This threat, if threat it was, did not sway Agius. He looked, if anything, more confident now. “If you do not have support enough to march against King Henry, then perhaps you would do better to retire to your own lands and administer them in a manner more fitting than this.”
Sabella’s thin lips turned up, though she did not really smile. She gestured to one of her servants. At once, a servingwoman entered the tent, bringing with her a girl-child of some five or six summers, a well-grown girl with hair as pale and wispy as Agius’ was dark and thick. Her face still wore tears, but she shrieked aloud when she saw Agius, tore herself out of the servingwoman’s grasp, and flung herself on him, crying, “Uncle! Uncle! They killed my nurse!” She burst into tears.
He held her tightly, hushing her with whispered words.
When she quieted, Sabella spoke again. “My outriders came across your niece and her retinue as they rode in toward Autun. There was a skirmish. Some number of her retainers refused to come without a fight.”
“What do you mean to do with her?” he demanded. “She is meant for the church, as you must know.”
Rodulf fidgeted, playing with the rings on his fingers. He looked as if this interview were distasteful to him. Biscop Antonia beamed sweetly on all concerned. Alain felt her gaze settle on him, and he shuddered as if spiders crawled up his back. Rage growled, and he set a hand gently on her muzzle.
“I mean to do nothing with her,” said Sabella. “Unless I am forced to. I want Biscop Constance.”
Agius was so pale his dark eyes stood out as if they had been painted black, as a whore might to attract men. The child clung to him, face buried in his robes.
“Constance will not suspect you, Agius,” Sabella continued. “You were raised together, and of course, as I recall, there was even talk of a betrothal between you and her before it was settled she should enter the church and you should marry Duchess Liutgard.” She touched the gold torque she wore at her neck, then lowered the hand to display her palm, a hand empty to the air. “But that betrothal did not end in your marriage to the young duchess but rather in your brother’s. A kind and generous man was young Frederic. A good soldier, too. Alas. So many killed in Henry’s wars in the east when he ought to have been paying better attention to the lands he claims already to hold. Now.” She signed again to the servingwoman, who went forward to take hold of the girl.