Theophanu remained silent. Conrad watched, shifting restlessly as Bulkezu dismounted and indicated that Hanna and Boso should dismount as well. The second captain took their horses’ reins and led them to one side, out of the way.
Hanna met Conrad’s gaze briefly; the power of his physical body was mirrored in the keen strength of his gaze. He had very dark eyes, almost black, the legacy of his Jinna mother’s ancestry. The girl rested a hand on the back of the chair while she examined Bulkezu with a scornful expression similar to that of the duke. By coloring and features, it was obvious that she was his daughter.
Boso stepped forward. “His Magnificence Prince Bulkezu hears your pleas with interest and a kind heart, and by reason of his generosity and liberality has chosen to hear you out rather than attack and destroy your army outright.”
“He wants gold,” muttered Conrad darkly.
Theophanu’s expression did not change. “I pray you, Prince Bulkezu, please be seated and let my stewards serve you wine.”
Boso translated while Bulkezu kept his gaze fixed on a point midway between Conrad and Theophanu, that remarkably believable look of blank incomprehension on his face. Once Boso had finished, Bulkezu gestured, and Boso hurried to fetch a folding stool. Saved from the abbot’s chamber out of a burning monastery, the wooden stool had caught Bulkezu’s fancy because of the griffin heads carved into either end of the side rails, each one plated with gold. On this seat, Bulkezu deigned to sit. His wings rustled as he settled into place, refusing with a raised hand the silver goblet of wine brought forward by a stone-faced servant. Boso took it instead, draining it too quickly.
Conrad, at last, dropped down into the chair placed next to Theophanu. The three regarded each other in silence. Bulkezu had a slight smirk on his face.
At last, Theophanu spoke. “Tell your master that I prefer to negotiate bluntly. We will offer him two thousand pounds of silver to leave Wendar and Varre.”
By now, Hanna recognized a few of the words as Boso translated, but only a few; Bulkezu made no effort to teach his prisoners his language, thereby allowing Boso more authority over the slaves because he was the only go-between. Once Boso had finished, Bulkezu lifted a hand. His third captain hurried forward to offer him a gold cup filled to the brim with fermented mare’s milk, which he sipped at thoughtfully before he replied.
Boso translated. “His Fearsomeness, Prince Bulkezu, wishes you to understand that your noble brother, Prince Ekkehard, is even at this moment a prisoner with his army. Here is his ring and his banner.”
The ring was displayed, the banner unfurled, and then put away.
Duke Conrad muttered something under his breath, and his daughter patted her father on the shoulder and bent to whisper in his ear, an intimate gesture so endearing that Hanna was stricken by a sudden longing for her own father.
Theophanu’s expression did not alter. “A ring and a banner can be taken off a dead body.”
Boso was allowed a short whip, which he used on his whores and on recalcitrant slaves. It was his only weapon. He prodded Hanna with the butt of the whip now. This was why she had been brought.
She took a step forward. “I am known to you, I believe, my lord princess. I was taken captive west of Handelburg together with Prince Ekkehard and four of his companions. One of his retinue rides there.” She had to gesture toward Manegold with her chin because her hands were tied. “I swear to you on my honor as a King’s Eagle that Prince Ekkehard is alive and in Prince Bulkezu’s hands.”
Theophanu spoke softly to her stewards and they hurried forward to offer more wine, but Bulkezu again refused, and Boso again drained his cup. “Three thousand pounds of silver and one hundred gold nomias in exchange for your departure, and the return of Ekkehard and his companions.” For the first time Theophanu acknowledged her presence, a glance, no more, that touched and fled, light as a feather. “And the Eagle.”
Boso spoke. Bulkezu replied. “His Gloriousness will not ransom the Eagle. Five thousand pounds of silver and an equal measure of gold for the prince. And Duke Conrad’s daughter, for his bed.”
Conrad’s head snapped around as his daughter stiffened, looking indignant and frightened. Abruptly, the interpreter gave a grunting moan, grasped his belly, and without a word or excuse to anyone bolted onto the grass. He hadn’t gotten more than one hundred paces before he doubled over and began to retch. Bulkezu sipped at his mare’s milk. By the way his dimple flashed in and out on his cheek, Hanna could tell he was working very hard not to laugh.
“Good Lord,” said Conrad, observing the stricken interpreter. “I’d heard rumors. Do you think they’ve brought the plague with them?”