Hathumod stepped forward with a martial gleam in her eye. "I thank you for your welcome, Lady Beatrix. I am Hathumod* My * ai randmother was a count in the marchlands. I was first a novice Quedlinhame- 'How come you here, then, my lady?" interrupted Lady Beatrix, although she hadn't taken her gaze off Baldwin, who stared soul-ftilly at a table set under an awning and laden with wine, bread, and cheese. "Who are your companions?"

'I pray you, friends." Brother Felicitus cleared his throat for emphasis. "Let us retire to a more appropriate place."

'I'm so hungry," said Baldwin plaintively. "We haven't eaten for two days." Lady Beatrix dashed to the table and brought Baldwin an entire loaf of white bread, still smelling of the oven.

'I thank you," he said, turning the full force of his limpid gaze on her innocent face. Ivar thought she might swoon, or perhaps he was the one who was dizzy because the bread smelled so good and he was really so desperately hungry.

'Come, come." Brother Felicitus herded his charges toward the gate. "Let us not linger here, but if you will come with me I will see that you are fed."

As they retreated, Hathumod begin to speak. "How I came here is a long tale. If you have the patience for it, it will change you utterly." "No tale can be too long if it is also exciting," retorted Beatrix, "for we bide unGodly quiet here. We get so few visitors-"

'She's very young," said Brother Felicitus as he closed the gate, cutting them off from the women's enclosure. The men followed him through a gate in the log fence marking out monastic ground from the unhallowed buildings set up between the inner and outer fence. "But her parents are dead, her elder brother rode east with Princess Sapientia, and her elder sister died at the battle to recover Gent. Duchess Liutgard is her distant kinswoman, but the duchess has been called south by the king on his great expedition to Aosta, so it fell to her cousin Ortulfus to give her guidance." Having established his abbot's noble credentials, he felt free to eye Baldwin distrustfully, as if he feared Baldwin intended to lure poor young Lady Beatrix into a life of debauchery. Baldwin was too busy tearing up the loaf into four equal portions to notice.

'I feel sure Father Ortulfus is a Godly man," said Ivar. "So he is. Here is the laborers' dormitory." Felicitus indicated a long hall with a porch set outside the inner wall. "Those who are servants of the abbot, or of the king-" He nodded at the two Lions.

'-reside here. Our circatore, Brother Lallo, will take care of yOu Here he comes."

Brother Lallo was brawny and immaculately groomed. For a circa-tore-the monk set in charge over the manual laborers-his hands were remarkably clean.

'Can they work?" he demanded, looking Gerulf and Dedi over and not appearing to like what he saw. They were all unkempt. "I've a full house these days, for it's troubled times as you know, Brother Felicitus. I wish you would have consulted me first- 'And risked sending them down the road to Oerbeck where they'll get no more than a thin broth for their supper? We are still the king's monastery, Brother, and God's house, and have an obligation to travelers." , 'And vagabonds, evidently!" replied Brother Lallo sourly. "At least they don't have dogs with them! Come this way, then. You're stout-looking fellows, I'll give you that."

'We are Lions in the king's service," said Gerulf, with real annoyance.

Lallo blinked. "Why aren't you with the king?"

Dedi seemed about to speak, but Gerulf signed him to silence. "That is truly a long tale, and a cursed strange one, for I've seen such things as few would believe-" He broke off, rubbing his throat. "Ach, well. My throat's too dry to talk much."

'Come, come, then," said Lallo eagerly. "We can find you mead. There'll be porridge and apples for supper. A long tale would be welcome here."

As Gerulf and Dedi walked off to the laborers' dormitory, Baldwin gave Ivar, Ermanrich, and Sigfrid their share of the bread. Ivar wolfed his down before they reached the inner gate, but all it did was make him hungrier.

At the inner gate Brother Felicitus handed them over to the rotund guest-master, who saw them washed and fitted with clean robes appropriate to their status and brought them to the abbot's table just in time for the evening's feast.

Father Ortulfus was young, vigorous, and handsome. He had a sarcastic eye but a gleam of humor in his expression as he rose to welcome his guests. The dozen monks seated at the abbot's table gaped at Baldwin, who had cleaned up nicely. "My spies brought news of your arrival. There are places for you on these humble benches."

