“Perhaps when Lord Amalfred returns to Salia, he will take the concubine with him and spare poor Villam the pain of her duplicity,” said Sister Amabilia.
“Ah, well, Villam no doubt has his eye on more succulent prey. I swear I saw him eyeing the young Eagle.”
“Our friend the hawk?” asked quiet Sister Odila, astonished.
“Of course not! The dark one. But you know how Eagles are and the code they swear to. Eagles don’t indulge themselves in such a way, except among their own number. But I have observed some new developments in other places—hands meeting and petting in the bowl at table, if you take my meaning.
Sister Amabilia sighed profoundly, and Brother Fortunatus looked downcast that his hint provoked no greater reaction than this. “Even so,” Amabilia said in a weary voice, “it isn’t half as interesting now as when Prince Sanglant was alive.”
“I beg you,” said Rosvita sternly. “Do not speak disrespectfully of the dead.”
Brother Constantine looked up from his muller where he ground vermilion to form the base of red ink. “I never saw Prince Sanglant. He was gone before I arrived here.”
“Ai, well,” said Sister Amabilia. “Court was much livelier when Prince Sanglant graced it.”
“I will thank you,” said Rosvita, setting down her quill pen, “not to mention his name within the king’s hearing.” She tested the point of the pen on her finger, sighed, and picked up her penknife to recut the tip of the quill.
“But he was only a fighter,” said Brother Constantine. “Surely he could not have cut such a fine figure, so elegant and charming in manners, so affable and benevolent, so even-tempered, so learned, as Father Hugh.”
Amabilia sniffed. “Father Hugh ought to be tending to his monastery rather than playing the courtier. But I have been with the king’s progress for eight years, Constantine—”
“As you are ever reminding me,” muttered the young cleric.
“—and I recall Frater Hugh when he was at the schola here. A bird’s feathers may change in color, but it’s the same duck inside!”
“And you will be at your task another eight years, Sister,” Rosvita said gently, “if you do not set yourself to work.”
For all of Amabilia’s tart character, she had a remarkably sweet smile, which she used now to good effect. She had also the finest hand Rosvita had ever seen, master of the Litteras Gallica and Tulay-tilah as well as knowing the antique Scripta Actuaria. For this reason, though she was not of the highest nobility, she had become a fixture in the king’s chapel; she also taught writing to the most promising students in the king’s schola. “I beg your pardon, Sister Rosvita. You are right to reproach me for my unseemly attachment to the amusements the world affords.”
“To the amusements people afford,” said Constantine reprovingly. He really was too serious given how very young he was, not above fifteen.
“God gave us eyes so that we could observe and a tongue with which to speak our minds!”
“And humility teaches us to cast our eyes to the ground and to keep silence!”
“My children,” said Rosvita without raising her voice. “Attend to your tasks.”
Constantine flushed and bent back to the muller, now mixing white of egg and a bit of gum arabic into the vermilion powder. Amabilia did not look chastened; for all that she had a wicked eye for human foibles, she was at peace with herself. She sharpened her quill and returned to her work: making a copy of the precious Vita of Saint Radegundis for the library at Quedlinhame. The other clerics, some listening, some not, worked on in pleasant silence. Rosvita bent back to her History.
She read over what she had most recently accomplished: the crowning of the first Henry, Duke of Saony, as King of Wendar and of his wife, Lucienna, Count of Attomar, as queen; his speech before the nobles and their acclamation of his rule; certain small rebellions and battles as well as armed struggle with the Varren queen, Gisela. With red ink she wrote in the initial line to a new chapter, then changed to black.
“To Henry and his most renowned wife Lucienna were born these children, the first called Arnulf, beloved by all the world, the second, brave and industrious, called Otto, while the third, Kunigunde, Mother of Quedlinhame Convent, was a woman of singular wisdom and authority. Henry had also another daughter, named Haduidis, who married Immed, Margrave of Eastfall. Lucienna had another child, a son named Reginbern. This son rode as captain of the Dragons. He fought against the Eika who were at the time laying waste to Saony, and so ruthlessly waged war against them that they were driven away and feared even to sail within sight of the Wendish coast for many years.
“When all these wars ceased, there came into the east country of Saony an army of Quman horsemen, burning cities and towns and monasteries. They worked such slaughter that it is better to pass over this destruction in silence rather than set it all down again in words. However, it happened that one of the Quman princes was captured. Margrave Immed brought him to the king, but he was so esteemed by his kin that the Quman offered to King Henry as much gold and silver as ten wagons could carry for the prince’s ransom. But the king despised their gold and demanded peace, which they gave him in return for the prisoner and certain other gifts.”
o;Our friend the hawk?” asked quiet Sister Odila, astonished.
“Of course not! The dark one. But you know how Eagles are and the code they swear to. Eagles don’t indulge themselves in such a way, except among their own number. But I have observed some new developments in other places—hands meeting and petting in the bowl at table, if you take my meaning.
Sister Amabilia sighed profoundly, and Brother Fortunatus looked downcast that his hint provoked no greater reaction than this. “Even so,” Amabilia said in a weary voice, “it isn’t half as interesting now as when Prince Sanglant was alive.”
“I beg you,” said Rosvita sternly. “Do not speak disrespectfully of the dead.”
Brother Constantine looked up from his muller where he ground vermilion to form the base of red ink. “I never saw Prince Sanglant. He was gone before I arrived here.”
“Ai, well,” said Sister Amabilia. “Court was much livelier when Prince Sanglant graced it.”
“I will thank you,” said Rosvita, setting down her quill pen, “not to mention his name within the king’s hearing.” She tested the point of the pen on her finger, sighed, and picked up her penknife to recut the tip of the quill.