Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 3 (14 page)

"The Eagle?" asked Hanna, curious now.

"Nay, King Arnulf. Died many a year ago and the son come onto the throne for the elder girl couldn't bear children and it isn't any use to have an heir if she can't bear children in her turn, is it now?" He glanced toward one of the adults, a tired-looking woman who had an angry lift to her mouth. A number of small children helped—or hindered—the labor, but none of them ran to her. "Ach, well, they say Henry has children of his own and a fine son who got him the throne, who's captain of the Dragons, they say."

"That would be Prince Sanglant." They all looked at her so expectantly that she felt obliged to give them a quick tale of the fall of Gent and its retaking.

"Ach, now!" exclaimed the old man when she had finished. "That's a story!" He gestured to his youngest son, and the lad brought a mug of sweetened vinegar so tart despite the honeyed flavor that Hanna could not keep from puckering her mouth while her hosts laughed good-naturedly.

"Now, then," said the old beekeeper, gesturing toward the son. "Can you do me a favor, Eagle? If you'd take the lad with

you, he could see the king and walk back home after. He's got a yearning to see the king, and how can I say 'nay' to him, who was the last gift my poor dead wife gave me?"

The lad's name was Arnulf, no doubt in memory of the dead king; he had light hair and a pleasant if undistinguished face except for a pair of stark blue eyes that held such a wealth of wordless pleading in them that Hanna did not have the heart to say no. Arnulf proved to be no trouble, although he asked a hundred questions as he walked alongside the wagons, driven by two skeptical wagoneers in the service of the king's stewards who had grown so accustomed to the presence of the king on their daily travels that they were amused by the lad's excitement.

As they passed a stand of woods, a pack of riders swept by to the right. Hanna recognized them because of the dogs. She called out: "Look there. That is Prince Sanglant." The lad gaped.

"They say he's run mad," said the first wagoneer, to which the second retorted, "He's never harmed any but the king's enemies. You won't find a better captain than Prince Sanglant. I hear such stories. . . ."

Hanna caught sight of Hathui riding down the track, and hailed her.

"I see you have what you came for," said Hathui, reining in beside Hanna. "Wish me good fortune in rny own hunt. I'm to bring him back in time for the feasting tonight." She lifted a chin to indicate the riders who had just vanished into the copse.

"What's wrong with him? Many things are whispered, that he's more dog than man now."

Hathui shaded a hand to get a better look at the trees. "Chained among the Eika for a year?" She shrugged. "At least those prisoners the Quman take are made slaves and given work to do. It's a miracle he's alive at all." Her gaze had a sharp sympathy. "Don't forget how he fought outside Gent when he was finally released."

Hanna smiled. "Nay, I've not become Sapientia's advocate against him. But do you think it's true, what's rumored, that Henry has it in mind to name Sanglant as his heir instead of his legitimate daughter?"

Hathui's frown was all the answer she would give as she nodded at Hanna and rode away.

Hanna left the wagons and wagoneers by the pit-houses that served the kitchens and let Arnulf follow her to the great open yard that fronted chapel, hall, and the royal residence. There, as luck would have it, king and court had gathered outside to cheer on bouts of wrestling. Hanna made her way through the crowd to the side of Princess Sapientia. Catching the princess' eye, Hanna knelt before her. With a graceless exhalation of surprise, the lad plopped down beside her.

"Your Highness." Sapientia was in a good mood, all light and charm made bright by that very energy that so often made her look foolish. "Here is Arnulf, the beekeeper's son. He has escorted us from his father's farmstead with honey and candle-wax.

Sapientia smiled on the young man, called over the steward who oversaw her treasury, and handed young Arnulf two silver sceattas. "For your dowry," she said. She hailed her father.

Henry came attended by Villam and Judith. He was laughing, not immoderately but with pure good humor, infectious and yet dignified. But when Sapientia indicated the young man who stared in awe at this apparition, the king's posture changed.

