"Does G.o.d force regnant and skopos to be wh.o.r.es against their will?"

Chief among the servants and the one who stood somewhat removed from the others, directing the flow of food and drink into the hall, was a remarkably pretty young woman whose handsome features were marred only by a scar along her lower lip, as if she'd been bitten hard enough to draw blood. Lord Hrodik seemed determined to make an a.s.s of himself by continually calling her over and making much of her presence, although any idiot could see that the poor woman had fallen completely under the spell of Prince Sanglant's charisma. Trying not to stare at the prince, she made it all the more obvious that she was trying not to stare at him.

"Ai, Lord," said Heribert with a rueful smile, "there is one woman who has caught Sanglant's eye."

"How can you tell? It seems to me he looks at her no differently nor more often than he does the others."

Heribert chuckled softly." Does it seem so to you? Yet I think it seems otherwise to her. She's both shapely and handsome, and I fear me that our prince is particularly susceptible to women like her."

"Pretty enough," agreed Zacharias, who did not object to admiring handsome women and in years past-before his mutilation-had fallen short of his vows a handful of times." Perhaps it's your own chast.i.ty you must watch over, friend, rather than the prince's."

Heribert blushed slightly." Nay, friend, the charms of women hold no power over me. Pity poor Lord Hrodik. He fades quickly when seated beside Sanglant, and the more so because of his incessant bragging."

"Truly, he wouldn't have lasted a day among the Quman tribes. For all that they were savages, no man among them dared boast of his exploits unless he were truly a warrior and hunter."

"Lord Hrodik's retinue is agreed that he shot a buck last month, so perhaps he can be accounted a hunter."

Zacharias laughed, unaccustomed to hearing the fastidious cleric resort to sarcasm.

Prince Sanglant's head came up at the sound, and he stood abruptly. The poet broke off in confusion, staring around wildly as if he thought an armed party might thunder into the hall.

"I pray you, Brother Zacharias," said the prince, turning to address him across the length of two tables, "if you can recite the hymn to St. Herodia, then do so. You know it perfectly, do you not?"

Zacharias rose, handing the wine cup to Heribert." I can recite it, Your Highness, if it pleases you."

"It would please me greatly." Sanglant left the high table and came to sit beside Heribert, throwing himself into Zacharias' seat and gulping down what was left of the wine in his cup, leaving only dregs." Ai, G.o.d," he said in a low voice, "I have no more patience for that pup's tail wagging nor for that truckler who claims to be a poet." He looked around desperately, lifting his cup, and the handsome servingwoman rushed forward to fill it, pouring the wine through a silver sieve that filtered out most of the dregs. Sanglant stared at her frankly, and she did not lower her eyes, so that this time it was the prince who looked away first, coloring somewhat, although a blush was hard to see against his bronze complexion. Lord Hrodik called to her sharply, and she hurried away to attend to him.

"Ai, Lord," muttered the prince." I am not fit to be a monk."

"Our lord prince needs distraction," murmured Heribert to Zacharias.

When young, Zacharias had devised a way of memorizing the hymns and verses he loved so much by thinking of them as beasts tied up in a stable, each one in a separate stall and each stall marked by a bird or plant to remind him of its first unique word or phrase, something to launch him into the words. Walking down that stall in his mind's eye, he found a figure of a vulture, known as the prophet among birds, carrying a stalk of barley, called hordeum in Dariyan and sharing enough sounds with "Herodia" that it was easy to recall the second out of the first. It took him as much time as it took the prince to drain another cup of wine to gather the first words onto his tongue.

"Let us praise the first prophet, called Herodia, Who walked among the streets and temples of Jeshuvi And did not turn her eye away from mortal weakness, Nor did she fear to speak harshly to those who transgressed G.o.d's law."

Once he had begun, the words flowed freely, one linking itself to the next in an unbroken chain. It was the genius, so his grandmother had said, that the G.o.ds had granted to him. The frater who had brought the word of the Unities to their frontier village had praised him, telling him that he had been named well, for truly the angel of memory, Zachriel, had visited a holy gift upon him.

"So let the holy St. Herodia speak her blessings upon Us all, For her word is the word of truth."

As he finished, he heard the prince mutter an exclamation just as Lord Hrodik jumped to his feet.

"Look here, cousin!" cried the young lord as a dozen townsfolk entered the hall, looking nervously about themselves. Unfortunately, the young woman standing at the head of the party with the scarf signifying her status as a respectable householder tied over her hair was even prettier than the servingwoman. Sanglant rose with cup in hand and his familiar, captivating smile on his face.

