Crown Of Stars - Child Of Flame Part 59

"Does it? That's not what puzzles me. King Henry must have guessed that whatever man married Sapientia would be likely to rule as her equal, not her consort. Bayan's a good man, but he isn't Wendish and he's scarcely a Daisanite. How can Henry think the Wendish n.o.bles, much less a duke as proud as Conrad, would accept a foreign king reigning over them?"

Behind them, Blessing shrieked. She was crouching on the edge of the stream, half lost in the rushes that crowded the sh.o.r.e, tossing stones into the water while Anna, Mattq, and Lord Thiemo hovered next to her to make sure she didn't fall in.

Zacharias smiled derisively." Do not ask me, Brother. I am only a common-born frater."

"So you are," agreed Heribert amiably." But much cleaner than you were when we first met you. As outside, so inside. I still value your insight."

"I have nothing insightful to say on this subject. Of the king's progress and its intrigues I remain ignorant, as befits my station."

A shout rose from the a.s.sembled armies. Blessing leaped up, tottered unbalanced on the edge of the stream, and was caught by Thiemo, who escorted her back to the pavilion. She climbed up to stand on the seat of her chair.

"Here, now, Your Highness," Heribert said reprovingly as she clung to his shoulders, trying to get a good look out along the meadow." Remember your dignity."

"Look!" Lord Thiemo's words were echoed by those n.o.bles cl.u.s.tered under the shade of the pavilion." Here they come." He pointed toward the two riders approaching the pavilion through the gra.s.s, one from the north and one from the south. Both horses were being led, giving their approach a dignified pace suitable to the gravity of the occasion.

"Why Wolfhere?" Zacharias demanded, feeling the familiar gnaw of envy at his gut as he watched the old Eagle leading Prince Sanglant's horse.

Heribert's answering smile was bittersweet." This isn't easy for him, you know. Best to remind everyone from the outset how far outside the king's approval he stands."

i It took Zacharias a moment to realize that Heribert was not speaking of Wolfhere.

Bayan and Sanglant were both outfitted in their armor, although they weren't wearing their helmets. Sanglant wore his sword slung over his back, in the manner of a traveler, while Bayan's sword was belted at his hip. Bayan wore a tabard of snow-white linen with a two-headed eagle embroidered in red, the sigil of Ungria, and dagged ends in alternating red and white that flowed past his knees. Sanglant wore a plain gold tabard, without any identifying sigil, his only ornament the magnificent dragon helm, which he carried under one arm. Sapientia moved forward with a trio of ladies, one holding a tray set with two silver cups and a second carrying a pitcher. The third, a cleric, stood slightly to one side.

"She doesn't look pregnant," muttered Lord Thiemo.

"Hush, my lord," said Anna sharply, the way one would to a wayward brother." A woman may be waxing without being full. It's said she hasn't burned holy rags for three months. If a woman isn't bleeding, then she must be pregnant. That's what they always said in Gent."

"I've seen cases where women weren't bleeding but nevertheless were not-" began Zacharias, but Thiemo cut him off.

"Nay, Anna is right. I was wrong to speak so." He looked at her, and she at him; an odd alliance, when you thought of it: the young lordling and the nut-brown common girl, almost a woman. Zacharias could not shake the feeling that there was something more to it than their devotion to Blessing. Even Matto, standing behind them, had been drawn in although he had at first been jealous of Thiemo. They formed a tight circle that ringed the little girl.

The two combatants came to a halt about ten paces apart. Sanglant took the reins from Wolfhere and handed the Eagle his helm. Bayan exchanged helm for reins with his Ungrian groom. Then the riders moved around so they sat side by side as though poised for a race. They did not look at each other.

The cleric raised her arms." Let the trial begin."

Sapientia poured ale into the two cups. Three n.o.ble witnesses from each army examined them and proclaimed themselves satisfied that they held an equal amount. Carefully, the cups were handed up, one to Bayan and one to Sanglant.

All this time, Blessing clung to Heribert's shoulders and did not speak one word, only stared, wide-eyed.

Those on foot stepped back, to leave the field clear for the duelists. Captain Thiadbold of the Lions stepped forward and raised a horn to his lips.

He blew.

