“I did not. But the man I rode with, Wolfhere, bound my comrade Manfred and me to him with various small devices. Had he died, I believe I would know of it.”
“Ah,” said Henry, one eyebrow arching. “Wolfhere.”
To Rosvita, mostly, one Eagle was much like another. Nobleborn boys and girls were given their own retainers when they came of age or, if circumstances warranted, they served with the Dragons. Service as a king’s messenger or in the king’s infantry was relegated to the children of freeholders, not those of noble birth. But every cleric in the king’s chapel and schola knew Wolfhere by sight or at least by reputation. There was no Eagle senior to him, and it was sometimes whispered—though not so often these days—that he knew many things beyond the ken of human knowledge. He had been in favor during the reign of the younger Arnulf; some claimed he had too much influence over Arnulf, especially for a man not born into a noble family. That favor had ended within a year of Henry’s ascent to the throne. Wolfhere had been banished from the king’s presence. Rosvita did not know why.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The woman had a strong gaze, and she was not afraid to look King Henry in the face. “I am proud to call him praeceptor.” Instructor and guide. She used the Dariyan word deliberately. Rosvita guessed she knew something, at least, of Wolfhere’s reputation at court.
Henry’s lips turned up. Rosvita knew him well enough, after all this time, to see he admired the young Eagle’s forthright manner. “How long have you served in my Eagles, and what is your name and lineage?”
“For seven years I have served in the Eagles, mostly in the marchlands. I joined as soon as I came of age. I am named Hathui, daughter of Elseva, a freeholder in Eastfall.”
“And your father?”
“My father was called Volusianus. He was also born of free parents. But alas, Your Majesty, he was killed while in the service of King Arnulf, fighting the Redari.”
The king glanced toward Villam, who gazed benignly at the young woman. Rosvita remembered well the last war against the Redari; it had taken place in the final year of Arnulf’s reign and was mostly fought in the March of the Villains. Indeed, the lands over which the Villains held authority had greatly expanded after the capitulation of the Redari tribesmen and their conversion to the faith of the Unities.
“After his death, my mother and her sister and brother were among those who traveled east of the Eldar River with grants given them by King Arnulf, to take lands for themselves, under the authority of no lord or lady.”
“Except that of the king.”
She bent her head slightly, acknowledging the truth of his words. “Except that of the king,” she repeated.
Henry lifted his left hand, signing her to rise. “You will travel with my court, Hathui, daughter of Elseva, and serve me.” This signal honor was not lost on the gathered assembly, who were no doubt wondering how much the king intended to favor this commoner. Rosvita examined the courtiers. Who would be first to attempt to befriend the Eagle and who first to attempt to bring about her downfall?
o;You say it is a raiding party?” asked Henry quietly.
She shook her head. “Not according to the Dragons who escorted us, Your Majesty. At last count there were fifty-two Eika ships.”
Henry was sitting on a bench in the unicorn courtyard, attended by his companions and courtiers. This information sent up a murmur, quickly stilled when Henry lifted a hand to quiet them. “Do you think they mean to invade?”
“According to Sturm—he was the commander of the company we rode with—the Eika want the bridges that connect Gent to the east and west shore of the river thrown down. That way they can raid upriver at their leisure.”
“And this Commander Sturm, where is he now?”
“He returned to the vicinity of Gent. He and his men hope to harry the Eika outside the walls, to aid their brethren trapped within.”
Henry glanced to his right, where Helmut Villam stood. “Gent lies within the lands administered by Count Hildegard, does it not?”
Villam nodded.
“What of her forces?” the king asked.
“I do not know,” admitted the Eagle. “They are not within the city. Certainly she must have news of the siege by now.”
The king gestured, and a servant brought him a cup of wine. He sipped at it thoughtfully. “You said there were five Eagles?”
The woman nodded. Her companion, already pale, began to look quite white, the look of a person who has spent many sleepless hours in fruitless worrying; she had the light complexion that betrayed northern blood, light blue eyes and coarse wheat-blonde hair twisted into braids. The older woman betrayed neither anger nor grief. “The others rode on. I don’t know if they got into the city safely, but I believe they did.”
“You did not see them enter within the walls?”
“I did not. But the man I rode with, Wolfhere, bound my comrade Manfred and me to him with various small devices. Had he died, I believe I would know of it.”
“Ah,” said Henry, one eyebrow arching. “Wolfhere.”
To Rosvita, mostly, one Eagle was much like another. Nobleborn boys and girls were given their own retainers when they came of age or, if circumstances warranted, they served with the Dragons. Service as a king’s messenger or in the king’s infantry was relegated to the children of freeholders, not those of noble birth. But every cleric in the king’s chapel and schola knew Wolfhere by sight or at least by reputation. There was no Eagle senior to him, and it was sometimes whispered—though not so often these days—that he knew many things beyond the ken of human knowledge. He had been in favor during the reign of the younger Arnulf; some claimed he had too much influence over Arnulf, especially for a man not born into a noble family. That favor had ended within a year of Henry’s ascent to the throne. Wolfhere had been banished from the king’s presence. Rosvita did not know why.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The woman had a strong gaze, and she was not afraid to look King Henry in the face. “I am proud to call him praeceptor.” Instructor and guide. She used the Dariyan word deliberately. Rosvita guessed she knew something, at least, of Wolfhere’s reputation at court.