Now, finally, she saw the battle lines being drawn. “How can I answer such a question, Your Majesty? At best, I may hope that the king hears my voice, and my counsel. I do not speak for him.”
“You saved my life and my crown, Sister. I trust you to do what is right, not what is expedient. I know you serve with an honest heart, and that you care only for what benefits your regnant, not for what benefits yourself. That is why I ask you to consider carefully when you advise the king. Think of my position, I pray you, and that of the children I hope to have.” She smiled most sweetly and moved away to meet Alia by the door. Beckoning to the stewards, she had a cup of wine brought for the Aoi woman.
“Was that a plea, or a warning?”
Rosvita jumped, scraping a finger on the wooden sill. “You startled me, Brother. I did not see you come up beside us.”
“Nor did the queen,” observed Fortunatus. “But she has observed a great deal else. Henry already has grown children who will be rivals to whatever children she bears. Yet she does not fear them as she fears Sanglant.”
Rosvita set her hands back on the sill, then winced at the pain in her finger.
“You’ve caught a splinter,” said Fortunatus, taking her hand into his. He had a delicate touch, honed by years of calligraphy.
As he bent over her hand, working the splinter loose, she lowered her voice. “Do you think she fears Sanglant?”
“Would you not?” he asked amiably. “Ah! There it comes.” He flicked the offending splinter away and released her hand. She sucked briefly at the wound as he went on. “He is the master of the battlefield. All acknowledge that. He returns rested and fit, with soldiers already kneeling before him, although only God know when they pledged loyalty to him, who has nothing.”
“Nothing but the child.”
“Nothing but the child,” Fortunatus agreed. The privations of their journey over the mountains to Aosta and their subsequent flight from Ironhead had pared much flesh from Fortunatus’ frame. Leanness emphasized his sharp eyes and clever mouth, making him look more dour than congenial, when in fact he was a man who preferred wit and laughter to dry pronouncements. In the last few weeks on the king’s progress he had been able to eat heartily, as was his preference, and he was putting on weight. It suited him. “I would say he is the more dangerous for having nothing but the child. He isn’t a man who desires things for himself.”
“He desired the young Eagle against his father’s wishes.”
“I pray God’s forgiveness for saying so, Sister, but surely he desired her more like a dog lusts after a bitch in heat.”
“It’s true it is the child who has changed him, not the marriage. You are right when you say he desires no thing for himself, for his own advancement. But what he desires for his child is a different matter.”
“Do you think it will come to a battle between him and Queen Adelheid?”
She frowned as she gazed out into the foliage. Wind whipped the branches of the walnut tree under which Sanglant sheltered with Blessing, although no wind stirred the rest of the garden. It seemed strange to her, seeing its restlessness contrasted so starkly with the autumnal calm that lay elsewhere. The prince rose abruptly. Heribert, beside him, asked for the baby and, with reluctance evident in the stiffness of his shoulders, Sanglant handed her over. She was splayed out with that absolute limpness characteristic of a sleeping child. The prince and the frater stood together under the writhing branches, talking together while the baby slept peacefully. Finally, Sanglant looked up and seemed to address a comment to the heavens. Surely by coincidence, at that very instant, the breeze caught in the branches of the walnut tree ceased.
“What does Prince Sanglant know but war? Did Henry not fight against his own sister? Why should we expect otherwise in the next generation?”
“Unless good counsel and wiser heads prevail,” murmured Fortunatus.
Behind them, voices raised as the company who had been seated in the adjoining chamber flooded into the one in which Rosvita and Fortunatus still stood. Rosvita moved away from the window just as Hathui came up to her.
“I pray you, Sister Rosvita,” said the Eagle, “the king wishes you to attend him, if you will.”
“I would speak with you in private council,” Alia was saying to Henry as she looked around the chamber.
Henry merely gestured to the small group of courtiers and nobles and servants attending him, no more than twenty-five people in all. “My dear companions and counselors Margrave Villam and Sister Rosvita are privy to all my most private councils.” Deliberately, he extended a hand to invite Adelheid forward. She came forward to stand beside him with a high flush in her cheeks and a pleased smile, quickly suppressed, on her lips. “Queen Adelheid and my daughter, Theophanu, of course will remain with me.” He glanced up then, looking around the room. He marked Hathui with his gaze. She needed no introduction nor any excuse; she simply stood solidly a few paces behind him, as always. The others slid back to the walls, making themselves inconspicuous, and he ignored them. “If Sanglant chooses to hear your words, I am sure he will come in from outside.”
