She turned from her niece and nephew to greet Bayan and acknowledge the other nobles, those worthy of her immediate notice. Hanna could not tell whether she meant to greet Bayan’s mother, hidden away in her wagon, or ignore her, but in any case by some silent communication the wagon was drawn away toward the guest wing.
If Biscop Alberada noticed this slight, she gave no sign. “Come, let us get out of the cold. I wish I had better news to greet you with, but troubles assail us on every side.”
“What news?” asked Sapientia eagerly. The long march had made the princess more handsome; what she lacked in wisdom she made up for in enthusiasm and a certain shining light in her face when her interest was engaged.
“Quman armies have attacked the Polenie cities of Mirnik and Girdst. Girdst is burned to the ground. Both the royal fortress and the new church are destroyed.”
“This is sore news!” exclaimed Lady Bertha, who stood to Sapientia’s left.
“Yet there is worse.” It began to rain, a misting drizzle made colder by the cutting wind. “The Polenie king is dead, his wife, Queen Sfildi, is a prisoner of the Quman, and his brother Prince Woloklas has made peace with the Quman to save his own life and lands. This we heard from Duke Boleslas—” She indicated the nobleman standing on the steps above. “—who has taken refuge with his family in my palace.”
“Who rule the Polenie folk, if their king is dead?” asked Bayan.
Evidently Duke Boleslas could not speak Wendish well enough to answer easily, because Alberada replied. “King Sfiatslev’s only surviving child, a daughter, has fled east into the lands of the pagan Starviki to seek aid. Shall I go on?”
Bayan laughed. “Only if I have wine to drink to make the news go down easier. Of wine there is none this past month.”
“Let us move into the hall!” exclaimed the biscop, looking more shocked by this revelation than by the Polenie defeat. Or perhaps she just wanted to get out of the rain, which began to come down in sheets. Her servants hurried away to finish their preparations. “Of course there is wine.”
“Then I fear not to hear your news. The war is not lost if there is wine still to drink.”
Biscop Alberada had laid in a feast worthy of her status as a royal bastard. Because of her kinship with the Polenie royal family, she had been allowed to found the biscopry of Handelburg thirty years ago when only a very young woman newly come to the church. One of King Sfiatslev’s aunts had been taken prisoner during the wars between Wendar and the Polenie fifty years ago, and this young noblewoman had been given to the adolescent Arnulf the Younger as his first concubine, a royal mistress to assuage his youthful lusts while he waited for his betrothed, Berengaria of Varre, to reach marriageable age. In the thirty years Alberada had overseen the growing fortress town of Handelburg, the noble families of the Polenie had all been thoroughly converted to the Daisanite faith in a right and proper manner.
The biscop reminded them of her successful efforts at conversion as wine was poured and the first course brought. “That is why I fear for Sfiatslev’s daughter, Princess Rinka, for the Starviki have been stubborn in holding to their pagan ways. What if they induce her to marry one of their princelings? She might become apostate, or even worse, fall into the error of the Arethousans, for the Starviki are known to trade furs and slaves to the Arethousans in exchange for gold nomias. What news of your father, Sapientia? I trust we expect him in the east soon, for truly we have need of his presence here.”
Sapientia glanced toward Hanna, standing back among the servitors. “This Eagle brought the most recent news,” she said in a tone which suggested that whatever bad news she had to impart was Hanna’s fault. “King Henry means to ride south to Aosta. He sent a paltry contingent of two hundreds of Lions and not more than fifty horsemen even though I pleaded with him that our situation was desperate.”
“He seeks the emperor’s crown,” said Alberada.
“I wonder what use the emperor’s crown if the east burns,” mused Bayan.
“These are troubled times in more ways than one.” Alberada gestured to her steward, who refilled all the cups at the table. “An emperor’s crown may bring stability and right order to a realm afflicted by the whisperings of the Enemy. These Quman raids are God’s judgment on us for our sinfulness. Daily my clerics bring me more stories of the pit of corruption into which we have fallen—”
After so many days on sparse rations, Hanna was glad enough to be obliged to serve, since it meant she could eat the leavings off the platters. A stew of eels was followed by roasted swan, several sides of beef, and a spicy venison sausage. Despite the biscop’s forbidding disquisition on sinfulness, the nobles ate with gusto, and certainly there was enough to spare both for the servants and for the dogs.
Prince Bayan had cleverly turned the topic of conversation to what interested him most: the war. “We must hold here the whole winter.”
“Surely winter will put a stop to the Quman raids.” Freed from her armor and heavy traveling cloak, Sapientia looked much smaller. She hadn’t her father’s height or breadth of shoulder, but months riding to war had given her a certain heft that she had lacked before her marriage.
Bayan laughed. “Does my lion queen tire of war?”
“Certainly not!” Sapientia had a habit of preening when Bayan paid lush attention to her. She could never get enough of his praise, and the prince had a knack for knowing when to flatter his wife. “But no one ever fights during the winter.”
“Nay, Your Highness,” said Breschius as smoothly as if he and Bayan had rehearsed the exchange, “the Quman are famous for attacking during winter, when ice dries out the roads and makes streams into paths. Snow doesn’t stop them. Nothing stops them but flowing water. Even then, they have captive engineers in their army who can build bridges for them and show them how to make use of fords and ferries.”
“I have prepared for a siege,” said Alberada. “Although, truly,” she added disapprovingly, “sieges come in many guises.” Farther down the table, Lord Wichman was drinking heavily with his cronies. He had been seated beside Lord Dietrich, but despite baiting him with crude jokes and cruder suggestions, Wichman could not get Dietrich either to join him or to lose his temper. Having lost this skirmish, he had turned to harassing any servingwomen who ventured within arm’s reach. “If your army winters here, Prince Bayan, then I must have some assurance that they will not disrupt the lives of my townsfolk and servants.”
“It’s my army, too!” said Sapientia. “I do not tolerate insolence or troublemakers.”
“Of course not, niece,” replied Alberada with such a soothingly calm expression that Hanna knew she would continue to talk around Sapientia because she, like everyone else, knew who really commanded this army. “I expect you to see that your Wendish forces behave themselves, just as I expect Prince Bayan to keep proper order among his Ungrian countrymen.”
Bayan laughed. “My Ungrian brothers do not cause trouble, for otherwise they are to have their swords cut off, at my order.”
“I do not approve of such barbarity,” said Alberada primly, “but I hope your soldiers keep the peace rather than breaking it.”
The stewards brought round a savory condiment of boiled pears mixed with hog’s fennel, galingale, and licorice, as an aid to digestion for the noble folk who were by now surely stuffed and surfeited. Yet the feast dragged on well into the autumn night. A Polenie bard from Duke Boleslas’ retinue sang, and he had such an expressive voice and so much drama in his gestures that the hall sat rapt, listening, although he sang in an unintelligible language. Hanna’s eyes stung from the smoke in the hall. She had been so long marching out-of-doors that she’d forgotten how close air got within walls, even in a great hall as capacious as the one in the biscop’s palace.
iscop reminded them of her successful efforts at conversion as wine was poured and the first course brought. “That is why I fear for Sfiatslev’s daughter, Princess Rinka, for the Starviki have been stubborn in holding to their pagan ways. What if they induce her to marry one of their princelings? She might become apostate, or even worse, fall into the error of the Arethousans, for the Starviki are known to trade furs and slaves to the Arethousans in exchange for gold nomias. What news of your father, Sapientia? I trust we expect him in the east soon, for truly we have need of his presence here.”