Crown of Stars

“Nay, nay,” rattled Wichman. “I meant what I said. I want to hear. Indeed, I’ll risk my life to stay, for I wish to hear my aunt’s reply to this puzzling question.”



His words had not shaken Scholastica. She regarded him with scorn. “Lady Meriam was unexceptional. She was brought here as a child and embraced the true faith with sincerity and wisdom. I find no fault in her. Sophia, however, was never truly one of us. It is better this way. Conrad will rule, and his daughter by Tallia will be heir to the regnancy.”



Theophanu took a step forward, making it easy for her to see each of the great princes in their chairs. To see the bodies of her brother and her aunt and her sister, whose blood she shared.



In Heart’s Rest there is a saying: It is the mother’s blood that tells.



The princess extended her left hand, palm open, although it wasn’t clear whom she meant to include in the gesture. Her expression was clean, her anger strangled. Her voice was clear and strong.



“With Sanglant and Sapientia dead, I am Henry’s eldest surviving child. Henry was your regnant. He ruled you well, all of you, before the tide took him. I am not beloved as my brother was, nor will I ever be. But I am wise and canny. I will rule as a prudent steward in troubled times. We must recover what is lost. We must fight against the chaos the tempest has left in its wake. Sanglant knew this. That is why you acclaimed him. That is why I stepped aside in his favor, although my claim was legitimate. Conrad is a fine warrior, but I am a better steward. That is my claim.”



Conrad smiled, as though this were all an entertainment put on to make him laugh. “And will you lead us when battle is joined, Theophanu? Or will the armies of Wendar and Varre choose to follow me?”



“What battle? The battle is over. We have lost. Will you fight those who outnumber us tenfold? Will the flower of our armies, the strength of our men, be cut down when we need them most to tend and build and plant? When we need them to protect us from the beasts and renegades who have flourished these past few years? From the threat out of Aosta and Arethousa? From the threat of our ancient enemies, the Cursed Ones?”



Conrad made a hissing, contemptuous sound, indicating the silent Stronghand. “What solution do you propose to combat their army, then? Cousin?”



She smiled, although there was nothing of sweetness in it. “The sensible one.”



With the slightest shift of her feet and shoulders, it could be seen that her outstretched hand was offered to the Eika prince, who watched her with a lively amusement, as if he had already guessed her intention.



“Let Lord Stronghand agree to become my husband, and he will rule beside me, consort to my regnant.”



The Eika laughed, a shockingly human sound.



The uproar rising from all sides drowned all other words.



5



ALTHOUGH he respected Mother Ursuline and her sisters within the church for their strength, and admired the Hessi merchant women for their quick understanding of the shifting forces that had altered the currents of the northern seas trade, Stronghand had not yet found a woman born of humankind whose intelligence truly reminded him of the deep cunning at work in the mothers who directed the fate of the Eika.



But maybe this one came close.



The attack was so neat and so brutal that he had only seen it coming an instant before it struck. The rest of the assembly was blindsided, taken utterly off guard.



He rose and acknowledged her with a polite nod.



She looked him in the eye, asking a question by the way she lifted her chin slightly. The other great princes were stunned, but even so a few among them were thoughtful rather than outraged.



After a while, because of his silence, and hers, and the absolute silence of his ranks of warriors as they waited for his signal, the crowd’s exclamations and muttering died away until he could speak and know he would be heard.



“It is a better bargain than I expected. What terms do you propose?”



“I will never countenance this!” cried Mother Scholastica.



Biscop Constance answered her. “I pray you, Aunt. I would speak.”



At the sound of a strong, steady voice issuing from such a crippled body, folk listened respectfully. Even Mother Scholastica waved a hand to show she would not interrupt, and Stronghand had certainly always understood that the mothers of the tribe must be listened to with full attention.



“Let me tell you in short measure my tale. You know that I was made biscop of Autun years ago, and more recently that Henry invested me as duke of Arconia after Sabella’s failed rebellion. Later, I was deposed and sent to an isolated monastery called Queen’s Grave, for no woman who entered it ever came out again. Queens of old often took refuge there from cruel husbands or rapacious relatives. Be aware that, although I hold no grudge against him, Conrad knew of my imprisonment and acceded to it.”