Since all the furniture in the abbot's dining room was elaborately rv and painted, as befit the son of a noble house, Ivar merely miled. "You are most gracious, Father Ortulfus. We have traveled a most strange road. I am Ivar- '-son of Count Harl of the North Mark and his late wife, Lady Herlinda," finished Ortulfus. "Before I became abbot, I had the honor of being a member of Biscop Constance's schola. I will not soon forget the trial of Hugh of Austra before an assembled council in Autun. Nor, I suppose, will you, Brother Ivar."

Ivar knew his fair complexion branded him, since his blushes could never be hidden. His cheeks burned. "Nay, I suppose I will not."

Baldwin had already found a seat next to a slender monk of aristocratic bearing whose expression was, alas, not at all pure as he offered to share his platter, on which lay a steaming and handsomely spiced whole chicken. Ermanrich and Sigfrid held back at the door, waiting for Ivar's reaction.

'God knows Father Hugh was arrogant," said Ortulfus as his retinue of monastic officials and highly placed brother monks watched avidly. "I suppose it comes of being the son of a margrave." He glanced at Baldwin before smiling mordantly at Ivar. "I admit, Brother Ivar, that I wasn't sorry to see you stand against Father Hugh, even if it was only because that sorcerer they spoke of had enchanted you as well."

'Perhaps she did," retorted Ivar, stung and flattered at the same time, "or perhaps Hugh was lying. I could tell you-"

'And I trust you will," interrupted the abbot smoothly, "but I beg you to take drink and food first, for you look famished. When Biscop Constance raised me to the abbacy of Herford Monastery, she strictly enjoined me to see that travelers were always well cared for. Will you not share a platter with me, Brother Ivar?"

No one could refuse such an honor. In this way, the four visitors were separated from each other and each given to one of the abbot's officials to entertain. Wine flowed freely. The abbot did not stint when it came time to eat. The savory chicken was all Ivar could have hoped for, and it was succeeded by a clear broth to cleanse the palate, after which the meat course arrived, a side of roasted beef so heavy it took two servants to carry the platter. Three types of pudding followed the meat, each one richer than what came before, and there were also apples, pears, plums, cherries, and the sticky honey cakes common to feast days.

As the meal wore on, Ivar realized that this astounding repast was, indeed, in honor of a saint's day. A young monk with a face so undis tinguished that one hesitated to look twice at him sang most sweetlv various hymns in praise of St. Ingrith, she who was patron of weavers and benefactor to every person who has faced down and wrestled with an unexpected setback.

The battle against the Quman had been fought in late Aogoste. The feast day of St. Ingrith was celebrated in late Setentre, almost a full month after the equinox. Impossibly, in the two days since they had escaped the Quman, over one month had passed here at Herford Monastery. Impossibly, they had traveled from the eastern borderlands all the way to the heart of Wendar by walking into-and out of-a barrow.

'You said you had a strange tale to tell us," said Father Ortulfus. "I confess myself prey to the sin of curiosity, for I'm thinking that your handsome companion is the infamous young bridegroom of Margrave Judith, the same lad who vanished the night after Hugh of Austra's trial."

Although he hadn't appeared to be paying attention to anything but his food, Baldwin leaped to his feet, ready to bolt. "I won't go back to her!"

Ortulfus laughed in surprise. "Truly, you will not. Can it be you don't know that she was killed in a battle against the Quman three years ago?"

The sickly sweet scent of plum wine made Ivar queasy. The in-firmarian burped. The singer faltered and fell silent, and every man there turned to watch the abbot and his guest.

'I don't understand what you're saying," said Ivar, pushing away his cup of plum wine. "We saw Margrave Judith lead her troops into battle against the Quman not one month ago, under the command of Princess Sapientia and Prince Bayan."

The monks at table set down spoons and knives as they glanced nervously, or meaningfully, toward Father Ortulfus. Ivar studied them. Each man wore robes and a sigil to identify his place within the monastic order. The abbot wore an ivory Circle of Unity incised with perfectly articulated scenes in miniature from the life of the blessed Daisan. Beside him sat the rotund guest-master with his cloak pinned by a brooch in the shape of a wine barrel, signifying hospitality. The abbot's trusted second-in-command, the prior, wore a dozen keys of all shapes and sizes on a gold chain around his neck. The infirmarian had his caduceus, the cellarer his silver spoon, the chief scribe his pen, the novice master a stylus, and the sacrist a little golden vessel representing the oil used to light the holy altar. Even ji the servants, tending the braziers set in each corner to warm the room, wore brooches of bronze wire twisted into brooms, although with their burly shoulders and military bearing they looked as if they had only recently come from fighting in the wars.

