PROLOGUE (44 page)

They fell in line with the others. Matthias used his stave to nudge back a straying goat. "The dogs kill the cows, and the Eika would have to spend more time guarding the cows against the dogs than the cows against
—well—a raid like this. Out here with the livestock we don't see many dogs."

"What's wrong with your leg?" she asked.

But he only shook his head and would not answer.

It took them the rest of the day to walk back to Steleshame. Matthias' limp got progressively worse, and finally one of the soldiers took pity on him and let him ride behind him.

Mistress Gisela fell into ecstasies, seeing what a great number of livestock had been rescued from the Eika. At once, she ordered her servants to prepare a thanksgiving feast.

Anna led Matthias out to a hovel in the courtyard where she, Helvidius, and Helen made their home, such as it was. Stuck cheek by jowl with a number of other hovels constructed after the attack, the tiny hut had at least the benefit of lying within the newly reconstructed palisade wall. No one slept outside the palisade now; of course, Steleshame was no longer as crowded as it had once been.

Master Helvidius sent Anna to sit with Helen while he tended to Matthias' leg, grumbling all the while about Mistress Gisela and her airs of nobility: "Feasting when there isn't enough to feed the weakest! The biscop of Gent would have fed the poor, bless her memory!"

Matthias was feverish, too restless to sleep, too nauseated to eat much more than a sip of ale and a crust of bread, but at last he fell asleep on their single pallet, little Helen curled up at his chest. Anna heaped all three blankets over him and resigned herself to shivering out the night.

"Nay," said Helvidius. "You'll come with me into the hall. No use your getting sick when you have both of them to tend for. And there'll be roasted cow, I'll wager. You can grab a bone before the dogs get to it." Thus coaxed, Anna reluctantly left Matthias and the little girl.

But later that night as Anna sat half-dozing by the hearth, after Lord Wichman had returned from his scouting expedition, after he and his men had feasted and the fortunate servants been allowed to wolf down their scraps, after Helvidius had serenaded the young lord endlessly with his exploits, a sudden cold undercurrent chilled the girl like a wordless cry for help.

Quite drunk now, soldiers sang a bawdy tune as Mistress Gisela retired to the shadowy end of the hall. Anna heard angry words hushed as though under a blanket. But at last the householder returned bearing the prize which Lord Wichman had so far not obtained.

Gisela's niece, as pretty a woman as Anna had ever seen, was led forward, decked out in whatever fine garb had survived unscathed from the autumn attack on the holding. The young woman's expression wore no emotion at all; she seemed, like the Eika, more statue than living being. But Lord Wichman smiled broadly and toasted her beauty with one more cup of wine. Then he took her hand and she went, unresisting, to his curtained bed while his soldiers cheered and laughed.

A servant went outside with a bucket of slops for the pigs. As the door opened, the night's wind cast a sudden cold glamour over the hall like the breath of the winter sky, turning the ground to frost.

Then the door shut and, as with a collective breath, the soldiers began to drink and sing again.

Much later, when even the most stalwart fellow snored and Helvidius slept with his head pillowed on his arm, she heard the sound of a woman weeping softly.

was a symptom of the remarkable persistence of lust-fulness in humankind that no matter how cold and dreary the weather outside and how cramped the conditions inside, folk did find ways to carry on more
—or less—discreet affairs. Certain of Rosvita's younger clerics had the habit, both annoying and amusing, of keeping track of who was sleeping with whom.

—and Villam has a new concubine, which I grant you is nothing unusual, but I swear to you I saw her sharing her favors, such as they are, with Lord Amalfred." Brother Fortunatus was one of the many sons of the robust and prolific Countess of Hesbaye as well as by far the worst gossip among the clerics.

"Perhaps when Lord Amalfred returns to Salia, he will take the concubine with him and spare poor Villam the pain of her duplicity," said Sister Amabilia.

"Ah, well, Villam no doubt has his eye on more succulent prey. I swear I saw him eyeing the young Eagle."

