Crown Of Stars - Child Of Flame Part 51

"Nor your own d.a.m.ned Ungrian conceit."

"Henry accepted Ungria's offer, not Salia's. Thus did he choose a consort for to marry his eldest legitimate child."

The night air had finally cleared the cobwebs from his mind. He halted, tipping back his head to watch as clouds swirled over the face of the moon, hiding it again." I never had a child before," he said softly.

"Now do you understand me?" Bayan stood beside him, also watching the moon as it slipped free of the cloud cover, a trembling light drifting hazily behind misty streamers of night haze." A child of my blood will ascend to the throne of Wendar and Varre. Beware what words you teach your small daughter, Prince Sanglant. The great Emperor Taillefer has been dead for a long time. His power fled with him to the grave. But few, I think, forget the n.o.ble feast he presided over. Be cautious, I pray you, in parading a child who has learned to say those sweet-smelling words, 'I am the heir of Emperor Taillefer.' The wolves are always hungry."

POOR Lord Manegold, vain and shallow, had to carry Bulkezu's standard when they rode down from their position on the ridgetop to the parley. He looked like he'd rather be dead, no matter how many encouraging words Ekkehard muttered privately to him before the prince was escorted away to wait nervously with an honor guard close around him, just to make sure he didn't attempt to escape.

The negotiations for the parley had taken an excruciating day conducted first through scouts, then through emissaries sent from camp to fort and back again with various demands, offers, and compromises.

Bulkezu went in full battle array, wings gleaming in the steady summer sunlight. He descended from the ridge with one hundred picked riders at his back, Lord Manegold at the front holding up his standard, and Hanna beside him, her hands bound to make it clear she was his prisoner. Boso had dressed himself in the richest clothing he could scavenge, and he looked as ridiculous as a dog fitted out in a lord's cloak and jewels, trotting along at his master's heels.

Midway between the ridgeline and the outer palisade of the fort stood a large pavilion, sides raised up like wings to let the breeze through, the neutral ground on which both parties would meet. A force of one hundred mounted men waited beyond the pavilion.

Princess Theophanu had already arrived. Her face was as expressive as the blank mask-visor on Bulkezu's helmet. Only the crease of her mouth held a gleam of emotion, difficult to interpret, as they approached over the gra.s.s and crossed into the shade afforded by the raised wings of the tent.

The princess had Henry's cunning. Seated in a chair almost as elaborately carved as her father's traveling throne, she allowed Bulkezu to come before her as though he were a supplicant. Duke Conrad the Black fidgeted at her back with the same kind of restless energy Prince Sanglant had, a man who would rather be fighting than standing. There were, besides them, two n.o.ble companions in attendance, a richly-dressed girl of ten or twelve years of age who stood behind an empty chair placed next to Theo-phanu's, and three stewards ready to serve goblets of wine.

Bulkezu's riders halted the precise distance back from the pavilion as Theophanu's cavalry waited in the other direction. He rode forward with Hanna and Boso to his left, three of his captains to his right, and Cherbu at his back. The wind moaned through the wings of his riders. Light rippled along iron coverts as the breeze coursed through his griffin wings, lifting a seductive melody into the air. He surveyed the positions of his troops, and of hers, the placement of her chair and of the one set ten paces away, facing her, that remained empty for him. With his helmet on, it was impossible to see his face. He looked back toward Cherbu, and the shaman made a sign with his hand, briefly noted. Satisfied, Bulkezu pulled off his helmet and tossed it to one of his captains, who caught it neatly and tucked it under his arm.

Theophanu remained silent. Conrad watched, shifting restlessly as Bulkezu dismounted and indicated that Hanna and Boso should dismount as well. The second captain took their horses' reins and led them to one side, out of the way.

Hanna met Conrad's gaze briefly; the power of his physical body was mirrored in the keen strength of his gaze. He had very dark eyes, almost black, the legacy of his Jinna mother's ancestry. The girl rested a hand on the back of the chair while she examined Bulkezu with a scornful expression similar to that of the duke. By coloring and features, it was obvious that she was his daughter.

Boso stepped forward." His Magnificence Prince Bulkezu hears your pleas with interest and a kind heart, and by reason of his generosity and liberality has chosen to hear you out rather than attack and destroy your army outright."

"He wants gold," muttered Conrad darkly.

