The Gathering Storm

Page 7

At the western bridge, a welcoming party greeted them: thirty milites braced in a shield wall in case the approaching soldiers were marauders or enemies. One of Princess Theophanu’s stewards stepped out from behind the shields to greet them as Hanna rode forward beside Thiadbold.
“I bring a message from Prince Sanglant, from the east,” Hanna said. “The prince sends as well these Lions, to strengthen Her Highness’ retinue.”
“God be praised,” muttered the steward. She gave a command, and the shield wall dispersed.
As the Gent milites clattered back through the gates, they swept through a little market of beggars and poor folk gathered in the broad forecourt beyond the ramparts, almost trampling a ragged woman with a basket of herbs for sale. The milites did not even notice their victim, tumbled in the dirt while the folk around her muttered uneasily, but Hanna hurried over to help the beggar woman to her feet, only to be spat at for her pains.
“Here, now,” said Thiadbold as he came up beside Hanna, “never a good deed but goes unpunished by the frightened.” His smile melted the old woman’s anger, and she allowed him to gather up marjoram, cinquefoil, and dried nettle. “No harm done, mother, once it’s all set to rights.”
Hanna felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. Her heart thumped annoyingly, and her breath came in short gasps.
“Come, now, friend,” Thiadbold said as he took hold of the reins of her horse so she could mount again, “she was scared, and acted out of fear.”
“Next time those soldiers will cripple some poor soul, and never bother to look back to see what they’ve wrought. Ai, God.” She got her leg over the saddle, but the effort left her shaking. “I still have nightmares about the ones who cursed me.”
“There was nothing you could have done to help them. You were as much a prisoner as they were. You did your duty as an Eagle. You stayed alive.”
Words choked in her throat.
“What are you speaking of?” demanded the steward, who had waited behind to escort them. “We’ve heard rumors of Quman, of plague, of drought, and of foul sorcery, but seen nothing. Rumor is the speech of the Enemy. Lord Hrodik rode off with Prince Sanglant. There’s been no news of him. We’ve been praying every day for news from the east.”
“In good time,” replied Thiadbold, glancing at Hanna.
The steward sighed heavily, then laughed. She was a short, stout woman, with a clever, impatient face and, apparently, a sense of humor. “So do God teach us patience! Come now. Her Highness, Princess Theophanu, will be eager to hear news of her brother.”
They made their way through the streets of Gent, their path cleared by Theophanu’s milites. Once their party entered the palace compound, the steward directed Thiadbold and the Lions to the barracks above the stables but took Hanna immediately to the opulent chamber where Theophanu held court. The vivid colors made her dizzy: a purple carpet, gold silk hangings on either side of the royal chair where Theophanu sat studying a chessboard, a dozen noble companions garbed in reds and blues and greens. Four braziers heated the chamber, but the atmosphere of the chattering women gave it life and energy. As Hanna entered, the women looked at her expectantly, murmuring one to the other.
“From the east!”
“From Sapientia, do you think? I recognize her. She is the Eagle who served Sapientia before.”
“Make haste to speak, Eagle!”
“I pray you, let us have a moment’s calm.” Theophanu rose. At her gesture, a serving woman hurried out of the shadows cast by the silk hangings and carried the chessboard away to a side table. “You look pale, Eagle. Let ale be brought and some bread, so that she may refresh herself. And water, so that she may wash her hands and face.”
Her companions were not so patient. “How can you stand it? After all these months!”
“After everything we’ve suffered, waiting and wondering! After Conrad’s insolence at Barenberg!”
“Yes!” cried others. “Let her speak first, and eat after.”
Theophanu did not need to raise her voice. “Let her eat. We will not die of waiting, not today. I pray you, Eagle, sit down.”
Two servants carried forward a bench padded with an embroidered pillow onto which Hanna sank gratefully. Ale was brought as well as a fine white bread so soft that it might have been a cloud, melting in Hanna’s mouth. A servingwoman brought a pitcher of warmed water, a basin, and a cloth, and washed Hanna’s hands and face herself, as though Hanna were a noblewoman. The women around Theophanu muttered to each other under their breath, pacing, fiddling with chess pieces, quite beside themselves to hear the message she had brought. One dark-haired woman dressed in a handsome green gown turned the corner of the carpet up and down with her foot, up and down, while servants gathered at the open doors, spilling back into the corridor, eager to hear news from the east. Theophanu alone showed no sign of impatience as she sat in her chair, as easy as if she already knew what Hanna was going to say.