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She and Adelheid walked through the enclosed garden beside the clematis. A few brave flowers budded among the leaves, but none had opened. Like her anger, they remained closed tight, waiting for more auspicious weather.
“What if he has a defense against them?” Adelheid worried at it, as a dog keeps chewing a bone long since shed of all its flecks of tasty fat and flesh. “Prince Sanglant did, with griffin feathers.”
“Prince Sanglant is in the north. He is Hugh’s sworn enemy. Think you Sanglant gave the man he most despises a dozen griffin feathers as a precaution?”
“Hugh might have stolen such feathers. He said he was at the Wendish court before he was exiled.”
“It might be true he was at the Wendish court. Or he might have lied to us. Perhaps you believe Hugh stole Princess Blessing to return her to her father in exchange for peace between them? Or that the old Eagle is the one who murdered Lady Elene?”
“He was covered in her blood. And caught in the stables, trying to saddle a horse and make his escape.”
“A crude ploy on Lord Hugh’s part, I imagine, to distract us. The old man has no reason to murder the girl.”
“Why would Lord Hugh want her dead?”
“She is his rival. She was educated by a formidable mathematicus.”
“Then why not kill the old man at the same time?”
“He knows nothing important. Anne said so. His skills are trifles compared to what the rest knew. He is no threat.”
“Yet you had him returned to the dungeon, in chains. If we do not mean to kill him, and if he is no threat, then why not let him bide in the tower with Lord Berthold?”
“As Berthold has requested? No, I think not. The soldiers hate him, believing he murdered the young lady. They would believe themselves ill used if he did not suffer. In any case, it serves me to keep him in chains. I still have a use for him.”
Adelheid shook her head, her face pale as she pinched tiny buds off a branch with nervous anger. “These are wheels within wheels, like a toy from Arethousa. Easily broken. Difficult to fix. How can you be sure that Hugh is dead?”
Adelheid feared Hugh! That was the root of her displeasure.
“Do not despair, Your Majesty,” said Antonia in a soothing tone. “Once the galla swarm, a man possessing griffin feathers must move quickly to save himself. To save all of his troop would be beyond his capacity. There is no way to shield oneself from their power, there is no ancient spell of warding. It is impossible—unlikely—nay, it is impossible.”
“You cannot be sure! And the child, too! If she is dead, then Mathilda has no rivals in the second generation. I should have slit her throat myself. Now I will never know if she perished.”
Almost, Antonia lost her temper, but fortunately soldiers appeared under the archway that led into the palace.
“Your Majesty! Holy Mother!”
Captain Falco hurried forward, and Adelheid paused beside the mosaic floor. He knelt before her.
The queen touched a finger to her own lips, hissed a breath, and spoke. “What news, Captain?”
“Your Majesty,” he said, for he always put Adelheid first, although it was wrong of him to do so. Afterward, he inclined his head toward Antonia. “Holy Mother. When we searched more carefully, we found where they had left the road.”
“Did they go to the crown?” Antonia asked.
“It’s true there was some disturbance by that path, but it appears they decided not to go that way.”
“Because of the clouds, they could not weave,” said Antonia. “God stymied them.”
“Go on,” said Adelheid impatiently. “What did you find?”
“Two days’ ride down the road we found where they scattered into the woodland. They must have been fleeing from—” He broke off, and glanced nervously at Antonia; it was good that he feared her. “We brought the remains back in wagons, Your Majesty, although I admit we found no stray horses living or dead.”
“What manner of remains?” Antonia asked.
“A tumble of bone, hard to sort out because cast here and there along the ground and amid bushes. We found twelve skulls. Two of them were somewhat smaller than the rest. Belt buckles, metal bits, such things. This as well, among the bones.” He offered her a silver brooch molded in the shape of a panther grappling with a hapless antelope.
“Austra’s sigil,” said Antonia.
