Henry sat forward suddenly, his expression lightening. “Here is Father Hugh. What news?”
Hugh knelt before the king. He looked ragged and unkempt. Possibly he had not slept at all. Yet his lack of concern for his appearance, under these circumstances, could only reflect well on him. He alone of all the nobles had remained behind beside the conflagration; he had directed the rescue efforts; he had made sure all who could be brought safely out of the palace were gotten free.
Perhaps it had been a wise choice when Margrave Judith had sent Princess Sapientia on her way, directing her to visit first with the young abbot of Firsebarg, Judith’s bastard son. Poor Sapientia, whose name meant wisdom, had never shown much of that quality; perhaps, with such a name, she had been bound to become sensitive to comparisons to her clever younger sister. But she had chosen wisely when it came to Hugh.
Truly it could be said, as the court wits said now, that he was the ornament of “wisdom.” Even in such a state as this.
“Princess Sapientia sleeps, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice as calm and well-modulated as ever. “Her pains have gone away, but she still feels poorly. With your permission, I will send a message to my mother. Her physician—”
“Yes, I am acquainted with Margrave Judith’s physician.” The king gestured toward Villam. “The man saved my good companion Villam’s life, if not his arm. Very well, send for her—or for the Arethousan, if her business keeps her in the marchlands.”
“What business?” whispered Sister Odila.
“Oh, come,” muttered Brother Fortunatus, “don’t you recall? Judith had to return to Olsatia because she is to marry again.”
“Again?” squeaked young Brother Constantine.
“Hush,” hissed Sister Amabilia, but a moment later she, too, could not contain herself. “I thought she meant to celebrate the marriage here on the king’s progress.”
“Indeed,” said Fortunatus smugly, certain of his sources of information and pleased to have knowledge Amabilia lacked. “But the young bridegroom never showed up. His family made peculiar excuses, so the margrave journeyed back to find out for herself.”
“Hush, children,” said Rosvita.
“… Sapientia has become fond of her Eagle,” Hugh was saying, “and I fear it would upset her at this delicate time to send the young woman away. If another Eagle could be found to ride …” He smiled gently.