“Here, Brother Heribert, you must eat.” Wolfhere guided the cleric through his meal patiently. A bite, chew, swallow. A sip of ale. A bite, chew, swallow. “You must keep up your strength.”
“We are close now,” said the cleric. “Why do we not go on?”
“We are prisoners, Brother. We are set in a cage, here.”
“A cage,” the cleric repeated thoughtfully, or stupidly. Ivar could not tell which.
He leaned to speak to Berthold. “What is wrong with him?”
“Brother Heribert? He’s never been the same—well, so the others said who knew him—after we came out of the earth up in the Alfar Mountains. He was buried in a slide of earth, but we dug him out. He vanished from Novomo after Hugh of Austra murdered Lady Elene. I thought perhaps he had run off with Hugh the Bastard, but we found him much later, at St. Barnaria’s rest house, up on the pass as we crossed north. He was starving, for he never knew to eat, so I suppose some evil humor has disordered his mind. I wish I knew how he escaped, the night Hugh of Austra murdered Elene, and kidnapped the brat. But he won’t—or can’t—tell us.”
Wolfhere squatted beside them, nodding toward the oblivious Heribert, who was now counting and recounting the dead mice. Jonas grabbed the nest out of his hands and tossed it into another corner. Heribert made no protest but merely turned his gaze to stare at the weathered and cracking boards, as if he could see the wind itself as it brushed through the gaps in the byre’s walls.
“Poor creature,” the Eagle said. “He was a loyal companion to Sanglant.”
“So are we, are we not?” Ivar hesitated and glanced around but none of their guards stood within earshot.
“None of us said anything. Now Conrad and Sabella will not know until too late that the Eika are coming.”
“They have scouts and spies and outriders, all on alert,” said Berthold. “Listen, Wolfhere. How can we get news of the Eika to Sanglant? Or to his reserve army? They will be walking into the Eika trap as well.”
“If I had not lost my Eagle’s Sight… well, that is gone.”
“There is one other thing.” Berthold pressed an open hand over his tunic, patted his chest. “The writ of excommunication I carry here. If it’s true that Mother Scholastica no longer supports Sanglant, then this will bolster Conrad and Sabella’s claim.”
“By their words, it seems if they may already know.”
“Yet if they don’t? What must we do, Wolfhere? Once they know, once the news gets out … maybe, after all, I should burn it!”
“Rash words!”
“Do you think that woman is the rightful skopos? That God have anointed her? I do not!”
“I pray you, Lord Berthold! Do not imperil your soul!”
“I don’t care! I know what she is, and I don’t care. I don’t fear her. I hate her! I hate all of them, all the Aostans who imprisoned us and let Elene die! Let them all rot! Let them all fall into the Pit!”
“My lord Berthold! I pray you!”
His attendants gathered around him to soothe him as he raved, speaking of the one called Elene, letting his grief and anger fall as tears. The cleric watched with an expression of dumb curiosity. The Eagle sighed. But Ivar rose, and paced, and halted at last before the Eagle.
“You carry a writ of excommunication? From the skopos in Darre?”
“A new skopos. The elder—Anne—she who came before—” A speck of dirt had gotten into Wolfhere’s eye and he had to cry a few tears and rub with a finger to pry it out. “Holy Mother Anne is dead. This new one was biscop of Mainni in the days before, called Antonia. She was sent south to stand trial before the skopos—that would be Holy Mother Clementia, in those days—on the charge of malefic sorcery.”
“What does the writ say?”
“All of Wendar and Varre will be placed under anathema if Sanglant is anointed and crowned as regnant.”
“Why?”
“Because he is a bastard,” said Wolfhere in a calm voice, “and because his mother’s people are heathens and savages, their blood not fit to rule a godly people like the Wendish. Because some say he killed Henry—that he is a patricide.”
“Surely if Conrad and Sabella had this writ, they would want word of it to reach Sanglant? You heard what they said about Mother Scholastica. She has turned against the prince. If one of us was able to convince them to let us carry it there, then we could warn Sanglant about the Eika. Otherwise, you might as well burn it. Then no one will know.”
