Crown of Stars

“I’ve been here for a year or more—three years, now that I think on it. We’ve made some expeditions to the north coast and west of here to drive out bandits and rebels. And you?” He recalled himself, and offered a more respectful bow. “An Eagle no longer, my lady. I pray you, forgive my boldness.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I would rather be treated as your comrade of old than—this other thing. You marched east, did you not? With Prince Bayan and Princess Sapientia? That happened after we parted ways.”

He whistled. “A long road that was. You know the route as well as I after we put down the rebellion in Varre.”

They chatted a little about that time, old comrades recounting shared adventures: Lady Svanhilde and her reckless son, Charles; the battle at Gent and the death of the Eika chieftain Bloodheart.

“We traveled on progress after that. Down to Thersa and afterward to Werlida.” He looked a little embarrassed. “You’ll recall that, I suppose.”

“I do. And after that, where did you go? You’ve had a long, difficult journey, I think. In the king’s service.”

“That we have, and lost half my men, alas. It was quiet for a while, in Varre. We went to Autun and saw the holy chapel where the Emperor Taillefer sleeps. Now that was a fine sight!” He grinned, but an instant later he frowned. “After that, indeed. We were sent east with Princess Sapientia and Prince Bayan. He was a good man, Prince Bayan. A good commander. I suppose we reached too far. Wendish folk ought not to walk beyond the marchlands.”

He went on for a while about the grassy eastern reaches, about a battle at a place he called “Queen’s Grave” on account of an old burial mound with a ruined stone crown at its height. Their retreat, it seemed, had succeeded only on account of Prince Bayan’s steady nerves and canny tactics. There had been trouble in Handelburg.

“And through no fault of her own, I will tell you,” he said harshly, “that Eagle, Hanna, was sent out to her death. For that I blame …” He faltered, looked right at Lady Theucinda, and with some effort made an obvious decision to be prudent rather than bold.

“She didn’t die,” said Liath, suddenly cold.

“Nay, so we discovered later. Her tale is no good one, though. We met up with Prince Sanglant—His Majesty, that is—at Machteburg. There we recovered a few of our men, a handful, nothing more. They’d turned heretic. Yet I tell you, I think in a time as troubled as now it should not matter if a man is a heretic but whether he can fight.”

Theucinda looked at him and seemed about to say something. But she did not.

“You’ll hear no argument from me,” said Liath, “but the church mothers will say otherwise.”

“I pray you, then, do not repeat what I have said.”

“I will not. After Machteburg?”

“After Machteburg, we sought out the Quman. They had pressed far into Wendar. They burned and looted and killed as they went. It was a terrible thing, that brought us in the end to the battle at the Veser.”

“You saved my daughter in that battle.”

He shrugged. “It was a hard fight.”

“I know.”

He looked at her, puzzled by her words, and she fell silent. She could not tell him that, as she walked the spheres, she had glimpsed the fight on the knoll and stayed her hand. She had not loosed her one remaining arrow to save her own daughter. Even so, assailed with guilt, she knew she had made the right choice. The necessary choice.

Perhaps that was why she often felt like a monster.

“Yet we did win it in the end,” he added. “We did win.”

“Tell me.”

Thiadbold was a good observer, and he had the knack for recounting the worst episodes with a kind of wry humor and the best with modesty. He described the battle quickly and with a remarkable sense for the movements of the various groups. “Just as we thought all was lost, that we’d be slaughtered to a man—and child, too, I’m sorry to say—the prince came. His Majesty, that is. A better sight I have never seen!” He laughed, but his laughter was leavened by sadness. “Good men I lost. Too many. Still, that’s the way of it. We won, and they lost.”

“You did not march east afterward with Sanglant.”

“We did not. His Majesty took only mounted troops. We were sent west to escort an Eagle—well, Hanna, again.”

“She did not ride east with Sanglant?”

“She was very ill. She’d been held captive by the Quman, by the beast himself.” He hesitated. “I hear he’s dead now.”