In the outer chamber reserved for Adelheid’s use, Lady Lavinia was speaking to a pair of stewards. Seeing Antonia, she bent and kissed the hand offered to her.
“Forgive me, Holy Mother,” she said. “I must depart in haste. Certain matters have come up, as we prepare for this siege. They could attack at any moment.”
“Is there news?” Antonia asked her. “Did the man we sent to offer a parley, did he return?”
Without answering, Lavinia nodded toward the closed doors that, when open, offered passage into the queen’s innermost chamber. She excused herself again and hurried away. In the corner, Mathilda sat alone on a couch clutching a doll. She had her eyes closed, although she was not asleep. Her lips moved as she murmured under her breath, but Antonia could not hear her words.
Almost Antonia went to her, to soothe her and offer a prayer to strengthen her. Captain Falco opened the door and stood aside to allow her to enter. He closed the door behind her. without following her inside.
o;We’ll need to protect our flanks and rear so we aren’t surprised by Conrad’s army,” said the king, and once they reached the base, Sergeant Adalbert guided them south toward the banks of the river where a tangle of scrub brush and coppices of ash grew alongside the watercourse. They rode over a trampled field dusty from lack of rain. Red dirt coated the legs of the horses.
From the town, a horn sounded three times. Sanglant sent scouts back to get a closer look. Their route dipped into a hollow, and they turned and rode west in this cover until one of the men appeared on the rise, waving one arm frantically but not riding down to them. Sanglant spurred his mount forward, with Captain Fulk, Hathui, and a brace of soldiers behind him.
“What news?” he called.
But as soon as he surmounted the rise, he saw what the scout had seen. He turned, gesturing toward Liutgard, and Captain Fulk raised the horn to his lips and sounded the advance.
A party of about a hundred riders exploded from Kassel’s lower gate and galloped away across fields until they reached the west-wending road. They vanished, riding toward Varre. It was too far to catch them without the risk of falling into an ambush or meeting Conrad on the road where numbers would give the Varren army the advantage.
Liutgard rode up beside Sanglant. Her face was flushed and her expression fierce. “Kassel is ours!” she cried. “Taken without a fight!”
Sanglant frowned. “Hathui! Find Rufus—he’s with us, is he not? Send him—send two Eagles, by different routes, and Sergeant Adalbert will provide guides for each one, in case they must take to the forest trails. Give them each a spare horse. They’ll ride back to the main army. Tell them this: that we are settled into the tower of Kassel and will guard the town against imminent attack. They must proceed in haste, and with provisions sufficient for a siege, gathering anything they can along the route. It may also be that they will interrupt a siege laid in upon us by Conrad and Sabella. Go!”
“Your Majesty!” She rode away, calling for her Eagles.
“Fetch Lord Wichman,” he said to Benedict.
“What are you thinking, Your Majesty?” asked Fulk.
Liutgard stared at the city, straining like a hound against the leash, eager to ride in to her home.
“We’ll send Wichman and fifty riders north into the forest. It’s fairly open beech wood there, is it not?” The sergeant nodded. “Well enough. He’s accustomed to harassing the enemy. Let him wait in reserve. He can prowl the western road to ambush small parties and messengers. We’ll give him some signal if we need him to attack in force once Conrad and Sabella arrive.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Can we not go, Sanglant!” demanded Liutgard. “I want to see my daughter.”
Yet, after all, when they rode into a town ravaged by storm and parched by the enemy’s raid, with a grateful population swarming onto the streets to greet them with hosannas and hallelujas, they found the tower deserted and Lady Ermengard gone. The enemy had taken her. She was Conrad’s hostage now.
6
AT dusk, Captain Falco came to the chapel where, for most of the day, the skopos had led prayers to soothe the terrified schola. He accompanied her through the palace to the queen’s chambers. Folk labored like ants anxious to put in their stores of food. Barrels brought up out of the town were being rolled into the lady’s storehouse. Old men sharpened stakes in a courtyard, and a constant din floated up from the distant blacksmith’s quarter. A pair of guards kept watch beside the cisterns while a trio of youths spilled water from full buckets into the waiting reservoir and, empty buckets dangling, trudged away to get more.
“This way, Holy Mother,” said the captain.
In the outer chamber reserved for Adelheid’s use, Lady Lavinia was speaking to a pair of stewards. Seeing Antonia, she bent and kissed the hand offered to her.
“Forgive me, Holy Mother,” she said. “I must depart in haste. Certain matters have come up, as we prepare for this siege. They could attack at any moment.”
“Is there news?” Antonia asked her. “Did the man we sent to offer a parley, did he return?”
Without answering, Lavinia nodded toward the closed doors that, when open, offered passage into the queen’s innermost chamber. She excused herself again and hurried away. In the corner, Mathilda sat alone on a couch clutching a doll. She had her eyes closed, although she was not asleep. Her lips moved as she murmured under her breath, but Antonia could not hear her words.
Almost Antonia went to her, to soothe her and offer a prayer to strengthen her. Captain Falco opened the door and stood aside to allow her to enter. He closed the door behind her. without following her inside.
In the inner chamber, Antonia found herself alone with Adelheid and Alexandros. A barred window looked over a garden of cypress hedges and sleepy lavender. Alexandros stood in profile, staring into the deepening twilight as Adelheid paced. He seemed preoccupied; indeed, he did not even acknowledge Antonia’s entrance.
“You are come, Holy Mother,” the queen said, her voice dull.