Crown of Stars (Crown of Stars 7)

Conrad rose, and with a curt gesture signaled silence. Although he spoke in a measured tone, his anger had the force of a shout. “Where is the Eagle, Wolfhere? He knows the full tale, and I would like to hear it all now.”

“I don’t know where he is. I lost track of him after the end of the battle. But as for the manner of Elene’s death, there’s nothing he can tell you that I cannot answer, for I was there.” He choked. Brusquely, he wiped away tears. “That is not all, although to my mind it was the worst. There’s this also: Queen Adelheid of Aosta has allied herself with the Arethousan general, Lord Alexandros. He fled a civil war in Arethousa, and now he is married to Aosta’s queen. I heard also tales that the city of Arethousa was entirely destroyed in the tempest last autumn. Just as Darre was.” He paused, so full of adrenaline that he was panting, flushed, and sweating.

“Is that all?” Conrad asked. Then shook his head, with a kind of grunting laugh that a man might make when he is mired in sorrow but caught nevertheless by life’s irony. “To think of Villam’s son making this strange journey. Ai, God, my poor Elene.”

In answer, Berthold sat down and clasped his hands tightly in his lap.

Scholastica nodded at Conrad, and he smiled mockingly at her, but he sat down.

“So are we answered,” she said. “Henry’s obsession has been overthrown. Aosta and Arethousa have suffered God’s wrath. Yet so have we.” She glanced at the Eika lord—the first time by look that she had acknowledged his presence—but did not meet his inquisitive gaze.

The Eika lord listened and watched with a fierce and intelligent concentration that made Rosvita nervous. Despite the trappings—the primitive standard, the gaudy lacework that girdled his hips and thighs, the jewels drilled into his teeth, and the bare chest painted in spirals and cross-hatches—he was not what he seemed. He might appear savage, but far more dangerous currents surged within.

“It is time to acclaim a proper regnant. One who will heal the land, not divide it. So my father Arnulf, of blessed memory, said to me before he died. Better, he said, that if Henry’s obsession overtakes all, and my wishes are not followed, the line of Conrad rule rather than half-breeds.”

“That would be acceptable to me,” said Conrad mildly. “And to my heirs, all descended as I am from the first Henry. The blood of my daughter Berengaria flows also with Arnulf’s blood, through her mother, Tallia of Varre.”

So it came. The mask cracked. Theophanu rose in clear and blushing fury, a fine figure of anger who in that moment resembled her father in his famous wrath.

“It would not be acceptable to me. I love Conrad as my cousin, you may be sure. But in the absence of Sanglant and my elder sister Sapientia, I am Henry’s rightful heir. I have waited too long. I have been shunted aside too many times. I will not sit quietly and see what is rightfully mine pass to my distant kin.”

Such a hush might only be found during the Mass for the remembered dead, when the host of mourners and worshipers reflects upon their own sins. The peace endured a long time, broken at last by Mother Scholastica as she unclenched hands. Rosvita had not seen her curl them into fists, but the rigid line of her figure betrayed the tight control and bitter anger with which she regarded Theophanu.

“Beware Arethousans bearing gifts. You are too much your mother’s daughter. None love you.”

Theophanu lifted her chin to meet the blow. “Maybe so. But her lineage was of the highest order, a daughter of the empire. It was Arnulf himself who brought her to this country to marry his son.”

Wichman stirred, barking out a coarse laugh. “A strange objection, Aunt, since Conrad was also born of a foreign bitch.”

With a roar, Conrad jumped up, oversetting his chair, but when he whirled with an arm raised to clout Wichman, he caught himself.

Wichman chortled, then began again coughing up that pinkish spume.

“Carry him out of here,” said Conrad with disgust. “He’s sorely wounded.”

“Nay, nay,” rattled Wichman. “I meant what I said. I want to hear. Indeed, I’ll risk my life to stay, for I wish to hear my aunt’s reply to this puzzling question.”

His words had not shaken Scholastica. She regarded him with scorn. “Lady Meriam was unexceptional. She was brought here as a child and embraced the true faith with sincerity and wisdom. I find no fault in her. Sophia, however, was never truly one of us. It is better this way. Conrad will rule, and his daughter by Tallia will be heir to the regnancy.”

Theophanu took a step forward, making it easy for her to see each of the great princes in their chairs. To see the bodies of her brother and her aunt and her sister, whose blood she shared.

In Heart’s Rest there is a saying: It is the mother’s blood that tells.

The princess extended her left hand, palm open, although it wasn’t clear whom she meant to include in the gesture. Her expression was clean, her anger strangled. Her voice was clear and strong.

“With Sanglant and Sapientia dead, I am Henry’s eldest surviving child. Henry was your regnant. He ruled you well, all of you, before the tide took him. I am not beloved as my brother was, nor will I ever be. But I am wise and canny. I will rule as a prudent steward in troubled times. We must recover what is lost. We must fight against the chaos the tempest has left in its wake. Sanglant knew this. That is why you acclaimed him. That is why I stepped aside in his favor, although my claim was legitimate. Conrad is a fine warrior, but I am a better steward. That is my claim.”

Conrad smiled, as though this were all an entertainment put on to make him laugh. “And will you lead us when battle is joined, Theophanu? Or will the armies of Wendar and Varre choose to follow me?”

“What battle? The battle is over. We have lost. Will you fight those who outnumber us tenfold? Will the flower of our armies, the strength of our men, be cut down when we need them most to tend and build and plant? When we need them to protect us from the beasts and renegades who have flourished these past few years? From the threat out of Aosta and Arethousa? From the threat of our ancient enemies, the Cursed Ones?”

Conrad made a hissing, contemptuous sound, indicating the silent Stronghand. “What solution do you propose to combat their army, then? Cousin?”

She smiled, although there was nothing of sweetness in it. “The sensible one.”

With the slightest shift of her feet and shoulders, it could be seen that her outstretched hand was offered to the Eika prince, who watched her with a lively amusement, as if he had already guessed her intention.

“Let Lord Stronghand agree to become my husband, and he will rule beside me, consort to my regnant.”