The Gathering Storm Read online

  “That is Saony’s tax!” cried Imma. “It belongs to our family.”

  “Nay, Imma,” said Theophanu mildly, “it belongs to the regnant, and to Saony. You have not been named as duchess, I think?”

  “Because I am the elder!” said Sophie triumphantly.

  “You are not!”

  “I pray you, Cousins, let us not hear this argument again. I have been left as regent while King Henry remains in Aosta. I must judge. As I have already told you, I mean to let my father decide who will succeed my aunt, may she rest in peace, as duchess of Saony. I have only been waiting for an experienced Eagle, one who has traveled before across the Alfar Mountains.”

  Every person in the chamber turned to look at Hanna.

  “Dare you send another?” asked Leoba. “You have sent all three of the Eagles left in your care south to Aosta and not heard one word from any of them, whether they lived or died or even reached the king.”

  “Do I dare not send one more? You did not hear the news, Leoba? My cousin Conrad the Black celebrated Penitire in Mainni as though he were king! He allowed the biscop to receive him outside the city and escort him into the palace as she would if it were my father who had come. The feasting lasted a full three days in the royal manner. He has taken Tallia of Arconia as wife and got her pregnant. She rides with Conrad rather than remaining in the custody of my aunt Constance, in Autun, as my father decreed. If this is not rebellion, then I don’t know what is.”

  “Conrad would support my claim to Saony,” said Sophie, her expression shifting with animal cunning, “if I offered to support him and Tallia. You forget that, Theophanu. You are not my only recourse.”

  “But Conrad is not here, you stupid cow,” said her sister, “nor is he king of Wendar, although it seems he would like to lay claim to the kingship of Varre by right of the body and blood of his new wife.”

  “Where is the king of Wendar?” demanded Sophie. “Can he be king if he has abandoned his people?”

  “Henry is king over Wendar and Varre,” said Theophanu, “and God have given their blessing to him. I trust you will remember that, Cousins.”

  “I remember seeing your troops ride in after your brother stripped us of half our mounted soldiers for his mad journey east! Yet you haven’t half the army Sanglant has, nor could you drive out the Quman invaders. And you can’t do anything to stop Conrad!” Sophie’s peevish expression vanished abruptly as she glanced at her sister who, like a cat, seemed ready to wash her paws with disdainful triumph, seeing that her enemy was about to fall into a trap of her own making.

  “Do not think I am unsympathetic to your plight, Theophanu,” Sophie went on quickly. “If Sapientia cannot rule after your father, then you are the rightful heir. You have not received what you deserve.”

  “But you’ll have honey poured on you now.” Imma sneered as she reached for her wine cup. “Whom do you mean to flatter and cozen, Sophie? Conrad, or Theophanu?”

  “It’s true enough, nor can any of you admit otherwise!” said Sophie. “Theophanu was left to be regent for King Henry but given no support. Henry has an army in Aosta, and Sanglant rides east with the army that defeated the Quman. What are you left with, Cousin?”

  “My wits.” With an enigmatic smile, Theophanu gestured toward the windows. “It seems the rain has passed. I intend to ride today. My head is quite stuffy from all this chattering. Eagle, you will attend me.”

  In this way, Hanna found herself back on a horse and riding beside the princess along the verge of muddy fields where, last autumn, battle lines had been drawn and armies had clashed. Beyond the western shore of the Veser lay the hills where the Quman army had made its camp and where Bulkezu’s prisoners had huddled in those last desperate hours. To the east she recognized the ragged band of forest that concealed the Veserling, where Ingo and the others had rescued her.

  “Where are the Lions, Your Highness? They came to you early in the spring, did they not?”

  Theophanu nodded. “I keep them in the city to remind my cousins of my authority. These days, they work on the wall. It was let fall into shameful disrepair by my aunt, may she be at peace. I think she must not have been at all well these past few years.”

