Child of Flame (Page 228)

“Your Majesties, I pray you, I give myself and all the lands and people I control into your hands. My fighting men are yours to command. You must take what you need from my storehouses, although we are sorely pressed in these days by drought.”

Henry seemed ready to speak, but Adelheid made a slight gesture that drew his attention, and he nodded, giving way to her. With assistance, the young queen dismounted. She walked forward to offer her hand to Lavinia.

“I pray you, Lady, rise. Do not kneel here in the dust. We have come as I promised you last year.” Lavinia took her hand but did not rise. She seemed incapable of speech, caught in some strong emotion that made her lips work silently. The calm, decisive woman who had aided Adelheid last spring had vanished. “What ails you, Lady?” continued Adelheid gently. “You are much changed.”

Lavinia’s voice was coarse with fury. “You know that Ironhead took my daughter to Darre to serve as a hostage for my good behavior. Now he has taken her against her will as his concubine. She is only thirteen. I will have revenge for the insult given to my family.”

“So you will.” It was always odd to hear such a steely voice emanate from that sweet, pretty face, but Adelheid had been raised in a hard school and had survived a forced marriage, a siege, Ironhead’s pursuit of her, and an escape managed only with the aid of forbidden magic.

“She is not the only daughter of a noble house used in such an ignoble fashion,” continued Lavinia. “Others have come to Novomo, hearing of your approach. We beg you to let us support you. Ironhead has brought dishonor to our families. Yet we brought the shame upon ourselves by not rising against him when he pursued you, Your Majesty. You see that we are repaid by God for our sins, for there was not enough rain this past winter. I fear there will be famine if no rain falls soon.”

She gestured toward the orchards and fields. In truth Rosvita could see that the winter wheat was stunted and yellowing, and the new leaves on pear and apple trees were already curling.

“I have brought King Henry of Wendar and Varre, as I promised,” said Adelheid. “We have wed. I am pregnant with a child who joins the blood of both Wendar and Aosta.”

Tears ran down Lavinia’s face as she kissed Adelheid’s hand. “Bless you, Your Majesty.”

“Come then, Lady. Rise. We will not march to Darre on our knees.”

“Nay, nay, we will not.” Lavinia got up at once and came forward to kiss Henry’s ring and offer him her allegiance, but it was clear that she looked first to Queen Adelheid.

“Who awaits us in Novomo?” asked Henry when Lavinia’s horse had been brought and both the lady and the queen mounted. At his signal, the royal party started forward at a sedate pace. Lavinia’s retinue split to either side of the road to let the royal party pass through their ranks, and for some while the cheering of Novomo’s soldiers drowned out any attempt at conversation.

“Who awaits us in Novomo?” Henry repeated as Lavinia’s retinue fell in behind, being given the place of honor behind Henry’s noble companions and his cohort of Lions but before the king’s clerics and schola and the rest of his army.

“Richildis, Marquess of Zuola. Gisla, Count of Placentia, and Gisla, Lady of Piata. Tedbald, Count of Maroca, and his cousin, Red Gisla. Duke Lambert of Uscar, who can bring all of the nobles of his lands if he calls them.”

“That is half of the north country,” said Adelheid. “Some of these refused to aid me when my first husband died. How can I trust them now?”

“It is true that some may be spies for Ironhead, but they have all come here to pledge their support to Your Majesties. They like Ironhead no better than I do. The drought has affected all of us, and we fear worse, because the Most Holy Mother Clementia, she who was raised to the seat of the skopos eight years ago, is dead.”

Rosvita drew the Circle of Unity at her breast and murmured a prayer for God’s mercy, just as others did, even and especially the king.

“May God grant her peace,” said Adelheid. “She is my great-aunt.”

“Truly, she comes out of a noble lineage,” agreed Lavinia. Anger lit her expression again. “Rumor whispers that Ironhead means to appoint his cousin as the new skopos, although she is not even a cleric!”

Rosvita leaned forward over the neck of her mule. “Have you heard any rumor of a Wendish frater among Ironhead’s counselors, Lady?”

“Nay, Sister Rosvita, although it is said that a Wendish-born presbyter held great influence with the ailing skopos. I have even heard it whispered that he used sorcery to keep her alive, for she suffered greatly from a palsy in her later years. No one knows whether this presbyter supports Ironhead, or defies him, although it’s said that he tried as well as he could to keep young women out of Ironhead’s rough hands. But I hear only rumor. No noble lady or lord who travels to Darre is safe from Ironhead. None of us dare go there ourselves, for fear he’ll kill us outright. You know, of course, that he gained his lands and title by murdering his half brother, and that he murdered his wife when he had no more use for her.”