"Our friend the hawk?" asked quiet Sister Odila, astonished.

"Of course not! The dark one. But you know how Eagles are and the code they swear to. Eagles don't indulge themselves in such a way, except among their own number. But I have observed some new developments in other places
— hands meeting and petting in the bowl at table, if you take my meaning.

Sister Amabilia sighed profoundly, and Brother Fortunatus looked downcast that his hint provoked no greater reaction than this. "Even so," Amabilia said in a weary voice, "it isn't half as interesting now as when Prince Sanglant was alive."

"I beg you," said Rosvita sternly. "Do not speak disrespectfully of the dead."

Brother Constantine looked up from his muller where he ground vermilion to form the base of red ink. "I never saw Prince Sanglant. He was gone before I arrived here."

"Ai, well," said Sister Amabilia. "Court was much livelier when Prince Sanglant graced it."

"I will thank you," said Rosvita, setting down her quill pen, "not to mention his name within the king's hearing." She tested the point of the pen on her finger, sighed, and picked up her penknife to recut the tip of the quill.

"But he was only a fighter," said Brother Constantine. "Surely he could not have cut such a fine figure, so elegant and charming in manners, so affable and benevolent, so even-tempered, so
learned,
as Father Hugh."

Amabilia sniffed. "Father Hugh ought to be tending to his monastery rather than playing the courtier. But I have been with the king's progress for eight years, Constantine
—"

"As you are ever reminding me," muttered the young cleric.

"
—and I recall Frater Hugh when he was at the schola here. A bird's feathers may change in color, but it's the same duck inside!"

"And you will be at your task another eight years, Sister," Rosvita said gently, "if you do not set yourself to work."

For all of Amabilia's tart character, she had a remarkably sweet smile, which she used now to good effect. She had also the finest hand Rosvita had ever seen, master of the
Litteras Gallica
and
Tulay-tilah
as well as knowing the antique
Scripta Actuaria.
For this reason, though she was not of the highest nobility, she had become a fixture in the king's chapel; she also taught writing to the most promising students in the king's schola. "I beg your pardon, Sister Rosvita. You are right to reproach me for my unseemly attachment to the amusements the world affords."

"To the amusements
people
afford," said Constantine reprovingly. He really was too serious given how very young he was, not above fifteen.

"God gave us eyes so that we could observe and a tongue with which to speak our minds!"

"And humility teaches us to cast our eyes to the ground and to keep silence!"

"My children," said Rosvita without raising her voice. "Attend to your tasks."

Constantine flushed and bent back to the muller, now mixing white of egg and a bit of gum arabic into the vermilion powder. Amabilia did not look chastened; for all that she had a wicked eye for human foibles, she was at peace with herself. She sharpened her quill and returned to her work: making a copy of the precious
Vita of Saint Radegundis
for the library at Quedlinhame. The other clerics, some listening, some not, worked on in pleasant silence. Rosvita bent back to her
History.

She read over what she had most recently accomplished: the crowning of the first Henry, Duke of Saony, as King of Wendar and of his wife, Lucienna, Count of Attomar, as queen; his speech before the nobles and their acclamation of his rule; certain small rebellions and battles as well as armed struggle with the Varren queen, Gisela. With red ink she wrote in the initial line to a new chapter, then changed to black.

"To Henry and his most renowned wife Lucienna were born these children, the first called Arnulf, beloved by all the world, the second, brave and industrious, called Otto, while the third, Kunigunde, Mother of Quedlinhame Convent, was a woman of singular wisdom and authority. Henry had also another daughter, named Haduidis, who married Immed, Margrave of East/all. Lucienna had another child, a son named Reginbern. This son rode as captain of the Dragons. He fought against the Eika who were at the time laying waste to Saony, and so ruthlessly waged war against them that they were driven away and feared even to sail within sight of the Wendish coast for many years.

