King's Dragon

Page 150

Hathui seemed untroubled by this sign of favor. “And my comrade, Hanna, daughter of Birtha and Hanal? She is new to the Eagles and has little experience, less training, and no kin nearby.”
“She may join us as well. You may act as her praeceptor.”
It occurred to Rosvita suddenly that Henry was rewarding the two Eagles for another reason: for bringing him news of his son.
“We must consider an army,” he said, turning to Villam. “How soon can we ride to Gent?”
3
AFTER her initial shock wore off, Hanna found herself more frustrated than honored by her elevation to one of those exalted Eagles who waited in personal attendance upon King Henry.
Not because of Henry, of course. He was everything she had ever dreamed a king would be; stern but with the capacity for laughter; elegant in appearance and yet without the kind of vanity that leads men to wear fine clothes and jewels for the sake of showing off their riches; gracious without being friendly; unwilling to tolerate incompetence and delay.
But there was only so much a king could do when it came time to attempt to move his vast entourage—the king’s progress—quickly, or when it came time to raise an army from lands as far apart as the northwesternmost reaches of the duchy of Saony, the highlands far to the south of Avaria, and the distant marchlands to the east.
Raised by a briskly efficient innkeeper, Hanna was amazed at how slow everything moved and how many arguments there were between chatelaines and stewards and lordlings over fine points of status and honor that would make not one whit of difference to the people trapped in Gent if the Eika broke through the city’s walls.
“At this rate they’ll be dead before we leave this monastery,” she muttered to Hathui that evening as she watched yet another noble lord—a young woman in this case—making excuses before the king as to why it would take her some unreasonable number of days to raise levies and then yet again longer beyond that to march those levies as far north as Gent. Lady bless! Beyond being maddening, it was also boring. She stifled a yawn and felt Hathui shift her weight. “How is your leg?”
“It will do,” said Hathui. “Attend to your duties. Who is that?”
“What?”
“Who is that speaking before the king?”
Hanna stared, but she could not tell one noble lordling from another; they all ran together in her mind in their handsome embroidered gowns or tunics and gold-braided leggings and fine necklaces and rings.
“That is part of your duty, Hanna,” said Hathui sternly, sounding much like Wolfhere. “You must memorize all the great houses of Wendar and Varre and learn the names of the lords and ladies of those lineages and their alliances by marriage and kinship and oaths, and which dislike whom and who wishes to marry for advantage where, and what estates have lost their lady and thus are being willed to the church or given to the king to reward to some family who has done him a signal service.”
“Ai, Lady,” swore Hanna under breath. “All that?”
“And more besides.” But Hathui grinned, taking the threat out of the words. “That is Liutgard, duchess of Fesse. Because Fesse lies in the center of the kingdom, it is a long ride from there to Gent, which lies to the northeast. Also, the duchy of Fesse lies next to the duchy of Arconia, which is the duchy administered by Henry’s half sister Sabella. Surely you have heard the rumors that Sabella plans to rebel against the king?”
Hanna had heard so many rumors just in the eight hours since she and Hathui had arrived at Hersford Monastery that she had given up trying to sort one out from the next. “And? What difference does that make to Duchess Liutgard?”
“This difference: that Liutgard does not want to send away troops to Gent, which lies many days’ march north and east, when her own lands might be threatened by Sabella. Henry must balance the threat to Gent against the threat to Fesse.”
Hanna sighed. “How do you keep this all straight?”
“That is only the beginning.”
But Hanna could see Hathui was laughing at her, not without sympathy. “Was it difficult for you, when you first came into the Eagles? Did it all seem like so many names that had no meaning attached to them?”
Hathui shrugged. “When Wolfhere is your praeceptor, you never admit you are struggling. But, in truth, it did seem difficult. After a time, though, I began to sort them all out. You must know the name of every villager in Heart’s Rest, do you not? And in the neighboring farms and hamlets?”
“Of course!”
“Well, then, think of the noble lords and ladies who move on the king’s progress as a village. Some remain in the village all the time; others come and go according to what duties they have on their family’s estates. Truly, Hanna, they are no different from common men and women. I have observed they have their feuds and their secret lovers, their alliances and their disagreements, just as any folk do. They sleep and eat and pray and use the privies. I am not convinced that, if you were to put one of them in a simple freeholder’s smock and any hardworking freeholder into an elegant tunic, you could tell who was the noble lord and who the farmer.”