“I didn’t see her,” repeated Hanna, sorry she hadn’t. “What’s her name?”
“Adela.” He touched a hand to his chest and gave a little bow, a courtly gesture no doubt picked up from watching the noble lords. When he smiled, he had a dimple. “And I’m called Karl.”
She laughed. “Why, so is my brother called Karl. I’m Hanna.”
“Ai, Lady. That’s a bad omen—that you might think of me as a brother.” And, that suddenly, he had remembered it was night, and he was young, and she was— well, pretty, perhaps, but at the least desirable and a new face among so many familiar old ones. She flushed and was angry at herself for doing so.
“And what does your sister say? About the prince?” she said, to say something.
He grunted. “Nothing but praise, which is tiresome in a woman when she’s speaking of a man. She’s as loyal as a dog to him. They all are, the Dragons. I don’t see it myself.” He ran two fingers down to a point at his chin, along his fine light beard, musingly. “How can you call him truly a man when he can’t grow a beard?”
Since Hanna did not know the answer to this question, she wisely said nothing.
The door into the guest house opened. “Hai! Karl! You’ve had enough time.” His companion blinked into the night, saw their figures, and beckoned. “Come on. Back inside. You’ll get nothing from an Eagle, you know how they are.”
Karl blew her a kiss and went back to his post.
“Lord, have mercy,” she muttered and hurried back to the chamber where the king held court. But Henry had gone to bed, or so Hathui told her.
“Where do we sleep?”
“You haven’t been propositioned yet?” asked Hathui and laughed when Hanna betrayed herself by blushing. But the older woman sobered quickly enough. “Attend to my words, Hanna. There is one thing that will get a woman thrown out of the Eagles, and that is if she can no longer ride because she carries a child. ‘Make no marriage unless to another Eagle who has sworn the same oaths as you.’”
“That’s a harsh precept.”
“Our service is harsh. Many of us die serving the king. I’m not saying you must never love a man, or bed one, even, but do not make that choice lightly and never when it is only for a night’s pleasure. There are those—old men and women mostly—who know the use of certain herbs and oils—”
“But that’s magic,” Hanna whispered. “And heathen magic, at that.”
Hathui shrugged. “I’ve seen a deacon use herbs and chants from the Holy Book to heal wounds, so if that’s magic, I suppose some in the church don’t frown on its use. I’m just saying, Hanna, that if the desire is strong enough, there are ways to prevent conception, though they don’t always work. But every gift from the Lady is both burden and treasure. That is the lesson She teaches: Just as fire can both warm and kill, so can that feeling we call sweet passion bring as its fruit death or a blessing in the form of a healthy child.” She smiled wryly. “Sometimes it is easier to devote yourself to a saint, as I did. I had no virginity to pledge to St. Perpetua when I became an Eagle, so I offered my chastity instead.”
“You were married before you became an Eagle?”
Hathui shook her head, one side of her mouth quirking down and an eye ticking shut as if she was trying to close up an old memory. “No. It was taken, from me by a Quman raider. And if I ever meet up with him or his people, he will pay for what he stole.”
Hanna felt her mouth drop open.
“You’ll catch flies,” said Hathui, who had already recovered.
“I—I’m sorry.”
Hathui snorted. “What do you expect, from barbarians? I had no lasting harm of it, not like my aunt, who was killed in that raid.”
“But—but does this mean I can never have a child?” Hanna considered this prospect without pleasure. It was not something she had ever thought about before. She was a woman, and not in the church. Of course she would have children.
“Of course not, if you wish for children. But you must either leave the Eagles or marry within them. A child born to a woman who is married to another Eagle is accepted. I have seen three such children.”
“Have you seen a woman cast out of the Eagles for—well, for bearing a child?”
“I have.” Hathui touched her brass badge, her long fingers tracing the eagle embossed there. “This is her badge. She died of the birthing, alas, and the child, too.”
