The Burning Stone
Page 57
“Here at the base of the bluff. It may have come down through the brush.”
“Take care you’re not bitten, Son.”
“And if I am?” he retorted bitterly. “Female and male God created them. It can’t kill me.”
“Search with my blessing, then.”
But Sanglant had already begun the hunt, and gave no further thought to his father’s swift retreat.
5
HANNA waited for Liath outside Count Lavastine’s chamber. Liath was still stunned from the rain of gifts that had been showered on her inside. Ai, God, had Count Lavastine really given her a horse? She clutched Alain’s ring in her hand and stared at Hanna, speechless.
“You’ve been called before the king.” Hanna kissed her, they embraced, and then Hanna pushed back to survey Liath critically. “Everything looks in place.”
“Called before the king?”
“Liath!” Hanna’s tone made her jump. “Run if you want, or face it with courage. How you present yourself to the king will make a difference in whether he rules in your favor—or in Father Hugh’s.”
It was good advice, of course, but Liath had a claw stuck in her throat and could not get any words out.
As they walked to the great yard, they passed several Lions loitering as if waiting for her, among them her acquaintance Thiadbold. He winked at her and said, “You know where we are if you’ve need of aught, friend.”
Did everyone know or suspect? But it took far more caution than she and Sanglant had shown to keep something secret on the king’s progress. That Hugh had hidden his interest in her, until now, only betrayed how cunning he was.
“You’ve gained their regard,” observed Hanna. “But then, you saved the lives of Lions at Augensburg.”
Yet killed more than she had saved.
It was midmorning, just after Terce. The king held court out in the yard, his throne set up in the shadow of the great hall. From the kennels she heard barking as huntsmen readied hounds. Hugh and Wolfhere knelt in front of the king, Hugh somewhat closer to Henry than was Wolfhere, as befit his higher rank. Wolfhere marked her briefly; his composure irritated her. Hugh did not look toward her as Hanna walked forward beside her and then peeled away to go stand in attendance on Princess Sapientia, but Henry examined her keenly as she knelt. She was careful to keep Wolfhere between her and Hugh. Nobles surrounded Henry’s seat, spread out like wings arching away from his chair: Sapientia, Villam, Judith, Sister Rosvita, and others, faceless to her dizzied sight. The eager crowd stirred like a nest of hornets swept by a gust of smoke.
She did not see Sanglant.
Trembling, she slipped Alain’s ring onto a finger.
“So this is the Eagle who has caused so much agitation in my court. You are called Liathano. An Arethousan name.” Henry had a leash in one hand, studded with brass fittings, and he played with it as he studied her. “What am I to do with you?”
“I beg you, Your Majesty,” said Hugh. “This woman is my slave. She came to me because her father died leaving a debt, which I purchased. As his sole heir, she inherited the debt and could not pay it—”
“I could have paid it if you’d not stolen Da’s books—!”
“Quiet,” said the king without raising his voice. “Go on, Father Hugh.”
She clenched her hands but could do nothing.
Hugh inclined his head graciously. “As his sole heir, she inherited the debt, which she could not pay, and because I paid the debt, she came legally into my keeping. I knew very well that a young woman left alone without kin to watch over her would be in danger, especially in the north. I did what I could to make her safe.”
“What are these books she speaks of?” asked Henry.
Hugh shrugged. “All acknowledge the right of the church to confiscate books that may prove dangerous.” Unexpectedly, he sought approval from a new quarter. “Is that not so, Sister Rosvita? It was first stated at the Council of Orialle, was it not?”
The cleric nodded, but she was frowning. “This right the church has kept in its own hands.”
“And in my capacity as an ordained frater, a servant of God, I judged these works dangerous to any not educated in their use. I acted as I thought proper. In any case, it is not yet clear to me that the books rightfully belonged to her father at all.”
“That’s not true—!”
“I have not given you leave to speak,” said Henry without looking at her. “But her charge of theft is a serious one, Father Hugh.”