"Come, Mistress Suzanne," exclaimed Hrodik impatiently as she and her kinfolk hesitated." I have called you to attend me here in order to honor you, not to eat you." He giggled at his own joke. Certain of his attendants made laughing noises as well, glancing over at the prince to see if he found the comment as funny as Hrodik did. But the prince had not taken his gaze from Mistress Suzanne's person since she'd entered the hall. Hrodik made a great show of leaving his place at the high table and moving out to the center of the hall, his feet half smothered in rushes, where he must become the center of attention simply by virtue of his position.

"You must not fear to stand before Prince Sanglant, for truly he is a n.o.ble prince and no harm will come to you. Come forward, for I mean to show Prince Sanglant what help we can be to him, here in Gent. His soldiers aren't properly outfitted for this winter weather. I mean to convince him to abide a while here while we provide him with such cloaks and armor as is fitting to his magnificence." He almost fell over himself with eagerness as he beckoned to the pretty servingwoman, who appeared at a side door." Come, now, Frederun. Do you now bring forward those gifts which I mean to present to the prince, so that he may later boast of the fine hospitality he met in my hall!"

Sanglant still hadn't taken his gaze from Mistress Suzanne, but she had not looked at him at all, except for one shuttered glance. The man beside her kept his hand on her arm.

"Well," Heribert murmured as Zacharias sidled over to stand behind his chair, "there's one who's as handsome as Liath."

Sanglant glanced down at Heribert with a sharp smile composed more of irritation than amus.e.m.e.nt." I am not my father, Heribert."

"Nay," agreed Heribert companionably, "for King Henry was famous for never walking down the path of debauchery, even after his wife died."

"How can sinless congress, when a woman and a man of their own free will join together for mutual pleasure, be counted debauchery? The Lord and Lady conceived the Holy Word between them, Brother, is that not so? Is not the universe and Earth their creation, brought about by desire?"

"By joining together in lawful congress."

Sanglant laughed, and every soul in the hall turned to look at him." Truly, Heribert, it does me no good to dispute church doctrine with you." He sat down abruptly and lowered his voice." But I swear to you, friend, I do not think I can remain virtuous much longer."

Lord Hrodik bustled forward to meet the servant Frederun, who held a fine scarlet cloak in her arms. Behind her, a young serving-man carried an object draped with a sheet of linen. Hrodik grabbed the cloak out of her arms and shook it free to well-deserved exclamations of delight and amazement from the feasting crowd. The cloak was masterfully woven out of thread dyed a rich scarlet hue and trimmed by an accomplished hand with an embroidered edge of golden dragons twined each about the next.

"This is the work of Mistress Suzanne, whom I bring to your attention, Your Highness. Let me present it to you as a gift, for truly it is worthy of your eminence." Hrodik had gotten quite breathless with excitement as he draped the cloak over Sanglant's arms. His thin, pimply face shone with pride as he beckoned the young weaver forward, although she came reluctantly.

"Fine work, truly," said the prince in a tone that suggested that he praised the woman as much as the cloak. She still did not look at him.

"How many cloaks do you need for your soldiers?" demanded Hrodik." Truly, you have full sixty soldiers in your retinue."

"Seventy-one," said Sanglant.

The weaver paled." My lord, I can't supply you with so much cloth in so short a time!"

"Nay," cried Lord Hrodik expansively, "it need not be a short time. They can't ride east in this cold, nor with the spring thaws coming. I see no reason they can't abide with us for two months or more!"

The poor weaver looked ready to faint, but Zacharias had a strong hunch that it was not the order for cloth that made her anxious but the presence of the prince, who was still watching her as he ran a finger lightly around a tracery of dragon outlined in fine golden thread.

Lord Hrodik was clearly almost beside himself in his desperation to please the prince, and now he noticed Sanglant's fascination with the dragon embroidery. He leaped forward to take the linen-shrouded object out of the servant's arms, whipping the cloth off to reveal a stunningly beautiful helmet, glorious iron trimmed with gold to suggest the fierce visage of a dragon.

Prince Sanglant jumped up so fast that his chair fell over backward, hitting the rushes with a resounding thud. He thrust the cloak into Heribert's arms, had to brace himself against the table as if he feared his legs would give out.

"Where did you get that?"

Hrodik looked startled and not a little scared by the prince's vehemence." It came from the crypt, Your Highness. We recovered a great deal of armor there, after the king and Count Lavastine returned Gent to human sovereignty. Lord Wichman had this piece restored and polished, but he allowed no man to wear it. Nor did he take it with him when he rode east to fight the Quman."

Slowly, Sanglant straightened." What of the rest of the armor found there?" The casual words could not disguise a blossoming of pain in his voice, although truly his voice always sounded hoa.r.s.e.

