In the Ruins (17 page)

“I pray that was the worst of it,” said Rosvita as she lowered her hand. “We must find water and food.”

“We must decide what to do next, Sister. It will take days for this army to recover, if it ever does. There should be twice as many people. Are they all still hiding, or have they fled?”

Or died
?

Rosvita glanced toward the collapsed tent in which she had sheltered. Fortunatus lifted up the heavy canvas as Ruoda and Gerwita crawled out. Gerwita, seeing the camp, burst into tears.

“We are faced with a difficult choice, Eagle. Do we flee on foot, knowing we may perish from hunger and thirst?” She gestured toward the hazy south and west. “I do not like the look of that. I would not turn my steps in that direction unless I had no other choice. But by traveling north and east we remain in Dalmiakan country, under the suzerainity of the Arethousan Empire. Yet in such circumstances, is it better to be a prisoner so we can be assured a bowl of gruel each day?”

“I don’t think there are any assurances any longer, Sister. I pray you, let me scout the camp while you get the rest of our party ready to move out. Perhaps there is a bit of water or food you can find in the wreckage.”

“Who will accompany you?”

“Alone, I may pass unnoticed in this chaos. I’ll see what I can see. See what has become of kings and queens and noble generals.”

Rosvita nodded grimly before kissing Hanna on either cheek. “Go carefully, Eagle. We will be ready when you return.”

Hanna had lain all night on top of her staff and her bow and quiver. She had a bruise down her chest and abdomen from their pressure into her flesh, but she hadn’t dared lose her weapons to the wind. She grabbed them now as Aurea crawled out from under the wagon and helped silent Petra emerge into the dusty air. She slung bow and quiver over her back and walked into the camp with her staff held firmly in her right hand, gaze flicking this way and that, but the people she saw crawling through the debris or standing with hands to their heads seemed too stunned to think of doing her harm.

A slender hound whimpered in the dirt; its hips were bloody, and though it kept trying to rise, it could not stand on its hind legs. A man scrabbled in the ruins of a wagon that had, somehow, completely overturned.

“Help me!” he said, to no one. “Help me!”

She came over and with her help he heaved up the heavy wagon, just enough so he could look underneath.

“No! No! No!” he cried in Arethousan, and he leaped
back, releasing his hold on the wagon. The abrupt increase in weight caught her off guard. She barely released the slats and jumped back herself, scraping her fingers, as the wagon’s bed crashed back onto the ground.

“Hey!” she called, but he ran off through the camp, still crying, “No! No!”

“Ai, God!” she swore, sucking on her fingers. She had picked up two splinters, one too deep to pry loose. “Oh, damn! Ouch!”

She wasn’t eager to see what lay under the wagon, so she walked on through the ruins of the camp. As she neared the central compound, she saw more signs of life, soldiers hurrying about their tasks, some of them leading horses. A line of wagons was being drawn into position. A handsome bay so spooked that it shied at every shift and movement was being calmed by a stolid groom. Even here, the royal tents lay in heaps and mounds, fallen into ridges and valleys over whatever pallets and tables and benches sat inside. A rack of spears had toppled to spill all over. She glanced around to see if anyone was looking, bent, and snatched up one of the spears. No one stopped her. A gathering of some hundreds of people milled and swarmed in a clear spot beyond the collapsed tents. She edged forward into the crowd and wove and sidestepped her way far enough in that she could see what was going on.

Nothing good: a storm of nobles arguing. That didn’t bode well. She used her hip to nudge her way past a weary soldier and her height to see over the heads of the shorter, stockier Arethousans. No one seemed to notice her in particular; the ash had turned her white-blonde hair as grimy as that of the rest.

“But you promised me!” Princess Sapientia was saying. She had weathered the night better than many. Her face was clean and she didn’t have dark circles under her eyes.

King Geza had not fared so well. He was pacing, hands clenched, and his gaze touched his wife’s figure only in glances. He was looking for something; Hanna wasn’t sure what.

“I have five adult sons. Any one of them may believe this disaster is a sign from God for him to usurp my place.”

“They would not have done so before, after you left?”

