Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 3 (33 page)

With one pretext or another, she sent them away until only she, Hugh, her two eldest servingwomen, and Baldwin and Ivar remained. Her pleasant manner vanished, and she spoke in a hard voice. "Now you will tell me truly what this means." She took Hugh's chin in a hand and turned his head up to look at her. "I can scarcely believe the rumors I hear. Did you try to murder Princess Theophanu? After it was forbidden you at Zeitsenburg, have you soiled your hands again with bindings and workings, this pollution that you call sorcery?"

The light from the open window dappled Hugh's face, mottling it with shadow and light and the discoloring bruise. His expression, nakedly anguished, underwent some cataclysmic change as he stared up at his mother, who had bent the full force of her will upon him. A shudder shook through his body and he collapsed at her feet.

"I beg you, Mother," he whispered. "Forgive me. I have sinned."

She grunted, but that was all the reply she made, and she seemed to be expecting more.

"Ai, God," he prayed, "protect me from temptation." His hands hid his face. "I know now what came over me. It was a trap her father laid. As soon as I saw her, I burned for her despite my prayers day upon night offered up to Our Lady and Loifl, wnoni I ticpfl to prora m&,
bui
us
m& w m
trapped me, and even after he died, I could not escape from her."

She appeared unmoved by this recital. Ivar could not tell whether she believed it, but it seemed to satisfy her. "You are bored as abbot," sfre said finally, "and when a man of your inL

telligence becomes bored, then the Enemy sends his minions to tempt him. And indeed a mere abbacy is not the position due your consequence."

He looked up, strangely dry-eyed after his weeping confession. "What do you mean?"

"Be obedient to my wishes, Hugh, and you shall have more." She took hold of his ear, twisted it so that one more tweak would cause pain, and with the other hand brushed a finger affectionately over his moist lips and with that same finger touched her own lips, as if sipping off his sweetness. "I have never failed you, Hugh. I have given you everything you have asked me for."

"You have," he said softly. Hesitated, then fell silent.

She let go, stepped back, and let him stand. "You will not fail me. Do not see her again, and we can salvage your reputation."

He bowed his head humbly. "I am your obedient servant, my lady mother."

She looked at Baldwin, and Ivar knew with a nauseating wrench in his gut that this was also a message meant for her young husband: Those who lived within the circle of her power were not allowed to be disobedient.

Baldwin bent his head and abruptly launched into an impassioned prayer. Halfway through, he nudged Ivar with a foot, and Ivar, startled and now seeing Hugh kiss his mother on either cheek and retreat to the room where his bath awaited him, clasped his hands as well and joined the whispered prayer. "Our Mother, Who art in Heaven—

Seeing them so occupied, Judith left the chamber with her two servants at her heels and a slender whippet slinking behind. No doubt she had decided it was time to venture out onto the field of battle to save her son's reputation. And what of Liath?

Ai, Lord.
Liath.

"You're not concentrating," murmured Baldwin, who sounded insulted.

"What will become of her?" Ivar muttered.

This time, Baldwin understood him. "Do you desire her body, Ivar?" He rested a hand on Ivar's thigh. His sweet breath, like the breath of angels, brushed softly along his neck.

Ivar shivered convulsively. "God help me!" he prayed. It hurt too much to think of her. It was easier to drown himself in thoughts of God. He set to praying with a vengeance and, after a pause, Baldwin joined him.

t THE king did not summon them to the feast celebrating the return of Theophanu and the arrival of Duke Conrad. No royal steward saw fit to bring them platters of choice tidbits from the feast table. But soldiers brought offerings: bread, baked turnips, roast pork, and greens, such fare as milites could expect and would generously share with a captain they admired and respected and a disgraced Eagle toward whom they had cause to be grateful.

The twilight hours in summer ran long and leisurely and, as Sanglant braided her hair, Liath listened to the sweet singing of the clerics from the hall as they entertained the king with the hymn celebrating St. Casceil's Ascension, whose feast day they observed.

"The holy St. Casceil made a pilgrimage from her home in rain-drenched Alba to the dry desert shores of Sai's the Younger. There she dwelt in blessed solitude in the east with only a tame lion as companion, and there she knelt to pray day after day under the constant hammer blow of the desert sun while angels fanned her with their wings to cool her brow and body. Yet the heat so burned away her mortal substance, and her holy prayers so inflamed her soul with purity and truth that the wind made by the angels' wings, which is also the gentle breath of God, lifted her into the heavens. There she found her place among the righteous."

Braiding the hair he had earlier combed out gave Sanglant something to do with his hands, but he shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, seeming about to start talking but grunting softly instead. She had said everything she knew to say to

him. No decision had been reached: Would they ride out with Conrad, or not?

"My lord prince." Hathui stood at the door. Liath could smell the feast on her. The pungent scent of spices and sauces made Liath's mouth water.

He nodded, giving her permission to enter. "Do you bring a message from my father?"

"I come on my own, to speak with my old comrade, Liath, if you will."

"That is for her to choose, not me to choose for her!" he said as he tied off the braid and stepped away from Liath.

Liath started up when Hanna stepped into the room behind Hathui. The badge winking at the throat of her short summer cloak seemed like accusation. Hanna had given up Kinfolk, home, and all that was familiar to her to follow Liath, and yet Liath had turned aside from that jointly-sworn oath to bind her life with Sanglant's. Hanna had been crying, and Hathui looked solemn.

