The Burning Stone
“Go on,” he said, although she had not yet said anything.
“You know of that skill called the Eagle’s Sight?” she asked.
No flicker of surprise or distaste marred his expression. He remained masked with dignity. “My father told me certain things known only to the heir. Indeed, it was Wolfhere who brought the trick of the Eagle’s Sight to your company. Did you know that?” She did not, and he must have recognized it from her expression because he went on. “For that and many other things my father honored Wolfhere and made him his boon companion. But I know otherwise. What did you see?”
“This, Your Majesty. First, a woman I believe was Princess Theophanu, interviewing a man who called himself Brother Heribert. That same Heribert, I believe, who was sent to Darre with Biscop Antonia and who vanished with her in the avalanche that I myself witnessed. I was curious what might have become of them—” But she broke off, struggling back to the warp of the tale. The king remained silent, listening. “The princess said that Lord John Ironhead was marching in pursuit of Adelheid, and that he had been crowned king of Aosta.” Henry grunted, like a man kicked in the stomach, but said nothing. “Brother Heribert told the princess that he had shortly before been with Prince Sanglant—” Now she had his attention fully, and she didn’t like it. “But that the prince was somehow prevented from following him. Heribert said that the prince would want him to travel on to you, Your Majesty. He had a child—”
“Brother Heribert had a child?”
“Nay, Your Majesty, forgive me. Brother Heribert said that Prince Sanglant had had a child by Liath.” She clenched her jaw, waiting.
Henry narrowed his eyes to slits and shook his head, as when the child who claims to be too clumsy to hunt comes home with the first boar of the season. “God help me for having sired such a stubborn son. If I could get Adelheid for him, then there would only be Ironhead to drive out, and the child he needs to prove his fitness is already born.” After a moment, he remembered her. It was terrible to be focused under that gaze. She had never realized his eyes were such a complex shade of brown, veined with yellow and an incandescent leaf-green. “What other news can you bring me of my son? Where is he?”
“I do not know, Your Majesty. I saw no landmarks, nor do I know whether they spoke indoors or out. But Heribert said one thing more. He said that Liath, and the child, were descended from—”
A gate opened, and Biscop Constance emerged into the garden, saw her brother, and began to walk toward them.
“Descended from—?” Henry glanced up, saw Constance, and lifted a hand to wave her over. Then he looked back at Hanna.
“That was the end, Your Majesty. I heard nothing more. I am not sure that Wolfhere didn’t kick the fire out to conceal the rest.”
Henry said nothing, only sat back and fingered the gold torque he wore, symbol of his royal kinship and right to rule. Here at his ease in the noonday garden he wore no royal robes; in truth, Hanna had rarely seen him robed and crowned in the regnant’s dignity. He wore the dress common to every Wendish noble, a richly-embroidered tunic, leggings, sandals, and the various handsome rings worn by any great prince of the realm. One of these he drew off now and gave to Hanna.
She gaped at it: an oiled and polished emerald of a pale and almost milky green, set in thick gold band studded with tiny blood-red garnets.
“What news, brother?” asked Biscop Constance, sitting down beside him without asking his leave. “You have that certain smile on your face. I think the cats did not get the cream today.”
“I had thought it might be prudent to travel to Wayland, but instead I have been visited with a blessing in the person of this Eagle. She will ride back to Sapientia with two hundreds of Lions and fifty cavalry to fight in the east. But I will ride south to seek out Theophanu.”
“South to Aosta? Do you think that wise, Brother? You would do better to make your peace with Conrad in Wayland before you begin any grand enterprises.”
But he had put on the mask of stone, and Hanna had never seen anyone—even his powerful sisters—argue with him when he was in this mood. “I believe that many unexpected things will come of this. Indeed, I am sure of it.”
XIII
THE INVISIBLE TIDE
1
PERHAPS it was a blessing, after all, that he be allowed to march away from the memories that afflicted him. Walking for hours a day in the summer had a certain soothing rhythm, balm to the heart, and at night he never had any trouble sleeping once he had gotten camp pitched and pits dug and eaten a meal of flat bread and beans, all made heartier with ale or sweetened vinegar. The king kept his milites strong by feeding them well, and their pace was brisk enough that only the most determined camp followers could straggle along.