Prince of Dogs (Crown of Stars 2)

Hathui smiled wryly. “God makes the sun to rise on noblewoman and commoner alike. The Lord and Lady love us all equally in Their hearts, my lady.”

“Yet Our Lord and Lady follow Their own will in parceling out to individuals whatever They wish. To some They give more, and to others, less. Could we not also argue that we merit what we each receive? That They confer on the elect these gifts of grace that set them apart from others?”

But the Eagle shrugged, her expression untroubled. “All gifts are given to us by God. Without such gifts, no matter how noble, we are dust. So we are all equal before God—and the honorable word of a common-born woman no different than that of a nobly born man.”

It was startling to hear a commoner speak so bluntly, but Rosvita could not gainsay the truth in her words. “There is wisdom in what you say, Eagle.”

Hathui touched a finger to her lips as though to force words back before she blurted out something unseemly. The wind lifted dust from ground already stirred up by the passage of so many feet and so much activity. Soon, all too soon, the night would be alive with Eika—and many of those who marched in this army would die. Rosvita shuddered, although it wasn’t cold.

“I would say one thing more, if you will, Sister.”

“You have my permission.”

“What benefit to me to lie about this?”

“Your own vows, to protect your sister Eagle.”

“True-spoken. I admit freely to being a woman who holds to her vows. Ask yourself this: What benefit to Father Hugh to lie about the book?”

“That would depend on what is in the book. Do you know?”

“I do not. I cannot read, and Liath never showed the book to anyone, except perhaps to Hanna.”

Hanna. Ivar had nursed at the same breast as Hanna, making him and the young woman milk siblings. To some extent, then, Hanna was kin to Rosvita even if the young Eagle was a common-born woman and Rosvita born out of an old and noble lineage.

Hanna might know. But to speak with the Eagle, Hanna, she would have to pry the young woman out of Princess Sapientia’s tight grasp, for Sapientia held all her creatures close against her as if she feared that, given too much room to run, they would dash for freedom—or for someone more worthy.

But there was no one else—no one else more worthy to become Henry’s heir. Sapientia had steadied in recent months. Perhaps Father Hugh’s counsel was guiding her toward the “wisdom” she was named for. She might yet grow into a queen.

Thoughtful, Rosvita returned to the council in time to hear Henry announce that which they all knew was preordained:

“We will ride on in the morning, battle ready. Should we be set upon as we march, we will take up at once what positions we can along the road. Duchess Liutgard will command the vanguard, which will take up the left flank. Her Highness Princess Sapientia will command that portion of the ranks which will form the right flank. I will ride in the center, commanding the center, and Margrave Villam will command the rear guard, with the reserve.”

So was it decided. There came from the assembled nobles a taut hiss of breath, a gathering of resolve. Soon, and at long last, they would face the Eika.

3

COUNT Lavastine sent a contingent of infantry northeast, ahead of the rest of his army. Commanded by Sergeant Fell and reinforced by a levy of light cavalry from Autun, they guarded four wagons which contained certain pieces from a siege engine as well as sections of a huge chain forged by blacksmiths at Lavas Holding in the spring.

“The Eagle as well,” the count had said, “so that she may report back to me the success of your efforts.”

They marched hard for three days, seeing nothing except the desolation of farming lands gone wild, then set up camp on the lee of a bluff overlooking the western channel of the Veser River. This was the channel all ship traffic used since the eastern channel—split off from the western by a spur of rocky land, was too shallow, spreading out into marsh before it reached the sea.

Artisans from the city of Autun quickly set to work felling trees and constructing two engines, called ballistae by the ancient Dariyans. They also began work on a small catapult that used a stout young tree, stripped of leaves, branches, and bark, as its arm.

The work proceeded quickly. By the time Liath and the other mounted soldiers had checked out the area, finding nothing but a few burned villages, swathes of heavily grazed fields with no cattle in evidence, and a fallen keep built by some ancient race that had guarded the river in another age, the engines were taking form.

All the next day the engineers worked on their machines. It was so hot that they stripped down to breechclouts as they worked, men and women alike sweating under the sun. Meanwhile Sergeant Fell and a few of his men who had fought the Eika along the north coast of Varre scouted the river as the tide ebbed. Near midday, at low tide, the river ran shallow near the mouth, glistening tidal flats scored by deeper channels coursing seaward.

Late that night, under the light of the gibbous moon, the work parties set out as the tide ebbed again. On the last lip of solid land, they stripped and began the long trudge across exposed sand and rocks, towing logs sharpened at one end. The day’s heat had spilled over into night’s air, making it so heavy and warm that Liath was grateful for the pull of cool water against her skin as they headed into the river’s main bed. Pebbles rolled smooth by their passage downriver slipped under her feet. She smelled the salt of the sea. The waters streamed past, brown with silt, and sang in their murmuring chorus of the long journey from their original home in the mountains far to the south. A branch grazed her thigh and swirled on.

On the flats, where the water flowed no more than knee-deep at low tide, it was an easy matter to drive in beams for piles, though the current was strong enough that a fair bit of wrestling was required to get the angle right. Like the stakes set leaning forward to stop a charge of heavy cavalry, this line of piles was to be angled and fastened so that the bow of a ship might only drive it deeper. With the piles protruding half an arm’s length above the water at the low, so Sergeant Fell said, then an Eika ship could not pass even at high tide.

“Here, comrade!” called a woman to her. As she plunged forward, the water rose along her thighs and she shivered as the cold current dragged at her, coursing around her hips and tugging her seaward as she waded farther out. A man, seeing her struggle against the pull of river, linked arms with her and together they got out to a raft anchored against the current by a section of the heavy chain. She helped five laborers as they wrestled a log as big around as her waist into the deep water and turned it up. Others hauled out rocks from the shore and used these to weight the log on the seaward side while a burly man with a blacksmith’s thick arms hammered the log into place. Still more rocks were brought until Liath, standing on this foundation, could touch the top of the log, the water only up around her waist, submerged rocks slick under her bare feet.

From this vantage, the moon’s light cast a glamour over the scene; its light washed the waters with a silver gleam that winked ceaselessly as the river rushed forward to the sea. Overhead, many of the stars had been bleached to nothing by the moon’s waxing light, but at a glance she could identify the three jewels of the summer sky shining high above her, diamond, sapphire, and citrine. The River of Heaven, unlike the earthly river that coursed round her now, was only a faint mist. On a moonless night it would have stretched like a shimmering beacon right across the zenith, dropping down into the coils of the Serpent in the southern sky. The Penitent and the Eagle, its wings unfolded, rose to the east; in the west, the Dragon set. She shut her eyes. The current dragged against her like the pull of grief.

“That’ll hold,” said Sergeant Fell, startling her back to earth. He had waded out to test their handiwork. “Go on, then. There’s more to set in, all the way across. The tide’s well turned, so we’ve only a few hours before it’ll be too high to do the job Count Lavastine’s set us to do. We can’t sink piles into the deep channels, so these here’ll have to hold strong for the weight they must bear.”