'Let it be said plainly," said Conrad. "Henry has married the Aostan queen and remains in Aosta to restore Adelheid's throne to her, and to play his own games with his dream of Taillefer's empire. If he chooses to turn his back on his own lands, then he must not be surprised if others choose to rule for him here."

No sudden death knell tolled from Taillefer's chapel. No hush dropped like the stench of the grave over the assembly. These words surprised no one except the seven prisoners who had so recently come into town.

'You're rebelling against King Henry's authority," said Ivar, knowing he sounded idiotic.

'Nay, child," said Sabella. "Henry abandoned us. We are simply caring for those he left behind. I pray you, consider what it means to you that Conrad and I now serve as regents in the kingdom of Varre. You may preach freely. None shall attempt to stop you, excommunicate you, or punish you. Is that not more than you could have expected under Henry's rule?"

Gerulf muttered angry words under his breath, and Ivar calmed the old Lion by laying a hand on his arm. "Truly, it is more than we expected. We expected to be brought to trial before Biscop Constance on the charge of heresy."

'Biscop Constance no longer rules here," said Sabella, while Conrad shifted restlessly. "You are safe from her."

It was too much to take in all at once. Could it actually be possible that they had found a refuge where they could serve God in peace? "Who do you rule as regent for, if not King Henry?"

'Ah." The exclamation had no joy in it, nor even as much respectful anticipation as she'd shown when Conrad made his entrance. Conrad rose. Sabella did not. "I am glad you saw fit to interrupt your prayers, Daughter."

Many times Ivar had glimpsed her holy presence through the gap in the fence in the novices' courtyard in Quedlinhame. There she had dressed in sackcloth and ashes. Now she was arrayed in queenly robes made rich with gold thread embroidered in the shape of leaping roes. She it was who had brought the truth to them all. Her wheat-colored hair shone with health, and her thin face had filled out. Even her fingers, once nothing more than skin stretched over bone, had fat on them.

As she moved to touch Duke Conrad's hand in a gesture of anxious affection, one could see why she was noticeably plumper than she had been at Quedlinhame when she had scourged her earthly body with fasting and hair shirts in order to prove her holiness.

Lady Tallia was far gone in pregnancy.

Hathumod leaped to her feet with a wild look on her normally mild face. "Liar! Fraud! I saw the nail you abused yourself with. I know with what lies the Enemy tempted you, and how you turned your back on the very one who showed you honor. And now this! This! You betrayed every holy promise you made to him- Ermanrich grabbed his cousin and wrestled her down, although she fought him, so in the grip of this unlooked-for frenzy that she seemed unaware of everything around her. It was already too late.

Tallia shrieked hysterically, hiccuping cries interspersed with bleating moans that made Ivar want to slap her if only it would shut her up.

'For God's sake," said Sabella, "control yourself, Tallia."

'I can't! I don't care! I won't have her here. She betrayed me when I needed her! She abandoned me! Everything she says is a lie. She's an evil, wicked woman-"

Conrad rose with the massive grace of a bull and slapped Tallia right across the face. His young daughter winced at the sound, but her lips pulled tight with satisfaction. Tallia stopped screaming so quickly that Ivar flinched, thinking she might drop dead on the spot, but instead she started sniveling. Conrad put an arm around her.

'Hush, Tallia." He sounded as disgusted as might a man who, receiving a prized pup from the regnant, discovers that it has a habit of peeing in the bed. "Calm down. What is it you wish?"

Tallia shuddered and, finally, gazed up into his face with a look as abjectly worshipful as that of his hounds. Remarkably, after all that wailing and moaning, her eyes were dry. "She's an evil, wicked woman." Ivar recalled her voice so clearly from Quedlinhame. Who else spoke in such pure and monotonously zealous tones? That voice, the stigmata that had miraculously appeared on her hands, and the miracle of the rose; these had whipped him into the arms of heresy. But it was her voice more than anything that had driven like a spike into his heart. "An evil, wicked, wicked woman."

'So you said," observed Conrad. "What's that to do with us?"

'She lied about the nail!" shrieked Hathumod, breaking free of Ermanrich's grip. "God never came to her and tore her hands. She did it to herself! She's the broken vessel that the Enemy cast down upon this Earth to harm God's holy messenger-!" Then Ermanrich had her again, this time with Dedi's help, because she was writhing and fighting and ready to fall into a frothing fit. Ivar had never imagined that Hathumod, soft little rabbit that she resembled, could contain so much fury. And he had a bad feeling that it was unwise to insult a great prince's daughter so publicly.

