AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A person’s breath departs.
She returns to the dust.
On that day her plans come to nothing.”
At intervals he glanced back to be sure that Hathui was close by, guarded by Captain Fulk and his trusted soldiers. The others he did not fear for, but he knew Hathui might be in danger. Keep her close, he had told Fulk, and Fulk, unsmilingly, had agreed.
They toiled up the slope and halted before the gates of the town. The bell rang for Lauds, and with a shout from the guard and the squeal of gears, the gates were opened.
The townsfolk of Quedlinhame thronged the streets, falling back as Sanglant advanced in all his penitent splendor. The burden lay heavy. Soon he would be crowned and anointed, and after that day he would no longer be free. Duty would chain him as thoroughly as Bloodheart ever had, but duty had always chained him. Henry had known him better than anyone else. He had known that, in the end, the rebellious son would give way to the obedient one. He dared not blame his father. Henry had loved him best of all his children, though it might have been wiser not to have a favorite. No doubt Sapientia, Theophanu, and Ekkehard had suffered for getting less, although by birth and legitimacy they should have had more. As each step took him closer to the church and the royal funeral, he wondered what had become of Mathilda and Berengaria, his youngest half siblings. Was Adelheid dead, or had she somehow, impossibly, survived?
Ai, God. What had become of Blessing? Would he ever know?
The crowd pressed in behind the clerics, giving no right of way to the soldiers and noble captains who accompanied him, but Fulk pushed past them with Hathui in train. Keeping her close. A dozen beggars wearing the white rags of professional mourners raised such a cry of shrieking and yelping that he could no longer hear the clerics’ sweet song.
He set his face forward and trudged up the hill to the convent, where his aunt, his sister, and his noble brethren waited on the broad porch of Quedlinhame’s church. He knew them for what they were: the dogs who would nip at his heels, just as Bloodheart had long ago predicted.
X
A VIGIL
1
LONG after the crowd of mourners and courtiers had left, deep into the night, he remained kneeling on the cold stone floor of the church, at the center of the apse. Sometimes he wept; sometimes he prayed; sometimes he breathed in the sweetness of God’s presence. Why did one man live while another died? Why did God allow suffering? Why did the wicked flourish and remain so damned handsome, standing within the shield of their powerful relatives? As usual, he had no answers.
He heard the door scrape and soft footfalls. At first he thought it was the guard changing at the door, perhaps Captain Fulk checking on him, and on Hathui, who knelt silently about ten paces behind him.
Theophanu knelt beside him. She was accompanied by her faithful companion Leoba, who knelt with head bowed a little in front of the Eagle.
Theophanu set a candle, in its holder, on the floor.
“You mourn late,” she said in her bland voice.
“Should I not?”
Instead of answering, she rested her head on clasped hands and murmured a lengthy prayer.
He remained silent, listening for God, but heard nothing except the sigh of wind through the upper arcades that housed the bells. Shadows hid the aisles and the painted ceiling. Even the ornamentation on the pillars was colorless, washed gray by night. Did God exist equally in the shadows and in the light?
“He loved you better,” she said suddenly.
“I know. I am sorry for your sake, Theo. You didn’t deserve to have less of his love.”
She shrugged. “I became accustomed to it.”
She was so frustrating. It was impossible to know what she was thinking. That was why folk didn’t quite trust her. He just didn’t have the patience, not anymore, but he held his tongue, waiting for her to continue.
She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the coffin that rested before the altar, draped by Wendar’s banner. The mass had been sung. The hymns had gone on for hours. At dawn, Henry’s remains would be laid in the crypt beside those of his beloved mother, Queen Mathilda.
After a while, she moved the candle two finger’s breadths to the right.
“Do not forget me, Sanglant. Our father did, and I was patient. Do not believe that I will be as patient for you.”
Sometimes in battle an opening appears that must be seized in the instant or forever lost. “I have need of you now, where you can serve Wendar most ably.”
“Where is that, Brother?”
“Saony.”
