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“I trust my brother, Captain Fulk,” she answers, “and so do you.” As flames shift and leap Hanna now sees only two shadows wavering in the fire.
When Heribert speaks again, at first she can scarcely hear him. “He has a child.”
“A child! By the Eagle?”
“What mean you, the Eagle?”
“The woman called Liathano.”
“Yes, by Liath. He believes that Liath, and thus his daughter, is descended from—”
Dirt flew in her face. Wolfhere had leaped to his feet and kicked ashes and earth over the fire, and it guttered as she coughed and spat. But he was already leaving, striding away with his shoulders set so tensely that she almost feared to run after him.
But she had too many questions. She had seen too much to fear him now. And she was still spitting dirt and hot ashes from her lips.
“Wolfhere!” She ran, and although he did not quicken his pace, she was panting hard by the time she caught him. “Why did you do that? Wasn’t that Princess Theophanu? Why is Brother Heribert with her, and why is he speaking of Prince Sanglant as though they were old companions? Did he truly mean that Liath and Sanglant had a child together? Is what I saw true, or only a vision sent from the Enemy?”
“Your time with Liath marked you,” said Wolfhere harshly. And then, with an agony that did not show in his expression: “Have I misjudged her so completely? Has she changed so much?”
“But—”
He turned on her with an expression more fitting for a man who has just seen Death riding down the road in his direction. “Go to Hathui and serve her and the Eagles well. But don’t ask me any more questions, for I cannot and will not answer them. You have a good heart, and I like you. Stay away from that which you can’t comprehend.”
He would say no more, although she followed him like a lost puppy, still asking questions. He did not even acknowledge her, only went to the stables and commandeered a horse although he hadn’t the king’s permission to leave. He would not answer her, he just left, riding out of Autun without looking back.
After the noon meal Henry called Hanna before him in the private garden of the biscop’s palace. “Hathui says that you witnessed the departure of Wolfhere.”
“I did, Your Majesty.”
“He left without permission from me, or orders from any of my stewards or chamberlains.”
She looked first at Hathui, but the other woman only lifted her chin, a signal Hanna could not interpret. After all, she was the King’s Eagle. It was to him she owed her loyalty, wasn’t it? “So he did, Your Majesty. But I know not where he was bound.”
“Hathui?”
“I do not know either, Your Majesty,” Hathui replied with obvious reluctance.
He slapped his leg hard enough that the sound made Hanna jump. “I knew he would betray himself some day.” He seemed exultant. “The faithful Eagle abandons his post. So be it. I place him under the regnant’s ban. If he is seen again by any woman or man loyal to me, let him be taken into custody and brought before me in chains, for desertion.” He turned that pitiless lightning gaze on Hanna. “Know you what brought about his flight? Fear not, Daughter. I can see you are innocent of his treachery.”
She could not lie. She saw in an instant that he comprehended the whole of her guilt.
She bowed her head in a vain attempt to gather her thoughts. Bricks paved the walkway she kneeled on, set in a lozenge pattern that repeated itself on and on and on around the square path that enclosed a central gazebo. When she looked up again, the king had leaned forward from the cushioned bench on which he sat, balancing himself with an elbow on one knee.
“Go on,” he said, although she had not yet said anything.
“You know of that skill called the Eagle’s Sight?” she asked.
No flicker of surprise or distaste marred his expression. He remained masked with dignity. “My father told me certain things known only to the heir. Indeed, it was Wolfhere who brought the trick of the Eagle’s Sight to your company. Did you know that?” She did not, and he must have recognized it from her expression because he went on. “For that and many other things my father honored Wolfhere and made him his boon companion. But I know otherwise. What did you see?”
“This, Your Majesty. First, a woman I believe was Princess Theophanu, interviewing a man who called himself Brother Heribert. That same Heribert, I believe, who was sent to Darre with Biscop Antonia and who vanished with her in the avalanche that I myself witnessed. I was curious what might have become of them—” But she broke off, struggling back to the warp of the tale. The king remained silent, listening. “The princess said that Lord John Ironhead was marching in pursuit of Adelheid, and that he had been crowned king of Aosta.” Henry grunted, like a man kicked in the stomach, but said nothing. “Brother Heribert told the princess that he had shortly before been with Prince Sanglant—” Now she had his attention fully, and she didn’t like it. “But that the prince was somehow prevented from following him. Heribert said that the prince would want him to travel on to you, Your Majesty. He had a child—”
“Brother Heribert had a child?”
“Nay, Your Majesty, forgive me. Brother Heribert said that Prince Sanglant had had a child by Liath.” She clenched her jaw, waiting.
Henry narrowed his eyes to slits and shook his head, as when the child who claims to be too clumsy to hunt comes home with the first boar of the season. “God help me for having sired such a stubborn son. If I could get Adelheid for him, then there would only be Ironhead to drive out, and the child he needs to prove his fitness is already born.” After a moment, he remembered her. It was terrible to be focused under that gaze. She had never realized his eyes were such a complex shade of brown, veined with yellow and an incandescent leaf-green. “What other news can you bring me of my son? Where is he?”
“I do not know, Your Majesty. I saw no landmarks, nor do I know whether they spoke indoors or out. But Heribert said one thing more. He said that Liath, and the child, were descended from—”
