought for a long time while she stood, patient and silent, beside him. Although Father Bardo had offered his own study to Henry, to use as bedchamber and receiving room, Henry chose the upstairs room in the chief guest house. The room was spacious but boasted no ornamentation.

Here, with both shutters open to the spring air, she and King Henry were alone for a brief time.

Except on formal occasions, Henry always dressed in the style of his people, if more richly than most: knee-length tunic trimmed with gold braid; leggings and; at this time of year, soft leather boots worked with eagles and lions and dragons, the three pillars on which his power was built. The Eagles were his messengers, the Lions his faithful foot soldiers, and the Dragons his heavy cavalry, the pride of his army. But these were only his personal weapons.

His power as king of all Wendar and Varre rested on the submission of the great princes of the realm to his overlordship.

His black leather belt was embossed with the sigils of the six dukedoms, painted in gold: a dragon for Saony, a lion for Avaria, an eagle for Fesse, a
guivre
for Arconia, a stallion for Varingia, where horses were bred, and a hawk for Wayland.

He wore four gold rings, one for each of the march-lords: Helmut Villain, Judith of Olsatia and Austra, and Werinhar of Westfall. The margrave of Eastfall was dead now and the ring she had received in her turn from Henry lost on the battlefield or stolen away by looters to adorn some Quman lord out on the grasslands.

A fifth ring, bearing the seal of his sovereignty, he wore on a golden chain around his neck.

He wore no crown. It traveled, along with his robe of state, his scepter, and the Holy Lance of St. Perpetua, Lady of Battles, in an oak chest carved with griffins and dragons grappling in eternal war.

He listened to Rosvita's account of her interview with Brother Fidelis. He considered it while she waited. In his youth he had been more impetuous, blurting out his
king's dragon
first thoughts. Now, eighteen years after his election to the throne of Wendar and Varre, he had mastered the skill of sitting still.

"But Taillefer did not himself designate one of those illegitimate sons as his heir," he had said finally. "I need only look at my own family. Sabella was found unfit to rule, just as I would have been, had I not proven myself capable. In that case my father would have designated one of my sisters, or my brother Benedict, as heir. But he chose to present me to the dukes and margraves for their affirmation after my heir's progress. Taillefer did not single out any child, bastard or otherwise. If he had, events might have fallen out differently."

Rosvita was left none the wiser, for though she asked circumspectly, he offered no more insight into what he meant to do. His daughters Sapientia and Theophanu sat on either side of him at the great feast that night. His young son Ekkehard was prevailed upon to sing, accompanying himself on the lute; the child truly did have a sweet voice. If Henry chose to put Ekkehard in the church, his would be a fine voice raised in prayer to heaven.

At midmorning the next day two Eagles rode in, covered with dust, travel-worn and weary. They brought grave news.

"Gent is besieged," said the senior of the two women, a grim woman who favored her left leg. She was not reticent in addressing King Henry. "We were five Eagles, riding to Gent to see the truth of these rumors for ourselves. Within sight of the city but outside the walls, we were set upon by Eika. I was wounded in the attack. So my comrade
—" Here she indicated the other woman, who was young, perhaps the age of Berthold or Theophanu. "—and I fled west to carry this news to you, Your Majesty. We rode part of the way with a company of Dragons. They escorted a deacon and a holy relic to safety. The rest of the Dragons, including Prince Sanglant, remain besieged within Gent."

"You say it is a raiding party?" asked Henry quietly.

She shook her head. "Not according to the Dragons who escorted us, Your Majesty. At last count there were fifty-two Eika ships."

Henry was sitting on a bench in the unicorn courtyard, attended by his companions and courtiers. This information sent up a murmur, quickly stilled when Henry lifted a hand to quiet them. "Do you think they mean to invade?"

"According to Sturm
—he was the commander of the company we rode with—the Eika want the bridges that connect Gent to the east and west shore of the river thrown down. That way they can raid upriver at their leisure."

"And this Commander Sturm, where is he now?"

"He returned to the vicinity of Gent. He and his men hope to harry the Eika outside the walls, to aid their brethren trapped within."

Henry glanced to his right, where Helmut Villam stood. "Gent lies within the lands administered by Count Hildegard, does it not?"

Villam nodded.

"What of her forces?" the king asked.

"I do not know," admitted the Eagle. "They are not within the city. Certainly she must have news of the siege by now."

The king gestured, and a servant brought him a cup of wine. He sipped at it thoughtfully. "You said there were five Eagles?"

The woman nodded. Her companion, already pale, began to look quite white, the look of a person who has spent many sleepless hours in fruitless worrying; she had the light complexion that betrayed northern blood, light blue eyes and coarse wheat-blonde hair twisted into braids. The older woman betrayed neither anger nor grief. "The others rode on. I don't know if they got into the city safely, but I believe they did."

"You did not see them enter within the walls?"