Theophanu's expression did not change." I pray you, Prince Bulkezu, please be seated and let my stewards serve you wine."

Boso translated while Bulkezu kept his gaze fixed on a point midway between Conrad and Theophanu, that remarkably believable look of blank incomprehension on his face. Once Boso had finished, Bulkezu gestured, and Boso hurried to fetch a folding stool. Saved from the abbot's chamber out of a burning monastery, the wooden stool had caught Bulkezu's fancy because of the griffin heads carved into either end of the side rails, each one plated with gold. On this seat, Bulkezu deigned to sit. His wings rustled as he settled into place, refusing with a raised hand the silver goblet of wine brought forward by a stone-faced servant. Boso took it instead, draining it too quickly.

Conrad, at last, dropped down into the chair placed next to Theophanu. The three regarded each other in silence. Bulkezu had a slight smirk on his face.

At last, Theophanu spoke." Tell your master that I prefer to negotiate bluntly. We will offer him two thousand pounds of silver to leave Wendar and Varre."

By now, Hanna recognized a few of the words as Boso translated, but only a few; Bulkezu made no effort to teach his prisoners his language, thereby allowing Boso more authority over the slaves because he was the only go-between. Once Boso had finished, Bulkezu lifted a hand. His third captain hurried forward to offer him a gold cup filled to the brim with fermented mare's milk, which he sipped at thoughtfully before he replied.

Boso translated." His Fearsomeness, Prince Bulkezu, wishes you to understand that your n.o.ble brother, Prince Ekkehard, is even at this moment a prisoner with his army. Here is his ring and his banner."

The ring was displayed, the banner unfurled, and then put away.

Duke Conrad muttered something under his breath, and his daughter patted her father on the shoulder and bent to whisper in his ear, an intimate gesture so endearing that Hanna was stricken by a sudden longing for her own father.

Theophanu's expression did not alter." A ring and a banner can be taken off a dead body."

Boso was allowed a short whip, which he used on his wh.o.r.es and on recalcitrant slaves. It was his only weapon. He prodded Hanna with the b.u.t.t of the whip now. This was why she had been brought.

She took a step forward." I am known to you, I believe, my lord princess. I was taken captive west of Handelburg together with Prince Ekkehard and four of his companions. One of his retinue rides there." She had to gesture toward Manegold with her chin because her hands were tied." I swear to you on my honor as a King's Eagle that Prince Ekkehard is alive and in Prince Bulkezu's hands."

Theophanu spoke softly to her stewards and they hurried forward to offer more wine, but Bulkezu again refused, and Boso again drained his cup." Three thousand pounds of silver and one hundred gold nomias in exchange for your departure, and the return of Ekkehard and his companions." For the first time Theophanu acknowledged her presence, a glance, no more, that touched and fled, light as a feather." And the Eagle."

Boso spoke. Bulkezu replied." His Gloriousness will not ransom the Eagle. Five thousand pounds of silver and an equal measure of gold for the prince. And Duke Conrad's daughter, for his bed."

Conrad's head snapped around as his daughter stiffened, looking indignant and frightened. Abruptly, the interpreter gave a grunting moan, grasped his belly, and without a word or excuse to anyone bolted onto the gra.s.s. He hadn't gotten more than one hundred paces before he doubled over and began to retch. Bulkezu sipped at his mare's milk. By the way his dimple flashed in and out on his cheek, Hanna could tell he was working very hard not to laugh.

"Good Lord," said Conrad, observing the stricken interpreter." I'd heard rumors. Do you think they've brought the plague with them?"

"You must consider it, Conrad," said Theophanu." All the more reason to make short work of this. The girl in exchange for their departure."

He rose threateningly, dark cheeks changing color." Marry him yourself, Theophanu. You've wanted a husband for a long time now."

"When my father returns- "Tfyour father returns."

She went on as if he had not spoken." When my father returns, I'll do my duty at his command. It's long past time for you to do yours and give your daughter up where she's needed. Times are desperate."

"And will get more desperate still without my support." The angrier he got the louder he spoke; they had given up murmuring as they argued." Why should I aid you, Theophanu? Why should I aid Wendar at all, now that your father seems determined to desert us in favor of chasing down imperial feasts into Aosta? He's stripped Wendar of its army, and cleaned out my warehouses and levies in Wayland, so what will you use to fight the invaders-"

"For G.o.d's sake, my lord and lady," Hanna cried, "he can understand every word you say!"