“No. My officials were in place. Who knows what has become of them? This was no natural storm. The priests will speak in many tongues, all arguing among themselves. The Arethousans will scold the Dariyans. The old women will creep from their huts and start scouting for a white stallion. I must go home and see to my kingdom lest it fall to pieces.”

“This storm may not have touched Ungria! It’s so far away.”

Geza stopped for long enough to look at Sapientia with disgust. “Only a fool would not recognize this storm for what it is. As soon as my soldiers are ready, we march.”

“But you promised me—!” She choked on the words. She could not get them out of her throat. “I married you!”

“Come with me, then. Once Ungria is safe—”

“What of my kingdom?” she exclaimed.

“By the blessed Name of God, woman! All that lies south of here is blasted, so the scouts say. To the west, toward Aosta—who can see for the smoke and fire? Do not be blind. I will not ride to Wendar. I turn my back on Aosta, just as God has.”

“You promised me!”

Hanna wanted to shake her, but King Geza was faster, and less patient than Prince Bayan to be sure.

“Then I divorce you, Sapientia. Go on your way as you please.”

“
Divorce
me?”

“I divorce you. Must I repeat myself? Ah! Captain! What news?”

“We’re ready, Your Majesty.”

“Then we go.” He gestured. The captain shouted a command in Ungrian, and half the men milling around scattered so swiftly that Hanna felt spun in circles although she didn’t move.

“But what about me?” cried Sapientia plaintively.

“I divorce you. It is done. Feh!” He strode off, talking in a low voice to his captain. He didn’t even look back as the handsome bay was led up for him to ride.

Sapientia stood gasping, her hands opening and closing although she had nothing to grasp onto.

Hanna whistled under her breath and began to retreat out from the chuckling, staring crowd of Arethousans, softly, slowly, taking care not to draw attention to herself, just a quiet hound slinking off to do its business, nothing worth noticing. Off to the right she heard the shouts of men and the jangling of harness as a large troop moved out. Lord protect them! Geza had abandoned his bride and his allies without a moment’s hesitation. She knew she had to get back to Sister Rosvita quickly. She knew what the answer was, now, to their predicament.

Move fast, and get out of the way.

“There!”

She spun, but it was too late. Sergeant Bysantius strode up with a dozen guards at his heels.

“Eagle! Come with us.”

They had already surrounded her. She saw, around them and beyond them, the steady tidal flow of troops and servants toward a distant goal. Bysantius grabbed her elbow and towed her along with him.

“They’re wanting you,” he added.

“What about my companions?”

“They’re not wanting your companions.”

Lady Eudokia was seated on a stool under a torn awning fixed in place by four men holding up poles tied to each corner of blue silk. The fabric echoed the clear heavens they could no longer see. Her young nephew clung to her robes, face hidden in her lap. She sipped from a cup while Lord Alexandros spoke to a trio of captains, all of them pale with ash and looking as dour as any farmer who has just seen his field of rye marred by the black rot. Beyond, wagons rumbled into place in a line of march. A rank of mounted soldiers trotted past, heading for the front of the line, which was obscured by haze. The Arethousan army was moving out.

“Exalted Lady.” Sergeant Bysantius dropped to both knees, bowed, and rose. He shoved Hanna forward. “The Eagle, as you requested.”

She tripped over her feet and barely had time to right
herself before the general whistled, listening to the report of one of his captains.

“Geza’s gone already? Hsst! We’ll leave a small rear guard behind to bring any who scattered in the night. Bring the horses!” He saw Hanna, but nodded toward the sergeant. “That was fast.”

“I found her wandering, Your Excellency.”

“She’s too valuable to lose, as we agreed before. You’ll be in charge of her, Bysantius. It will be your head if she escapes.” He turned away and walked to his horse.

It was strange how easily she understood Arethousan now, as if the scent of camphor tossed into the flame to let the lady and the general see what she saw had at the same time opened her mind and let it steal words out of theirs.

“I pray you, Your Excellency,” she cried, starting forward. “Exalted Lady. I pray you, my companions … I know where they are. If you’ll just let me go and make sure they’re with one of the wagons—”

He paused, turning back to frown at her. “You misunderstand us. We do not need your companions anymore. They are of no use to us because our circumstances have changed so greatly.”

“Surely you don’t mean to abandon them!”

He shrugged and walked away.

