Hugh made a stifled exclamation.
“Margrave Gerberga?” Henry sounded surprised, or perhaps puzzled.
“Judith was killed in battle three years ago against the Quman, who rode under the command of the same Bulkezu whom Prince Bayan and Prince Sanglant defeated at the Veser.” No need to regale them with the story of how Judith’s head had survived as an ornament hanging from Bulkezu’s belt. “Her daughter Gerberga inherited Olsatia and Austra.”
“The margrave has taken a grave step by marrying Ekkehard, Your Majesty,” said Liutgard, speaking now that Hanna had already been interrupted. “No person vowed to the church may be forced into marriage vows. Wasn’t Ekkehard promised to the monastery?”
“Indeed,” said Hugh. Did he mourn the death of his mother? Or did he already know she was dead? “Ekkehard was invested as abbot of St. Perpetua’s in Gent. It was your own wish that he be offered to the church, Your Majesty. Do not forget the incident with Lord Baldwin. You did not give permission for Prince Ekkehard to be released from his vows and ride to war, much less be allowed to marry.”
“This is rebellion.” Henry caught hold of a captured black dragon and squeezed it until his knuckles turned white. “My own sons and daughter have turned against me.”
“Princess Sapientia may only be Sanglant’s pawn,” said Hugh.
“It seems likely,” said Liutgard, glancing toward Duke Burchard who, with the rest of the folk in the chamber, had drawn closer to listen. “Sanglant has the stronger personality, if indeed it is true this is rebellion and not some other business. If the Quman invaded, then perhaps he has pursued the remnants of their army east to make sure they do not threaten Wendar again.”
“My God,” murmured Burchard. Contemplating the ruin the Quman had made of Avaria, he looked as frail as a withered stick blown about in storm winds. “I should have been there to defend my people. Did the Quman meet no resistance at all? Were there none left to fight them?”
Hanna dared look at him directly, hearing shame in his voice. And oughtn’t he be ashamed? He had not met his obligations to protect his own people. “No one, my lord duke, except the common folk who died defending the land and their families. I don’t know how many of the noble lords rode south with you to Aosta. Those who remained in Avaria paid off the Quman so they would go away. Lord Hedo’s son abandoned his post to join the quarrel in Saony. I don’t know what happened to him.”
“That’s enough,” murmured Hugh.
She flinched, expecting a blow. It did not come. Her knee hurt where it pressed into the carpet, not so thick after all; not thick enough to protect her from the obstinacy of the marble floor.
“There is more to my message.”
Henry rose, cutting her off. “I have heard enough.” Even Liutgard looked surprised. No one ever cut off an Eagle’s message.
Ever.
“Adelheid.” The king held out his hand, making ready to leave, and as he turned, Hanna looked up full into his face.
She saw his eyes clearly.
She had never forgotten the complex brown of his eyes, veined with yellow and an incandescent leaf-green. He had beautiful eyes, worthy of a regnant, deep, powerful, and compelling.
His eyes had changed.
She could still see the brown or at least the memory of that pigmentation. But the deep color had faded, washed into a watery, pale blue substance that writhed in the depths of his gaze like a wild thing imprisoned and straining against the bonds that held it within its cage.
With a shudder she swayed and caught herself on a hand. The emerald ring he had given her shone on her middle finger: an oiled, milky-green stone set in a gold band studded with garnets. She had sworn to bear witness for the king who had gifted her with that ring. But she was no longer sure the man standing here was the same man to whom she had given her loyalty, and for whom she had suffered and survived as a prisoner all those months.
“Your Majesty.”
Henry brushed past her. His companions and attendants followed him to the covered terrace that looked out over garden and maze.
“Papa! Papa!” Princess Mathilda shrieked in the distance, galloping to greet him.
A handful of worried looking men and women, all Wendish, remained behind.
“I would hear the rest of your message, Eagle,” said Duke Burchard, leaning on a cane as he stepped forward.
“I beg your pardon, my lord duke.” Hugh moved smoothly up beside her. He had not left her alone since they had departed St. Asella’s the night before; she had even slept on a pallet in his bedchamber, beside his other servants. “I am commanded to take down the Eagle’s message in writing to deliver to King Henry when he has more leisure to contemplate Princess Theophanu’s words. If you wish to interview this Eagle, you will have to wait until I have finished with her. I pray you will forgive me this inconvenience. Your distress is evident.”