"I did not. But the man I rode with, Wolfhere, bound

my comrade Manfred and I to him with various small devices. Had he died, I believe I would know of it." "Ah," said Henry, one eyebrow arching. "Wolfhere." To Rosvita, mostly, one Eagle was much like another. Nobleborn boys and girls were given their own retainers when they came of age or, if circumstances warranted, they served with the Dragons. Service as a king's messenger or in the king's infantry was relegated to the children of freeholders, not those of noble birth. But every cleric in the king's chapel and
schola
knew Wolfhere by sight or at least by reputation. There was no Eagle senior to him, and it was sometimes whispered
—though not so often these days—that he knew many things beyond the ken of human knowledge. He had been in favor during the reign of the younger Arnulf; some claimed he had too much influence over Arnulf, especially for a man not born into a noble family. That favor had ended within a year of Henry's ascent to the throne. Wolfhere had been banished from the king's presence. Rosvita did not know why.

"Yes, Your Majesty." The woman had a strong gaze, and she was not afraid to look King Henry in the face. "I am proud to call him
pracceptor."
Instructor and guide. She used the Dariyan word deliberately. Rosvita guessed she knew something, at least, of Wolfhere's reputation at court.

Henry's lips turned up. Rosvita knew him well enough, after all this time, to see he admired the young Eagle's forthright manner. "How long have you served in my Eagles, and what is your name and lineage?"

"For seven years I have served in the Eagles, mostly in the marchlands. I joined as soon as I came of age. I am named Hathui, daughter of Elseva, a freeholder in Eastfall."

"And your father?"

"My father was called Volusianus. He was also born of free parents. But alas, Your Majesty, he was killed while in the service of King Arnulf, fighting the Redari."

The king glanced toward Villam, who gazed benignly at the young woman. Rosvita remembered well the last war against the Redari; it had taken place in the final year of Arnulfs reign and was mostly fought in the March of the Villams. Indeed, the lands over which the Villams held authority had greatly expanded after the capitulation of the Redari tribesmen and their conversion to the faith of the Unities.

"After his death, my mother and her sister and brother were among those who traveled east of the Eldar River with grants given them by King Arnulf, to take lands for themselves, under the authority of no lord or lady."

"Except that of the king."

She bent her head slightly, acknowledging the truth of his words. "Except that of the king," she repeated.

Henry lifted his left hand, signing her to rise. "You will travel with my court, Hathui, daughter of Elseva, and serve me." This signal honor was not lost on the gathered assembly, who were no doubt wondering how much the king intended to favor this commoner. Rosvita examined the courtiers. Who would be first to attempt to befriend the Eagle and who first to attempt to bring about her downfall?

Hathui seemed untroubled by this sign of favor. "And my comrade, Hanna, daughter of Birtha and Hanal? She is new to the Eagles and has little experience, less training, and no kin nearby."

"She may join us as well. You may act as her praeceptor."

It occurred to Rosvita suddenly that Henry was rewarding the two Eagles for another reason: for bringing him news of his son.

"We must consider an army," he said, turning to Villam. "How soon can we ride to Gent?"

A.JT JiJK. her initial shock wore off, Hanna found herself more frustrated than honored by her elevation to one of those exalted Eagles who waited in personal attendance upon King Henry.

Not because of Henry, of course. He was everything she had ever dreamed a king would be; stern but with the capacity for laughter; elegant in appearance and yet without the kind of vanity that leads men to wear fine clothes and jewels for the sake of showing off their riches; gracious without being friendly; unwilling to tolerate incompetence and delay.

But there was only so much a king could do when it came time to attempt to move his vast entourage
—the king's progress—quickly, or when it came time to raise an army from lands as far apart as the northwesternmost reaches of the duchy of Saony, the highlands far to the south of Avaria, and the distant marchlands to the east.

Raised by a briskly efficient innkeeper, Hanna was amazed at how slow everything moved and how many arguments there were between chatelaines and stewards and lordlings over fine points of status and honor that would make not one whit of difference to the people trapped in Gent if the Eika broke through the city's walls.

"At this rate they'll be dead before we leave this monastery," she muttered to Hathui that evening as she watched yet another noble lord
—a young woman in this case—making excuses before the king as to why it would take her some unreasonable number of days to raise levies and then yet again longer beyond that to march those levies as far north as Gent. Lady bless! Beyond being maddening, it was also boring. She stifled
a yawn and felt Hathui shift her weight. "How is your leg?"

"It will do." said Hathui. "Attend to your duties. Who is that?"

"What?"

"Who is that speaking before the king?"

Hanna stared, but she could not tell one noble lordling from another; they all ran together in her mind in their handsome embroidered gowns or tunics and gold-braided leggings and fine necklaces and rings.

"That is part of your duty, Hanna," said Hathui sternly, sounding much like Wolfhere. "You must memorize all the great houses of Wendar and Varre and learn the names of the lords and ladies of those lineages and their alliances by marriage and kinship and oaths, and which dislike whom and who wishes to marry for advantage where, and what estates have lost their lady and thus are being willed to the church or given to the king to reward to some family who has done him a signal service."

"Ai, Lady," swore Hanna under breath. "All that?"

"And more besides." But Hathui grinned, taking the threat out of the words.
"That
is Liutgard, duchess of Fesse. Because Fesse lies in the center of the kingdom, it is a long ride from there to Gent, which lies to the northeast. Also, the duchy of Fesse lies next to the duchy of Arconia, which is the duchy administered by Henry's half sister Sabella. Surely you have heard the minors that Sabella plans to rebel against the king?"

Hanna had heard so many rumors just in the eight hours since she and Hathui had arrived at Hersford Monastery that she had given up trying to sort one out from the next. "And? What difference does that make to Duchess Liutgard?"