She had never known anyone to move that fast.

He hit her so hard across the face that she actually blacked out. Of the gap between the pain of the blow and the ground smashing into her shoulder, she remembered nothing. Acid burned in her throat. Lights danced in her vision. She couldn't feel her legs. Distantly, she heard Boso's wretched coughs as he heaved up again, and again.

"I would not try that, Duke Conrad," said Bulkezu pleasantly." I'm protected from harm by a cloak of my brother's weaving. But I won't hesitate to signal if there's any trouble. I can have Prince Ekkehard's head delivered to you," he snapped his fingers, "like that, if you wish it. Perhaps you've noticed my companion on the march, who grants me her strength. Don't you recognize Judith of Austra?"

Hanna still couldn't make any of her limbs work, but her hearing had sharpened.

"Oh, my G.o.d," said Conrad." For G.o.d's sake, Milo," he said in a low voice, "take my daughter back to the fort. At once." After a stifled protest, footsteps moved hastily away.

"I would grieve at my brother's death," said Theophanu smoothly, as if nothing untoward had happened, as if she and Conrad hadn't betrayed their secrets, as if Bulkezu hadn't walked them through the oldest trick in the ancient tales. As if Wendish quarreling weren't the greatest weakness of all, just as Bulkezu had said." As I mourn for Margrave Judith. But alas, Prince Bulkezu, just so we understand each other, he is only King Henry's third child."

"His fourth, surely, or did one of the elder two die?"

Sensation returned to her fingers. She got her bound hands under her and pushed herself up. Her head spun, and she almost threw up as she got to her knees. Conrad and Theophanu became four, and then eight, and slowly receded back into two.

"I believe we have told you more than enough," said Theophanu, "without receiving anything in return. Give me the Eagle. She's of no possible use to you."

"How can you know what is of use to me?" He called an order in his own language. Her right eye was already swelling shut, and the whole right side of her face throbbed agonizingly. Dust kicked into her face as she coughed out spittle colored by blood. Hands grabbed her and jerked her roughly to her feet. The fast movement was too much. She threw up, but the man holding her had no mercy. He simply dragged her away as she vomited. The world darkened as she fought unconsciousness.

Was that Theophanu, asking in that pa.s.sionless voice to have the Eagle returned? All she could distinguish as the light hazed over and she gasped for air was Bulkezu's hated voice answering.

"Five thousand pounds of silver and one thousand of gold, and I'll ride past Barenberg with my army and leave it and the lands around it untouched."

She pa.s.sed out.

She woke at the touch of hands pressing a poultice against her throbbing cheek. The cool mash reeked of mustard, and it stung. She opened one eye. Struggled a moment, panicking, until she realized the other eye was swollen shut, not gouged out.

Cherbu sat next to her, humming under his breath. He held a cup to her lips. Warm liquid steamed up her nose. The smell soothed her headache. Sipping, she got a bit of the broth down without feeling queasy, was even able to lever herself up and swallow the rest. The light in the small tent had splintered into dozens of colors. It took her a moment to realize that she was lying inside the shaman's patchwork tent, on a sheepskin. The ground lurched violently under her, and the patchwork ceiling swayed as they began to move.

Cherbu slipped out through the tent flap and leaped down. She caught sight of mounted men, a tree lurching past, and the sun shining through leaves before the tent flap slapped back into place. The wagon jolted on; despite the jerky motion, she fell into a fit ful doze, starting awake whenever she was flung to one side or the Other because of a hole or b.u.mp. At intervals Cherbu returned to change her poultice or give her a fresh infusion of broth. Strangely, j despite the uncomfortable journey, she felt increasingly better as the day wore on and could even eventually crack open her right eye.

She felt, in truth, mildly optimistic when the wagon lumbered to a halt and she heard the familiar noises of folk moving about setting up camp. She peeled the poultice off her face before gingerly climbing out of the back of the wagon. She needed to pee, and wanted to get a look around.

Her legs and arms worked. Her face still hurt, but she could actually open and shut her eye and squinch up her cheek without much pain. She found enough privacy around at the front of the wagon to do her business, then surveyed the situation, the placement of the army, herds, and captives in a broad clearing surrounded by forest.

Maybe there was a chance they had forgotten about her.

Maybe not.

