In the Ruins (Crown of Stars 6)

“Naturally. Why else would I have come here, Aunt?”

“To be anointed as regnant. Do not trifle with me, Sanglant. Liutgard and Burchard support you. Yet rumor has it that you abandoned Sapientia in the wilderness.”

“Never did any sour soul deserve that fate more!” laughed Wichman from the corner.

“Silence!”

It was startling to see Wichman cowed as he ducked his head and murmured, “I pray for your pardon, Aunt.”

“Do not mock. I will not tolerate it What of Sapientia, Sanglant? Are you responsible for her death?”

“We do not know if she lives, or is dead.”

“Among the Quman savages, living is surely like death. We are not like the Salians or the Aostans or the Arethousans. We Wendish do not kill our relatives in our quest for power.”

“I do not seek power, Aunt. I seek order, where it seems there is no other who can grant it. You witnessed the events of last autumn. We felt its effects most bluntly. I have soldiers who are scarred from burns they suffered in that wind and others who died coughing with ash in their lungs. I did what had to be done. That it is not worse with Wendar’s army is due to my efforts. I will not have it said otherwise.”

“So I witnessed.” Liutgard stood with shoulders locked back, arms and neck rigid. “So I will swear, as will all of my soldiers and attendants.”

“So I will swear,” said Burchard wearily, “although my own daughter perished.” He paused to touch Liutgard on the arm before continuing. “What became of Princess Sapientia I do not know, only what reports have been spoken of, but she could not have held the army together. Henry willed the kingdom to Sanglant on his dying breath. This I witnessed. This I swear.”

Liath had by this time crept around the wall of the tent as nobles and guardsmen shifted to make way for her, not betraying her by giving her more notice than they would to a faithful hound seeking its master. She wasn’t sure whether their deference annoyed her or placated her. She would never become used to this life. Never. But as Scholastica examined Burchard’s seamed face, Liath slipped onto the stool beside Sanglant and hoped no one would call attention to her arrival, which no one did. There were five sturdy traveling lamps placed on tripods and another four hanging from the cross poles. The light gave every face a waxy quality, too bright, but there also gleamed on one wall the unfurled imperial banner. Gold-and-silver thread glinted in the crown of stars, which was embroidered on cloth and stained with tracks of soot that no one had been given permission to wash out. Even the rents and tears in the fabric had been left. The Wendish banner had been washed and repaired, but not the imperial one.

“It is not part of our law for the bastard child to inherit,” said Scholastica, “but I have observed that laws are silent in the presence of arms. That Liutgard and Burchard speak for you gives strength to your case.” She looked at each duke in turn, as if her disapproval could change their minds, but Burchard merely sighed and Liutgard glared back at her. “Let Theophanu and Ekkehard agree, and it will be done.”

“I have already sent Eagles to Osterburg.”

“I sent Eagles and messengers out as well, when I heard rumor of your coming. While you wait for their arrival, you must disperse your army. I cannot feed so many for more than three days. Our stores are already low. The weather bodes ill for the spring.”

“I will keep my army beside me.”

“Will you take by force that which you can only win with God’s favor, and the agreement of your peers?”

His frown was quick but marked. Unlike his father, Sanglant did not rage easily, and a few men muttered to see him brush the edge of anger. “I did not seek this position. I am my father’s obedient son. I have done only what he wished.”

“A man may turn away from a platter of meat when he has just eaten, only to crave it when he hungers. We are not unchanging creatures, Nephew. We wax and wane like the moon, and at times we change our minds about what it is we want. Although, I see, some things have not changed.” She gestured toward Liath. “The last, if not the first, or so your grandmother divined. Your concubine?”

“My wife,” he said, his irritation even more pronounced.

“An Eagle is your wife?” she asked, as if he had claimed to have married a leper.

“Liathano is of noble birth out of Bodfeld.”

“A minor family which can bring no worthwhile alliance to your position. Surely it would be wiser to seek a more advantageous match. Duke Conrad’s daughter, or Margrave Gerberga of Austra’s youngest sister, Theucinda. Margrave Waltharia herself, if it is true that her husband died on your expedition, leaving her free. There was some interest there before, between the two of you, I believe.”

“I have what I need.”

Scholastica turned her gaze and examined Liath with a look meant to intimidate. Strangely, Liath found herself caught between an intense boredom at the prospect of having to endure much more of this sparring and at the same time a feeling of being wrung so tight that like Sanglant she could not sit restfully but kept tapping one foot on the carpet.

“Your mother was a heathen?” asked Scholastica at last.

“No, not really, Holy Mother,” said Liath, aware of how disrespectful she sounded and, for this instant, just not caring.

“A Daisanite woman of black complexion whom your father impregnated?”

“My mother was a daimone of the upper air, imprisoned by the woman who later made herself skopos. My father loved her. I am the result of that passion.”

Was that a smile that shifted the lines in that grim expression, even for an instant? Liath had no idea, but she saw that such a bald statement did not confound the abbess although her three clerics made little noises of astonishment. In some cases, a smile is a sword.