“Sergeant! Exalted Lady!”

Lady Eudokia sipped at her cup and ignored Hanna’s cries.

“No offense,” murmured Bysantius, gripped her arm, “but you’d do better to come quietly.”

“I can’t abandon them! They’ll die!”

“It’s out of your hands, Eagle. You are the prisoner of Lord Alexandros now.”

She ripped her arm out of his grasp and bolted, but two of the guards tackled her. She went down hard, but kept fighting until they pinned all her limbs. They stripped her of her weapons, tied her hands and feet with rope, and threw her in the back of a wagon as it lurched past in the train of Lord Alexandros. Scraped, bloody, and bruised, she wept with fury, hating herself for her helplessness.

HANNA did not return. They waited for hours at the edge of camp, hoping not to be noticed, and indeed it was as if they had become invisible. No one paid them the least mind. There was no telling what hour of the day it was, or what service they ought to sing, because the clouds never lifted and the light kept its smoky, sullen glow, scarcely enough to read by.

At intervals they watched vague shapes that seemed to be troops moving in the distance, perhaps a line of march receding toward the northeast, but the haze obscured most movement beyond an arrow’s shot. Their eyes stung and their noses ran from the constant irritation of falling ash and blowing grit. Yet the patter of ash fall eased by the time Fortunatus sighed and turned to Rosvita.

“What if she is not coming back, Sister? Should one of us go look for her?”

“We will not split up. What happens to one, happens to all.”

“We have waited here long enough,” said Mother Obligatia. They had set her litter across the wagon and shielded her with a canvas awning so that the ancient nun could ease up on her elbows and survey the scene. “Night will come and find us standing like dumb beasts in the field.”

Rosvita smiled, feeling how stern her heart had become. Smiles meant something different here in the aftermath; they betokened not happiness or laughter but determination. “You are right. We must make a decision, or others will choose for us.”

They had taken turns circling out from their position, venturing only to that point where they could still see back to the group as they searched in the wreckage for food and water. They had found five corpses, put one dreadfully injured dog out of its misery, and managed otherwise to collect a small store of provisions and, most importantly, a score of sacks and leather bottles filled variously with wine, sweetened vinegar, and a nasty-tasting liquid that
stank of aniseed but was something they might be able to drink in dire need.

The wagon under which Aurea had sheltered was too heavy to drag, but Hilaria discovered a handcart in decent shape, needing only a small repair to the axle because it had tipped over and spilled its load of bundled herbs.

“Some peddler following the army,” said Aurea as she helped the girls gather up what could be salvaged: lavender, mostly, sage, tufts of bay and basil, and feverwort. “A bag of chestnuts! Why would anyone abandon such treasures?”

“Perhaps the peddler is dead,” said Ruoda sharply. Gerwita began to snivel.

“We’ll stay together,” said Rosvita, seeing that tempers would run high with exhaustion and fear driving them. “Take turns hauling the cart.”

They set off with Rosvita in the lead beside Diocletia. Behind them, Fortunatus and Teuda carried Mother Obligatia’s litter. Heriburg followed with the precious books slung over her back. Ruoda and Gerwita shepherded Petra, while Jerome and Jehan took turns pushing the cart. Tireless Hilaria paced up and down the line to spell those who needed a rest, and Aurea set herself as their rear guard. They had no particular destination but made their way through rippling lakes of torn and crumpled canvas, past discarded shoes and forgotten harness, an iron kettle, a red cap, and a broken leather strap affixed to a bronze Circle of Unity in the Arethousan style with crossed bars quartering the interior. The armies had left an eerie silence in their wake but for the wind grumbling through scraps of canvas and a dog snuffling at an overturned wagon, trying to dig its way in to something caught underneath.

But for the wind and the dog, nothing and no one moved in the haze. Those folk the armies had not taken with them had, evidently, fled the scene, fearing worse to come. It was difficult to imagine what could be worse than what they had suffered during the night.

“Look!” murmured Diocletia. “There’s someone—there!”

A figure huddled in a clearing notable for the lack of debris on all sides except a single expanse of splotched canvas that had once been a grand tent and a scattering of spears tumbled on the ground. The creature crouched with its head buried in its dirty riding skirts and its arms wrapped around its knees, like a child.