Prince of Dogs (Crown of Stars #2) 46
He shut his eyes a moment, seemed to be praying silently; then he shook himself free of memory and went on. “God guide us in this hour of loss.” He touched a hand to his chest where, Rosvita knew, he kept an old bloodstained rag—the birthcloth of his bastard son Sanglant—nestled against his skin. “Now we must consider Gent. We have recovered from our losses at Kassel. There has been time to get the harvest in, and by the mercy and grace of Our Lord and Lady, the crop has been good. Sabella remains safely in the custody of Biscop Constance. I need only an army sufficient to attack Gent.”
Many people in the hall, mostly young and male, clamored at once. “I will go! Let me ride, Your Majesty! The honor of my kin—!”
The newest arrival at court, pleasant and able Lord Geoffrey, shouldered his way to the front. “Grant me this honor, Your Majesty,” he said, kneeling.
Henry raised a hand to cut short the outcry. “Winter is a poor season for Eagles to ride, but ride they must for my purposes. Hathui. Send one hardy soul to Margrave Judith, to inquire if she will lend her physician for the care of my daughter until she gives birth to the child. Send one with the expedition to Eastfall. Send another to Duke Conrad in Wayland with these words: ‘Attend me on my progress to explain your conduct toward my Eagle at Julier Pass.’ And choose a fourth carefully, to send to Count Lavastine, in Varre.”
Lord Geoffrey glanced up, surprised.
“You, my young friend,” said Henry to him, “I will keep by my side for a few more hunts at least. Let the Eagle ride now to your kinsman. You can return there later.”
“Why to Count Lavastine?” asked Burchard querulously.
Villam, who had been listening carefully to the king, smiled softly as at a joke only he understood.
“He has gained a son. I have lost one. Let Lavastine prove his loyalty to me by meeting me with an army at Gent. If God grant us victory over the Eika and restore the city to our hands, then I will grant him the reward he seeks.”
8
IN the end it had mattered not. And she had, besides, brought death to a dozen or more people. Could God ever forgive her? Could she forgive herself?
“Please, Da,” she prayed, hands clasped tight before her lips, “please tell me what to do. Why didn’t you teach me, Da?”
“I will teach you, Liath.”
She jerked away just before he could set his clean, white hand on her shoulder. Stumbling up to her feet, she jumped out of his reach. Mist curled around them, a low-lying fog that shrouded trees and the market village, just out of sight of the king’s encampment. Hugh had worked some terrible magic on Sapientia’s mind, such that the princess would not let Liath out of her sight, as if she were a talisman for the safety of the unborn child. So Liath had risen early and come outside to relieve herself, and afterward lingered in the bitter cold of a fog-bound winter dawn, hoping to have one moment of solitude, of respite.
But Hugh could not let her be. He would never let her be. He had known long before she had what Da was protecting. And he wanted it for himself.
“Have you learned your lesson, Liath?” Hugh continued. “So many dead.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “So many dead.”
“If you hadn’t spelled them to sleep—” she cried.
“It’s true,” he said, amazing her. She broke off. “I thought too well of what little I had learned. I will pray to God for wisdom.” His lips curled up. He seemed, for an instant, to be laughing at himself; then the moment passed and, as quick as an owl strikes, he grabbed Liath’s wrist. “Don’t be a fool. The longer you ignore it, the less able you will be to control it. Is that what you want?” He gestured toward the rise where the blackened hulk of the palace scarred its height. “Liath, whom else can you trust?”
“I’ll tell the king I set the fire—”
He laughed curtly. “Imagine what the king and his counselors will say when they discover they have harbored a maleficus in their midst. Only the skopos can judge such as you—a monster!”
“I’ll go to Wolfhere—”
“Wolfhere! We have had this discussion before. Trust Wolfhere, if you will. But I have The Book of Secrets now. I have seen what you can do, and I do not hate you for it. I love you for it, Liath. Who else will love or trust you once they know what you are? I have the trust of the king, and Wolfhere does not. I can protect you from the king’s wrath, and the church’s suspicion. And when Sapientia gives birth to our child, I will be guaranteed the place of her closest adviser for as long as she reigns.”