Only one fountain in Novomo’s palace still played, with a splash of water running through its cunning mechanism. In this courtyard, where there was also a shaded arbor and a fine expanse of lavender and a once splendid garden of sage and chrysanthemums, Lady Lavinia hovered under the arcade and wrung her hands, looking flustered as she stared at a man washing face and hands in the pool.
Antonia caught up short, stricken and breathless, but Adelheid did not falter. She strode out to him as eager as a lover, and as he rose and turned, obviously surprised to see her, she slapped him right across the cheek. Half her retinue gasped. The rest choked down exclamations. She did not notice. Fury burned in her. She looked ready to spit.
“You killed Henry!”
He touched his cheek. He did not bow to her nor make any homage, yet neither did he scorn her. “We were allies once, Your Majesty.”
“No! You seduced me with your poisonous arguments. It’s your fault that Henry is dead!”
“Surely it is the fault of his son, who killed him. And, if we must, the fault of Anne, who would have killed Henry had you and I not saved him by our intervention.” He spoke in a calm voice, not shouting, yet clearly enough that everyone crowding about the courtyard heard his reasoned words and his harmonious voice. “I beg you, Your Majesty! I pray you! Do not forget that we wept and sorrowed over what had to be done. But we agreed it together. We saved him. It was his son who killed him.”
“If you are not gone from Novomo by nightfall, I will have you executed for treason.”
She swept her skirts away so the cloth would not brush against him, and walked off. In a flood, her retainers followed her, leaving Antonia with a stricken Lady Lavinia and a dozen serving folk who by their muttering and shifting did not know what to do or where to go.
“Is your daughter well, Lady Lavinia?” Hugh asked her kindly.
She stifled a sob, and said, only, “Yes, Lord Hugh. She survived the storm, which is more than I can say for many.”
“God has favored you, then. I am gladdened to hear it.”
She sobbed, and forced it back, and wavered, not knowing what to do. Perhaps she loved him better than she loved Adelheid. It would be easy to do so.
“Lady Lavinia,” said Antonia. “If you will. I shall set matters right. The queen is distraught, as you know, because of her grief.”
“Yes! Poor mite. Yes, indeed.”
“Then be at rest, and do what you must. Lord Hugh, come with me, if you please.”
He bowed his head most humbly and with that grace of manner that marked him, and with his boots still dusty from whatever road he had recently walked, he went with her to her chambers. There she sat him down on a bench and had the servants bring spiced wine. A cleric unpinned his brooch and set his cloak aside.
“What is this?” he asked, observing the room. “There hang the vestments belonging to the skopos.”
“I am now mother of the church, Lord Hugh. Be aware of that.”
The news startled him, but he absorbed it, sipping at the wine not greedily but thoughtfully. “Much has changed. I have heard in this hour fearful stories. The guards at Novomo’s gate told me that Darre is a wasteland.”
“So it is, as terrible as the pit. Stinking with sulfur and completely uninhabitable. Now. Listen. You have done me a favor in the past, and I shall return it, although I am not sure you are what I had at first hoped.”
He smiled, but she could not tell what he was thinking. He was beautiful, indeed, and weary, and she did not yet know where he had come from and what story he would tell her, but it did not hurt her eyes to watch him as she related all that had happened in the last six months and the plight confronting this remnant of Aosta’s royal court. He never once flinched or exclaimed or cried out in horror. Little surprised him, and that only when she revealed what prisoners they had in hand.
“Truly?” he asked her, and repeated himself. “The daughter of Sanglant and Liath? Truly?” He flushed.
“Be careful, Lord Hugh, else you reveal yourself too boldly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do not think I do not know.”
That caught him, because exhaustion made him vulnerable.
“I have an idea,” she added, “but it will take time, and plotting, and patience.”
He lifted a hand most elegantly to show that he heard her, and that he was willing to let her proceed.
“What prospects have you, Lord Hugh? Why are you come here, to Aosta, when you were sent north by Anne into the land of your ancestors to work your part in the weaving?”