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“That is—I think—yes—Captain Thiadbold’s troop.”

“Yes. Yes. I see him now. His helm covers his red hair.” He chewed his lower lip, then said, “She seems to know them well.”Advertisement

Hathui looked at him strangely. “I can’t say, Your Majesty. An Eagle meets many folk upon the road. Eagles and Lions often depend on each other in a tight spot.”

He frowned, but shook himself. “Attend me, if you will.”

They crossed the grassy forecourt and walked up onto the porch. The guards opened the doors to let them through. Inside, clerics scribbled at tables set up along the length of the hall. Scholastica presided from the dais, although she was not seated in the ducal chair but rather in a handsome seat with a cloth back and pillows. She was making a show of reading, but it was obvious she was expecting him. A nun whispered into her ear. She handed her the book and raised a hand, to give Sanglant permission to come forward.

“I pray you,” he said to Hathui, “hurry to Theophanu and Liutgard and tell them I have mistaken the matter. If they will come at once, I will be grateful for their help. We’ll need my throne as well as their chairs. Make haste.”

She left.

From down the length of the hall, Scholastica regarded him with patience, or interest, or puzzlement. She said nothing. He said nothing. Theirs was a standoff. The guards had closed the doors, but elsewhere all the shutters had been taken down. As he waited, he heard the noise of the army settling down for the day, goats complaining, men laughing, sergeants shouting, a hostler cursing, dogs barking as they would. Quills scratched indoors; outdoors, wind skimmed the branches of Goslar’s orchard.

He heard them approach the porch and walk up the stairs. The door opened, and they entered, just the two of them, with Hathui at their back. Without speaking, he beckoned them forward and with one on either side approached his aunt: She looked stern and unbending, not even amused.

“I come with the Dragon of Saony and the Eagle of Fesse beside me,” he said to her.

“What of Rotrudis’ children?” she asked, dispensing with pleasantries.

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Yes, she was annoyed.

Servants came forward to unfold the traveling chairs. Theophanu and Liutgard waited until he sat; then they sat. Now all four made a cozy little group, but three of them were young and one was getting old. She was holding on to the past when, in fact, the past had been demolished in one night last autumn.

“Rotrudis’ children are not capable of ruling, Aunt. Theophanu is, as you know.”

“If Theophanu is capable of ruling, then she should by right be regnant,” said Scholastica. “Yet she is not. I have a proposition for you, Sanglant.”

He nodded, but she was not waiting for his permission, only pausing to collect her thoughts.

“Theophanu is not the only candidate. There are others. If you accept retirement, you can retain your place as captain of the King’s Dragons. The realm will need your strength. You can serve best where you are most suited.”

“I am already crowned and anointed. At your hand. To what purpose do you raise these objections now?”

“I wish to prevent war, Sanglant.”

“How will my stepping down prevent war? Who then would rule as regnant?”

“Conrad and Tallia.”

“No!” cried Theophanu, standing up. She was furious.

“Conrad?” Liutgard’s laugh had a mean heart. “Tallia? Do you mean Sabella’s daughter? That whey-faced creature who wept blood and moaned and cried?”

“She professed a heresy,” said Theophanu. “You yourself threw her out of Quedlinhame, did you not?”

“I did not,” said Scholastica coolly. “Henry took her to marry Lavastine’s heir, the one who was a thief and a liar and a bastard.”

“Conrad?” murmured Sanglant, but as hard as he could think this through, he could not figure how his aunt would be willing to throw the regnancy out of Henry’s line. Her own line.

“Conrad has a claim.” Liutgard was white with anger. “And I have a claim, Mother Scholastica. What of me? I am the last descendant of Queen Conradina. She, after all, did not give the crown to her younger brother but to her rival and ally, the elder Henry, who was then duke of Saony. Her words are famous. In truth, we learn them early in Fesse so as not to forget the stain upon our family’s honor. ‘For it is true, Brother, that our family has everything which the dignity of the regnant demands, except good luck.’ Sanglant has brought us this far out of disaster. Who else could have done so? It was Henry’s last wish that Sanglant become king after him. I witnessed Henry’s last words.” pqdm.com