There came Cherbu with a cup of steaming broth. She drank it gratefully. Hunger stirred; her belly growled softly. Cherbu beckoned, and she followed him to the round tent surmounted by the Pechanek banner. Bulkezu strolled out to meet her with a smirk on his face, a cold light in his gaze, and, amazingly, Boso at his side.

The interpreter looked much improved, remarkably so, since she had last seen him throwing up during the parley, but perhaps it was only glee over her impending punishment." Be afraid, woman. His Dreadfulness has had enough of your disobedience and disrespectful words."

Was it actually possible that Boso hadn't realized what had happened at the parlay? Didn't he know that Bulkezu could understand him? Or was she the fool, thinking all along that Boso hadn't known? She staggered, head swimming, and fought to keep her balance, to keep her dignity.

"His patience is at an end because you've made him very angry."

A cold fear crept into her gut as the silence dragged out. A few slaves stopped to stare, but Bulkezu's guards chased them away. He wasn't one for the big public gesture, not like the Wendish n.o.bles, who raised up and threw down their favorites in the middle of court so that everyone could see. He was a man who kept his grudges personal.

Boso actually sn.i.g.g.e.red; so aroused was he by the expectation of her imminent downfall that he forgot to be sarcastic." You can keep your clothes and your Eagle's cloak, so no one forgets who you are. But all other protections Prince Bulkezu withdraws."

She found her voice, hoa.r.s.e as it was." You mean he's going to hand me over to Princess Theophanu?"

Boso guffawed, giggling helplessly. Bulkezu's expression didn't change. Four guards came forward. If she fought, they'd see how desperately frightened she was. Hadn't Sorgatani's luck protected her? Wouldn't the Kerayit shaman watch over her? She looked toward Cherbu, but he had already wandered away into the trees.

Had she really believed in any savior but Bulkezu's whim, which had now turned cold?

"You thought yourself better than the rest," said Boso.

"No more than did you," she murmured, but she could barely get the words out. It hurt to talk. The impa.s.sive guards moved in around her, lances raised. She took a step back, flushed and perspiring as the sun slid out from behind the clouds and beat down upon her.

They advanced, and she retreated, step by step, until she realized that they were driving her, as they would drive a cow or a ewe, back to the miserable crowd of prisoners scattered like so many wilting flowers through the clearing. No longer was she Bulkezu's honored hostage, his model prisoner. She was just one more hapless captive left to stagger along in the wake of the army, one short step in front of the lances of the rear guard.

Most of the captives had collapsed in the gra.s.s, trying to cover their heads against the glare of the sun. Few had survived the night of the slaughter, and perhaps because of that, the plague had not surfaced again in the train of Bulkezu's army. He had raced ahead, leaving the plague behind, but he still took prisoners and he still dragged them along for his amus.e.m.e.nt, for his a.s.saults, for whatever sick reason he had, if he had reasons at all beyond laying waste.

A few, those not yet so weakened by their ordeal that they no ticed nothing beyond the next sip of gruel, raised themselves up to watch as Hanna was pressed back into their midst.

More than anything, she noticed the stink of so many unwashed bodies, open sores, pools of diarrhea and urine and vomit spreading from those too sick to crawl away from their own sickness, all of it a sink of despair. Flies buzzed everywhere, feasting on infected eyes and filth-encrusted hands. Surely plague was hiding here, waiting to burst out again as it had that awful night.

Ai, G.o.d, if truth be told, she was more afraid of the plague than she was of Bulkezu.

A man sporting a black-and-blue eye and drooping folds of flesh at his chin heaved himself up from the ground and spat at her." Wh.o.r.e! I see you got what you deserved at long last. I hope you got pleasure of what that demon gave you, while he was giving, because you'll get no such pleasure here."

His comrade, a tall man dressed in rags, lurched forward to grab for her." I'd like a taste of his leavings!" He got a hand on her shoulder.

She ducked, by some miracle found a stout stick in the gra.s.s, and whacked him across the face. He was a lot bigger than she was, but she'd been eating and he hadn't. Staggering, he stumbled back and sat down hard. Pain stabbed through her cheek, but she dared show no weakness.

Yet no one laughed, or protested, or reacted at all. Most of them were too ill and exhausted even to care, even to hate. The Quman guards moved off, leaving her standing in the midst of the pack with a pounding headache and a swollen face.

"I am also a prisoner, a commoner from Wendar, just as you are. A King's Eagle, taken captive in the east- Even a starving man can feed on hate, if he's nothing left to him.