"Wichman's companions commandeered most of it," Hrodik said, "and his mother d.u.c.h.ess Rotrudis sent stewards to carry off the rest. Nothing as rich as this piece, of course, but all of it well made and-" He broke off, a look of horror on his face. Stammering nonsense, he set the helmet on the table between a platter of chicken eaten down to the bones and a bowl of fish stewed in broth.

"I pray, grant me your pardon, Your Highness." His hands were actually shaking." I mistook myself. I cannot gift this to you, for it was yours once, was it not? When you were captain of the King's Dragons."

Sanglant hesitated, then touched the helmet as though it were an adder. After a moment, he slipped his fingers through the eye slots and lifted it to examine it more closely, turning it to study the dragon inlay, the raised wings wrapping around the helmet's curve, the gleaming face staring down its foe. Zacharias could not interpret the expression on his face, deep emotions surging beneath a taut control. Without a word, he tucked the helmet under his arm in a gesture obviously remembered more by his body than by his mind and strode from the hall without looking at anyone or making any polite excuses. He simply walked out, such a stark look on his face as might be seen on a man who had watched his beloved comrades fall one by one before him, without hope of saving even one.

So he had, hadn't he? Zacharias had heard the story of Gent from Fulk's soldiers, but it was a story they only told when out of the prince's hearing.

Yet wasn't that why soldiers followed him with their whole hearts? Because he gave his heart to them in turn? Prince Sanglant knew the name and history of every man in his retinue. Not one among them doubted that their prince would lead them bravely, fight with them until the end, grieve over any of the fallen, and pay fair rest.i.tution to the families of those who, if G.o.d so willed it, did not survive.

"Come with me," said Heribert in a low voice.

Zacharias didn't need to be told twice, but at the door he paused to look back just as Lord Hrodik, waking as though from a stupor, spoke in an almost apoplectic voice.

"Go now, Mistress, come with me. We must go to his chambers and discuss what manner of outfitting his soldiers need."

The weaver had a pleasant voice, low and melodic, although it shook a little." I beg you, Lord Hrodik, it seems to me that the prince is in no humor to be plagued by a lowly common woman such as myself. I and the other weavers in Gent can provide what you wish, if you will only allow us to-"

"Nay! Nay! I will have him satisfied exactly as he wishes! I am still lord over this town. You will abide by my command!"

"I pray you, Brother." The whisper came from the corridor. Zacharias turned to see the servingwoman, Frederun, standing in the shadow where door met wall. Heribert had already vanished down the hall. With all the windows along the outside wall of the corridor shuttered, it was too dark for him to make out her face." Does the prince know that woman? The weaver?"

"I have not been with the prince more than five months. I know little of his past. Yet I must counsel you, sister, do not let l.u.s.t overmaster you. I do not know what binds you to this place, but surely you realize that the prince will ride on, and you will remain behind."

"I am bound as a servant here, Brother. Will you counsel me now to accept meekly what G.o.d have ordained for such as me? Is all happiness to be denied me?"

"Nay, sister, I am not what you think I am," he said, stung by her tone." My kinsfolk walked east to the marchlands rather than suffer under the yoke of servitude to any n.o.ble. Yet carnal desire furthers no ends but its own. Truly, you must care for yourself before you surrender to carnal urges. What if you get with child?"

"I was forced to be Lord Wichman's wh.o.r.e for six months," she said bitterly, "and yet no child fastened itself to my womb. Ai, G.o.d." Her voice came as a sigh, ragged and desperate." Did you see the way he looked at her?" Abruptly, she hurried away down the corridor.

With a frown, Zacharias returned to the chambers allotted to the prince, but the sight that greeted him there gave his heart ho peace. Prince Sanglant stood in the center of the room, his tall, broad-shouldered form made daunting by the magnificent dragon helmet he now wore. He turned at the sound of Zacharias' footsteps, pulling the helmet off as though he didn't want anyone to see him wearing it.

"I fear you are about to be visited by Lord Hrodik, Your Highness," said Zacharias.

"Lord preserve me," muttered the prince, c.o.c.king his head to one side to listen. He held the helmet, two fingers crooked into the eye slot, as though it were a comfortable weight." She's with him."

"Who is she?" asked Heribert softly from his station beside the table. He watched Sanglant closely, a compa.s.sionate half smile on his face.

"Mistress Gisela of Steleshame had a handsome niece, whose name was Suzanne. She was a fine weaver. She wove cloaks for the King's Eagles, among other things. My Dragons and I spent a week's worth of nights at Steleshame getting refitted by the Stele-shame armorer, when we rode to Gent." He swore then, half laughing, and tossed the helmet to the boy, Matto, who had been left in the chamber to sit in attendance on the sleeping Blessing, her slack toddler body bundled all cozy in the middle of the big bed where Sanglant took his rest.

