PROLOGUE (73 page)

"I would say one thing more, if you will, Sister."

"You have my permission."

"What benefit to me to lie about this?"

"Your own vows, to protect your sister Eagle."

"True-spoken. I admit freely to being a woman who holds to her vows. Ask yourself this: What benefit to Father Hugh to lie about the book?"

"That would depend on what is in the book. Do you know?"

"I do not. I cannot read, and Liath never showed the book to anyone, except perhaps to Hanna."

Hanna. Ivar had nursed at the same breast as Hanna, making him and the young woman milk siblings. To some extent, then, Hanna was kin to Rosvita even if the young Eagle was a common-born woman and Rosvita born out of an old and noble lineage.

Hanna might know. But to speak with the Eagle, Hanna, she would have to pry the young woman out of Princess Sapientia's tight grasp, for Sapientia held all her creatures close against her as if she feared that, given too much room to run, they would dash for freedom
—or for someone more worthy.

But there
was
no one else
—no one else more worthy to become Henry's heir. Sapientia
had
steadied in recent months. Perhaps Father Hugh's counsel was guiding her toward the "wisdom" she was named for. She might yet grow into a queen.

Thoughtful, Rosvita returned to the council in time to hear Henry announce that which they all knew was preordained:

"We will ride on in the morning, battle ready. Should we be set upon as we march, we will take up at once what positions we can along the road. Duchess Liutgard will command the vanguard, which will take up the left flank. Her Highness Princess Sapientia will command that portion of the ranks which will form the right flank. I will ride in the center, commanding the center, and Margrave Villam will command the rear guard, with the reserve."

So was it decided. There came from the assembled nobles a taut hiss of breath, a gathering of resolve. Soon, and at long last, they would face the Eika.

Lavastine sent a contingent of infantry northeast, ahead of the rest of his army. Commanded by Sergeant Fell and reinforced by a levy of light cavalry from Autun, they guarded four wagons which contained certain pieces from a siege engine as well as sections of a huge chain forged by blacksmiths at Lavas Holding in the spring.

"The Eagle as well," the count had said, "so that she may report back to me the success of your efforts."

They marched hard for three days, seeing nothing except the desolation of farming lands gone wild, then set up camp on the lee of a bluff overlooking the western channel of the Veser River. This was the channel all ship traffic used since the eastern channel
—split off from the western by a spur of rocky land, was too shallow, spreading out into marsh before it reached the sea.

Artisans from the city of Autun quickly set to work felling trees and constructing two engines, called ballistae by the ancient Dariyans. They also began work on a small catapult that used a stout young tree, stripped of leaves, branches, and bark, as its arm.

The work proceeded quickly. By the time Liath and the other mounted soldiers had checked out the area, finding nothing but a few burned villages, swathes of heavily grazed fields with no cattle in evidence, and a fallen keep built by some ancient race that had guarded the river in another age, the engines were taking form.

All the next day the engineers worked on their machines. It was so hot that they stripped down to breechclouts as they worked, men and women alike sweating under the sun. Meanwhile Sergeant Fell and a few of his men who had fought the Eika along the north coast of Varre scouted the river as the tide ebbed. Near midday, at low tide, the river ran shallow near the mouth, glistening tidal flats scored by deeper channels coursing seaward.

Late that night, under the light of the gibbous moon, the work parties set out as the tide ebbed again. On the last lip of solid land, they stripped and began the long trudge across exposed sand and rocks, towing logs sharpened at one end. The day's heat had spilled over into night's air, making it so heavy and warm that Liath was grateful for the pull of cool water against her skin as they headed into the river's main bed. Pebbles rolled smooth by their passage downriver slipped under her feet. She smelled the salt of the sea. The waters streamed past, brown with silt, and sang in their murmuring chorus of the long journey from their original home in the mountains far to the south. A branch grazed her thigh and swirled on.

On the flats, where the water flowed no more than knee-deep at low tide, it was an easy matter to drive in beams for piles, though the current was strong enough that a fair bit of wrestling was required to get the angle right. Like the stakes set leaning forward to stop a charge of heavy cavalry, this line of piles was to be angled and fastened so that the bow of a ship might only drive it deeper. With the piles protruding half an arm's length above the water at the low, so Sergeant Fell said, then an Eika ship could not pass even at high tide.

"Here, comrade!" called a woman to her. As she plunged forward, the water rose along her thighs and she shivered as the cold current dragged at her, coursing around her hips and tugging her seaward as she waded farther out. A man, seeing her struggle against the pull of river, linked arms with her and together they got out to a raft anchored against the current by a section of the heavy chain. She helped five laborers as they wrestled a log as big around as her waist into the deep water and turned it up. Others hauled out rocks from the shore and used these to weight the log on the seaward side while a burly man with a blacksmith's thick arms hammered the log into place. Still more rocks were brought until Liath, standing on this foundation, could touch the top of the log, the water only up around her waist, submerged rocks slick under her bare feet.

From this vantage, the moon's light cast a glamour over the scene; its light washed the waters with a silver gleam that winked ceaselessly as the river rushed forward to the sea. Overhead, many of the stars had been bleached to nothing by the moon's waxing light, but at a glance she could identify the three jewels of the summer sky shining high above her, diamond, sapphire, and citrine. The River of Heaven, unlike the earthly river that coursed round her now, was only a faint mist. On a moonless night it would have stretched like a shimmering beacon right across the zenith, dropping down into the coils of the Serpent in the southern sky. The Penitent and the Eagle, its wings unfolded, rose to the east; in the west, the Dragon set. She shut her eyes. The current dragged against her like the pull of grief.