  Together with two stewards, three servants, and a half dozen of the princess’ noble companions, they skirted several ditches half full of rainwater, an attempt to drain off the excess water collecting on the fields, and approached a low hill that rose out of the plain like a bubble. Theophanu waved her companions back but beckoned Hanna forward with her, and with some difficulty the two women urged their mounts up the slippery rise to the top. Alder and oak had been cut back here only recently, and they had to be careful of burned out stumps laying traps for their mounts’ hooves. Wood rush and bramble bush proliferated. Dill had taken root, flowering in yellow clusters alongside cream-colored bells of comfrey. Yet at the height of the hill, in one man-sized spot, the lush greenery turned to blackened ground, as bare as if salt had been sown on the earth.

  “It’s said that this is where Bayan died.” Theophanu pulled her mare up beside the barren patch of ground, surveying it dispassionately. “I never met him. What was he like?”

  Hanna dismounted, kneeling to touch the earth. A wasp sting came alive in her chest as her fingers brushed the scorched ground. She knew in her bones that Bayan had been killed here, but the eerie sensation that coursed up her hand lasted only an instant. It was only dirt, after all. Catching her breath, she rose. “He was a good man, Your Highness, may he rest at peace in the Chamber of Light. He was no fool.”

  “A good match for Sapientia.” Was that sarcasm in Theophanu’s tone? Hanna could not tell.

  “She trusted him, Your Highness. With his guidance she gained in wisdom.”

  “Then my father chose wisely.”

  “In truth, I believe he did. Bayan’s death grieved Princess Sapientia mightily. Things might have turned out differently for all of us, and for the kingdom, if Prince Bayan had not died at Bulkezu’s hand.”

  “The Quman prince himself killed Bayan, in combat?”

  “Nay, Quman magic killed Prince Bayan. And his mother.”

  Such a complicated expression swept over Theophanu’s face that Hanna looked away, embarrassed. But when Theophanu spoke again, no trace of emotion sullied her voice.

  “Have you command of the Eagle’s Sight?”

  No one stood near enough to hear them. The rest of their party waited obediently at the base of the little hill. “I do, Your Highness.”

  “Surely you have sought sight of my father.”

  Ashamed, she lowered her gaze. “My Eagle’s Sight is clouded, Your Highness. I have looked for him, but I cannot see him.”

  “Is it possible that another hand has clouded your sight?”

  What a fool she had been! Cherbu had concealed Bulkezu’s army for many months with magic. Surely a knowledgeable sorcerer could shield herself against the Eagle’s Sight. Yet Wolfhere had never spoken of such things to her. Perhaps he had not wanted her to know, so that he could always keep an eye on her.

  “It could be possible,” she admitted. “I know little about magic, and less about the Eagle’s Sight save that I can seek for visions of those I know through fire and sometimes hear them speak.”

  “You have done nothing wrong, Hanna. The king himself rewarded you with that ring you wear, and therefore I know that he considered you a faithful and trustworthy subject. That is why I am glad you are with me now. My father must understand that I am in an impossible position. The duchy of Saony cannot go to one of Rotrudis’ children. Their greed and mismanagement will only weaken the duchy. But I haven’t troops or authority to install another in their place, and either one of my cousins will ride straight to Conrad if she thinks he will take her part. I have no army, or little enough of one—”She gestured impatiently toward distant Osterburg. “—and Sanglant has taken the rest.”

  “It seems a large army for even a commander with Sanglant’s reputation to march s
o far into the wilderness, Your Highness. They must all be fed and housed.”

  “It’s true enough. We’ve heard reports from various places that all of the infantry was dispersed after the battle, sent home to tend to planting. Villam’s daughter is said to be supporting Sanglant. It’s rumored that she’s holding a portion of his army in reserve, in the marshlands, for when he returns from Ungria and the east. It could be true. She wanted to marry him once, but it wasn’t allowed because he was only a bastard.”

  Wind tugged at the princess’ hair, bound up with silver pins, but no trace of feeling troubled her expression. Was it possible that the calmer Theophanu looked on the outside the more she raged in her inner heart? No wonder many in the king’s court dared not trust her; if she concealed the truth of her heart behind a veil of composure. Yet after watching Bulkezu do as he willed, giving his whims and frenzies full rein, Hanna could admire a person who had the fortitude and discipline to hold herself in check.

