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“Get away!” snapped Hugh, grabbing for her.
Hanna leaped back and bolted to stand in safety between the two younger Eagles “She’s been ill,” she cried, appealing to Wolfhere. “She’s not well enough to travel. I’ll have to help her out of the wagon.” Yet she hesitated, not knowing what to do with the book.
But hope burned like fire in Liath now, a banked fire come to life, scouring despair out of her. She struggled to her knees, inched over to the side of the wagon. Caught herself on the side, swung over, and staggered, almost falling. But with sheer dogged stubbornness she held herself up. She did not look at Hugh. That was too dangerous by far. She caught her breath, first. Tried to calm the fire. She was burning hot but, slowly, that subsided. At last she looked at Hanna, for strength.
Hanna gazed back at her, clear-eyed, guileless, and smiled, nodding encouragement. In her arms, clasped like a precious child, she held the book. Liath took in a breath and lifted her gaze to meet Wolfhere’s squarely. The old man had moved his mount forward and she saw that his eyes were a peculiar, penetrating shade of gray.
“I want to go with you.” Her voice gained in strength with each word. “I want to be an Eagle.” She ducked her head down, waiting for Hugh to hit her.
But the hawk-faced woman had already dismounted and crossed the stand between Liath and Hugh. She was, indeed, almost as tall as Hugh, and she wore a sword at her hip and a knife at her belt.
“So be it,” said Wolfhere. He took two coins from his pouch. They were as yellow as the sun and at this moment twice as welcome. He handed them to the marshal. “Let you witness this transaction, Marshal Liudolf, and pay this gold to Frater Hugh, in recompense for the young person here.”
“I witness this transaction,” said Liudolf, “and I take these nomias and transfer them into the keeping of Frater Hugh, in recompense for this young person, Liath, daughter of Bernard.”
“I won’t take it,” said Hugh. “I protest this theft. I deny any payment has ever taken place. I tell you now, Wolfhere, that I will bring this matter before King Henry.”
“You are welcome to do so,” replied Wolfhere. “Nevertheless, the girl comes with me. These are not your men, I believe, to fight this sort of battle, and if any of us are harmed, you yourself would be brought before King Henry to answer for the crime. Whatever benefices you have received, such as the abbacy, would certainly be revoked.”
“This is not ended!” said Hugh. And then, in a lower voice, “You are not free of me, Liath.”
Liath dared not look at him. She kept her gaze fixed on the fine burnished Eagle’s badge that clasped the woman’s cloak at her right shoulder: an Eagle, rising on the wind, with an arrow clasped in its beak and a scroll held in one talon.
If she did not look at Hugh then, free of him or not, she was at least for the moment safe from him. If she could ever be safe from him.
“Marshal,” said Wolfhere, “I request that you receive this gold and hold it as witness, and witness as well Frater Hugh’s refusal of it.”
“I so witness,” said Marshal Liudolf.
“I so witness,” said the younger Eagles.
For a long drawn-out while no one moved, as if the stalemate, having been reached, could not be resolved. Only the song of birds in the trees, and the distant shout of a farmer at plowing, pressing his ox forward, disturbed their silence. The smell of cooking beans wafted out from the cookhouse. The wood of the wagon felt chary under Liath’s hand.
“This is not ended,” said Hugh finally. He moved and she flinched, but he was walking away, walking to his bay, mounting, giving the signal.
She let go of the wagon just in time to avoid getting a splinter as it jerked forward and, just in time, grabbed Hanna’s sack out of the back. Hugh did not even seem to notice. Without another word, without any acknowledgment of what he was leaving behind, he rode south, the wagon and his tiny retinue following.
Liath dropped the bag and slumped to the ground.
“Do you need aid?” asked the hawk-nosed woman curiously.
Da’s four books were gone with Hugh, but their texts remained in the city of memory, together with everything else Da had taught her. And Hanna had the other one. “No,” she whispered. “No. I just need to rest a moment.” She looked up to meet the woman’s steady, measuring stare, then broke away from it to look up at Wolfhere. He studied her calmly.
Why? But she could not say it out loud.
“Before you leave, Marshal Liudolf,” said Wolfhere into the silence, “I will write a manumission for her. We do not admit the unfree into the Eagles. I need another witness besides yourself.”
“I will witness, sir,” said Mistress Birta suddenly, stepping forward. “I am a freewoman, born of a freewoman.”
“Ah,” said Wolfhere. “You are Mistress Birta, if I recollect rightly.”
She flushed with surprise and pleasure. “I am, sir.”
“And this, I believe,” he added, transferring his keen gaze to Hanna, “is your daughter, Hanna.”
“Yes, sir, she is.”
“Is it your wish that she might be invested into the king’s service as well?”