'Take that madwoman out of here," said Sabella coolly. "I won't have my court disturbed in this way."

'Nay, let me go with her," pleaded Ermanrich. "She's my cousin. There's no harm in her-"

'Go!" commanded Sabella. "Ai, God! Take the others, too."

'Kill them!" shrieked Tallia, cowering in the shelter of Conrad's massive arm. "Kill them! Just kill them!" She began to sob, and as the guards jerked Ivar roughly away, he heard her mutter, "No one must ever know."

'An execution might serve to keep the troops in line, those who aren't sure of their loyalty," remarked Sabella.

'Stop there at once!" barked Conrad.

Captain Ulric halted the line of prisoners. He had the look of a good soldier, the kind who doesn't make mistakes because he's slack. His men regarded Conrad with respect as the duke continued speaking.

KL "I will not be party to slaughtering two innocent Lions. I hate Wasting good soldiers."

'And indeed,'' remarked Sabella as she studied Baldwin, "it would be a shame to put an end to such beauty."

'I haven't seen his 'end,'" said Conrad, laughing now as his arm tightened warningly around Tallia, "but I'm sure you'd find it to your taste, Cousin."

'So I might." Sabella's smile made Ivar shiver. "What of the others?"

'You must kill them. You must!" sobbed Tallia. She lifted her pale gaze to her husband's dark face. "You know how much I love you, Conrad. Wouldn't you do it for me?"

She faltered. Maybe she was just smart enough not to want an answer to that question. Her thin lips curved down in a cunning frown as she shook off his arm and stepped forward.

'Am I not queen here, Mother?" Her eyes took on a feverish glaze as she spread her hands over her belly. "That's what you promised me. That I would be queen and my children rule over a realm where all people have to believe in the Holy Word of the Redeemer. I'll order the execution done if you are too squeamish to do so! Guards! Guards! Take that woman and her companions away and execute them, at my order! Now!"

Conrad shrugged, unwilling to interfere. Sabella lifted a hand as if to give permission.

Baldwin sprang forward, pushed past the guards, and threw himself on the steps at Sabella's feet. "I beg you," he cried, turning the full force of his cornflower-blue eyes on her. "If you kill them, I'll hate you forever. You can whip a stubborn horse and still not make it run. But if you spare their lives, then I'll do whatever you ask."

Sabella blinked, stunned either by his extraordinary beauty or else by the complete idiocy of his impulsive gesture. "Whatever I ask?"

Conrad swore appreciatively. "Now there's an offer that makes me look forward to a hard ride out in the fields."

'Guards! Do as I command!" Tallia's voice cracked into a whine.

'Shut up," said Sabella without looking at her daughter. She could not keep her gaze from Baldwin's delectable form.

'B-but you said that I was to be queen-" protested Tallia.

'Inter them at Queen's Grave," said Conrad. "Think of what a welcome their heresy will receive there."

Sabella didn't turn her head to acknowledge the duke's words. She looked, if anything, dumbfounded at the events which had landed Baldwin in her lap.

'perhaps you'd better haul him up to your chambers and just have done with it," Conrad finished with a snort of laughter.

'Nay, Cousin, that would be your style, not mine," Sabella replied. "I like to savor a well-spiced dish, not bolt it down like a dog. It's a good thing that Judith is dead, or we might come to blows over this handsome morsel."

'You're not listening to me!" cried Tallia. "I said I wanted them killed."

''Go along, Tallia, back to your prayers," replied her mother.

'You must rest and keep up your strength."

'But-"

'Daughter, there's no escape from Queen's Grave, so you needn't fear for your honor or whatever it is you're babbling about. For God's sake, Conrad, take her away."

'Come, Tallia," Conrad said firmly, but it was his big hand closing on her frail wrist that forced her to move. He dragged her away without a backward glance, chatting amiably with his daughter as they left the hall.

Ivar felt dizzy, and beside him Sigfrid moaned, Hathuniod sobbed softly, Ermanrich trembled, and Gerulf and Dedi stood rigid, awaiting events, glancing at every entrance as if seeking escape. Baldwin did not look at any of them. He was already alone, kneeling before Lady Sabella.

'Captain, remove the prisoners. Detail an escort to take that woman and those three youths to Queen's Grave. Conrad may do as he wishes with the Lions."

