Agius whispered words in Wendish under his breath, in time to the voices of the others.
“‘Daughters of Nisibia, act as did your mother,
Who laid a Body within her,
And it became a Wall without her!
Lay in you a living Body,
That it may be a Wall for your life.
To Thee be glory, Who chose most wisely.’”
As the clerics finished the hymn, the biscop slowed her mule and the entire procession came to a halt. Antonia dismounted.
Autun was built on a hill that rose out of the plain of the Rhowne Valley. Hovels and huts stood outside the walls, but like the fields they were empty of any life except for a stray chicken pecking along the verge of the settlement. Antonia’s party was as yet out of arrow shot of the city walls, but at the great palisade gate that marked the main entrance to the city a company had assembled. Two banners flew, and as the company descended the road, coming out to meet Biscop Antonia, Alain made out their devices: One, like the banner of the city of Mainni, showed a tower, this a gray tower surmounted by a black raven. The other banner, so bright a gold it seemed to reflect the sun itself, depicted a white deer.
Agius moved forward to stand beside Biscop Antonia. He was sickly pale. Antonia, looking perfectly at her ease, had a magnanimous smile on her face as she waited for the group from the city to arrive and greet her.
As befit the daughter and sister of kings, the Biscop of Autun had a handsome and impressive retinue. Her clerics wore robes of fine linen dyed a rich burgundy, and each one held a book, a token of their station. Draped over their left shoulders they each wore a long, embroidered linen scarf. There were perhaps thirty clerics in the company; Alain had never seen so many books in one place before. Indeed, it had never occurred to him so many might exist in all the world.
Monks and nuns attended her also, carrying thuribles, round vessels of beaten brass in which incense was burned; the thuribles hung from chains, swinging slowly back and forth to the rhythm of the soft chanting of the company. “Kyria eleison. Kyrie eleison.” Lady, have mercy on us. Lord, have mercy on us.
The Biscop of Autun rode a white mule at the center of the procession. Though she wore a biscop’s rich vestments and mitre, Alain could see at her neck the golden torque marking her as born of royal kin. She was young, certainly younger than Agius, but she had a grave expression that made her look as steady and wise as a woman twice her years. Her complexion was healthy if pale, and when she dismounted and came forward on foot, hands outstretched to greet her sister biscop, Alain could see she was tall and of good stature, like her elder half sister Sabella. She had a light step and an elegant manner. Alain saw immediately why she had received the name ‘the white deer.’
She took Biscop Antonia’s hands in hers and at once the soft chanting of her company ceased. There was silence except for the scrape of shifting feet on dirt and the jingling of harness.
“I greet you, sister, and welcome you to my city,” said Constance. She had a pleasingly high voice, full and clear. But she did not smile. “I am surprised to find you here, so far from Mainni and the Hearth over which you were ordained to watch.”
“I give you greetings in return, sister,” said Antonia with rather more sweetness. “I come in the peace of Our Lord and Lady.”
“There are others with you.” Constance looked back along the road down which Antonia and the others had come.
Of course, the road was empty. Sabella’s army was safely encamped several hours’ ride into the Duke of Varingia’s territory. This was strange, certainly, in itself. The duchy of Arconia remained under the aegis of Berengar and Sabella. Yet a biscop’s duties were twofold. She watched over the spiritual well-being of her charges and over the Hearth of the cathedral given unto her by the authority of the skopos. But a biscop must be consulted in worldly matters as well, just as the king or duke had a say in what noblewoman was most deserving of elevation to biscop when a see became empty by reason of death or dishonor. As Biscop of Autun, whose spiritual duty was to watch over the inhabitants of the central portion of the kingdoms of Wendar and Varre—the region known as Arconia—Constance had the right to demand to be consulted on matters pertaining to the administration of the duchy of Arconia. Perhaps Sabella’s hold on the loyalty of the populace in her own husband’s duchy was not as strong as that populace’s love for their new young biscop, Constance.
“I fear there is strife in your family,” said Antonia, sounding much stricken at having to be the bearer of bad tidings. “I have come as mediator. I beg of you to come with me to speak of these matters with Sabella and Rodulf.”