'My friend," said Father Ortulfus, measuring his words, "Prince Bayan has been dead these two years, killed at the battle of the Veser River. It's a long road from the marchlands here to Herford, one that can scarcely have been traversed in a month even by such stout fellows as you." He moved his wine cup a hand's width to the right.

A servingman entered, bent to whisper in the sacrist's ear, and stood back to wait. With a nod of apology, the sacrist rose.

'I pray you, Father, we've run out of oil for the Hearth lamp." "Go on."

The sacrist left, closing the door behind him. Father Ortulfus went on. "After the trial at Autun, the court supposed that you had escaped Margrave Judith's clutches with the aid of Prince Ekkehard, whose preference for Lord Baldwin had become, shall we say, well known. When we heard that Prince Ekkehard had married the new margrave, Gerberga, those of us who remembered the trial assumed that the marriage was in some measure payment for his earlier theft of Judith's young husband. So you must imagine that your appearance here, at this late date, raises more questions than it answers."

'Do sit down," said Baldwin's companion with an unctuous smile. "Won't you have more honey cake?" Baldwin stubbornly remained standing.

'You need not fear that any of us are loyal to the kinfolk of Margrave Judith," added Father Ortulfus. "We are all first and foremost servants of our most gracious and magnificent biscop and duke, Constance."

Both Ermanrich and Sigfrid looked at Ivar.

Ivar rose slowly. "Baldwin, I pray you. Sit down." With a pretty frown, Baldwin sat. "Is this some trick, Father Ortulfus? We have traveled far and by strange paths, and we have witnessed miracles, not least of which was that God delivered us from the Quman. We have been given by God the obligation to bring the truth to those of you who still linger in darkness, for it has come to us to know that the church has taught a falsehood these many years. For God so loved the world that She gave to us Her only Son, that He should take upon himself the measure of our sins."

Ermanrich took up the litany. "He came before the Empress Thais sania, she of the Mask, and He would not bow down before her, fOr He knew that only God is worthy of worship. The empress had him flayed, as they did do to criminals in those days, and His heart was cut out and thrown into the courtyard, where it was torn into a hundred pieces by the dogs. Aren't we, ourselves, those dogs?"

'I knew it!" thundered the prior. "Such babblings as we've heard from vagabonds this past year could not have sprung fully grown out of nowhere. Here's the plague's root!"

'"A novice poisoned by heresy.'" The abbot had elegant fury to spare. His disdain and disgust were a well-honed weapon. "So you were accused when you came forward at the trial of Hugh of Austra, Brother Ivar. Do you and your companions deny that the Mother and Father of Life brought forth the universe through the Word? Do you still profess this vile heresy of the Redemption?"

'It isn't heresy! The king's own sister, who is abbess at Quedlin-hame, ordered Sigfrid's tongue cut off as punishment because he kept speaking the truth. Yet he speaks with a purer voice than you or I, because of the miracle, when the phoenix rose out of the fire. Why would God have restored his voice if he spoke only falsehoods?" "It was the sign of the blessed Daisan." Sigfrid's expression shone as he remembered that awesome moment when the phoenix's wings had unfurled and it had risen in glory into the dawn, leaving a trail of flowers in its wake. "For the blessed Daisan also rose from death to become Life for us all."

'You are still polluted," said Father Ortulfus. "If you will walk with God, then walk in silence and free your heart from the Enemy's grasp. Let there be no more of these tales, which spread like a plague upon the Earth!"

Too late Ivar recognized the servants for what they were: retired soldiers. Even the abbot had the bearing of a man who had fought in a battle or two as part of the biscop's military host. They were many, and Ivar and his friends were few.

'But there was a phoenix," objected Baldwin. "I hate it when people don't believe me."

'Where did this miracle take place?" demanded the prior.

'In the borderlands, some days east of Gent," said Ivar.

'A conveniently long distance from here," said the abbot. "Have you any other witnesses?"

'The villagers saw it," said Ermanrich.

'The villagers are not here, my friend. What of the Lions who accompany you? Or Lady Hathumod?"

'Prince Ekkehard saw it, as did all of his companions," said Baldwin. "Prince Ekkehard abides far to the east as well, and is now married to Margrave Gerberga-"

'He does not!" retorted Baldwin, who was never more indignant than when he was utterly sure of his ground. "He's abbot of St. perpetua's in Gent. He can't be married. And he was just at the battle vvith us. I saw him cut down!"

