PROLOGUE (52 page)

Henry sighed. "I see no point in casting blame, not when a dozen souls lost their lives, may God grant them peace. Let us consider this as a sign that we take our leisure at our peril, as long as Gent remains in the hands of the Eika. Thus does our sport blind us to our duty. Let greater care be taken in the future."

Sister Amabilia bad saved the
Vita of St. Radegundis
from the fire.

The book lay on Rosvita's lap, swaddled in a lamb's wool blanket, the softest cradle Rosvita had found for it. She had slept with it clasped to her breast last night, though its presence had triggered strange dreams, and she would not let it out of her grasp today.

Was this obsession unseemly? Perhaps it would be best to give the original to the monastery at Quedlinhame and keep only Amabilia's copy for herself, to keep herself free of the sin of esurience
—that greedy hunger she had for the knowledge that had died with Brother Fidelis:
his
knowledge, some of which was retained in the
Life
he had written.

Henry sat forward suddenly, his expression lightening. "Here is Father Hugh. What news?"

Hugh knelt before the king. He looked ragged and unkempt. Possibly he had not slept at all. Yet his lack of concern for his appearance, under these circumstances, could only reflect well on him. He alone of all the nobles had remained behind beside the conflagration; he had directed the rescue efforts; he had made sure all who could be brought safely out of the palace were gotten free.

Perhaps it had been a wise choice when Margrave Judith had sent Princess Sapientia on her way, directing her to visit first with the young abbot of Firsebarg, Judith's bastard son. Poor Sapientia, whose name meant
wisdom,
had never shown much of that quality; perhaps, with such a name, she had been bound to become sensitive to comparisons to her clever younger sister. But she had chosen wisely when it came to Hugh.

Truly it could be said, as the court wits said now, that he was the ornament of "wisdom." Even in such a state as this.

"Princess Sapientia sleeps, Your Majesty," he said, his voice as calm and well-modulated as ever. "Her pains have gone away, but she still feels poorly. With your permission, I will send a message to my mother. Her physician
—

"Yes, I am acquainted with Margrave Judith's physician." The king gestured toward Villam. "The man saved my good companion Villam's life, if not his arm. Very well, send for her
—or for the Arethousan, if her business keeps her in the marchlands."

"What business?" whispered Sister Odila.

"Oh, come," muttered Brother Fortunatus, "don't you recall? Judith had to return to Olsatia because she is to marry again."

"Again?" squeaked young Brother Constantine.

"Hush," hissed Sister Amabilia, but a moment later she, too, could not contain herself. "I thought she meant to celebrate the marriage here on the king's progress."

"Indeed," said Fortunatus smugly, certain of his sources of information and pleased to have knowledge Amabilia lacked. "But the young bridegroom never showed up. His family made peculiar excuses, so the margrave journeyed back to find out for herself."

"Hush, children," said Rosvita.

"...Sapientia has become fond of her Eagle," Hugh was saying, "and I fear it would upset her at this delicate time to send the young woman away. If another Eagle could be found to ride..." He smiled gently.

The king's Eagle, Hathui, now leaned forward. "Your Majesty. You have not gotten a report from the Eagle who rode in yesterday."

The king nodded. Hathui gestured and a young woman walked forward from the back of the hall to kneel before the king.

"Give your report," said Hathui to her.

The young Eagle bowed her head respectfully. "Your Majesty, I am Hanna, daughter of Birta and Hansal, out of Heart's Rest."

Heart's Rest!
Rosvita stared at the young woman but could see no resemblance to any person she recalled from her childhood; it had been so many years since she had visited her home and her father's hall. Perhaps her brother Ivar knew the family
—but it was unlikely unless Count Harl had himself brought the young woman to the notice of the Eagles.

"You sent me south with Wolfhere, escorting Biscop Antonia, late last spring after the battle of Kassel."

"I remember."

"I bring grave news, Your Majesty. While in the Alfar Mountains, a storm hit St. Servitius' Monastery, where we took shelter for the night." She described a rockfall and the destruction of the monastery infirmary. "Wolfhere be
‍
lieves it was no natural storm. He believes Antonia and her cleric escaped."

"He found no bodies?"

"None could be found, Your Majesty. The rocks were too unstable to move."

"Where is Wolfhere now?"

"He went on to Darre to bring the charges against Bis-cop Antonia before the skopos. He does not believe she is dead, Your Majesty."

"So you have said."

At this, she looked up directly at him. "And so I will say again, Your Majesty, and again, until you believe me."

He smiled suddenly, the first smile Rosvita had seen since their return from the hunt yesterday into the chaos attendant on the disastrous fire. "You believe Wolfhere is correct?"

She hesitated, bit her lip, then went on. "I myself witnessed such sights that night...I saw
things,
Your Majesty, creatures in the storm such as I have never seen before and hope never to see again! They were not any creatures that walk on earth unless called from
—other places, dark places."

Now he leaned forward. She had caught his interest. "Sorcery?"

"What else could it be? We saw the
guivre,
such as only a magi could capture and control. But these were not even creatures of flesh and blood. Wolfhere called them
galla."

Every person in the hall shuddered reflexively when the word came out of her mouth. Rosvita had never heard of such a thing, and yet some tone, some intonation, made her flinch instinctively. But as she glanced round the room she saw Father Hugh look up sharply, eyes widening
—with interest? Or with distaste?

"I have no reason," said the king wryly, "to distrust Wolfhere in such matters. Well, then, Eagle, if this happened while crossing the Alfar Mountains in the summer, why has it taken you until winter to reach me?"

She lifted a hand. "If I may, Your Majesty?" Curious, he assented.

