The Burning Stone
“Now, then,” said the old beekeeper, gesturing toward the son. “Can you do me a favor, Eagle? If you’d take the lad with you, he could see the king and walk back home after. He’s got a yearning to see the king, and how can I say ‘nay’ to him, who was the last gift my poor dead wife gave me?”
The lad’s name was Arnulf, no doubt in memory of the dead king; he had light hair and a pleasant if undistinguished face except for a pair of stark blue eyes that held such a wealth of wordless pleading in them that Hanna did not have the heart to say no. Arnulf proved to be no trouble, although he asked a hundred questions as he walked alongside the wagons, driven by two skeptical wagoneers in the service of the king’s stewards who had grown so accustomed to the presence of the king on their daily travels that they were amused by the lad’s excitement.
As they passed a stand of woods, a pack of riders swept by to the right. Hanna recognized them because of the dogs. She called out: “Look there. That is Prince Sanglant.” The lad gaped.
“They say he’s run mad,” said the first wagoneer, to which the second retorted, “He’s never harmed any but the king’s enemies. You won’t find a better captain than Prince Sanglant. I hear such stories….”
Hanna caught sight of Hathui riding down the track, and hailed her.
“I see you have what you came for,” said Hathui, reining in beside Hanna. “Wish me good fortune in my own hunt. I’m to bring him back in time for the feasting tonight.” She lifted a chin to indicate the riders who had just vanished into the copse.
“What’s wrong with him? Many things are whispered, that he’s more dog than man now.”
Hathui shaded a hand to get a better look at the trees. “Chained among the Eika for a year?” She shrugged. “At least those prisoners the Quman take are made slaves and given work to do. It’s a miracle he’s alive at all.” Her gaze had a sharp sympathy. “Don’t forget how he fought outside Gent when he was finally released.”
Hanna smiled. “Nay, I’ve not become Sapientia’s advocate against him. But do you think it’s true, what’s rumored, that Henry has it in mind to name Sanglant as his heir instead of his legitimate daughter?”
Hathui’s frown was all the answer she would give as she nodded at Hanna and rode away.
Hanna left the wagons and wagoneers by the pit-houses that served the kitchens and let Arnulf follow her to the great open yard that fronted chapel, hall, and the royal residence. There, as luck would have it, king and court had gathered outside to cheer on bouts of wrestling. Hanna made her way through the crowd to the side of Princess Sapientia. Catching the princess’ eye, Hanna knelt before her. With a graceless exhalation of surprise, the lad plopped down beside her.
“Your Highness.” Sapientia was in a good mood, all light and charm made bright by that very energy that so often made her look foolish. “Here is Arnulf, the beekeeper’s son. He has escorted us from his father’s farmstead with honey and candle-wax.
Sapientia smiled on the young man, called over the steward who oversaw her treasury, and handed young Arnulf two silver sceattas. “For your dowry,” she said. She hailed her father.
Henry came attended by Villam and Judith. He was laughing, not immoderately but with pure good humor, infectious and yet dignified. But when Sapientia indicated the young man who stared in awe at this apparition, the king’s posture changed.
He sobered; he turned the full force of his gaze on the young man and, with a firm hand, touched him on the head. “My blessing on you and your kin,” he said, then removed his hand. That quickly, he returned to his jest with his companions, and they strolled away while Margrave Judith pointed out the young man-at-arms who was next to challenge the champion.
Hanna led the quaking Arnulf away. “What are these?” he whispered, holding out the sceattas.
“They’re coins. You can exchange them for goods in the marketplace down in the lower enclosure, although you’d best not do so today, for they’ll know you’re not used to bargaining and they’ll cheat you.”
“My dowry,” he murmured. He blinked so many times she thought for a moment he was about to faint. He turned to her. “Will you marry me?” he demanded.
Hanna choked down a laugh and instead smiled kindly. “Go on, lad,” she said, feeling immeasurably older although she guessed they were of an age. “Take the coins and your blessing home to your kinfolk.” She led him to the gate and watched him walk away, still unsteady on his feet.