He sobered; he turned the full force of his gaze on the young man and, with a firm hand, touched him on the head. "My blessing on you and your kin," he said, then removed his hand. That quickly, he returned to his jest with his companions, and they strolled away while Margrave Judith pointed out the young man-at-arms who was next to challenge the champion.

Hanna led the quaking Arnulf away. "What are these?" he whispered, holding out the sceattas.

"They're coins. You can exchange them for goods in the marketplace down in the lower enclosure, although you'd best not do so today, for they'll know you're not used to bargaining and they'll cheat you."

"My dowry," he murmured. He blinked so many times she thought for a moment he was about to faint. He turned to her. "Will
you
marry me?" he demanded.

Hanna choked down a laugh and instead smiled kindly. "Go on, lad," she said, feeling immeasurably older although she guessed they were of an age. "Take the coins and your blessing home to your kinfolk." She led him to the gate and watched him walk away, still unsteady on his feet.

On her way back to Sapientia, she saw Ivar standing in the doorway to the residence where Margrave Judith had taken up quarters. He saw her, beckoned, and ducked inside. She followed • him over the threshold. "Ivar?"

"Hush!" He drew her into a small storeroom where servants' pallets lined one wall. The closed shutters made the room dim and stuffy. He embraced her. "Oh, Hanna! I thought I would never see you again! I'm not allowed to speak to women."

She kissed him on either cheek, the kinswoman's greeting. "I'm not just any woman!" she said unsteadily. "I nursed at the same breast. Surely we can speak together without fear of punishment."

"Nay," he whispered, opening the door a crack to see out into the corridor, then returning to her. "Rosvita wanted to see me, but it was forbidden, though she's a cleric, and my sister. But she would only have scolded me anyway, so I'm glad I didn't see her!"

Hanna sighed. He was as passionately thoughtless as ever. "Well, you've certainly filled out through the shoulders, Ivar. You look more like your father than ever. But are you well? Why aren't you at Quedlinhame?"

He still shook his head the same way, red curls all unruly, face gone stubborn. He always jumped before he measured the ground. "Is it true? That the king means Lady Tallia to marry? They mustn't despoil her! She must remain the pure vessel of God's truth." He wrenched away from her again, clapping his hands to his forehead in an attitude of despair and frustration. "They'll do to her what they did to Baldwin! They care nothing for vows sworn honestly to the church!"

"Hush, Ivar. Hush, now." She drew his hands down from his head and pressed a palm against his forehead, but he wasn't hot. His voice had the fever in it, not his skin. "Why aren't you at Quedlinhame? Did your father send for you?"

He made a strange gesture, left index finger drawn down his chest over his breastbone. "If you'd seen—

"Seen
what?"

"The miracle of the rose. The marks of flaying on her palms. You'd believe in the sacrifice and redemption. You'd know the truth which has been concealed."

Nervous, she pulled away from him and bumped up against the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ivar. Is this some madness that's gotten into you?"

"No madness." He groped for her hand, found it, and tugged her against the wall. Her boot wrinkled the edge of a neatly-folded wool blanket, uncovering a posy of pressed flowers beneath, a love token. "The Translatus is a lie, Hanna. The blessed Daisan didn't pray for seven days, as they wrote in the Holy Verses. He wasn't lifted bodily into the Chamber of Light. It's all a lie."

"You're scaring me. Isn't that a heresy?" Surely the minions of the Enemy had burrowed inside him and now spoke through his lips. She tried to edge away, but his grip was strong.

"So has the church taught falsely for years. The blessed Daisan was flayed alive by the order of the Empress Thaisannia. His heart was cut out of him, but his heart's blood bloomed on the Earth as a red rose. He suffered, and he died. But he lived again and ascended to the Chamber of Light and through his suffering cleansed us of our sin."

"Ivar!" Perhaps the curtness of her voice shocked him into silence. "Let me go!"

