“You may come forward, Captain,” said Constance kindly, “and kiss my ring.”
Tammus bent the merest angle, just enough not to insult her outright, and kissed her ring, although he sneered as he glanced back to invite Ulric to come forward. The cavalryman knelt before her chair and bent his head respectfully. Were those tears in his eyes? From this distance it was impossible for Ivar to tell, and Captain Ulric blinked, rose, and retreated, coughing behind his hand either because of dust in the room or to cover a strong emotion.
Ivar felt a swirl of dangerous currents at work in the chamber, but he couldn’t identify their locus or the shifting eddy of these tides. He leaned against the wall, pretending to an ease he did not possess.
“What news, Captain?” Constance asked.
“I bring word from Lady Sabella. She means to visit you within the next fortnight.”
“Ah.” By no means could any person read Constance’s reaction. She nodded, hands curled lightly over the arms of her chair, seeming relaxed. Or resigned.
“There’ll be a great deal to be made ready,” said Captain Tammus. “We’ll have to deplete our stores to feed her retinue. The village near here hasn’t any grain stores left to them, and it’s not harvest yet.”
“Harvest this year will not yield much,” replied the biscop. “You’ve seen the fields.”
“I’ll have to send men out hunting again. We’ll take half a dozen sheep from your flock.”
Constance nodded, although she knew as well as Ivar did that their flock was sorely depleted. None of the ewes had birthed twins this spring, a sign, Sister Nanthild said, of drought to come, and indeed drought and unusually hot weather had afflicted them. What rains had come had arrived untimely, and in one drenching flood that had washed sprouts out of dusty fields, churned them into muddy lakes, and then hardened the land into cracked earth when the sun returned to beat on them as a hammer flattened red-hot iron on the anvil.
“It will be good for Lady Sabella to see the conditions of the lands hereabout, which have suffered greatly over the last winter and into this summer,” she said. “Is there any other message, Captain?”
“That is all, Your Grace. Otherwise, as you know, I am under orders to make no communication with you or any of those residing under your care.”
“I understand the terms of my confinement well enough. It seems a long journey to come here all this way merely to bring me a single message.”
He looked at Tammus before risking further comment. “I have escorted a new complement of guardsmen to replace the levy that has been here for three months.”
“Will you replace Captain Tammus?”
Tammus snorted.
Ulric shrugged. “Nay, Your Grace. Lady Sabella has named him as your keeper. So he will remain as he has served well and faithfully these past two years.”
“So he has,” agreed Constance without a glimmer of sarcasm. “I hope you will accept some wine, Captain, after such a long journey in these hot days.”
“That I will, gladly and with thanks.”
“Captain Tammus will show you the way.”
Ivar remained where he was as the two captains retreated to the doors and filed out with Ulric’s escort behind them.
All but one.
As they passed through the doors, Ulric asked Tammus a flood of questions, while behind him the second of his hooded attendants sidestepped without missing a beat and by Ulric’s misdirection managed to remain inside the chamber when the doors were shut behind the other men.
The stranger cast back his hood and strode forward to kneel before her chair, the movement accomplished so decisively that Ivar had no time to respond before it was done.
He could have knifed her, but instead he grasped her hand as a supplicant.
“Your Grace, I have only a few moments to speak with you. I pray you, heed me.”
She studied him, gaze shifting over his face and figure, and nodded to indicate that she recognized him. “Lord Geoffrey of Lavas. How does your daughter, the young countess, fare?”
“Ill, Your Grace. Lavas county and all the western lands fare ill, and have done so ever since you were deposed. God are angry. This is our punishment: we suffer drought and untimely rains. Refugees fleeing north from the Salian wars confound us. Bandits have made the roads unsafe. There will be famine this winter. We hear tales of plague and murrain, although thank the Lord and Lady we’ve seen none of that in our lands, pray God that we be spared. There’s even talk that my sweet Lavrentia is not in truth the rightful heir!”
“How can that be?”
“Nay, nay, I make no mind of it. It’s only the idle talk of desperate folk.” With a shaking hand he drew the Circle of Unity at his breast. “Another scourge strikes at us from the sea. The Eika have returned! They harry in Salia along the coast. We hear rumors that they are moving inland and north. I pray you, Your Grace. Lady Sabella usurped your rightful place, granted to you by King Henry, the true king. We will support you.”