Matto caught the helmet, grunting at its weight, and ran his hands over the gold fittings in astonished awe." Lord bless me. I've never seen aught like this in the whole of my days. Not even the king has a helm so grand as this!"

"Hush, Matto," said Sanglant, not unkindly." Do not speak disrespectfully of King Henry, to whom G.o.d have granted Their favor."

"No, Your Highness," said the youth obediently.

By now, they could all hear Lord Hrodik as he approached down the hall, calling orders to one of his stewards in his wheedling, ill-tempered voice." Go, therefore, and let the prince know we attend him at his pleasured"

Sanglant sat down in the chamber's only chair, a richly carved seat set on a thick Arethousan carpet woven with flowers and vines. He gestured to Matto to stand by the door. The youth scarcely had time to position himself there before a fl.u.s.tered steward made a great show of announcing Lord Hrodik.

By sitting down, Sanglant made the gulf between his authority and the authority of the young lord quite plain. He knew how to use his presence and his size to intimidate, and he did so now by leaning forward to brace his hands on his knees. Hrodik simpered and stammered and finally moved aside to let the young weaver step forward. She had such a high blush in her cheeks that she looked feverish. Still she would not meet Prince Sanglant's gaze.

"Well met," he said without any seeming irony." It seems you are a renowned weaver in this town, Mistress."

"Yes, Your Highness." Boldly, she lifted her gaze to look at him, before sweeping it around the chamber, marking Heribert, Zacharias, the youth Matto by the door, the three young hounds panting under the table, who had been given to the prince as a gift by the monks of St. Gall, and finally at the bed. Now she was startled, eyes widening as she recoiled slightly." Is this your child. Your Highness?"

"So it is," he agreed, still watching her." That is my daughter, Blessing."

Mistress Suzanne found the carpet a fascinating sight, compared, at least, to the child on the bed. Such currents ran between the man and the woman that Zacharias thought that probably he could trace them, had he only the ability to see emotion as light." A handsome and well-grown child. Your Highness. Any child must be accounted a blessing." She faltered as though brought up short by the snap of a whip. Her flush washed pale, but her voice remained strong." Yet not every child is conceived in blessed circ.u.mstances. Some of us become p.a.w.ns, Your Highness, to those whose worldly power is greater than their fear of G.o.d." She glanced for the first time back at her little retinue, her eager household, who stood cl.u.s.tered behind her staring at the prince in awe and trepidation. The man standing at the fore nodded rea.s.suringly to her in the way of a good companion tied by bonds of trust and affection. Nothing like as handsome as the prince, he had the broad shoulders and thick forearms of a laborer, and a certain grim fatalism lay on his shoulders as he eyed the prince.

His rival, thought Zacharias, knowing the thought for truth as soon as it surfaced.

Mistress Suzanne continued to speak, and as each word fell it seemed to make the next one easier." After the fall of Gent I was given against my will to Lord Wichman, while he lived with his retinue at Steleshame and harried the Eika. After the Eika were driven out, I left my aunt and Steleshame and came to Gent to begin anew, and to escape Lord Wichman. I was already pregnant. In time I gave birth to his b.a.s.t.a.r.d child. Because he had taken up residence in Gent, as its lord, I feared letting him know of my presence in Gent because I did not want him to-" This was too much, and she could not finish the sentence.

"Knowing my cousin Wichman, as I do," Sanglant said softly, "I can see that you would not have wished him to know that you lived close by him."

She sighed gratefully, gathered her resolve, and went on." Yet the child must be baptized, Your Highness. In this way, it came to the attention of d.u.c.h.ess Rotrudis. Before the babe was six months of age, a cleric came to our house and took the child away." She remained dry-eyed and confident." I confess I was thankful to have that burden taken from me. I am sure the d.u.c.h.ess has given the child a better life than I ever could. Truly, I could never love it, remembering what I suffered in its making."

Sanglant could never be fully still, yet even with one foot tapping quietly on the carpet beneath his chair he knew how to listen with his full attention. His attention became almost a second presence in the chamber, the cloak of power any great prince carries beside her. Even Hrodik dared not speak without permission. But the prince's silence, like a.s.sent, gave the weaver leave to go on.