She gestured behind, and three Lions walked forward and knelt beside her, heads bowed. They, too, looked travel-worn, tabards and armor much mended; one had a newly healed cut on his left cheek. "These Lions were my escort, and they will witness that all that I say is true. When we turned back from the monastery, we found the pass was closed, blocked by another avalanche. Therefore we had to keep going south into the borderlands of Karrone until we could link up with the road that led back north through the Julier Pass. But here, too, we could not get through."

"Another storm?" demanded Villam, and Father Hugh leaned forward as if he feared the Eagle's answer would be too faint for him to hear.

"No, my lord. Duke Conrad closed the pass."

Henry stood up, and immediately any persons in the hall who were sitting scrambled to their feet as well, including poor Brother Fortunatus, who had sprained his knee in the conflagration yesterday. "Duke Conrad has
closed
the pass? On whose authority?"

"I do not know the particulars, Your Majesty, only what I could learn from the border guards. It seems there is a dispute about borders between Queen Marozia and Duke Conrad, and neither will back down. So to spite her, Duke Conrad refused to let any traffic through the pass."

"To spite himself," muttered Villam. "That pass links the duchy of Wayland to Karrone
and
to Aosta." He shook his head, looking disgusted.

"Nevertheless," she replied, still sounding offended at the memory of the incident, "we were not let through although I carry an Eagle's ring and badge, the seals of your authority."

There was a silence while Henry considered this news. A few whispers hissed through the hall, then hushed. Abruptly, he sat down. Rosvita could not read his expression. "What then?" he asked, his voice level.

"We had to ride farther east until we came to the Brinne Pass, and farther east still, once we had crossed over the mountains. We came into the marchlands of Westfall where Margrave Werinhar fed us most handsomely and gave me a new horse and all of us generous supplies. But so many of the paths and roads had been washed out by heavy rains that we had to go even farther east into the marchland of Eastfall before we could find a good road leading west." Again she hesitated and looked toward Hathui, as for courage. The older Eagle merely nodded crisply, and the younger went on. "Every person there sent word by me, Your Majesty. They beg you to set a margrave over them for protection. The Quman raids have been more fierce this year than in any year since your great-grandfather the first Henry fought and defeated the Quman princes at the River Eldar." She turned and signed to the Lion, eldest of her companions
—the one with the scarred cheek. He presented a broken arrow to the king. Fletched with iron-gray feathers, the arrow had an iron point; it looked innocuous enough for a tool meant for killing, and yet a kind of miasma hung about it as if it had a rank smell or some kind of repelling spell laid on it. Those feathers resembled none of any bird she had ever seen.

But in the eastern wilderness, griffins hunted. Or so books said and report gave out. But Rosvita rarely trusted the reports of credulous folk who might see one thing and believe it was another
—as had the lords and ladies out hunting, seeing a deer instead of Theophanu. It was stuffy in the small hall with so many people crammed in, even with the high windows thrown open. A restlessness plagued them all at the sight of the arrow. A few slipped out the door, but even as they left, others shouldered in to take their place.

Henry took the arrow from the Lion's hand and at once cut a finger on the hard edge of the fletching. He grunted in pain and stuck his finger in his mouth, sucking on it. Immediately, the Lion took the arrow out of Henry's hand. "Let me hold this for you, Your Majesty," said the man. "I beg you."

"Where did you get this arrow?" asked the king as he pressed on the finger with his thumb to stop the bleeding. "At a village called Felsig," continued the Eagle. "We arrived hours after dawn, when they had repulsed an attack of Quman raiders. We helped fight off the last of them, some of their foot soldiers who I swear to you are so unsightly that they could be born of no human mother, though they are nothing like the Eika. Our comrade Artur died of wounds taken there. We brought with us a lad, named Stephen, who fought bravely in that skirmish. He wishes to swear himself to the service of the Lions."

"And I, as senior among us, deemed him fit to serve," added Ingo.

"Do as you see fit," said Henry. "Such a brave fighter is welcome in my Lions."

"Whom will you nominate as margrave of Eastfall?"

asked Lady Brigida from the crowd. As niece of Duke Burchard and Duchess Ida, she might expect to be named.

Several voices spoke. "Princess Theophanu. Prince Ekkehard."

Henry raised a hand for silence. "I will think on it. It is not a decision to be made rashly. Duke Burchard." He turned to the old duke. "Can you send a force into the marchlands from Avaria?"

The duke coughed before he spoke, and his voice was weak. "I have no sons of an age to lead such an expedition," he said slowly and pointedly
—thus reminding all listeners that his second son Frederic had died fighting in the marchlands and his eldest son, Agius, just last spring, had sacrificed himself to save the king from the dreadful
guivre.
"It is my experience that the Quman riders must be met by cavalry. Foot soldiers cannot defeat them. You must reform the Dragons, Your Majesty."

"I have no sons of such an age either," said Henry harshly, not even looking toward poor Ekkehard who sat unnoticed in the corner behind Helmut Villam. "Not any more. Nor any soldiers as brave as those who died at Gent."

No one spoke or ventured an opinion, for Duke Burchard had thrown the meat among the dogs and everyone waited to see how ugly the fight would be for the spoils. But no one dared contradict the king, not even Burchard. "What other news do you bring for me, Eagle?" Henry demanded, turning his attention back to the young woman kneeling before him. "There has been enough of bad news. Pray you, tell me nothing more that I do not want to hear." She had been pale before. Now she blanched. "There is another piece of news," she began, almost stuttering. "I heard it when we halted at the Thurin Forest, where we had come searching for you. They had it there from Quedlinhame." Then she broke off. "Go on!" said the king impatiently. "N-news from Gent."