Gerulf laid a hand on Dedi's arm as if to reassure him, or restrain him, but the younger Lion did not respond. He seemed too stunned.

'As you wish, Your Highness," responded Captain Ulric with toneless obedience.

'I'll see you're rewarded for bringing Lord Baldwin to my attention, Captain," Sabella added.

'You are most gracious, Your Highness." Ulric gestured toward his prisoners. "Move on. Move!"

What could Ivar do? There knelt Baldwin, turning at last to stare after him with tears in his eyes. All this time Ivar had believed that because Baldwin was so damned handsome he couldn't truly care for anything but his own pretty face. There was no doubt now of Bald win's feelings. Baldwin had sacrificed himself to save Ivar and the others.

Would I have done the same, risk everything, throw all caution to the winds, for Baldwin? Or would I have treated him as Liath treated me?

Shame made him flush. Baldwin winced, seeing Ivar betrayed by his fair complexion.

'Go on, man," said Erkanwulf. "There's nothing you can do."

Prodded by a spear, Ivar staggered forward as Baldwin turned away, shoulders heaving with a sob. No choice but to abandon him. Just as he had been abandoned by Liath at Quedlinhame.

SISTER Hilaria used flint, iron, and a scrap of dried mushroom to light a lamp. As the fire caught, she wiped away tears. "I am not accustomed to the smell any longer," she said apologetically. Holding up the lamp, she indicated that Hanna should roll the stone back into place. "Then none can follow you."

The stone that blocked the path was so precisely balanced that it ground easily into place and Hanna turned, dusting off her hands, to regard her new companion. The nun was still blinking because of the wavering flame.

'I know these paths so well that I no longer use light. We conserve our meager oil in this way. Still, it will go more quickly for you if we have light. Follow closely."

The floor ran smoothly under her feet, although she kept one hand tracing the wall as she walked behind Hilaria, trying not to bump into her. The nun gave off a strong scent like overripe yeast, not entirely displeasing. The lamplight chased shadows around them, but it did little to dispel the gloom. Tunnels branched away on either side, some ascending and some descending. Passing one opening, Hanna caught a distinct whiff of rotten eggs. As she stopped, recoil ing from the strong smell, a will-o'-the-wisp shifted in the nether darkness, a flash of pale lightness like the glimmer of eyes.

'Sister!" She grabbed hold of the nun's arm. "I saw something down that tunnel."

The nun's smile was mysterious but untroubled. "We are not alone."

She hurried on. Hanna followed despite creeping shivers. Blackness closed in behind them. It was better not to look behind, in case something was sneaking up on her, but she looked anyway. She saw nothing but swallowing darkness.

'Are we safe? Where do those tunnels lead?"

'Into the depths of the earth. We stand atop a labyrinth, friend, whose heart lies beyond our knowledge. So much has been lost to us, who wander in darkness." Was Hilaria speaking of the little community of nuns, or of humankind? It was hard to tell. "Do not fear. The creatures that abide in the earth have done no harm to us. I wish I could say the same of our human brethren."

They came to a ramp that opened onto a cavern broad enough that Hanna felt a change in the air. Their frail flame barely lit the darkness. She saw neither ceiling nor floor, only the suggestion of an open area wide enough to house monsters, or a manor house and its outbuildings.

'Is this where you live?"

'No. But we harbored an army here once. This way."

The light formed a halo around them as they crossed the wide cavern, coming to a corridor that struck into the rock. Their footfalls echoed in whispers. They rounded a corner and came to another blocked passageway. Hanna set her weight to push aside the great wheel stone, but it did not budge as easily as the other one. At last she got it moving, and with a grinding grumble it rolled into a recess cut in the rock.

'Hold." Hilaria squeezed through the gap. "Now let it block the path again."

'We won't return this way?"

'No. We'll return by a different path."

They crossed a ditch dug into the rock that reminded Hanna of a channel where rainwater might run off, and as they toiled up a steep ramp Hanna realized that she could see the walls. Hilaria pinched out the flame. A chamber hewn from rock greeted her astonished gaze. Ventilation shafts cut through the rock let in light, revealing what had once been a kitchen with hearths, a single heavy table, and half a dozen large, open, but empty barrels.

'Quickly." Hilaria walked so swiftly through the chamber that Hanna scarcely had time to glance around.

