Child of Flame (Crown of Stars 4)

“Nay, of course not. Perhaps I am only a little surprised that memory has not served me as well as you have.” He smiled with the craft of a regnant who knows when to flatter his advisers, but Rosvita sensed tension beneath the light words.

“You were very young, Your Majesty. God grant us all the privilege of change and growth, if we only use it. You are a wiser man now than you were then, or so I have heard.”

He smiled, this time with genuine pleasure. The baby stirred, coming awake. She yawned, looked around, and said, quite clearly: “Da!” After this unequivocal statement, she frowned up at Henry. She had a clever little face, quite charming, and mobile expressions. “Ba!” she exclaimed. She seemed to have no other mode of speech than the imperious.

“The months do not count out correctly,” said Henry. “Nine months for a woman to come to her time, and even if she deliver early, no child will survive before the seventh month. Sanglant and the Eagle left fourteen months ago, yet this child is surely a yearling or even older. But her coloring is like that of the Eagle’s, if I am remembering correctly.”

“Do not doubt your memory on this account. I also believe the child resembles its mother in some ways. Look at the blue of her eyes! But you are right, Your Majesty. Even if she were a seven months’ child, born early, she could therefore be only seven months of age now.”

“Come.” Henry carried the baby out to the garden, heading for his son, but as soon as he stepped outside the beauty of the autumn foliage and late flowers distracted the child. Rosvita watched as the king surrendered to her imperial commands: each time Blessing pointed to something that caught her eye, he obediently hauled her to that place, and then to another, lowering her down to touch a flower, prying her fingers from a thorny stem, stopping her from eating a withered oak leaf blown over the wall, lifting her up again to point at a flock of geese passing overhead.

He was besotted.

Sanglant had wandered to the garden by the wall where he spoke privately to Brother Heribert. What intrigue might he be stirring up? Yet had Sanglant ever been one for intrigue? He had always been the most straightforward of men.

Still, he made no move to interfere with the capture of his father: Blessing worked her will without obstacle. Queen Adelheid had gone into the aviary. Rosvita had to admire the young queen: either she was determined to turn Alia into an ally, or else she intended to divert all suspicion while she concocted a plan to rid herself of her rival. It was hard to tell, and even after months of sharing the most difficult of circumstances in Adelheid’s company, Rosvita didn’t know her well enough to know which was more likely.

But as Rosvita watched Henry dandle the child, her heart grew troubled.

Twilight finally drove them back inside. Adelheid and her attendants came from the mews, Sanglant and Heribert from the garden. Alia lingered outside, alone, to smell the last roses. No one disturbed her. By custom, the feast would continue into the night, but neither Henry nor any in his party seemed inclined to return to the great hall. Too much remained unspoken.

Blessing went to Sanglant at once. She had begun to fuss with hunger. A spirited discussion ensued among the attendants on the efficacy of goat’s milk over cow’s milk to feed a motherless child. He took her outside.

Rosvita went to the window. A cool autumn breeze, woken by dusk, made her shiver. Sanglant avoided his mother and settled down out of her sight on the far side of the old walnut tree.

Adelheid came to stand beside Rosvita. The queen smelled faintly of the mews and more strongly of the rose water she habitually washed in. She had such a wonderful, vividly alive profile that even in the half light of gathering dusk her expressions seemed more potent than anything around them, as bright as the waxing moon now rising over wall and treetops.

“You have acted most graciously, Your Majesty,” said Rosvita.

“Have I? Do you think I am jealous of the passion he once felt for her? That was many years ago. Truly, she looks marvelously young for one as old as she must be, but until she explains her purpose here, it is not obvious to me that she possesses anything he now desires or lacks.” The young queen’s tone had a scrape in it, as at anger rubbing away inside.

“And you do?”

“So I did,” she replied bitterly. “As you yourself know, Sister Rosvita, for you came with my cousin Theophanu to seek me out in Vennaci. Yet did you not just see Henry holding in his arms the living heir to Taillefer’s great empire? If it is true, what need has Henry for a queen of my line?”

“What manner of talk is this, Your Majesty? Your family’s claim to the Aostan throne is without rival.”

Adelheid smiled faintly, ironically. “It is true that no noble Aostan family holds a better claim. Certainly the skopos will support me if she can, since she is my aunt. Yet how did my lineage help me after the death of my mother and my first husband, may God have mercy on them? Which of the nobles of Aosta came to my aid when I was besieged? My countryfolk abandoned me to Lord John’s tender mercies. I would have become his prisoner, and no doubt his unwilling wife, had you and Princess Theophanu not arrived when you did. What would have happened if Mother Obligatia had not taken us in despite the hardship it placed upon her and the nuns in her care? What if she hadn’t allowed Father Hugh to use sorcery to aid our escape?”

“What do you mean?” But trouble, like a swift, may stay aloft for a very long time once it has lifted onto the wind.

“I had no rivals before. Now I do.”

“Henry has legitimate children, it is true.”

“None of whom can claim descent from Emperor Taillefer. Nay, it is clear that Henry favors Sanglant, Sister Rosvita. Henry would have seen me married to Prince Sanglant, had he been given his way a year ago.”

Since it was true, Rosvita saw no reason to reply beyond a nod.

“If that was his plan, then he must have hoped that by marrying me, Sanglant would be crowned as king of Aosta. It is understood, I believe, that only a regnant strong enough to claim the regnancy of Aosta can hope to claim the imperial title of Holy Dariyan Emperor as well. Henry hoped to give Sanglant that title. Or so I assume.”

“Henry has never hidden his ambitions. He hopes to take that title for himself.”

“Certainly he is now entitled to be crowned king of Aosta because he is my husband. But Ironhead still reigns in Darre. Do you not see my position?”

Rosvita sighed. Adelheid was young but not one bit naive. Yet Rosvita could not bring herself to speak one word that might seem unfaithful to Henry. “You are troubled, Your Majesty,” she said instead, temporizing, hoping that Adelheid would not go on. But the one trait of youth Adelheid had not yet reined in was impetuousness.

“Let us imagine that it is true that this child is the legitimately born heir to Taillefer, his granddaughter two generations removed. I brought Henry the crowns of Aosta. But her claim to Aosta’s throne, and to the Crown of Stars Taillefer wore as Holy Dariyan Emperor, is far greater than anything I can confer.”