"That'll hold," said Sergeant Fell, startling her back to earth. He had waded out to test their handiwork. "Go on, then. There's more to set in, all the way across. The tide's well turned, so we've only a few hours before it'll be too high to do the job Count Lavastine's set us to do. We can't sink piles into the deep channels, so these here'll have to hold strong for the weight they must bear."

At last, with the tide rising around them and the river's mouth a swirl of dangerous currents, they finished the line across the entire mouth of the river, all but the deepest channels whose current was too strong and too deep for driving in such stakes. Then all of them gathered like so many hairless seals, soaking wet from their labors and by now shivering from the cold, and with their full complement and many grunts and groans, dragged the chain across the river and fastened it to the piles.

With dawn the work was done and the engines put in place, well hidden along the bluff by palisades of bush, log, and rock but within easy range of the channel. Exhausted, Liath toweled herself dry with her tunic, dressed, and curled up in the sun behind the ballistae, head pillowed on her hands. She fell asleep at once.

And was woken even sooner by a hand shaking her shoulder. She staggered to her feet, clutching for her sword, but Sergeant Fell touched his fingers to his lips for silence and waved her forward.

"Stand ready," he said to her before going on to the next man, his voice as low as if he feared the Eika might hear him on the summer breeze. "We'll see how the trap works."

She stood full up and squinted into a setting sun. Opposite, the moon rose over the eastern bluffs.

Liath readied her horse, then slung on her quiver and got down on her belly to sidle up the bluff and watch the Eika ship approach. It was running with the tide but against the wind. A dozen oars on each side stroked at a leisurely pace toward the now-submerged posts. Sunlight ran golden over the water like streaks of fire.

"Easy, lads," said Fell from below, speaking to the engineers at the ballistae. "Be patient. Wait. Wait. She's in the sweet spot and . . . Ho!" Fell's call to fire rang out like a smith's hammer.

The air reverberated with the ballista's release as a great iron-tipped javelin shot through the air. All froze. The ship's bow ceased moving forward as it hit the chain, and its stern swung wide, yawing under the pull of the current. The javelin hit the water and vanished; at once Fell made adjustments as the second ballista's shot splashed and subsided, this time closer to the helpless ship. The first crew ratchetted back their machine for a second shot. This javelin struck midship, passing through an oarsman and disappearing into the ship. The sound of cracking wood and Eika shouts reached the shore as the fourth javelin hit the ship at an angle, glancing off the wooden planks. She heard the catapult set loose at last, and she gasped. It seemed the sun itself had loosed a burning brand, an arrow cast gleaming from the fiery heights fletched with billowing smoke . . . but it was no arrow from the sun but rather a ball of burning pitch launched from the catapult. Falling on the ship, it splashed flame on Eika oarsmen and ship timbers alike.

Fell guided the adjustment of the second ballista as the crew re-loaded and the ship foundered. Another javelin followed by another ball of burning pitch struck the ship. Sail, folded on the deck, caught fire. The Eika abandoned ship. Leaping into the waters, they swam toward the shore, floundering in the tide. Sergeant Fell broke away from the crews above and slid down the bluff to the soldiers waiting below. Liath ran down to her horse, mounted, and followed a dozen riders down to the shore. There she found Fell waiting with six spearmen and five archers.

The first Eika righted himself in hip-deep water as an archer took careful aim and, at no more than a stone's toss, put an arrow through the Eika's eye as the savage blinked into the blinding western sun. A trio of dogs blundered up out of the river, growling and yelping, and at once the spearmen set upon them, jabbing and thrusting until the creatures howled and thrashed and, finally, lay still.

"To the left!" shouted a rider. Liath cut out away from the others and found two Eika emerging from the water just downriver. She quickly nocked an arrow and shot as she rode, striking one Eika through the heart. The second charged after her with ax poised to chop her down. She kicked her horse into a gallop as the frustrated Eika howled and struggled to keep up. Within moments the Eika, hampered by the pull of the water, slowed to look for other prey. Liath turned in the saddle and nocked another arrow, easing her horse to a walk. It was an easy shot. She took it.

Behind her, a dozen corpses littered the waterline, water streaming past and around them as though around flotsam wedged into the sand. Sergeant Fell chased down what appeared to be the last living Eika
—this one unarmed. Ax raised, Fell whooped as he bore down on the confused Eika. The sight was almost humorous. Fell's men shouted encouragement, but no one stepped in to help. Tough-skinned the Eika might be; Fell's ax cleaved its skull and it, too, dropped to the ground with a hideous scream.

Across the river, under the light of the setting sun, Liath watched as a few Eika stumbled up onto the eastern shore only to be met by the patrol left there last night. As for the rest, and their dogs...they burned with the ship or drowned.

Around her and above she heard the cheers of artisans, smiths, and soldiers alike. The ebb tide slammed the Eika ship repeatedly against chain and piles until it splintered and began to break up, flames spitting and failing as water swamped the deck. Below, on the shore, a half dozen of Fell's soldiers stripped again and dragged the Eika bodies to the seaward side of the barricade where they rolled them into the water. The dead sank like stone.

DUCHESS Liutgard led the vanguard at a grueling pace and by the first evening out of Steleshame the train had fallen behind, its wagons bogged down where the road twisted through a muddy swale. Men from Villain's reserve hurried forward to help them dig out, and while Rosvita waited on a patch of higher and drier ground she saw a familiar Eagle ride past.

"I beg you, Eagle!" she called. "What news?"

The young woman reined her horse aside. "The vanguard has set camp for the night, my lady. The king has decreed that the army must not get separated lest the Eika attack us in pieces." She glanced nervously back the way she had come. "I'm riding a message for Princess Sapientia, my lady."