Light shone bright and welcoming as they moved into the rock-hewn chambers that had once housed the convent dedicated to St. Ekatarina. Being good nuns, the sisters had not abandoned the outer rooms precipitously. Except for a thick coating of dust, the dormitory, the chapel, the library, and the refectory remained in perfect order. Benches in the chapel, lecterns and stools in the library, table and benches in the eating hall, two looms, all were set in order; before fleeing, the nuns had taken the time to tidy up. Luminous frescoes adorned the walls, and the tale they told caught Hanna's interest: strangely-garbed folk walked through archways of light woven in stone crowns. "This way!"

Hanna shook herself before following Hilaria out into the h^rd sunlight on a terrace. A shout rang up from below, but the nun did not answer, instead shifting a heavy white canvas cover that concealed a rolled-up rope ladder. A shove sent it tumbling down the cliff face.

'I pray you, go quickly. Do you see the dust?"

Where the open ground folded away into hills, a gully cut up through the highlands. This was the path they had walked to reach here. No mountains, these, but rather hills so ancient that all that remained were their dry backs and rugged terrain. Little rain had fallen over the winter. Now the dry path betrayed their pursuers. Dust puffed and billowed, marking the advance of their enemy.

'God help us," she murmured. "They're close."

'Go," said Sister Hilaria. "Below you will find a steep staircase. At its base there is a second ladder. Cast it down. And once more descend another set of steps cut into the rock, to where there is a third ladder, the longest. They must climb to safety."

Hanna scraped her knuckles more than once in her haste. The ladder gave her less trouble than the steep steps, where she felt she was hanging in midair, ready to tumble off. Coming to a lower ledge, she uncovered another rope ladder and rolled it over the side, cursing when it tangled. Below, her companions had fallen silent. As she swung over the side to start climbing down, she saw their upturned faces. They clustered at the foot of the towering rock. No need to call out: they understood what was happening.

Her elbows ached by the time she got down the next set of steps and ladders, where she found a broader ledge-wide enough to hold a brace of baskets shoved under an overhanging shelter. A broken winch had been abandoned in pieces. The rocks that pinned down the corner of the canvas covering the ladder had been knocked astray by the wind, and it was this white flap they had seen fluttering.

Below, Gerwita wept.

A horseman appeared at the gap where the gully gave out onto open ground. With a shout, the man turned and disappeared back the way he had come.

Hanna grabbed the ladder and flung it over the side. It unrolled with a hiss, rattling down the stone face. Aurea grabbed the base and yanked it down.

'Go!" shouted Hanna. "Bring my quiver and arrows up first!"

Their lack of baggage helped them. Heriburg started up first, the heaviest pouch of books slung over her shoulders, with Jehan behind her with the quiver and arrows on his back.

The rope struts on the ledge jerked and strained as the clerics climbed. Hanna heard Fortunatus' voice rising. "Nay, Sister Rosvita! You must go now. Better we be taken than you be lost."

'Sister!" Hanna shouted down. "Don't argue! Come quickly!"

She marked the dust cloud, but at this angle it was lost behind the hills. She had no way of telling how close their pursuers were, and if that first horseman had been their lead rider or a scout ranging far out in front of the main force.

Soon she heard Heriburg's ragged breathing. As soon as the young cleric's head and shoulders appeared, Hanna grabbed her under the armpits and helped her up onto the ledge. Heriburg crawled forward and rested on hands and knees before struggling to her feet and measuring the pitch of the staircase angling up the cliff. With a grimace, she started up.

Jehan rolled onto the ledge and stood. "I fear Gerwita is not strong enough to get up so many ladders," he said.

Hanna grabbed one of the large baskets to test the strength of the rope and the security of the hook hammered into the stone, where the rope was anchored. " 'Ware below!" she shouted before heaving the basket over the side and together she and Jehan paid out line until it rested on the ground. Rosvita was halfway up the ladder, Jerome behind her to steady her. Below, Fortunatus helped Gerwita into the basket. Aurea cut loose the goat.

With Jehan's help, it was not as difficult as Hanna had feared to haul her up; the girl had grown frail during their escape and weighed no more than a child. By the time they had her hauled up on the ledge, Rosvita and Jerome, too, had collapsed panting on the narrow terrace, and Ruoda and Fortunatus were most of the way up the ladder with Aurea just beginning to climb. The servingwoman had rigged her belt to bind Hanna's staff onto her back, but the staff impeded her progress. Every time she shifted her shoulders, it banged against the rock face.