Hugh had guessed she would betray herself, once the book’s existence was revealed, because she could not stop asking questions. Because she wanted to know the truth, whether the Earth rotated or the sun rotated, or if the winds were born in vast bellows or set in motion by the turning spheres, or why and how arrows shot into the heavens returned to a particular spot on the Earth. If an ancient manuscript was truth, or lie. She cared nothing for the politics of the situation or the church’s traditions of orthodoxy.
In that way, of course, she was a heretic, just not in the way they imagined.
“I don’t know where my father came by this text,” she said. “As I already told you, I can’t read it. I only knew a little Arethousan. It was taught to me by Father Hugh.”
“You have already condemned yourself,” said Mother Scholastica. “You admit twice over this is your father’s book.” She turned pages. “Here, a florilegia of sorcery, the arts of the mathematici which were condemned at the Council of Narvone. And here—what language is this?”
“It’s Jinna. This is a copy of the astronomical text On the Configuration of the World—”
“An infidel’s black sorcery!”
“No, it’s just a description of the workings of the heavens, based in part on Ptolomaia’s Tetrabiblos. There’s nothing heretical in that!”
“It must be burned.”
“It will not be burned!” Liath grabbed the book right out of the Mother Scholastica’s grasp, clapped it shut, and hugged it to her chest.
Sanglant shut his eyes momentarily, unable to bear the looks cast his way: some gasped, some gloated, some were genuinely shocked, and Wichman, at least, was enjoying the spectacle as he scratched at his crotch.
Liath tried reason, although she must see by now that reason would fail. “I had hoped, Mother Scholastica, that you and your scholars could examine this text …”
“It must be burned.”
“But don’t you want to know?” She was indignant. “If it’s true, then the church mothers lied to us. If it is a forgery, then the heresy is discredited. It never serves any purpose to burn what you fear.”
How passionately she spoke! Only he, among those in this chamber, understood how literally she meant those words.
Mother Scholastica turned away from her to Sanglant. “You cannot hide, Nephew, from the poison you have brought into the court. Do you see, now, how she seduced you?”
It was true that he could not hide. He opened his eyes to face them, all gazing expectantly at him. Was Theophanu happy to see Liath discredited, or was she merely puzzled? Ekkehard looked bored. The margraves and dukes were waiting, as soldiers in battle, to see what command he would give, by which they would judge his worth. That Scholastica and the church folk held their line was evident to all.
He shifted ground.
“I demand that Hugh of Austra be brought before me. I charge him with Henry’s murder, in collaboration with Adelheid of Aosta. I charge him also with the murder of Helmut Villam.” He gestured toward the door. “I have with me this Eagle, called Hathui, known to many of you as Henry’s loyal servant, a particular favorite of my father’s. She is my witness. She saw both deeds committed with her own eyes and will swear that Hugh is the murderer.”
Gerberga smiled tightly but said nothing, neither to support or to challenge him.
“That is a serious charge,” said Mother Scholastica, “especially since it is known that you bear a long-standing grudge against Hugh of Austra, in part relating to the conduct of this woman.” She indicated Liath without looking at her.
“That is not all.” He was determined to press the attack on the only flank that hadn’t collapsed. “Hugh of Austra was accused and found guilty of sorcery at a trial in Autun. In that same trial, Liathano was excommunicated although she was not present to defend herself nor had she any folk at that assembly to speak in her favor. I demand that those who presided at that council be brought together a second time to reconsider the evidence.”
“How will you manage that, Brother?” asked Theophanu. “Constance has been shut away by Sabella. She is a prisoner in Arconia in a place called Queen’s Grave, so I am given to understand. You would have to invade Arconia to get her back.”
“I am regnant of Wendar and Varre, am I not? I am Henry’s heir. It is no invasion if my king’s progress takes me to Autun to visit my aunt.”
Mother Scholastica looked at each of the biscops in turn, and they nodded one by one. “It is a fair request. The matter of heresy must never be treated lightly, since heresy is punishable by death. But be clear on this. I will not anoint and give the church’s blessing to any soul who is an excommunicate.”