Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 3 (53 page)

The king rose from his throne. "Go on." "She wished to rid herself of Sapientia and of the child that was the mark of my affection for the princess. At Augensburg, she spelled the inhabitants of the palace into a sleep and although I struggled with her, although I tried desperately to stop her, I was still in this matter a slave to her power over me. I could not stop her. She brought fire. Ah, terrible! Terrible!" He faltered and the entire hall stirred and rustled like the distant murmur of flame. With a palpable effort, he went on. "It was enough that we saved the princess and most of those in the palace, although I regret bitterly the lives that were lost. Yet I can never stop thinking of this: what if the entire court had been there that day? What if the king himself had been in residence in that terrible hour? What then?"

An exhalation hit the crowd, many people shocked and too stunned even to whisper to their neighbors. Henry walked right out into the middle of the hall and stood looking down at Hugh, his expression sharp and furious. "Why did you not testify before me at Augensburg? Why was this kept a secret?"

Hugh buried his face in his hands. "I could not," he cried. "I could not! You can't understand the power she held over me!" Henry's mouth twisted. He lifted a clenched hand, held it at his heart, and stared unseeing at Hugh's golden head. But he made no reply, only turned to look at Biscop Constance, as if expecting her to pass judgment.

Constance shook her head in the way of a woman who doesn't like what she is hearing. "But why would Princess Theophanu and in particular Sister Rosvita accuse you, Father Hugh, rather than the Eagle, Liathano? Sister Rosvita is both wise and cunning. Why does she speak against you? There is also the matter of this Sister Anne from the convent of St. Valeria who vanished without a trace."

Something sparked in Hugh's expression, a lightning flash of anger as swiftly gone. "Sister Anne of St. Valeria Convent vanished when Liath returned. Who can say if she found the good sister a threat and disposed of her? I cannot, but I fear the worst." "Sister Anne had the panther brooch in her possession, and it vanished with her," retorted Constance. "Surely it would be in your interest, Father Hugh, to make sure such a ligatura disappeared, so its existence would not condemn you."

"That is true," he agreed. "I would never dispute your wisdom, Your Grace. But others had access to my personal belongings. I am not the only person who could have woven a ligatura from a brooch whose very shape would have betrayed its owner, since the panther is well known as the sigil of the marchlands of Austra. Isn't it also true that a message was sent to St. Valeria Convent? Yet Mother Rothgard has sent no representative to testify against me. There would have been time for such a person to reach Autun had Mother Rothgard deemed her testimony against me necessary." He turned from Constance to Henry, and he looked as innocent as an angel. "As for Sister Rosvita, I do not know what her relationship was to the sorceress, or how she might have been influenced by her. If only I could have protected her—" His voice caught on the word and then, with difficulty, he went on. "But I was helpless, God forgive me."

Helpless! The humble word stuck in Ivar's throat like a stone. He knew with sudden sick certainty why Margrave Judith looked so cool and calm. He knew as if he had seen it through the veil of time, through the forbidden arts of the sortelegi who seek knowledge of future events, how the rest of the council would unfold. Sister Rosvita always traveled with the king. Her voice carried weight. Why had she been sent south to Aosta with Theophanu?

It was all so clear now. Hugh would win again.

"He's lying!" Ivar thrust his way forward until he stumbled out where everyone could see him. "I was there in Heart's Rest! He abused her beyond what is rightful. He trapped her, stole her books so she couldn't make the debt price and only because he wanted her for himself.
He
wanted
her,
not the other way around. Everyone in Heart's Rest knew he coveted her since the day he first saw her."

Hugh winced with apparent pain. "The books! Ai, yes, I took them from her in a vain attempt to save her soul." He turned to the biscops. "Isn't it the duty of those of us who serve God to take all such tokens of forbidden sorcery into our hands, to send them to the skopos? But Liath was so young. How was I to know that she was already so thoroughly corrupted by the Enemy—?" Here he broke off. He reeled slightly and such a sick look of despair crossed his face that for an instant Ivar felt pity. "Ai, God," murmured Hugh. "And that she should have taken Prince Sanglant."

Ivar saw the king's face in that moment when Hugh spoke the fateful words. An instant only, but a cold fear swept through him and out of an old memory borne forward on that wind he recalled a line from the
Gold of the Hevelli.

"Her doom was laid down like the paving stones of a road before her, where her feet were meant to walk."

"Why else would Sanglant have ridden away from everything I offered him?" murmured Henry.

"But it isn't true!" cried Ivar.

"He loved her, too, poor boy," said Hugh, looking up at Ivar with such sincere sympathy on his face that Ivar faltered. "He, also, was one she snared."

Wasn't it true that Liath had only seemed to love him? That she hadn't honored the pact they made at Quedlinhame? She had said that the man she loved was dead and that she would never love another, and yet had turned around and ridden off with the prince.

But even if he hated Liath for abandoning him, he hated Hugh more. He hated Liath because he still loved her. Hugh had never offered him anything but scorn and insult. "I called her a sister," he said hoarsely now. "And I would have married her if I could have, but not because she cast a spell over me."

"What is your name, my son?" asked Constance, coming forward.

He shook under the weight of so many eyes. Judith glared at him. Baldwin had reappeared and made frantic fluttering hand signs, as if to send a message, but he was too frightened to read the gestured words. "I—I am Ivar, son of Count Harl and Lady Herlinda of the North Mark."

"A novice poisoned by heresy whom I'm delivering to the monastery of St. Walaricus in the marchlands," added Judith in a loud voice.