  “I might have been allowed more, born a bastard,” Theophanu murmured. As if she had just heard herself, she looked directly, almost defiantly, at Hanna, who gazed back steadily, unafraid.

  “I beg your pardon, Your Highness, for speaking so boldly. I am also a third child, and what was granted to my elder siblings was not possible for me. That is why I joined the Eagles, rather than accept a marriage I would have found distasteful. I am proud to serve King Henry.”

  Theophanu’s smile was thin. “Then you and I are perhaps the last folk here in Wendar who remain faithful of our own will to the rightful king. Do you fear magic, Eagle?”

  “I fear it, Your Highness, but I have seen too much now to let the threat of magic halt my steps.”

  “I am glad to hear you say so, because I must rest all my hopes on you. I have sent three Eagles to Aosta, but none have returned to me although I sent the first more than a year ago. You must travel to Aosta and find my father. I will give you a message to bring to him, but in truth it will be up to you to make him understand that his position here in Wendar is weakening, even here in Saony, our clan’s ancient home. Conrad troubles the west while Sanglant troubles the east. My cousin Tallia is a dangerous pawn in Conrad’s hands, and I have heard no message from my aunt Constance in Autun for many months. I cannot hold here in the center for long, when even my cousins plot to seek help from those who would undermine Henry’s authority. Not when famine and plague afflict Avaria. Not when we hear rumors of civil war from Salia. If the king hears your tale of the Quman invasion and the terrible destruction brought down onto Wendish lands, if he knows the extent of the plots whispered against his rule, surely he will return.”

  2

  “HANNA? Did you hear that? Hanna?”

  Hanna had been lost in thought, repeating Theophanu’s message to herself for the hundredth time, but the pitch of anxiety in Ernst’s voice started her into alertness. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “You weren’t listening. Hush. It will come again.”

  Fog swathed the beech forest in the central uplands of Avaria through which she and Ernst rode, thirty or more days out of Osterburg; she had lost count because the weather had not favored their journey. They had suffered many delays because of day-long downpours, swamped roads, and pockets of plague they’d had to take detours to avoid. This clinging fog was the least of the hindrances they had faced.

  Above, the sky appeared gray-white, almost glaring, while around them slender trees faded into the fog, their shapes blurred by the mist. Deer darted away, vanishing quickly into the fog, but otherwise there was no sign of life except for the chuckling calls of thrushes, the exuberant song of a blackcap, and the occasional rustle of some small animal thrashing away through the dense field layer of wood rush, or into a stand of honeysuckle. Although the world was obscured, these sounds carried easily enough.

  She listened.

  Nothing, except for the steady clop of hooves, two mounts and two spares. Nothing, except for the sough of an east wind through the summer leaves. East lay memories, and no matter how hard she tried to squeeze them out of herself, they still swelled inside her with the ache of an old wound. On a chill summer’s day like today, her hip hurt. Where fog wrapped its tendrils around trees, she kept catching glimpses of strange figures from her dreams: centaur women stalking warriors with the bodies of humans and the faces of wolves and lynx; Sorgatani kneeling among reeds at the margin of a vast swamp; a pair of griffins hunting in the tall grass; a longship ghosting through a tide of mist like a beast swimming upriver toward unsuspecting prey; men with humanlike faces and the tails of fish swimming through the fogbound trees as through a pillared underwater city.

  “Nothing,” said Ernst with disgust. “But I know I heard something. It sounded like fighting.”

  His indignation made her smile. To her surprise, the youth had proved to be a decent traveling companion. He no longer talked too much, he did his share of the work, and he never faltered or complained.

  “If I never see any fighting again, I will be content,” she said.

  All at once the wind shifted, and she heard the distinctive clap of weapons striking.

  “It’s ahead of us. Come on.”

  She slipped her staff free from its harness across her back and, laying it ready over her thighs, pressed her horse forward along the path. With a gasp of excitement, or fear, Ernst drew the short sword the princess had given him and rode after.

