Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 1 (71 page)

"Hanna!" said her companion sharply, calling back over her shoulder. The young Eagle wrenched her gaze away from Alain, glanced quickly at the hounds, then followed her companion up the hill after the two nobles.

"Is it true, Your Grace?" asked Tallia.

"Is what true?" Antonia had recovered her outer calm. "Come, child, we must ride back behind the lines. The battle will soon begin."

"T-those things you said. About Henry."

"Of course it is true. Why would I say such things if they were not true?"

"Oh," said Tallia, and that was all.

Meekly, she let Cleric Heribert lead her back to her mother. When they arrived at Sabella's banner, Willibrod took the mule's reins away from Alain. Tallia was taken back behind the lines to the safety of the supply train, where the noncombatants awaited the outcome of the battle. One wagon had been brought forward from the train. This was unusual enough but made more so because Alain recognized it as the shrouded cage that concealed the
guivre.

"You saw no sign of the Dragons?" Sabella asked.

"None. And I have never heard it said the Dragons hide themselves. Always they ride in the vanguard."

"Bastard and whore's child he may be," said Sabella grudgingly, "but Sanglant is known for being brave. What of the others?"

"I saw none."

"None of Henry's children?"

"None."

Sabella frowned. "That is unfortunate. I was hoping I might catch one or all of them for hostages. It would serve me well to have them in my hands."

Antonia's reply was so soft only Alain
—and perhaps Heribert—heard it. "It would serve you better if they were dead."

Sabella's captain rode up with the message that Rodulf's people were ready. "You must go back behind the lines, Your Grace," said Sabella to Antonia. She settled her helmet over her mail coif and tightened the strap. The banner of Arconia flapped beside her, held by one of her men-at-arms: a green
guivre
with wings unfolded and a red tower gripped in its left talon, set against a gold silk background. "You I cannot afford to lose."

"What of our guests?" The biscop looked, and smiled, at Constance and Agius.

"Take them with you. They are too valuable to risk here where the battle will be fought."

Antonia signed, and Constance and Agius were led away under guard. "Come," she said to her attendants. They began to move back. Alain hesitated. "Come, child," said Antonia, beckoning to him. "You will attend me as well."

Sabella noticed his hesitation. "This is one of Lavastine's men-at-arms, is it not? It is time he returned to the count's levy."

"But
—

"Do as I say," snapped Sabella with the expression of a woman who has no time to argue.

Antonia paused. Her face became a mask of stillness. Then, as the sun comes out from behind clouds, she smiled in her usual benevolent fashion. "As you wish, my lady." She did not bow, but she gave in. So. Sabella danced to no puppet strings. Antonia might control Lavastine, but she did not control the daughter of Arnulf.

Once Antonia was gone, no one paid the least attention to Alain though several rough men-at-arms pushed him back and told him sharply to find his place, only to apologize when the hounds growled at them. But they made the sign of the Circle at their breasts, as if he was some evil thing.

He retreated to the back of the line. Sabella had in her own company over one hundred well-armed mounted soldiers and perhaps twice as many skirmishers and infantry; all together (according to Heribert's count) she had six hundred or so soldiers. But Henry's army was bigger, and Henry commanded more of the heavily armored cavalry that was the backbone of any lord's army. Of the infantry Lions, there was one century, but by all reports most of the Lions manned the eastern frontier against the raids of the Quman horsemen and other barbarians.

Alain trotted along the back of the line. He heard leather creaking as men shifted, waiting, anticipating the first step. On the hill above, none of Henry's soldiers moved. Alain could see the red silk banner flapping against blue sky and trailing white clouds, but the heads
—some helmeted, some with hard leather caps, some with no covering at all—of Sabella's soldiers blocked most of his view.

Was this how a battle was fought? Was there a strategy involved, or did the two sides merely wait until one commander lost patience or nerve and sent his side forward
—or into retreat?

A gap opened between Sabella's leftmost company of infantry and the rightmost company of those men under Lavastine's command. The men stood with their arms tight against their sides so they could rest the weight of their shields on their hips. Most of these men carried spears; few common men had the wherewithal to purchase a sword.

As Alain sprinted past the open ground, dashing for safety among Lavastine's men, he looked up toward Henry's army. Movement coursed along the ranks. Then, suddenly, the sky darkened with arrows. Most of them fell harmlessly in front of the line of Sabella's army; some overshot. A few found their mark. But even as men cursed and one shrieked in pain, the archers among Sabella's army took aim and shot.

They had to arc their arrows higher, to gain the height, but, if anything, this volley had more effect. A ripple passed down the line of Henry's army as if many arrows had hit their mark. And the line moved.