"When all these wars ceased, there came into the east country of Saony an army of Quman horsemen, burning cities and towns and monasteries. They worked such slaughter that it is better to pass over this destruction in silence rather than set it all down again in words. However, it happened that one of the Quman princes was captured. Margrave Immed brought him to the king, but he was so esteemed by his kin that the Quman offered to King Henry as much gold and silver as ten wagons could carry for the prince's ransom. But the king despised their gold and demanded peace, which they gave him in return for the prisoner and certain other gifts."

From outside she heard the return of the hunters and the clamor of horses, hounds, and voices in the forecourt. She rose, needing an excuse to stretch her back, and crossed to the door. In the yard beyond, King Henry laughed at a comment by his trusted companion, Margrave Helmut Villam, while Father Hugh dismounted and turned to help Princess Sapientia dismount. Behind, courtiers crowded around; farther back, servants carried in a number of deer, several brace of partridge, an auroch, and a boar.

Sapientia hurried away toward the necessarium and, as smoothly as a silk robe slips down over a body, Hugh turned to assist Princess Theophanu in dismounting
— though, as good a horseman as she was and with a servant already prepared to take her foot in his hands, she scarcely needed such aid. But Hugh offered kindnesses to every person, regardless of rank. Did Theophanu's hand linger longer in his than was necessary? Was that blush in her cheeks from the wind, or his touch? Turning away from the door, moving back to make room for the king's entrance, Rosvita wondered what Brother Fortunatus might say had he witnessed that little scene and was then irritated with herself for even thinking such a thing.

The courtfolk flooded into the hall, brash with their success at the hunt. Ekkehard followed at Hugh's heels like a love-smitten puppy. King Henry seated himself in his chair. Servants brought water and linen and wiped his hands clean of dirt and blood. Luckily, this hall
—the third at which they had stopped—was the largest of the royal hunting lodges in Thurin Forest; though the crowd of people entering was large, it did not overwhelm the gabled hall. Sapientia entered and shed her cloak, then seated herself in the place of honor beside her father. Now poor folk who had walked a half day from the forest's edge were let in to receive alms from the king. As they left through a side door, Hugh assisted Ekkehard in dispensing bread to them while Sapientia, from across the hall, watched with greedy eyes.

Theophanu came, as she always did, to sit beside Rosvita. Her cheeks were still flushed.

"I hope you have not taken a fever," said Rosvita, setting aside her work.

Theophanu flashed her a startled glance, then, as quickly, composed herself. "I trust I have caught no fever from which I cannot recover." She played with the fabric of her riding tunic, rolling the cloth up between thumb and forefinger.

Amabilia looked up from her copying on the other side of the long table but, mercifully, did not speak.

"Where is my most valued cleric?" asked the king after all the alms seekers had been led back outside. "Rosvita." She rose obediently. "Read to us, I pray you. Something eloquent and pleasant to the ear that may yet educate us."

Rosvita signed to Amabilia and the younger woman set aside her pen so that Rosvita could take up the
Vita.
"Shall I continue to read from the
Life of Saint Radegundis,
Your Majesty?" she asked.

He nodded.

Ekkehard, settling himself at his father's feet, piped up. "Let Father Hugh read. He has such a fine voice. I am sure I learn more than I might otherwise just from listening to his cadences as he reads."

Theophanu's cheeks burned. The king looked startled. Sapientia gloated.

Hugh stood over by the door next to the young Eagle, Liath; he was wiping crumbs from his hands but he looked up and smiled gently, giving the cloth into the care of a servant before walking forward. "Your notice would natter any man, Your Highness," he said to Ekkehard, "but I am unworthy of such praise. Our esteemed Sister Rosvita has by so far outshone me in every branch of knowledge and in good manners that I know only too well how poorly I compare to her. 'To one desiring to know by what path blessedness is reached, the reply is, "Know thyself." ' " He bowed respectfully toward Cleric Monica, who was seated on a bench near a shuttered window, close by the hearth and yet out of the worst of the smoke. But Rosvita thought for one instant that his gaze skipped to and halted on the figure of the young Eagle, Liath, hovering by the door as if she wanted to escape outside.