"This is—this is—my comrade—" Liath stuttered, not wanting to ignore Hanna as one would a simple servant, yet not knowing if a prince and a common Eagle could have any ground on which to meet as equals. Ai, Lady! Had she never truly thought of herself as a "common Eagle" but rather as an equal to the great princes in some intangible way she had inherited from Da's manner and education? Had she never truly treated Hanna as an equal, through those years when Hanna had generously offered friendship to a friendless, foreign-born girl?

She was ashamed.

"This is the Eagle who serves Sapientia," said Sanglant into the silence made by her stumbling. "She is called Hanna. Did you not know her in Heart's Rest?" He turned his gaze on Hanna. "You called my wife 'friend' there, I believe."

"My lord prince," said Hanna, kneeling abruptly. Hathui, with a tight smile, remained standing, but she inclined her head respectfully. Then Hanna saw the Eika dog, and she recoiled, jumping back to stand beside the table.

"Fear not," said Sanglant. "It doesn't have enough strength to harm you."

"Will it live?" asked Hathui softly.

"You may tell my father that I will nurse it as I am able, since it alone of all my possessions did not come to me through his power."

Her eyes glinted. "Shall I tell him so in those exact words, my lord prince? I would humbly advise against it, while the king remains in such a humor toward you as he is this day."

"Plainly spoken, Eagle. Say what you came to say to my wife. I will not interfere."

Hathui nodded and began. "You ought to have ridden on with Wolfhere, Liath. How can you have traveled with the king's progress for so many months and not seen what a pit of intrigue it is? How will you fare, here, with the king turned against you and the prince without support? What will you say when princes and nobles come to seek your favor, to gain the attention of the prince? There will always be supplicants at your door, and beggars and lepers and every kind of pauper and sick person, seeking healing, and noble ladies and lords who hope that your influence can give them audience with the king or his children— or who wish to sway the prince to their cause, whether it be just or no."

Like Conrad. Liath picked up the comb that lay on the table. Such a simple thing to be so finely made. With its bone surface incised with a pair of twined dragons and trimmed with ivory and pearls set into the handle at either end, it marked Sanglant as a great prince who need not untangle his hair with sticks or a plain wood comb but only with something fashioned by a master craftsman.

Hathui went on. "Father Hugh stands accused of sorcery by Princess Theophanu, but if you are called upon to testify before the king against him, how will it fare with you when Margrave Judith's anger is turned upon you? What if you are accused in your turn of sorcery? The king will never allow you to be recognized as Prince Sanglant's wife. All that I have named above you will suffer without even the legal standing of wife but only that of concubine. Do you think an Eagle's oath and freedom— beholden to no one but the king—a fair exchange for the bed of a prince?"

"Liath," whispered Hanna, "are you sure this is wise?"

"Of course it isn't wise!" she retorted.

Sanglant stood by the window staring outside. The wind stirred his hair, and the graying light made of his profile—the arch of the nose, the high cheekbones, the set of his beardless jaw—a proud mask. He made no move to interfere.

"Of course it isn't wise," Liath repeated bitterly. "It just
is.

I won't leave him. Oh, Hanna. You followed me from Heart's Rest, and now I've deserted you—" She grabbed Hanna's hands and Hanna snorted, still pale, and hugged her suddenly.

"As if I only took an Eagle's oaths to follow you! Maybe I wanted to see something more of the world. Maybe I wanted to escape young Johan."

Liath laughed unsteadily, more like a sob. Hanna's body felt familiar, and safe, caught against her. "Maybe you did. I'm sorry."

"I still think you're being a fool," whispered Hanna. "My mother would never have let any of her children marry because of...well…"

"What?"

Hanna spoke so softly that Liath, pressed against her, could barely hear her. "Lust alone. It might be said that you've gained advantage by attracting his interest, but you don't bring anything to him, that would be useful to him-—"

Sanglant laughed without turning away from the window, and Hanna blushed furiously. "More use than anyone here can know," he said as if addressing the bushes, "although I confess freely that I am not immune to the weaknesses of the flesh."

"But no one makes a marriage only for." Hanna stuttered to a halt. "My good mother always said that God made marriage as a useful tool, not as a pleasure bed."

"Ought we to be good, or useful?" asked Hathui sardonically.

"Ought we to be chattering on like the clerics?" retorted Sanglant. "We ought to be seeing that the crops are brought in, and that our borders are safe from bandits and raiders, and that our retainers are fed and their children healthy. And that we pray to God to spare us from the howling dogs who nip at our heels!"

Hanna started back from Liath as if she had been slapped. Hathui nodded curtly. "If you wish us to leave, my lord prince."

"Nay." He tossed his head impatiently and finally slewed round to look at them. "I did not mean it of you, but of the ladies and lords who flock round the court. I beg you, take no offense from my coarse way of speaking."

"You are not coarse, my lord, but blunt." Hathui grinned charmingly.

"Not as eloquent as my wife," he said, with a pride that startled Liath.

At this moment Liath had more pressing concerns. She tugged on Hanna's sleeve. "Come with me outside, Hanna, I beg you. I'm not accustomed to—with so many people about—

She was in disgrace, not in prison, and while she preferred to use the privies built up over the edge of the ramparts rather than the chamber pot, she dared not venture out alone for fear of meeting Hugh. Hanna seemed more cheerful out of the close chamber, or away from Sanglant. Servants wandering the grounds pointed and whispered.

"Do you think I'm a fool, Hanna?" The constant scrutiny made her uneasy. Her entrance onto the stage as Sanglant's declared wife had made her a beacon, visible to everyone.

"Yes. Better to serve him as an Eagle than as his mistress. As an Eagle you are bound to the king by oaths. As his mistress, he can put you aside whenever he tires of you, and then where will you go?"