“King Henry, of course!” Aware that he had spoken loudly, Alain ducked his head, embarrassed. In Sabella’s camp, one did not speak of Henry as king. “And Lady Sabella, who is his elder sister.”
“His half sister,” Agius corrected. “Queen Berengaria of Varre was her mother. When she died, the younger Arnulf married Mathilda of Karrone, who is Henry’s mother. And then?”
“I don’t know.”
“These are the living children of Arnulf and Mathilda. Henry. Rotrudis. Richardis, known as Scholastica, who is Mother at Quedlinhame Cloister. Benedict. Constance. Brun. Henry also has a half sister who is the child of the younger Arnulf and a concubine. She is Alberada, now Biscop of Handelburg, but that is far to the east in the marchlands, and she has taken no part in the quarrels between Henry and Sabella. Now. Who are the six dukes?”
“I … I don’t know. Well. Duke Rodulf is one. And isn’t Sabella’s husband Berengar called a duke?”
“He is indeed. He is Duke of Arconia, although of course Lady Sabella administers his lands, as his wife. Rodulf is Duke of Varingia. The city of Autun lies on the border of those lands administered by Rodulf and his wife, which we call Varingia, and those lands administered by Sabella and Berengar, called Arconia. Perhaps you wonder, then, why the Biscop of Autun is sympathetic to Henry’s cause, though her city lies within that region controlled by Lady Sabella?”
Alain nodded dutifully.
“When Sabella first rebelled against her brother’s authority eight years ago, the biscop of Autun was one of her principal supporters. So Henry removed the biscop of Autun and made her abbess of a small, isolated convent instead. He then convinced the skopos to install in her place his young sister Constance. The white deer. Of course Constance supports Henry.”
“What of the other four dukes?”
“Three of the dukes support Henry. Henry’s sister Rotrudis is Duchess of Saony and Attomar. The duchy of Saony is the original seat of power of his family. Before they became kings, they were the dukes of Saony.”
“How did they become the kings, then?”
“That you must learn another time, or read for yourself. Now attend.” He looked ahead as they came out of the shadow of the trees into sun. A long downslope rolled out from their feet. Soon they would come within an arrow’s shot of the city walls. Alain wondered how soon they would be noticed by the people within the city. “Burchard, Duke of Avaria.”
“He is your father.”
“Yes.” Alain wanted to draw him out, but Agius spoke the word so curtly the boy dared ask no more questions. “And third, Liutgard, Duchess of Fesse, who is also of royal kin.”
“The one you were betrothed to.”
“I see you have listened more closely than I supposed.”
“But your brother married her instead.”
Agius looked away quickly, hiding his expression. Alain thought of the little girl who had clung to her uncle in Biscop Antonia’s tent; clearly Agius’ bond to his brother and thus his brother’s children was very strong.
With sudden sympathy for Agius’ grief and impotent fury in the face of his niece’s captivity, Alain asked another question. “Who is the sixth duke?”
A hesitation. At last Agius spoke, although he still looked away, staring at the ground. “Conrad, Duke of Wayland, known as Conrad the Black. Sabella claims he supports her, but he has not brought his forces to march with hers.”
“And the margraves?”
Agius had recovered his composure. He lifted his chin—cleanly shaven that morning, as befit a man dedicated to the church—and took in a deep breath of air, as if to fortify himself. “Chief among the margraves is Helmut Villam. Second, and almost as powerful, is Judith, margrave of Olsatia and Austra. Werinhar, margrave of Westfall, is the other.”
“You said there were four.”
A shadow crossed Agius’ expression, the same raw grief. Alain understood at once that this had something to do with his beloved brother. “The margrave of Eastfall and both her sons died three years ago in a battle fought against the Quman.”
“Is—is that the battle your brother died in?” A wild guess, but Alain knew he was right by the sharp glance Agius threw him and the frater’s sudden grim silence.
They walked for a while. The biscop and her clerics were still singing; the hymn from the East evidently had many verses. He did not want to look at Agius or to ask him any more questions, whether about margraves or verses. Agius held such a store of pain in him that it hurt Alain to see it.
