Child of Flame

“Nay, fear not on my account, for I’m not in my dotage yet.” He took the cup of wine from her and gestured to a servant to refill it. “I pray you, beloved, let me speak to this man alone.”

“Is this intrigue? Do you fear I will carry tales to Theophanu?”

If her youthful teasing irritated him, he did not show it. “I do not wish the king disturbed on any account, since he means to leave in the morning. If I am the only man to hear this tale, then I can assure myself that it will go no farther than me.”

She did not retreat easily from the field. “This frater—as he calls himself—may carry tales farther than I ever would, Helmut. He has a tongue.”

The horrible fear that they, who had the power, would take from him the one thing he prized above all else caught Zacharias like a vise. His legs gave out and he sank to his knees. It was hard not to start begging for mercy.

“So have we all a tongue, Leoba,” replied Villam patiently. “But I will have solitude in which to interview him.”

Although clearly a woman of noble station, Leoba was young enough to be Villam’s granddaughter and therefore, whatever equality in their stations in life, had to bow to the authority that age granted him. She rose graciously enough, kissed him modestly on the cheek, and left. The old man watched her go. Zacharias recognized the gleam in his eyes. The sin of concupiscence, a weakness for the pleasures of the flesh, afflicted high- and lowborn alike.

Once she was gone, the old margrave returned immediately to the matter at hand. “I do not wish to know your name, but it has been brought to my attention that you have been asking questions of the guards regarding the whereabouts of Prince Sanglant.”

“You seem to me a reasonable man, my lord. Now that I am thrown into the lion’s den, I may as well make no secret of my quest. I seek Prince Sanglant. Is he here?”

“Nay, he is not. He has as good as declared open revolt against King Henry’s authority. I feel sure that a man of your learning understands what a serious offense that is.”

“Ah,” said Zacharias, for a moment at a loss for words. But he had always had a glib tongue, and he knew how to phrase a question to protect himself while, perhaps, gaining information. “Yet a man, even a prince, cannot revolt alone.”

“Truly, he cannot.” Villam knew this ploy as well. “Do you mean to join his retinue, such as it is?”

“Nay, my lord. I have not followed him with any such intention, nor have I at any time known of any plan to revolt. My interests lie not in earthly struggles but with the composition of the heavens and the glory of creation. In truth, my lord, I have never spoken with the prince.”

“Then why did you come to Angenheim asking about his whereabouts?”

“I merely come to ask a boon of him.”

Villam laughed delightedly. “I am smothered in words. Yet you trouble me, frater, with your talk of the heavens. Do you know what manner of man Prince Sanglant is?”

“What do you mean, my lord?”

“I pray you, do not play the innocent with me. You look rather less artless and more disreputable, and you speak with a cunning tongue. Prince Sanglant is no man at all but a half blood, born of a human father and an Aoi mother. What manner of aid might you wish to ask from such a creature?”

This struck Zacharias as dangerous ground. Nor had Villam betrayed any knowledge of Kansi-a-lari’s whereabouts, even though Zacharias knew she had walked north with her son.

“Very well,” he said after a long silence. “I shall tell you the truth. I walked east to bring the word of God to the Quman tribes, but instead they made me a slave. I dwelt among them for seven years and at long last escaped. This is the tale I bring to you: the Quman are massing an army under the leadership of the Pechanek begh, Bulkezu, and they mean to strike deep into Wendish territory. Already raiding parties burn villages and murder and mutilate our countryfolk. You know how the Quman treat their victims. I have seen many a corpse without a head. Your own lands in the east are at risk, my lord.”

“Princess Sapientia was sent east with an army together with that of her new husband, Prince Bayan of Ungria.”

“That I had not heard, my lord.”

“Yet we’ve had no news from them, so perhaps it goes ill with their campaign, although I pray that is not the case. This chieftain, Bulkezu, has plagued Wendish lands before. Yet why seek Prince Sanglant? Here is the king and his court. Surely your plea is best voiced before the king.”

“Truly, it is,” said Zacharias, thinking fast. “But I have heard much talk during my travels about the king’s ambitions in Aosta. The king cannot march both south and east. At the same time, I have heard many stories about Prince Sanglant’s prowess in battle. Is the regnant’s bastard firstborn not raised to be captain of the King’s Dragons? If the king himself cannot take the field against the Quman, then it would take such an army, commanded by a man second only to the king in courage and reputation, to defeat them.”