The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars 5)

“Wendish!” exclaimed the old duke. His hands trembled because of age, not anger or shock. His sojourn in Aosta and two bouts of the shivering fever had weakened him.

“They fly the banner of a black dragon.”

“The Dragons!” said Burchard. “It was Duchess Yolande’s rebellious brother Rodulf who was sent east to lead the King’s Dragons into the field against the Quman. Can it be the Dragons have come to aid Henry?”

Adelheid’s small hand closed on Burchard’s wrist just as the duke opened his mouth to speak, and he looked at her, surprised. What message passed between them, read in lips and eyes, Antonia could not interpret, but the old duke bent his head, obedient to the young empress’ will, and kept silence.

“Go on,” said Adelheid. “What else did you see and witness?”

“There were other banners as well, a dozen or more. A silver tree on a blue field—”

“Villam!”

“A gold lion on a black field.”

“Avaria!” The old duke moaned, and Adelheid called for a linen cloth and wiped his damp brow herself. “My Avaria. What means this? Have my heirs turned their backs on me? On the king?”

“If they are friend,” said Adelheid, “then they do not threaten us. If they are our enemy, then we must crush them before they reach Darre. Burchard, will you march out with me?”

“Do you mean to march against this army yourself?”

“I did not surrender to John Ironhead. Henry still fights in Dalmiaka. I will protect Aosta. I will not run.”

“If there are Bwr, Your Majesty …” said Captain Falco. “Bwr!” He was a brawny soldier, a man of action who served his lady bravely, but the name had the power to make a man as stalwart as he was shudder. The crowd murmured. This was how fear sounded, like water washing all resolve out of their hearts.

The empress rose, lifted a hand, and commanded silence. Antonia did not trust Adelheid, but she admired her. It was a pity the empress was not as malleable as her young daughters, but God did not place obstacles in one’s path in order to make life easy. The road to heaven was paved with thorns and barriers. One had to climb them and not be afraid of getting scratched up.

“Heed me!” she cried. “The Bwr once burned this city, but they will not do so today, nor will they do so as long as I rule over you and protect you! I will ride to meet them. Let every man or woman who can carry arms go to the north gate. Together with the city guard under Captain Lutfridus, they will guard the walls in my absence. I will ride out with my army, and with Duke Burchard’s and Count Tedbald’s faithful men.”

That Burchard had been too old and Count Tedbald too untrustworthy to ride to Dalmiaka with Henry and Anne she did not say, although Antonia and most of the others knew it.

They cheered her because she was their beloved queen, young and brave and pretty. Being pretty always helped.

When they had dispersed to make ready, Adelheid turned to Burchard and repeated her question. “Will you ride out with me, Duke Burchard? It seems that the obedient son has turned rebel.”

“I cannot believe it,” said the old man. “Do you truly believe that Prince Sanglant has taken the field against his own father?”

“A black dragon?”

“Saony flies the red dragon. It must be the prince. Just as you warned me.”

“He has turned against Henry. Will you ride with me, Burchard?”

He wept quietly, but his gaze on her was steady. Like most men, he adored her. “I will ride even against my own children, Your Majesty. I will not waver. You know that.”

She nodded. “We will ride together, old friend.”

All were gone except the servants. Antonia relished the solitude. The bees had buzzed so frantically, maddened by fear and uncertainty, but now the chamber lay quiet, the only noise the beat of the fan against the air. That rhythmic pulse was so soothing. It was cooling off as the sun set. In the city, the markets had opened and folk walked the streets, hunting their suppers.

Adelheid went back out onto the balcony. “See!” she called. “Have you seen it, Sister Antonia? It is brighter tonight. There it is, burning in the heart of the Queen.”

Antonia knew what the empress pointed at. She sighed and rose. The only good thing about the heat was that her joints didn’t ache as much as they did in the cold.

As the sun set, darkness rose in the east and the accustomed stars slowly burned, one by one, into view. In the constellation known as the Queen, now at zenith, a comet shone.

“The Queen’s bow is pointed at the Dragon,” said Adelheid. “Others have claimed this comet portends the end of the world, but now I know it signals my victory over Prince Sanglant.”

Lamplight stippled the battlements of the distant city walls as well as the nearer palace walls that ringed the hill on which the two palaces stood. Dusk waned to twilight and twilight faded to night as they stared at the comet, which was noticeably brighter than it had been three nights before—the night the queen’s clerics had first marked it. Three nights ago it had burned in the Queen’s Bow.