'It's said Prince Ekkehard survived many things, including battles, captivity, and his own treasonous actions. I think your account must be confused, Brother Baldwin." "It is not!"

'Baldwin." Ivar had a bad feeling that he was missing something very important. "Father Ortulfus, you must forgive us if we seemed confused. It seems to me that only a few nights have passed since I saw both Margrave Judith and Prince Bay an alive. It seems an ill omen when I hear you speak as if they're dead."

'Ivar!" Sigfrid's whisper was like the murmuring of ghosts on the wind. Sigfrid had thought of something that the rest had not. "What is it?"

'The year," said Sigfrid diffidently. "The year?" "What year is it?"

'Any fool knows that it's-um-what year is it, Sigfrid?" The prior made to speak, but Father Ortulfus silenced him simply by lifting a hand. "Go on, Brother Sigfrid," said the abbot more kindly than before, although his sudden gentleness made Ivar unaccountably nervous. "What year is it?"

'The year of our Lord and Lady, seven hundred and thirty," answered Sigfrid quietly, but he had a sad little frown on his delicate face.

The door set into the wall behind the abbot's seat opened. "My lord abbot," said a brother, leaning his head in. "The brothers have assembled and are waiting for you." It was time for prayer.

'It was a miracle," said Sigfrid stubbornly. Despite his small size and unprepossessing appearance, he had both the intelligence and strength of faith to speak with an authority that made others listen. "Ask if you will at Qjiedlinhame, for they will remember clearly enough when they cut out my tongue. How, then, can I speak now, if not by a miracle?"

'A difficult question to answer," agreed Ortulfus, rising from his chair. His officials stood as well, leaving only Baldwin, Sigfrid, and Ermanrich on their benches. "Be sure I will write to Mother Scholas-tica for her account. But it will take many weeks or even months to get a reply, and I must decide what to do with you in the meantime In truth, like any pestilence, heresy spreads quickly unless it is burned out."

The monks blocked the doors, and while the chief of scribes hadn't the ready stance of a fighter, the others looked able to hold their own in a scrap. They were trapped.

'You are three years too late," added Father Ortulfus. "This is the autumn of the year seven hundred and thirty-three since the Proclamation of the Holy Word by the blessed Daisan." Three years.

Sigfrid swayed, and Ermanrich made a squeak, nothing more, as his eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped open with an "o" of surprise and disbelief. No one knew better than Ivar how well Sigfrid attended to his studies. Sigfrid hadn't been wrong. "What three years?" demanded Baldwin.

Ivar felt the grasp of that ancient queen who had appeared to him in the barrow, clutching him by the throat, squeezing the life from him, her hands cold as the grave. Magic had caught them in its grip, and now they were paying the price. They had escaped the Quman, but not at the cost of two nights. Not even at the cost of a month. "Three years," he whispered.

'Maybe we were asleep," said Ermanrich, who for once had no joke to make, "like that Lord Berthold we saw under the barrow."

Monks murmured in surprise and alarm, and a startled servant, hearing that name, scurried out the door.

'It's a lie!" cried the prior, a bluff, soldierly looking man. "They're liars as well as heretics! I was here the day Margrave Villam's son disappeared up in the stone crown among the barrows. He hasn't been seen since, and those tunnels were searched for any trace of the young lord."

'We did see them!" protested Baldwin. "I don't know why none of you believe anything we say!"

'I'll have silence," said Father Ortulfus, his voice like the crack of a whip.

Cold air eddied in through the open door, disturbing the warm currents off the braziers. A misting rain darkened the flagstone path vvays in the courtyard, seen beyond the brother waiting patiently in the doorway. In the center of the courtyard stood an elaborate fountain depicting four stone unicorns rearing back on their hind legs. A hedge of cypress hid the colonnade on the opposite side of the courtyard, but several stout monks loitered there. The abbot had left no escape route unguarded.

'My lord abbot," said the servant again. "The brothers are waiting for you to lead Vespers."

'Come, then," said Father Ortulfus grimly. "Let us pray all of us together, for surely in this hour of trouble and confusion we have need of God's guidance."

THE DEPTHS HIS GAZ THE Eagle, Your Majesty, recently come from Princess Theo-phanu at Osterburg."