Constance lifted a hand for silence. She had cool features and stunningly bright eyes. Her mouth had a displeased curve to it, as at a sour taste. "You were not among those brought forward to testify. What do you know of this matter in Heart's Rest?"

"I remember when Liath and her father came to Heart's Rest. I befriended her, and so did Hanna, my milk sister. She's an Eagle now." Sapientia's Eagle, flown with the princess to the east—and thereby another witness who could not testify.

"Is it true, as Father Hugh claims, that her father was known as a sorcerer? That people came to him for diverse spells and certain potions and amulets?"

"He never did any harm! No one had a bad word to say of him!"

Then cursed himself, because they all looked at each other as if to say: "So, there is all the proof we need." Even kind Brother Hatto sighed and sat back in his chair, the way a man reclines after he's made a hard decision and wishes to rest a moment before he takes action on it.

"Her father was a sorcerer, one who had turned his back on the church," said Constance softly. She frowned. "It may even be true he meant no harm."

"Bernard was a good man, if misguided," said Hugh abruptly. "He loved his daughter too well. He let her know too much too young. Ai, God, I fear she did not begin this way but that the promise of power was too much for her. The first step on such a journey may be made with the best of intentions." He concealed his face with a hand. His shoulders shuddered.

The king spun, hand still clenched, and strode back to his throne. There he sat.

"Sisters and Brothers," said Constance to the assembled council, "have you any other questions you wish to ask, or is it time now to confer on our judgment?"

They had no further questions.

"We must pray," said Constance. "Clear the hall. Our judgment will come when God make the truth manifest to us."

The speed with which two of Judith's burliest soldiers caught Ivar by the arms and led him out took his breath away. They hustled him out of the hall and through the biscop's palace to the suite where the margrave had taken up residence.

She came in with her attendants, her husband, and her disgraced son at her heels, and the first thing she did was to hit Ivar so hard across the face that he reeled back, but only into the hard grasp of his escorts. At a sign from her, they beat him, and when he dropped to the floor whimpering and crying and begging for mercy, they kicked him in the stomach and the shoulders and trod on his hands until he could only bleat like a wounded animal.

After a while they stopped.

"How dare you speak out of turn, you who have eaten at my table and traveled in my train?" She towered over him in a cold rage, drew her boot back to kick.

"Mother." Hugh knelt beside Ivar, shielding him with his own body. "The poor boy couldn't help himself. I saw the way she wrapped her spells around him—

"I'll hear no more from you! Go and pray with just humility, which is all you're fit for!"

He didn't move. "He's been beaten enough. He won't forget this lesson."

"Hush! I'm sick to death of your mewling, Hugh. It was done well, and I have no doubt the girl bewitched you in an unseemly way, but don't think that I haven't kept clear in my mind the incident in Zeitsenburg all this time. But you remain my son, and I will protect you as long as you obey me. I have my doubts as to how God would judge the matter, but I know perfectly well that the king hates the girl for stealing his son and in any case he knows how much he needs my support. The council knows well enough which way the wind is blowing."

"They'll condemn Liath to please the king?" gasped Ivar.

"Put him in the stables!" she said with disgust.

They hauled him away, and since he could barely walk, they dragged him along without caring that his shins bruised on steps and his head banged into corners. He was dizzy, dazed, and weeping when they dumped him onto a pile of straw and slammed shut a stall door. There he lay, stunned and aching, for the longest time.

He got very thirsty after a while. His face had swollen, and it was hard to see, or maybe that was twilight sinking onto the earth. His heart ached as much as his body. Why had Liath deserted him?

But he must not think of her. He must remember Tallia's preaching, for she was the only one who had stayed. The others could not see the truth because they were blind, their sight had clouded just as he could barely see because of his injuries. That was the life granted to humankind, to be battered and bruised and left to rot in the stink hole of earth. Only in the sacrifice and redemption could salvation be found.

A light swam into his vision, bobbed there. He heard whispers, a giggle, the shuffling of feet down to the other end of the stables, and painfully he got to his knees just as the stall door was unfastened and flung open.

Was it an angel, gleaming in the soft light of a candle?

"Ivar!" It was only Baldwin, sagging forward to embrace him, but even that embrace hurt and he yelped in pain. "Dear God," swore Baldwin. He soothed Ivar's face and hands with a cool cloth. "Come, come, my heart. We haven't much time. We bought the whore for the night, but I don't think the sentry will stay away from his duty for too long even for that." He got an arm around Ivar's waist and grunted, tugging Ivar to his feet. The movement made Ivar sneeze, and the jolt made him hurt everywhere. His left knee throbbed. His right hand felt broken.

"Come on," said Baldwin impatiently.

"Where are we going?" He could barely get the words out of his throat. Pain had lodged in his belly and wouldn't go away.

"Hush." Baldwin brushed his hair with his lips. "You just don't understand how much I love you, Ivar."

Outside, the night wind hit hard and made him shiver convulsively. After a while, stumbling over stones and with Baldwin murmuring an explanation that Ivar couldn't quite register through the throbbing pain in his head, they came to an alleyway. At once he felt more than saw the presence of others.

"Your Highness," said Baldwin.

"Ah, you got him. Good!"

Ivar sucked in a breath in surprise and then coughed violently, and that made his ribs hurt so badly he almost vomited. But he dropped to his knees. He had recognized the voice. "Prince Ekkehard!" His voice sounded like the rasp of a file on a dull blade.

"Milo and Udo will smuggle you and Baldwin out of Autun tonight and hide you along the road," said the young prince briskly. "Tomorrow, when my entourage reaches your hiding place, we'll smuggle you into one of the wagons and take you with us."