"Wh.o.r.e and traitor," said one of the women listlessly. She had a bundle of dirty rags clutched to her chest, but it was only when she shifted that Hanna saw she held a sickly child, eyes crusted shut with dried pus. Flies crawled over the child's pallid face, but neither it nor its mother had enough strength to brush them away.

In the distance a river ran noisily. She smelled water, although the trees hid it from view. Most of the prisoners were looking at her now. Good Wendish folk, just like her.

The tall man coughed and braced himself on his hands as he caught his breath. When he grinned, she saw that all of his front teeth were missing." You'll have to sleep sometime."

She spoke to the others." Don't you see? The more we quarrel among ourselves, the easier his victories come."

No one answered. After a bit, the tall man and his companion dragged themselves off to the edge of the group. As for the rest, they were too weary, too hungry, and too apathetic to do anything but lie back down on the ground and close their eyes.

The Quman guards did not stop her as she gathered gra.s.s and, after several abortive attempts, wove a shallow basket and lined it with leaves. They shadowed her as she made her way through a narrow patch of woodland to the river's sh.o.r.e and knelt in the shallows. Upstream she saw only forest, but far downstream she saw a line of smoke rising into the sky.

Had Bulkezu taken Theophanu's bribe and ridden on, bypa.s.sing Barenberg? There had been no battle today, and this river looked broad enough to be the mighty Veser, flowing north toward the Amber Sea.

The basket held water well enough that she could carry it around to those folk too exhausted, or too afraid of the Quman, to walk to the river themselves. Best to start with the weak ones. They hadn't the strength to spit at her and were usually grateful for the water.

When she brought it to the mother with the sick child, she met suspicion first.

"What do you want with me, wh.o.r.e?" asked the woman, shrinking away." Haven't I been punished enough by the beast?"

"I'm a prisoner like you," Hanna repeated." It's true I've been treated better, and fed, and allowed to ride. But that's not because I'm the prince's wh.o.r.e- "The Wendish prince?" The woman's spirit flared as anger gave her strength." Some say it's the king's son himself who rides with the beast. Is it true?"

This was hardly the way to convince these poor souls that she wasn't a traitor, too, but Hanna saw no reason to lie to them about his ident.i.ty." Yes, it's Ekkehard, son of Henry."

The woman spat. Perhaps she'd been pa.s.sed over by the Quman soldiers because of the wart on her nose and lice-ridden hair, or CHILD or FLAME perhaps she'd simply been raped and discarded during the attack on whatever doomed village she had once lived in.

"A royal son like that would be better dead than a traitor." But she accepted a sip of water. The child, too, drank, but he couldn't open his eyes. His whimpers tore at Hanna's heart.

"Here. I'll soak a corner of my cloak in water and maybe we can clean his face."

"If you wish," said the woman in a dull voice, "but he'll die anyway. My poor baby. Nothing can save us now. If the beast and his men don't kill us, then hunger will. Or the plague. I heard there's plague everywhere south of us now. So maybe it is G.o.d's mercy on us for living a G.o.dly life."

"How can you say so?" demanded Hanna, aghast.

"Better to die of hunger or have your throat slit than to die of the plague. Have you seen what they look like after? I heard it from my cousin. She'd seen it, one man, two years back. He died outside her village and they let the dogs eat him. None of them touched him, not even the deacon. She said you shake and turn gray, and dying people scream that they're being eaten alive from inside, there's so much pain. Then the demon inside you spits you all out, through your mouth and nose and eyes, through your skin and your a.s.shole, all blood and snot and s.h.i.t and every stinking thing that it's eaten out of you and chewed with its poison- "That's enough!" said Hanna sharply. People had crept close to listen and some had begun to moan in fear." No use catching your death standing out waiting for the snow when there's nothing you can do to stop it whether it comes or not. That's what my mother always says."

"Is your mother still alive?" asked one of the prisoners.

"I pray she is. She's in North Mark- "Ah," said a thin old man with a spark of curiosity left in his expression." That would explain your accent and that light hair. How'd you come to be a King's Eagle?"

"The same way any do, I suppose. They were looking, and I was available."

This earned her a few chuckles as she continued to wipe the child's face, trying to moisten the crust around his eyes enough so that she could wipe it off without hurting him.

"What got you captured, then?" demanded the mother.