Child of Flame
Lady Waltharia’s soldiers spoke together in low voices, watching the prince as he bathed.
“Nay, I’d not have believed it. I swear those Quman would have run from him even if he’d been alone.”
“I’ve never seen a man fight so bravely.”
“I heard he went mad when his banner bearer went down.”
Lower still: “Is it true he can never be king?”
At once, the soldiers broke into cheers.
She lifted a hand to call for silence. “Let Prince Sanglant be honored. If he had not struck, we would still lie under siege.”
“Don’t rejoice too much.” Though he did not seem to shout, his hoarse voice carried easily over the throng. “Drink your fill tonight, but remember that we have more battles to fight. This was only a small portion of the Quman army. Their leader isn’t dead yet, nor are they running east like whipped dogs. As they will.”
It was hard to hear anything at the feast over the constant singing and toasts, the dull roar of a satisfied and triumphant assembly. Anna stood in attendance on Blessing, as always. At intervals, she nibbled at the delicacies heaped up on Blessing’s platter as course after course rolled through: roasted goose with parsley and bread stuffing; a meat stew strewn with rose petals and sweetened with cherry preserves; oyster loaves; breads sprinkled with caraway and fennel; beef broth cooked with dill and leeks; a potage of ground hazelnuts, flour, and elderflowers; and honey dumplings again.
The victorious soldiers drank heavily. Lady Waltharia herself poured Prince Sanglant’s wine through a gold sieve spoon that she had gotten, so she said, as part of her inheritance from her dead mother, who had been Villam’s third and favorite wife.
Lord Druthmar seemed a steady sort of man, open, honest, good-hearted, and not one bit chafed by his wife’s authority. “We’ve heard reports that Bulkezu has captured Prince Ekkehard.”
“Has Bulkezu asked for ransom?” Sanglant chased off a greyhound that was trying to lick grease off the linen cloth laid over the prince’s knees. “Or do you think he’ll kill him?”
“It’s only a rumor that the Quman captured Ekkehard,” said Waltharia. “Prince Bayan and Princess Sapientia wintered in Handelburg. We heard that Prince Ekkehard was imprisoned there, but he escaped the biscop’s custody and fled the town. The roads are cold and difficult in the wintertime, when he was last seen. I think he must be dead.”
Sanglant sipped thoughtfully at his wine. “It’s an implausible story. You know Bayan as well as I do. How could a youth like Ekkehard escape not just Bayan’s but also Biscop Alberada’s watch?” He shook his head. “For what offense is it said he was imprisoned?”
Blessing dropped her spoon. Anna crouched just in time to see the recalcitrant greyhound nosing the ivory spoon, licking off the remains of broth. She hissed, and the dog scrabbled away, kicking rushes up in her face. Half under the table, hands covered in rushes and a discarded bone digging into her knee, she heard Lady Waltharia’s quiet reply.