The Gathering Storm

She wondered if she had dreamed that flash of blue in Henry’s eyes. Perhaps Hathui had betrayed the king and tried to drag Hanna into the conspiracy. Perhaps her own loyalty to Liath had disoriented her, complicated by the familiar tangle of envy, love, fidelity, and a tiny spark of resentment. Yet Liath had left her and the Eagles behind. Why should she cling to a friendship that had likely meant far more to Hanna than it ever had to Liath?



She could not shake constancy. She understood better now the fears and weaknesses that had driven Liath. Whatever had happened in the past, she could not abandon the memory of the fellowship and harmony they had shared.



She had a sudden, odd feeling that someone was looking at her. Turning her head, she caught sight of a cleric sitting among a dozen others at a table to one side of the king’s throne. These members of the king’s schola were at work writing down the names and pledges of each of the artisans, making a careful record of the great undertaking they had now all embarked on which would culminate in the first Emperor since the days of Taillefer, one hundred years before.



One man had paused in his writing to look at her: Brother Fortunatus, who had given the sermon at St. Asella’s. He did not look away immediately when their gazes met. He studied her, frowning slightly, serious; he had a gaunt-looking face, as if he had once been a lot heavier and healthier and happier with the extra weight. No doubt he wondered why she walked among Hugh’s entourage. No doubt he wondered if she had betrayed him.



A courtier approached the king to introduce three aged clerics, residents of the famous institution of the learned St. Melania of Kellai. They had studied the Holy Verses and with careful prognostications had several well-omened dates to suggest for the coronation itself. The king and queen listened as the scholars argued over the relative benefits of a coronation held on the feast day of St. Peter the Discipla, which was also Candlemass, or that of St. Eulalia, two days later, whose attendance at the birth of the blessed Daisan would bring her saintly approval to the birth of a new empire.



Beside Hanna, two of Hugh’s clerics were chatting softly in counterpoint to the discussion going on publicly before the king.



“Nay, but the arguments for holding the coronation on the twenty-second day of Novarian are very strong, if we speak only of the stars.”



“They’ll say no such thing publicly! People still fear mathematici.”



“That won’t last. The Holy Mother herself did the calculations. It was she who said that when Jedu moves from the Lion into the Dragon, it would be well for the king to crown himself from the lesser beast into the greater.”



“But I’ve heard others argue that we had better look to a conjunction with the Crown of Stars, for that signifies the empire, and thus would command better success. Erekes will reach conjunction with the Crown on the eleventh of Askulavre.”



“Erekes is fleeting. Would that not cause the reign of the new emperor to be fleeting?”



“Life is fleeting, Brother. Yet doesn’t Somorhas come into conjunction with the Crown soon after? And linger there for many days, into Fevrua?”



“Because she goes into retrograde. That can scarcely bode well. Yet on the first of Sormas, she touches the Child’s Torc, signifying heaven’s blessing on the rule of Earth’s regnants.”



They would argue endlessly. Hugh’s private schola, his coterie of clerics and church-folk, was riddled with women and men professing to understand the teachings of the mathematici, magic outlawed by a church council a hundred years ago but come back into favor with the blessing of the new skopos, herself an adept of the sorcerous arts.



Brother Fortunatus was not the only one watching her: so did Duchess Liutgard, with narrowed eyes, as if wondering why an Eagle had sought refuge under Hugh’s wing—or why Hugh had confined an Eagle within the cage of his faithful retinue.



She dropped her gaze to stare at her feet and the honest pair of boots covering them. She had followed the trail set before her by the will of others for too long. Maybe it was time to branch off on a path of her own making.



2



THE door into the chamber where he was confined for the night, separate from the others, stood so low that Ivar had to crawl to get inside. With a blanket wrapped around him, he huddled on the stone platform that served as a bed, unable to sleep, stricken with wretched cramps from the rich food.



Why did the righteous suffer and the wicked thrive? Ivar could not imagine Hugh spending even one single night in discomfort. No doubt he lay in a fine luxurious bed waited on by servants. Had he a woman in the bed with him? Yet the image wouldn’t rise. Hugh had never shown interest in any woman in Heart’s Rest, not until Liath. Maybe Hugh lusted just as most men did but knew how to control himself.