He dropped her hand. "You'll do as Liath did. Abandon me. Only Lady Tallia wasn't afraid to walk where the rest of us were imprisoned. Only
she
brought us hope."

"Lady Tallia is spreading these lies?"

"It's the truth! Hanna—"

"Nay, Ivar. I won't speak of such things with you. Now hush and listen to me, and please answer me this time, I beg you. Why aren't you at Quedlinhame?"

"I'm being taken to the monastery founded in the memory of St. Walaricus the Martyr. In Eastfall."

"That's a fair long way. Did you ask to be sent there?"

"Nay. They separated the four of us—that is, me, and Baldwin, and Ermanrich, and Sigrid—because we listened to Lady Tallia's preaching. Because we saw the miracle of the rose, and they don't want anyone to know. That's why they cast Lady Tallia out of the convent."

"Oh, Ivar." Despite the fever that had overtaken him, she could only see him as the overeager boy she had grown up with. "You must pray to God to bring peace to your spirit."

"How can I have peace?" Suddenly he began to cry. His voice got hoarse. "Have you seen Liath? Is she here? Why haven't I seen her?"

"Ivar!" She felt obliged to scold him despite what he'd said about Rosvita. "Listen to the words of a sister, for I can call myself that. Liath isn't meant for you. She rides as an Eagle now."

"She abandoned me at Quedlinhame! I said I would marry her, I said we would ride away together —

"After you'd sworn vows as a novice?"

"Against my will! She said she'd marry me, but then she just rode away when the king left!"

"That isn't fair! She told me of your meeting. God Above! What was she to do? You'd already sworn vows. You had no prospects, no support — and she has no kinfolk —

"She said she loved someone else, another man," said Ivar stubbornly. "I think she abandoned me to be with
him.
I think she still loves Hugh."

"She never loved Hugh! You know what he did to her!"

"Then what man did she mean?"

She knew then, at once, whom Liath had meant, and a sick foreboding filled her heart. "That doesn't matter," she said hastily. "She's an Eagle. And you're traveling east. Ai, God, Ivar! I might never see you again."

He gripped her elbows. "Can't you help me escape?" Letting her go, he answered himself. "But I can't abandoned Baldwin. He needs me. Ai, Lady. If only Liath had married me, if only we had run away, then none of this would have happened."

They heard voices at the door, and she hid under a cot as several of Judith's stewards came in. "Ah, there he is! Lord Baldwin is asking for you, boy. Go attend him now."

Ivar had no choice but to leave. They rummaged around on other errands that at length took them into other chambers, and she slipped out, unseen. But Ivar's words troubled her into the evening, when at last king and court gathered for the wedding feast. The bridal couple were led forward wearing their best clothes. A cleric read out loud the details of the dower, what each party would bring to the marriage. Lord Alain spoke his consent in a clear, if unsteady, voice, but when it came Tallia's turn, King Henry spoke for her.
Was
she being forced into the marriage against her will, as Ivar claimed? Yet who would quarrel with the regnant's decision? The children of the nobility married to give advantage to their families; they had no say in the

matter. Tallia was Henry's to dispose of, now that he had defeated her parents in battle.

The local biscop had been brought in from the nearby town of Fuldas to speak a blessing over the young couple, who knelt before her to receive it. Lord Alain looked nervous and flushed and agitated. Lady Tallia looked so pale and thin that Hanna wondered if she would faint. But she did not. With hands clasped tightly before her, she merely kept her head bowed and looked at no one or no thing, not even her bridegroom.

The long summer twilight stretched before them as they crowded into the hall. Fresh rushes had been strewn over the floor. Servants scurried in and out with trays of steaming meat or pitchers of wine and mead. Slender greyhounds slunk away under tables, waiting for scraps. Sapientia allowed Hanna to stand behind her chair and occasionally offered her morsels from her platter, a marked sign of favor which Father Hugh noted with a surprised glance and then ignored as he directed Sapientia's attention to the poet who came forward to sing.