King's Dragon (Crown of Stars 1)

“You are the king’s eyes and ears. You watch and mark all that occurs. You are not meant for heroics. You are meant to live and bear witness.”

was sent back behind the lines to the wood beyond. Henry had chosen this field to stand and fight because of the lay of the land. Guessing that Sabella would bring her supply train with her rather than leave it behind in Arconia, he had hidden some eighty mounted soldiers in the woods and put Sapientia—with a veteran captain at her side for good measure—at their head. Concealed by the trees and by the skirmishing that prefaced any battle, they would sweep wide round Sabella’s right flank and hit all the way back to the supply train, thus freeing Constance.

Or causing her to get killed, thought Hanna, but she supposed Henry would rather see his sister die than remain a hostage. After all, as long as Constance remained—alive—in Sabella’s hands, she was a weapon to be used against the king.

That was how Hathui had explained it, at any rate. But Hathui had been raised in the harsh cauldron of the borderlands, which were in a state of constant war. There, as the hawk-nosed Eagle had said more than once, one killed one’s children rather than let them fall into the hands of Quman raiders.

Sapientia looked like a greyhound being held on a tight leash: eager to run. She was small enough that Hanna was surprised Henry let her fight.

Of course every adult fought in the right circumstances, under conditions of siege or a raider’s attack on a village; it would be foolish to waste any strong arm. But women—blessed by the Lady with the gift of bearing life—did not often join the ranks of armed soldiers. Some, who dedicated their lives to St. Perpetua or St. Andrea— both soldiers for God—turned their hearts away from marriage and childbearing, as Hathui had done. Others by reason of unusual size or strength served a year or two in a lord’s levy before returning to their holding and taking up their old lives.

But it was no shame for a noble lady to excuse herself from battle: that was what she had a husband and brothers for. Her first duties were to administer her lands and bear children to carry on her lineage. And Sapientia was particularly small, so that Hanna—running messages to her retinue from Henry—had been aware of the trouble the king and his smiths had gone to, to outfit her in decent armor.

But Sapientia wanted to fight, to lead her own unit. And Henry allowed her to, because—Hanna suspected— he had something to prove thereby. Something for her to prove to him, most likely. No person could become sovereign if he, or she, could not lead the great princes and their levies into battle.

“When will we go?” demanded Sapientia, and the old captain spoke to her soothingly, calming her down.

From the direction of the field, Hanna heard the soldiers raise their voices in a great shout: “Hai! For Henry!” That was the signal.

Sapientia lifted a hand and at the head of her troop of soldiers began to ride, circling through the trees. Hanna kept tight hold on her spear. She rode toward the back of the ranks, protected by them; no one expected an Eagle to fight unless they were overwhelmed. But she was still nervous. She stared through the trees, half starting every time new trees sprang into view. Luckily the soldiers next to her were too intent on what lay ahead to notice how jumpy she was. Possibly they were jumpy themselves, but she doubted it. For her first command Henry had given Sapientia experienced soldiers who had, most of them, spent time fighting in the east. After all, if this raid went well, they could fold up Sabella’s right flank or even overtake and engulf her rear, thus preventing her from retreating.

Distantly, through the trees, Hanna heard a change in the echoing noise from the field. One of the soldiers beside her grunted: “They’ve engaged,” he said to the man beside him.

They rode on, curving back to the right. A horrible shriek rose above the distant thunder of battle.

“What was that?” muttered one of the soldiers.

But then, at the fore of the company, the riders broke into a gallop. They had sighted their quarry. Their pennants whipped behind, streamers of red and gold.

Hanna saw the line of wagons ahead, drawn up in twos to make a wall and a gap between where the noncombatants could take shelter. Amazingly, Sabella had left only a token force to guard her supply train. A few arrows cut through the sky, their whirring like a warning come too late.

Sapientia raised her voice in a shrill cry: “Hailililili!” and, with her soldiers fanning out, they hit the line of wagons and broke into a dozen small swirls of fighting, soon stilled.

Hanna hung back, watching. Hathui had drilled this into her over the last ten days as they had ridden west to meet Sabella.

“You are the king’s eyes and ears. You watch and mark all that occurs. You are not meant for heroics. You are meant to live and bear witness.”

But there were no heroics here. Sapientia’s troops took over the supply train easily and began to herd their new prisoners together, searching for Biscop Constance. A cry came from the woods on the opposite side of the line of wagons. Hanna rode closer, to investigate.

There! Among the trees she saw riders, but she could not identify them. Sapientia’s captain took twenty soldiers and rode into the wood to head them off.

And at that moment, someone grabbed her reins and jerked down hard on them. She started and swung her spear around to point at—

A frater.

She stared. He had a harsh face. One of his lips was bleeding.

“Give me your horse!” he demanded. This was no humble churchman. After almost twenty days in the king’s progress, Hanna recognized a great lord’s arrogance when she saw it.

But she hesitated. He was dressed as a simple frater, after all.

“Ai, Lady, grant me patience!” he said aloud. “Eagle! Dismount and give me this horse!”

“For what purpose?” she demanded in her turn. “You are in Sabella’s train—”

“I am Sabella’s prisoner, not her ally.”

“How can I know—?”