Crown of Stars (Crown of Stars #7)

“Strange,” she said.

“What is strange?”

“I never think to count Princess Sapientia, although surely she must be counted before all others in our party. Even Lady Bertha forgot to mention her when those farmers refused to let us pass.”

He turned to look where she looked. Sister Petra caught up with her charge and herded her back toward the safety of the chapel and the fire.

“What will become of her?” Hanna asked.

Fortunatus only shook his head, but she could not tell whether the gesture meant “I do not know” or “may God have mercy” or “all hope for her is lost.”

A shout rang out of the twilight. They turned to see five shadowy figures and the three dogs striding along the road that led from the town. The tautness of those shoulders and the cant of those heads told of trouble.

Hanna ran to meet them, but Lady Bertha brushed past her and hurried on toward the camp with the three soldiers. Sister Rosvita halted, took hold of Fortunatus’ arm, and bent to catch her breath.

“Whh!” She gripped her side as at a spasm, but when she saw Sister Petra shepherding Princess Sapientia within the walls of their makeshift fort, she frowned. “Best hurry. What of the men who went to the well?”

Without waiting for their answer she climbed on, and Hanna and Fortunatus followed, looking at each other. There was nothing to say. As they picked their way through the fallen remains of the portico, they heard Lady Bertha speaking.

“Bring the horses up. We’ll need a guard on them all night. I want those men sent to fetch water called in, and a double sentry all night.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Hanna.

From this angle the slope of the hill hid the town. It was by now too dark to see the fields as anything distinct, only alternating shades of gray in patches that ended abruptly in the darker line of trees.

“The orchard trees were chopped down, not blown down,” Rosvita said, still wheezing. “Fresh sawdust from the chopping, scattered everywhere. The mist hid the pockets of smoke. This fire and destruction is recent. The town might have been attacked yesterday.”

“God have mercy,” murmured Fortunatus, drawing the circle at his chest.

“Were there corpses?” Hanna asked. “Any survivors?”

“We did not search closely. If an enemy waits in the forest, they know we’re here. Morning will be soon enough.”

A whistle carried on the breeze, a silky, twisting tune Hanna had never heard before. Soldiers came alert. Swords were drawn and arrows measured against bowstrings. A rank of spears lowered. Yet the dogs barked in greeting not in challenge. The figure who emerged out of the ruins carried two covered buckets, one sloshing with water and the other empty. Brother Breschius set his buckets down beside the painted cart and turned, seeking first one face then another.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You found the well?” asked Lady Bertha.

“I did. Set somewhat back where the hill is steep. I came through Augensburg many years ago. I recalled it because of a particular …” He shook his head. “What is it?”

“Laurent and Tomas went before you. Did you see them there?”

“No sign of them. Did they know where to look? They might be lost in the ruins.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“What is it?” he asked again.

When they told him, he rubbed his clean-shaven chin with the stump of his right arm as if he had momentarily forgotten that he lacked the hand.

“Do we send out a search party?” asked Sergeant Aronvald.

By now night had swept in. Beyond the halo lent by the campfire it was impossible to see anything except the wall of darkness that marked the distant line of trees.

“They can see our campfire,” said Lady Bertha. “They can shout, if they are injured.”

She was a hard commander. Hanna had seen her drive her men over mountain paths more suitable to goats, had seen her set her own noble shoulder to pushing the wagons where the road became nothing more than a series of dry rills dug into earth by runoff. She had suffered an injury in the infamous battle against Anne’s forces that no one would talk about in detail, and had lost most of the range of motion in her left arm, but if the injury pained her day in and day out she never complained. Yet she never smiled, and her frown dug deep as she faced her muttering retainers.

“If they have been ambushed, then sending out a search party will only offer our adversaries more swift kills. If they are lost, and in no danger, they can find us by the light of the campfire or at dawn.”