The two armies erupted in cheers and whistles as the two riders urged their horses forward, each man holding the reins in one hand and the full cup in the other. Neck and neck, they raced across the meadow, reached the woodland fringe, turned their horses neatly and rode back at a canter. They pa.s.sed the cleric side by side, neck and neck, and pulled up. The crowd fell silent as they handed their cups to the cleric and she compared the level of ale remaining.

She raised a cup." Prince Bayan, the winner!"

Shouting and laughter drowned out everything else as Bayan, laughing, demanded a full cup of ale. Sanglant, too, took a freshly poured cup; he downed it in one gulp and asked for a second. Although he had a smile on his face, his expression was grim.

Blessing began to cry." He lost," she said, and then, in a lower and more furious voice, "he lost on purpose."

"Nay, sweetling," said Heribert sternly, "he didn't lose. He did what he had to do for the kingdom, and don't ever think otherwise. Defeating the Quman matters more than anything right now."

She was not to be consoled, but she kept her sorrow quiet, as her father had ordered her earlier that day, and buried her head in Heribert's shoulder. Such a big girl, she was getting to be. So quick to understand the twists and turns of intrigue that plagued the n.o.bly born.

Zacharias glanced back at Thiemo and Anna, fallen to whispering as the celebration continued on the field beyond and the armies began to disperse back to their tents. He knew they weren't lovers. Anna was not really old enough, in truth; she couldn't be more than thirteen or fourteen. Anyway, Prince Sanglant would never have allowed it-a little piece of hypocrisy that rather cheered Zacharias. It was good to know that even the most admirable of men might succ.u.mb to weakness now and again. It made Zacharias feel better, since his own weaknesses seemed so bold and starkly drawn in contrast. He had so very many of them.

Blessing wiped her face on Heribert's sleeve and wriggled out of his grasp, jumping down to the ground. Heribert was frowning, fingering a leather cord he had recently begun to wear around his neck.

"You don't like it," said Zacharias softly, seeing the other man's gaze on the mob out in the field, surrounding the two contestants. Sanglant had downed his fourth cup of ale.

"It's what the captain of the Dragons would have done," replied Heribert, "but he isn't captain of the King's Dragons any longer."

"Nay, Brother, you know yourself that the greatest threat isn't even the Quman. Or so you've told me."

"True enough." Heribert saw Wolfhere cutting his way through the crowd toward them." Sister Anne is the greatest threat. So be it." He moved forward to meet Wolfhere.

Heribert and Wolfhere had gotten thick as thieves lately, plotting and scheming with Sanglant while, as always, Zacharias was left out in the cold, as ignorant as a beggar's starving brat. Envy made him dizzy as he watched the two men-elegant cleric and elderly commoner-meet and exchange words. Did they not trust him? Did Wolfhere speak against him? Was Zacharias somehow deemed less loyal than the turncoat Eagle? Little use in continuing his feud with Wolfhere, but he could not help himself; that was yet another of his weaknesses, that he held grudges as tightly as a drowning man clutches a spar and would not let them go even when they no longer did him any good. He wasn't even as good a man as any one of that ragtag group which had remained behind in the ruined fortress that day months ago outside Walburg. Not one of them had betrayed Zacharias' shameful behavior to the prince. Not one had mentioned it, even though they had all seen him bolt and run, ready to abandon the child they were fighting for.

No wonder no one trusted him.

In his nightmares, and they were plentiful, he still saw those two Quman soldiers pulling around and making ready to shoot him. Sometimes he wished that they had.

Behind, Blessing grabbed.hold of Anna's hand and led her back to the stream's edge while she chattered on in her piercing voice." Tell me again about the phoenix!"

Wolfhere and Heribert bent heads together, speaking intently as Heribert's frown deepened. Zacharias crept closer, but their voices were so low that he couldn't make out more than phrases and words, nothing to make sense of. After a bit, the prince himself strode up, none the worse for his heavy drinking until you saw the way his eyes tightened with anger despite the pleasant expression masking his face. He took hold of Wolfhere by the shoulder.

"Tell me truly, Wolfhere, is this Eagle's sight illusion or real?"

"Alas, my lord prince, it has never lied to me in all my days."

