Child of Flame (Page 227)

“The young woman has not proved herself fit to rule, Your Majesty, nor has she any retainers. A queen without a retinue can scarcely be called a queen.”

“Yet according to my Eagles and other messengers, Sanglant rode east, gathering an army about him.”

“The Quman lie east. Do you think he means to make allies of them?” She didn’t mean the words to be sarcastic, but Henry glanced at her sharply, jolted out of his reverie.

“Nay, I do not believe any Wendish noble will make peace with the Quman. I think he means to fight them. But the Quman are not the only people in the east who have an army. It has been months since we had word of Sapientia and Prince Bayan, nor has Margrave Judith sent word nor any representative to my court.”

“To what purpose would they revolt against you? How can Taillefer’s lost grandchild be a threat to you? Queen Radegundis made no effort to put her son on any throne. She gave him to God’s service, not to the trials of the world. Nor did his child ever make any claim to Taillefer’s imperial throne, if she even survived infancy.”

“But you believe a child was born to Taillefer and Radegundis’ son.”

“I do believe that, Your Majesty.”

He frowned, regarding the trees again with an intent gaze. Rosvita realized all at once the main difference between Henry and Sanglant: Henry had the gift of stillness, and Sanglant could never be still.

“This bodes ill,” he said softly. “I fear Sanglant has been bewitched.”

“That is a serious charge, Your Majesty, and one that Prince Sanglant has already denied.”

“He must deny it, if he lies under a sorcerous spell. Do you know for certain that he was not enchanted, either by Bloodheart or by that woman’s influence?”

“Nay, Your Majesty, you must know that I cannot say for certain. We all saw that Prince Sanglant was much changed by his captivity in Gent. It is true that the woman Liathano held some kind of power over him, even if it was only the power of lust.”

“Then you do not think him bewitched?”

Yet how could she answer? She, too, had seen the daimone suckling his child. She shuddered, remembering that abomination, and Henry smiled slightly, although the expression seemed more of a grimace.

Just as he seemed ready to comment further, a steward hurried up, followed by an outrider still dusty from the road. The man presented himself first to Queen Adelheid and then to the king. Adelheid got to her feet with the assistance of her servants and came to stand beside Henry.

“I am come from Lavinia, Lady of Novomo, to bring you greetings.” The man spoke only Aostan, but Henry could understand it well enough as long as the speaker chose his words carefully and spoke slowly. “She rides to meet you on the road, and show you honor.”

Henry rose. At his signal the army began its ponderous gathering up, like a great beast getting its legs under it in order to rise and stagger forward.

The valley began to broaden noticeably, hitting a stretch as straight as though a giant had gouged it out with her hand. Cliffs became ridgelines peppered with rock ledges and outcrops, slick with overhanging ferns, brown from lack of rain, crisp moss, and oleander bushes whose white flowers hung like falling water down steep hillside clefts. Farmers had found room to plow fields and plant orchards, and the landscape began to be cut through with fields, clusters of huts, and neatly-kept orchards.

The captain of the vanguard shouted out the alarm, and an instant later a horn rang out. Below, a party ascended along the road to meet them. Banners flew in a stiff spring breeze flowing down off the foothills, gold and white, matched in splendor and number only by the bright pennants and banners of the king’s army. Adelheid’s personal banner bearing the crowned leopard at rest below the royal sun of Aosta flew at the center of a six-pointed constellation of pennants. These pennants bore the sigils of Henry’s rule over the six duchies that made up his realm: Varingia’s stallion, Wayland’s hawk, Avaria’s lion, Fesse’s red eagle, Arconia’s green guivre, and the red dragon of Saony, the duchy out of which his grandfather Arnulf the Elder had taken control of the kingdoms of Wendar and Varre. Behind these paraded the banners of his noble companions, those who had chosen, or been commanded, to accompany his expedition: Duchess Liutgard of Fesse, Helmut Villam, Duke Burchard of Avaria, and a host of other lords and ladies. His army wound back up the valley, lost finally around a bend. Strung out along the road in marching order, it was an impressive sight.

The king’s vanguard formed a protective wall in front of him as Lady Lavinia advanced and, finally, dismounted in order to approach Henry and Adelheid on foot. She looked as if she had aged ten years in the year since Rosvita had last seen her. The line of her mouth was grim, and her hair had gone white. She knelt in the middle of the road in the dirt, opening her hands in the manner of a supplicant.