"My household has prospered, Your Highness. d.u.c.h.ess Rotrudis was generous in paying me for the trouble of bearing her a grandchild. I used that rest.i.tution to improve my workshop. I had already pledged myself to this man, Raimar. With our newfound prosperity we were able to make our vows of betrothal before the biscop. We will marry in the spring. Raimar was able to leave the tannery, for he was put there as a slave by the Eika in the last weeks of their occupation but had apprenticed before the invasion to a carpenter. With our servingman Autgar, he built two new looms and added on a wool room, as well as shelves and beds for the household, and other small projects."

"Nay, nay," said Sanglant, lifting a hand. She broke off, flushing hotly again." Truly, you have earned the prosperity you now enjoy. I will not disturb you any longer. If Lord Hrodik can see to it that I am supplied with twenty stout wool cloaks for my company, then I will ask nothing more of you."

"Do not think me ungrateful, Your Highness, I pray you." At last, she lifted her gaze to meet his. With his words, she had allowed herself to relax. The play of lantern light over her face made the curve of her full lips and the quiet brilliance of her eyes most striking, so that even Zacharias felt a stirring of desire. Sanglant gave a sharp sigh." Do not find me unmindful of the roses of summer," she said, "which can never be reclaimed although we recall their scent and sweetness and beauty with an ardent heart."

"You have my leave to depart," the prince said irritably." You as well, Hrodik." But as they turned to go, he called out." Nay, stop a moment. Who is that girl?" He indicated one of Suzanne's party. The girl had nothing of obvious interest about her except an odd burnt b.u.t.ter complexion, as though she had been dipped in a tanning vat. Mostly grown, not quite a woman but no longer a child, she stepped forward fearlessly to confront the prince. The top of her head didn't even come to his shoulder.

"I know you," he said, almost dreamily.

Heribert stepped forward." She was the child who followed you down into the crypt, my lord prince."

"Nay, true enough, but I know her. / know her. What is your name, child?"

"She is mute, Your Highness." Mistress Suzanne stood protectively behind the child, setting a hand on her shoulder." Her name is Anna. She and her brother Matthias escaped from Gent long after the Eika had taken it. How they survived there for all those months I do not know, but they got free of Gent through the intervention of St. Kristine and came to Steleshame. I brought them with me to Gent as part of my household. Her brother Matthias is betrothed to one of my younger weavers. He's now a journeyman at the tannery."

"You're the daimone," said the girl suddenly in a voice as hoa.r.s.e as the sc.r.a.pe of sandpaper.

Suzanne shrieked, and her family began talking all at once, crowding forward to touch the girl.

"Ai, G.o.d," Suzanne said through tears." She's not spoken a word for two years."

"Sanglant?" Heribert rushed forward to lay a hand on the prince's arm. Zacharias, too, pressed forward to stand beside the prince, because Sanglant looked utterly stunned, as though an unexpected blow had slammed into his head.

Blessing woke up and began to cry, frightened by all the noise." Dada! Dada! I want Dada!"

"Ai, G.o.d," Sanglant murmured, "it wasn't a dream at all. Those two children, the boy with the knife and the girl with the wooden Circle of Unity hanging at her chest. I thought it was a delusion."

Blessing wailed. She had the lungs for it, a voice to pierce the clamor of battle. The girl, Anna, got to her first, picked her up, and carried her over to her father. Sanglant took her without thinking. Blessing hid her face against his shoulder and, with a few hiccup-ing cries, lapsed into silence.

"Haven't you a nursemaid for this child?" the girl called Anna demanded, looking around the chamber. Although Zacharias could feel the familiar snap, like the taste of lightning in the air, that he had come to recognize as Jerna's presence, he could not see the aery daimone at all. But he felt the current of wind that marked her trail.

Yet that wind grew stronger, and stronger still, as though someone had opened shutters facing into a storm. An unnatural whirlpool of milky air spun into existence in the center of the room. Jerna flickered into view above it.

In these last months as Blessing grew with unnatural speed and ate porridge and cheese more while nursing less, Jerna had in contrast begun to lose that womanlike mimicry that had made her seem more substantial before. In a way, it seemed as if Blessing's need had helped shape Jerna's human form. Now the daimone only vaguely resembled a pale woman creature with the tone and texture of water.

The pool of light had nothing to do with Jerna. It was something entirely other, a sorcerous manifestation right there in the middle of the chamber.

Shrieks and shouts erupted as the gathered people shrank back in fright. Zacharias could not tell what frightened them more: Jerna's wispy form, or the strange whirlpool of light pouring brightness into the chamber. Blessing reared back, clapping her hands over her ears. Hrodik's steward had fallen down to the floor in a faint, and young Matto tried to haul him up to his feet so he wouldn't be trampled.

A sound emerged as a faint murmur, emanating from the whirlpool of light.