"Then your sight is more truthful than your tongue, Eagle. Anne made skopos with my father's blessing!" He glanced toward Bayan. The Ungrian prince, as jovial as ever, was accepting the congratulations of various n.o.bles from among Sapientia's train. No one begrudged him his victory; he had proved himself worthy, even if he was a foreigner." Pray to G.o.d, Heribert," he looked around and saw Zacharias, "and you, too, Zacharias, no matter what you believe now. Pray to G.o.d to grant me patience to endure what I must for the sake of the kingdom, and the wits to learn intrigue." He laughed harshly, drawing his little retinue away from the crowd, seeking his daughter where she splashed merrily in the stream, pretending to be a bird rising from the water." Bloodheart taught me well, although he never meant to do me any favors. If his dogs couldn't tear out my throat in Gent, then these dogs surely will not do so now. Ai, G.o.d, to think that my father offered me the kingdom and I turned it down!"

"Your Highness!" said Wolfhere, surprised." What do you mean?"

"No matter." Sanglant lengthened his stride, moving out through the gra.s.s away from the rest of them as he called to his daughter. He wore a leather cord around his neck and now, restless, he pulled it out to cup his hand over a round leaf of silver engraved with various signs." My father would not have named Anne as skopos and fallen victim to her lies if / had been at his side, advising him. She would never have gained such influence if it had been me who had ridden to Aosta with Adelheid as my queen."

He stopped dead as his daughter crowed in triumph, having escaped Thiemo's efforts to catch her, and turned on Wolfhere." Or you could be telling Anne everything that you've learned while riding with me. You could be hiding from me what she tells you."

"So I could, Your Highness. And I could kill your daughter while she sleeps. Lord Thiemo is a good boy, but not my match."

"The old wolf; is wise and subtle. Tell me, Wolfhere, how does one learn intrigue?"

"What sort of intrigue do you wish to learn?"

"The intrigue of the king's court. It's said that you were my grandfather Arnulf's favorite. You, a common-born man. Folk must have hated you because he listened to you above all others."

"So they did. And your father most of all."

"Nay, truly? I thought he hated you because you tried to drown me."

"Well, that didn't help. But Henry hated me long before that. He envied me my place at King Arnulf's side. Young men are p.r.o.ne to jealousies, my lord prince, and strange fancies. Yet Arnulf always knew Henry's worth. There was never any doubt in his mind which of his children had been born with the luck of the king."

"What of Henry's children?" Sanglant glanced back toward the crowd of n.o.bles gathered to celebrate Bayan's victory. Sapientia stood beside her husband, bright and happy, handsome and s.h.i.+ning, yet beside the Ungrian prince she looked as light as a feather, ready to float away at the least puff of wind. She hadn't any weight.

"Ah." Wolfhere smiled, baring his teeth as a wolf might when it snarls." What o/Henry's children? Don't forget that he has another child now, the infant Mathilda, born to Adelheid. A strong, healthy girl, though she is still a suckling babe."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That Henry's children by Sophia aren't the only ones who can inherit his throne, Your Highness. He has two others. The newborn Mathilda. And you."

Sanglant glared at Wolfhere until the old Eagle fidgeted, looking curiously nervous in the face of the prince's obvious anger and grief." Find my wife, Eagle. Why has your Eagle's sight failed you? Has she hidden herself from you? Where has she gone?"

Wolfhere had no answer for him.

"I pray you, my lord prince," said Heribert quietly, "it is like poison to the skin to handle it too much. Nor should you display it openly."

Sanglant started, glanced at the silver medallion in his hand, and slipped it back under his tunic.

Only then, with the three men standing close together, did Zacharias realized that all three-prince, cleric, and Eagle-wore similar amulets concealed under their clothing, a protection against sorcery.

HOW long ago it seemed that she had had the leisure to sit in the scriptorium and work uninterrupted on her History of the Wendish People! It had been so long that the blessed Queen Matilda, of glorious memory, to whom the work was dedicated, had died without ever seeing a finished work. These days, Rosvita wondered if there ever would be a finished work.

As she moved through the sunny scriptorium, she noted the scribes busy at their work, clerics from the king's schola copying out capitularies, deeds, and charters as well as letters pertaining to the king's business here and in the north. So many rounded shoulders, so many busy hands. Now and again clerics looked up from their work to nod at her or ask for advice. More by accident than design, she was now in charge of Henry's schola. Queen Adelheid had her own schola, made up of clerics from Aosta and overseen by Hugh, who had been a.s.signed as the Holy Mother's official emissary to the Queen.

