“I stand as surety for my brother Ekkehard. What he did was wrong, but he’s young and may be forgiven once for being misled.”
“Brother!” Ekkehard threw himself against Sanglant. He still had a youth’s slenderness, no doubt because he was scarcely more than sixteen, but when he wrapped his arms around Sanglant, he held tight enough that Sanglant wheezed before pulling him off.
Bertha smiled. She had the look of her mother, cunning, sharp, and strong, and none of Hugh’s fabled beauty.
“You and your legion fought well in the battle,” added Sanglant.
“And lost a fair number of my good marchlanders,” she replied tartly. “I promised my elder sister Gerberga I’d bring her a reward for the sacrifice we Austrans and our cousins from Olsatia have made to rid Wendar of the Quman scourge. She lost her husband to a Quman raid last winter. And surely you know that Bulkezu himself is rumored to have killed our mother.”
Even a man as unused to intrigue as Sanglant could see where this was leading. “She wants a royal prince as recompense.”
“He’s young,” observed Bertha, looking Ekkehard over with the same cold regard she might reserve for choosing a new horse. “Not to my taste, but I’m sure that Gerberga will feel her loyalty to King Henry has been amply rewarded if she is given his youngest child as her new husband.”
“A rich prize, indeed. Unfortunately, Ekkehard is abbot at St. Perpetua’s in Gent.”
Bertha laughed. “And my bastard brother Hugh is, so they say, a presbyter in Darre, confidant of the Holy Mother. Vows to God may be conveniently put aside if earthly cares demand it. Your sister Sapientia wants to hang the boy for a traitor because she wants to avenge herself on him for Prince Bayan’s death.” A hard woman, she softened for one instant, touching her cheek as though a fly had tickled her. “He was a good man. If you’re a wise one, Prince Sanglant, you’ll convince your sister otherwise. Wendar will suffer if kin kill kin, as this boy should have known. I think my suggestion would serve us all best.”
“We shall speak of this later. Ekkehard will be sent to Quedlinhame meanwhile, to the care of our aunt, Mother Scholastica. I’ll be leading the army out at dawn, to pursue what remains of the Quman.”
Bertha didn’t waste words or energy. She understood the uses of fast action on campaign. “We’ll speak of this later,” she agreed. With a final glance at Ekkehard, she left with her men.