All morning every person in the palace had done nothing but talk about the triumphal procession of Henry and Adelheid into the city yesterday evening. With each hour the story grew in the telling: how the king had single-handedly quelled the riots, how the queen's mercy had saved children from death, how malcontents had thrown down their staves at the sight of Presbyter Hugh. God had smiled on the righteous in their campaigns in Aosta. They had won a great victory over the Jinna bandits outside the town of Otiorno. Although the Arethousan usurpers in southern Aosta still clung to power, the authority of Henry and Adelheid in northern and middle Aosta could now be called decisive.

Yet despite these epic feats, the scene confronting Hanna seemed strikingly domestic in its intimate charm. King Henry sat at a table in a private chamber, staring at the chessboard across which he and Duchess Liutgard of Fesse battled, ivory against black. Hanna knelt, grateful for the cushion of carpet beneath her knee. Because the king did not look up from his game immediately, she had time to studv the room and its occupants.

The king looked little older than when she had seen him last. Had it really been three years since she had left his court at Autun bound for the east with a company of Lions? Much of that time seemed like a blur to her, passed in captivity or in illness. She had been on the road a long time.

About half of the royal garden was visible through an open window. A dark-haired child played in that garden, followed by a veritable swarm of attendants. Even at this distance Hanna heard her shrieks of delight as her nursemaids tried to catch her while she ran excitedly along the twisting pathways of a floral labyrinth, stumbling on unsteady feet but always climbing gamely up with a new burst of energy.

Mathilda, child of Henry and Adelheid, was the anointed heir to the kingdoms of Wendar and Varre and to the kingdom of Aosta. She was not much more than two years of age, but every one spoke of her as the child who would be empress in the years to come. No one spoke of Henry's children by Sophia at all, except muttered comments about the untrustworthiness of Arethousans bearing gifts. And soon Mathilda would not be sole child of Henry and Adelheid.

Adelheid reclined on a couch, and by the shape of the queen's belly Hanna judged her about midway through a second pregnancy. While a singer accompanied herself on a lute, the queen chatted in a desultory way with white-haired Duke Burchard and half a dozen noble courtiers. Adelheid had such a graceful way of using her hands to punctuate her speech, like birds or ribbons, that Hanna did not realize she was staring at the queen until she heard her own name spoken.

'Hanna! The king will hear your report now."

Henry moved his castle to threaten Liutgard's biscop before turning.

'What did you say, Father Hugh?" With narrowed eyes, he examined Hanna, resting his chin on a cupped hand. Rings glinted on his fingers, set with gemstones, a banded cabochon of onyx, polished sapphire, and a waxy red carnelian. No spark of recognition lit his face, but perhaps he had already seen and noted her as she came in.

'Your Majesty." Was there any hint, in his expression, in his carriage, in his tone, that Hathui's accusation had been true? She saw nothing damning. He seemed entirely himself, the regnant robed in dignity and luck. "Your daughter, Her Most Royal Highness Princess Theophanu, sent me with an urgent message." She bent her head, letting the words unfold that she had memorized over a year ago and kept fresh each day, awaiting this moment. " To my lord father, p{is Glorious Majesty Henry, king of Wendar and Varre, I, his loyal daughter Theophanu, send heartfelt prayers for his health, his well-being, and his wisdom. I pray you, my lord king, let my pleading words awaken compassion in your heart for the troubled state of your kingdom.'"

The litany of afflictions rolled easily off Hanna's tongue. Internal strife in Wendar and Varre. The Salian civil war spilled over into Var-ingia and Wayland. Famine and plague, flooding and hailstorms. A plague of heresy and the destruction wrought by the Quman invasion, under the command of Bulkezu, who had gone so far as to take Prince Ekkehard prisoner and with flattering words and rich presents turn him against his own countryfolk. The town of Echstatt burned and the palace at Augensburg still a ruin, where crows feasted on the corpses of Bulkezu's hapless prisoners. A rot spreading among the rye, poisoning the grain and any who ate it. A two-headed calf born alive. Tallia pregnant by Conrad, and the duke celebrating Penitire in Mainni as if he were a king. Biscop Constance's silence from Autun. The death of Duchess Rotrudis followed by plotting and quarreling among her unworthy heirs. Prince Bayan dead in battle against the invaders, and Princess Sapientia ridden east with Sanglant, who had taken over her army and made it his own. The traitor, Prince Ekkehard, promised to Margrave Gerberga.

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 Hito 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 f 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 Bald win. 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."