"Sister Rosvita, ought we to be writing this cartulary to establish the county of Ivria? Shouldn't that properly be done in the Queen's schola?"

"Nay, Brother Eudes, we mean to establish King Henry's right and obligation to rule in these lands so that none will protest if the skopos agrees to crown him as Emperor. Therefore, any grant must come from Henry and Adelheid together." She walked on, pausing where light streamed in to paint gold over the parquet floor.

"Sister, we have heard another report of heresy, this time from Biscop Odila at Mainni. How are we to answer?"

"Patience, Sister Elsebet. The skopos has already indicated that she will hold a council on this matter next year. Write to Biscop Odila that she must confine those who will not recant so that they cannot corrupt the innocent, but by no means to act rashly. Avoid at all costs any public trial, until after the council, because it is in the nature of people to make martyrs where they can. We must beware making martyrs of these heretics. Can you render that in your own words, Sister?"

Elsebet had been with a schola for ten years, just the kind of cleric who did better if given a little independence to work. She smiled sharply." Of course, Sister Rosvita. I am glad that the charge of the king's schola has fallen to you. In truth, the skopos' clerics and presbyters rule with too heavy a hand for my liking. I daresay the custom is different here in Aosta than it is in the north."

Farther on, Ruoda and Heriburg sat side by side, one white-scarfed head and one pale blue one, intent on their copying.

"How comes the work?" Rosvita asked quietly as she paused beside them.

They had, open on the lectern above them, the Vita of St. Rade-gundis. Heriburg was continuing the copy started by Sister Ama-bilia, and Ruoda had begun a second copy, which Rosvita hoped to send to Korvei for safekeeping.

"Well enough." Ruoda had blotted a word and now sc.r.a.ped the offending ink away with her writing knife.

Heriburg was ruling a blank sheet of parchment. She did not look away from her work as she answered, her voice so low that Rosvita had to bend nearer in order to hear." We dared not speak to you this morning, Sister, because of the many visitors you had in your chambers. We have more gossip than you could possibly want- "Never underestimate how much gossip can be useful to the king, Heriburg. Go on."

Ruoda's smile flashed but she looked up only to read the next line from the Vita, above her, and to dip her quill in the inkpot.

"A Sister Venia came to the palace in the train of the Holy Mother, Anne, when she first appeared here last summer. An elderly woman with white hair and a pleasant, round face, well spoken, well mannered, well educated, and n.o.bly born. She was heard to say only that she came out of the n.o.ble lineage of Karrone. Soon after she arrived a presbyter was heard to claim that she was his cousin, a granddaughter of the Karronish princely family who had been made a biscop and then detained for black sorcery, but he died soon after of apoplexy and could not therefore substantiate his claim. No one liked him anyway, so we hear. But in any case, Sister Venia made no enemies while she was here."

"Was here?"

Heriburg studied the newly-ruled parchment, frowning as she measured the s.p.a.ce and the amount she could fit into it and where she would break the words. She had left s.p.a.ce for an ill.u.s.tration, but that work would go to Brother Jehan.

"Now she is missing, Sister. She was last seen in those desperate days after the death of the Holy Mother dementia, may her memory be blessed, and before the arrival of Queen Adelheid and King Henry."

"A strange thing, too," murmured Ruoda, pausing to trim her quill, "because until we reminded people of the woman, it was as if everyone had forgotten her."

"I hope you did not draw attention to yourselves."

Heriburg glanced up, her face as bland as pudding but her gaze as sharp as pins." Have you ever noticed the similarity in Dariyan of the words 'forgiveness' and 'poison'? 'Venia' and 'veneni.' Many in the palace still wonder about Ironhead's death, and about the death of the Holy Mother dementia, may G.o.d have mercy on her. It is only a small slip of the tongue to introduce another name, and clerics are in truth the worst of gossips, given encouragement."

"Have you told Brother Fortunatus this news? He's still waiting to meet with the lay sister from St. Ekatarina's."

"We informed him last night, Sister. He hoped to meet with the lay sister just before Lauds."

