He fell behind and from this vantage point could see nothing except banners and pennants and the chaotic blur of movement on the hill above.
But he knew instantly when the first ranks met. It was a clamor unlike anything he had ever heard, made the more terrible because of the unforgiving clash of sword and spear set against the sudden harrowing screams of mortal men.
He thought of Rodulf’s warnings and Sabella’s answer: “This time it will not be enough.” How could she hope to win against a better armed and larger force?
He could not know whether the cage was opened deliberately or knocked over accidentally in the charge. He only knew it had happened because at that moment there came from the center of the milling battle a shriek from a hundred throats as from one throat that froze his heart in his chest. He could not breathe for so long a span of time that he coughed and gulped air when Rage butted him from behind, jarring him out of his stupor.
On the slope above, half seen through the chaos of soldiers scattering, through horses rearing and screaming, through the press of bodies and of many men intent on moving forward or on running away, he saw it rise into the spring day as a bird flies toward the heavens and freedom.
Only to be yanked hard, almost to plunge to earth again, because of the great iron collar that bound its leg to a heavy iron chain, the shackle that tied it to the earth and captivity. It screamed its rage and righted itself, still in the air, the downdraft of its great wings toppling men from their horses.
Still shrieking that harsh eaglelike cry, the guivre swept its gaze across the battlefield. And everywhere that men by design or accident met its eye, those men froze, unable to move. Everywhere, except among the soldiers of Sabella’s army, who wore the amulets so painstakingly wrought by Antonia’s clerics.
The slaughter began.
3
KING Henry was the kind of man who left nothing to chance.
In a strange way, he reminded Hanna of her mother, Mistress Birta. He had a hard, pragmatic side and yet was as likely as any other person to give full expression to his feelings. But to Hanna the most important thing about Henry was what Hathui had said of him that same evening after they had reached Henry’s court at the monastery of Hersford and been taken in as members of the king’s personal household: “He’s a fine lord, is our king, and I am proud to serve him.”
Hathui, with her fierce marchlander’s independence, was loath to serve anyone. That Henry had captured Hathui’s loyalty so quickly was to Hanna’s way of thinking a mark of his kingliness. He was the true heart of the kingdom, not any city, not any holy site, not any palace or stronghold.
Now, sitting astride her horse as Villam conferred with Henry after the disastrous parley, Hanna worried. She was not, by nature, a worrier, but she had come to be one these past weeks ever since she and Hathui had been forced to leave Liath behind. It was all very well for Hathui to proclaim that she would know if something had happened to Wolfhere and Manfred. A constant nagging anxiety ate away at Hanna. What if something terrible happened to Liath? Hanna had sworn in her heart to protect Liath, and now she had broken that promise.
Through no fault of your own. Isn’t that what Birta would say? Isn’t that what Liath herself would say?
But Hanna could only think of broken promises as she stared down the slope toward Sabella’s army, drawn up in a strong line below them. She had sworn to protect Liath, and now she rode far from her side. Sabella had, by all reports, sworn an oath to Henry and now she had broken it. By my deeds, Hanna thought, I belong on Sabella’s side.
Then, angry at herself for this ridiculous musing, she let out an exasperated sigh. There was no use blaming herself. She was not the Eika chieftain who had besieged Gent. She had not asked those Eika to attack the five Eagles. She had fallen off her horse and sprained her ankle, but the truth was, she was still not that experienced a rider. She and Hathui had brought the message of the siege to Henry as quickly as they could. She had done her best and now must live with what came after. It was not her fault but rather Sabella’s that Henry could not ride immediately to Gent.
Liath was the one who worried incessantly and to no purpose, wondering what she had done wrong rather than accepting that sometimes one did nothing and still had ill luck. That was the way of the world, though perhaps Deacon Fortensia might say it was a heathen way of looking at things.
But Hanna and the rest of her family still laid flowers at the foot of certain trees in the forest and offered garlands where the spring rose from rock along the south ridge. Of course she believed in Our Lord and Lady and in the Circle of Unity. But that did not mean the old spirits had ceased to live in the world. They had only gone into hiding.
The old spirits—like that boy who had held the reins of the biscop’s white mule and stared at her so strangely. He had an odd, fey look about him. And those hounds! They weren’t ugly, like the Eika dogs she had seen, but they looked as deadly; yet they sat next to the boy like sweet puppies. Ai, well, there were a great many strange things that walked abroad in the world, if only one had the eyes to see them.
“—the young Eagle—”
She shook her head and attended to what Henry was saying.
“—will attend Sapientia. She knows what to do. I will have Constance back before Sabella can retreat and take her away as a prisoner.”
Henry was surrounded by his century of Lions. Hanna searched and found Karl’s broad back among the ranks; if she craned her neck just right, she could see his profile. He did not notice her. With his fellows, he stared intently down the slope toward the restless mass of Sabella’s army. The Lions were ready for battle.
Henry and Villam finished their consultation. Hathui rode away with a message intended for Theophanu, who had been left in charge of their supply train. Henry, ever cautious, had left the train and his noncombatants behind in the fortified town of Kassel.
to be yanked hard, almost to plunge to earth again, because of the great iron collar that bound its leg to a heavy iron chain, the shackle that tied it to the earth and captivity. It screamed its rage and righted itself, still in the air, the downdraft of its great wings toppling men from their horses.
Still shrieking that harsh eaglelike cry, the guivre swept its gaze across the battlefield. And everywhere that men by design or accident met its eye, those men froze, unable to move. Everywhere, except among the soldiers of Sabella’s army, who wore the amulets so painstakingly wrought by Antonia’s clerics.
The slaughter began.
3
KING Henry was the kind of man who left nothing to chance.
In a strange way, he reminded Hanna of her mother, Mistress Birta. He had a hard, pragmatic side and yet was as likely as any other person to give full expression to his feelings. But to Hanna the most important thing about Henry was what Hathui had said of him that same evening after they had reached Henry’s court at the monastery of Hersford and been taken in as members of the king’s personal household: “He’s a fine lord, is our king, and I am proud to serve him.”