  Because of the swallowing fog they came upon the skirmish unexpectedly where the forest opened into a clearing marked by a tumble of stones and a crossroads. A tall woman in a battered Eagle’s cloak had taken shelter with her back to the remains of a stone wall, fending off three ragged bandits armed with staves and a knife.

  “Hai! For King Henry!” cried Hanna.

  “For King Henry!” bellowed Ernst behind her, voice cracking.

  Hanna got in a good whack at one of the bandits before they ran like panicked hogs into the trees, dropping their weapons in their haste to flee.

  “Do we go after them?” shouted Ernst, barely remembering to rein his horse back from the fence of beech trees.

  “Hold!” Hanna peered into the forest, but the fog shielded the bandits’ flight, although she heard branches cracking and shouts fading into the distance. Her heart raced from the exertion, but her hands were perfectly steady. Was she glad they had got away? Or would she have gladly killed them?

  Maybe it was better not to know.

  She turned to see the Eagle doubled over.

  “Comrade! Are you hurt?” Dismounting, she ran over, grabbed the woman’s arm, and saw who it was. “Hathui!” The shock caused her to step back, and she slammed hard into stone.

  “Nay. A cut on the arm, that’s all.” Hathui straightened with a grimace. “Hanna! How is it you come here? Where are the bandits?”

  “Fled,” called Ernst cheerfully from the forest’s edge. “We routed them!”

  He dismounted to collect the two staves. The horses bent their heads to graze. The fog seemed to be making an effort to lift, and they could see pretty far into the forest by now. Far back into the misty haze among the trees, nothing moved.

  “God above,” swore Hathui. Blood trickled through her fingers where she held them clamped tight just below her left shoulder. “Have you something I can bind this with? He slashed me. Lad, look for my horse. She can’t have strayed far.”

  Hanna’s shoulders throbbed where she’d hit the stone wall. Lichen slipped under her fingers as she pushed forward, finally sweeping away the grip of shock. “Ernst! Go on! Keep your eyes open. We don’t want those men creeping back with their friends to attack us.”

  She had nothing to say to Hathui. Surprise had mangled her tongue. She hurried to the horse tied on behind the saddled gelding and fished out the roll of linen in their stores packed by Theophanu’s stewards for just such an eventuality.

  Hathui limped over to a ramp of stone half overgrown by a bramble bush heavy with berries. With a grunt, she eased down
to sit on the stone and carefully released her fingers. Blood leaked through a gash in her sleeve. The cloth had been mended once, just above the fresh rip, tidy white stitches set into the dirty gray wool that matched a dozen mended tears in her Eagle’s cloak. Her dark hair was caught back in an untidy pony’s tail, and a smudge of dirt darkened her hawk’s nose. Fresh blood smeared one corner of her mouth.

  “Best move quickly,” she said without raising her head as she delicately pulled aside torn cloth to examine the cut. She was breathing hard but did not look likely to faint.

  Hanna had seen worse wounds. The blade had caught the surface of the skin and torn it back raggedly, but not deeply. She unfastened Hathui’s Eagle’s brooch and helped her pull off the tunic, then painted a paste of crushed marigold flowers over the cut before binding it up with a strip of linen. Hathui got her tunic on, wincing, just as Ernst returned triumphantly, leading the sorriest-looking mare Hanna had ever seen.

  “My thanks, lad.” Hathui limped forward to take the reins from him. “I’m called Hathui. Are you one of us?”

  “I’m called Ernst,” said the youth, staring at her with admiration. Hathui was not, Hanna supposed, a handsome woman, but she was impressive: tough, proud, and looking like she’d ridden through a storm of demons and survived. “I mean to be an Eagle. That’s why I’m riding with Hanna.”

  “Well met.” After greeting him, Hathui rubbed the mare’s nose affectionately and checked her saddlebag, which seemed to hold nothing more than half a loaf of dry bread and an empty wineskin. Finally, she looked up. “Ai, God, Hanna, it’s good to see you. Where are you bound?”