"I thank you, Sisters. You did well." Ruoda grinned, as if expecting the praise, but Heriburg dropped her gaze humbly. A gem, and a jewel, as Mother Otta often said of her best novices, worthy to serve in the regnant's crown." Now back to your work. It will not do for everyone to see you gossiping here with me."

Farther on stood the stool and sloping writing desk set aside for her personal use. With a sigh of relief and hope, she settled down, trimmed four quills, and studied the words she had written out that morning, copying from her wax tablet: the final days of Arnulf the Younger.

At that time, having taken both Wendar and Varre fully under his control, he was called by his army Lord, King, and Protector of all. His fame spread to all lands, and many n.o.bles from other realms came to visit him, hoping to find favor in his sight, for truly it could be said of him that he denied nothing to his friends and granted no mercy to his enemies. Having at last subjugated the eastern tribes and having thrown the Eika raiders back into the sea, he announced his intention to make a pilgrimage to the holy city of Darre for the sake of prayer.

Yet within a week of this announcement, his infirmities so disabled him that he was forced to retire to his bed.

He called together the leading n.o.bles of the realm and in their presence designated his son Henry as regnant. To his other children he granted honors and lands of great worth as well as a share of the regnant's treasure, but Henry was made ruler over his sisters and brothers and named king of Wendar and Varre and the marchlands.

After his will had been made legal and all in attendance had acclaimed Henry as king, so pa.s.sed away that great lord, who had by his efforts united Wendar and Varre and, being first among equals and matchless in all those virtues governing mind and body, stood as the greatest of all regnants reigning in all the lands. He reigned for eighteen years and lived to see the age of four and fifty. He was buried in Quedlinhame before the Lady's Hearth. That day, many wept and all mourned.

She wiped away a tear. The memory of that bitter day, which she had witnessed as a young woman, still had the power to move her. She rubbed the parchment with pumice before taking up knife and quill to begin writing.

Here ends the First Book of the Deeds of the Great Princes.

She had to sc.r.a.pe away the last letter and write it again, but at last, with a quiet chuckle, she sat back and surveyed the final sen tence. Hard to believe that this portion was, at long last, concluded. Yet truly, there would be no rest for the wicked: she still had to write the second part, her chronicle of Henry's reign so far. Sometimes it seemed the work would never end. There was always more to tell than s.p.a.ce to tell it.

She dabbed her quill in the ink pot.

Here begins the Second Book- "Sister Rosvita." Fortunatus came up behind her. He bent as if to examine the parchment, keeping his voice low." Paloma did not meet me this morning. She has been patient, but I swear to you that yesterday when I met her, she was frightened. I convinced her to remain one more day...but now I fear-" He broke off as a man wearing the red cloak of a presbyter walked into^the scriptorium, marked Rosvita, and headed along the aisles toward her.

"We'll speak later, Brother."

The vault of ceiling made the scriptorium an airy place, filled with light. Watching Brother Petrus approach, Rosvita had leisure to examine the painted frieze at the far end of the room: martyrs and saints receiving their crowns of glory from the angels.

"Sister Rosvita." He inclined his head. She hid a smile, regarding him somberly. She had the king's confidence, the respect of the schola, and the ear of the queen. A presbyter like Petrus, however n.o.bly born, did not wield as much influence as she did, and he knew it." I have been sent by Lord Hugh to request your presence in the skopos' chambers."

Rosvita sighed, setting down her knife and handing the still wet quill to Fortunatus. He could only nod, frustrated and helpless, as she left him in charge of her history.

They crossed out of the regnant's palace and into the gilded corridors of the skopos' palace, dense with silence as a mere handful of presbyters, clerics, and servants hurried along the halls on their errands. No wall here was untouched; murals, friezes, paintings, or tapestries covered every wall. Columns were inlaid with tiny tiles or painted bright colors. Sculptures filled the courtyards and lined the colonnaded arcades down which they walked, in blessed shadow, while the sun beat down on empty graveled pathways beyond. This time of year, even as afternoon drifted toward twilight, no one walked under the sun because of the heat.

It was as quiet as if a spell lay over the palace. Pausing once at a break in the wall where she could see out over the city, she marked how the river dazzled as it wound through the streets, crossed in four places by bridges. A stuporous haze hung over Darre. Had even the buildings fallen asleep?