Horses started forward at intervals. Henry had sent out his skirmishers, mounted men armed with spear and shield or even spear alone. They raced forward, flung their spears, and turned back to gallop out of range, only to turn again
—

Alain dashed along the rear of the line and saw Lavastine's back and the black coats of his hounds just as a great cry went up from the crowd of soldiers around Sabella's banner. A rank of infantry trotted forward into the empty field that lay between the two armies. They pulled the shrouded cage along with them.

"Hai! For Henry!" the host above them shouted.

Alain shoved his way through to Lavastine's side. The count did not even notice the boy, he was so intent on the battle. At his leftmost flank, about twenty of his own skirmishers had raced out to meet the skirmishers opposite them. One group of horsemen broke away from the banner of Saony and began to sweep wide, disappearing into the forest.

Lavastine sought and found his captain. "Send a company after them," he said.

Another cry rent the air from Henry's army. The king rode a few paces forward and lifted his lance.

"The Holy Lance of St. Perpetua," murmured Lavastine, but to whom, Alain could not tell.

St. Perpetua. Lady of Battles.

Alain groped at his neck, found the rose. King Henry carried the Lance of St. Perpetua, a relic of the greatest antiquity and holiness. Was it not the Lady of Battles herself who had come to him, a simple merchant's son, on that stormy day above Osna Sound? Was it not the Lady of Battles who had changed his destiny?

He could not imagine for what purpose he had been led here, to this day and this hour and this moment.

Henry's army began to move down the hill, picking up speed so their weight could smash through Sabella's line. And first, in their way, was that knot of infantrymen, dragging the shrouded cage up the slope.

The cage jutted and bounced and lurched. Stuck. One of the wheels had gotten stuck. Henry's soldiers picked up speed and force. Sabella's captain shouted a shrill command and lifted a white banner, waving it. The line of her army lurched forward in its turn.

Lavastine lifted an arm. And Alain found himself as the two armies lumbered forward to their inevitable meeting. Rage and Sorrow whined. He faltered, unsure where to march, how to fall into place, or what to do. H was not even armed, except with his eating knife. What was he meant to do?

He fell behind and from this vantage point could see nothing except banners and pennants and the chaotic blur of movement on the hill above.

But he knew instantly when the first ranks met. It was a clamor unlike anything he had ever heard, made the more terrible because of the unforgiving clash of sword and spear set against the sudden harrowing screams of mortal men.

He thought of Rodulfs warnings and Sabella's answer:
"This time it will not be enough."
How could she hope to win against a better armed and larger force? He could not know whether the cage was opened deliberately or knocked over accidentally in the charge. He only knew it had happened because at that moment there came from the center of the milling battle a shriek from a hundred throats as from one throat that froze his heart in his chest. He could not breathe for so long a span of time that he coughed and gulped air when Rage butted him from behind, jarring him out of his stupor.

On the slope above, half seen through the chaos of soldiers scattering, through horses rearing and screaming, through the press of bodies and of many men intent on moving forward or on running away, he saw it rise into the spring day as a bird flies toward the heavens and freedom.

Only to be yanked hard, almost to plunge to earth again, because of the great iron collar that bound its leg to a heavy iron chain, the shackle that tied it to the earth and captivity. It screamed its rage and righted itself, still in the air, the downdraft of its great wings toppling men from their horses.

Still shrieking that harsh eaglelike cry, the
guivre
swept its gaze across the battlefield. And everywhere that men by design or accident met its eye, those men froze, unable to move. Everywhere, except among the soldiers of Sabella's army, who wore the amulets so painstakingly wrought by Antonia's clerics. The slaughter began.

Henry was the kind of man who left nothing to chance.

In a strange way, he reminded Hanna of her mother, i Mistress Birta. He had a hard, pragmatic side and yet j was as likely as any other person to give full expression | to his feelings. But to Hanna the most important thing ! about Henry was what Hathui had said of him that same evening after they had reached Henry's court at the monastery of Hersford and been taken in as members of the king's personal household: "He's a fine lord, is our king, and I am proud to serve him."

Hathui, with her fierce marchlander' s independence, was loath to serve anyone. That Henry had captured Hathui's loyalty so quickly was to Hanna's way of thinking a mark of his kingliness.
He
was the true heart of the kingdom, not any city, not any holy site, not any palace or stronghold.

Now, sitting astride her horse as Villam conferred with Henry after the disastrous parley, Hanna worried. She was not, by nature, a worrier, but she had come to be one these past weeks ever since she and Hathui had been forced to leave Liath behind. It was all very well for Hathui to proclaim that she would know if something had happened to Wolfhere and Manfred. A constant nagging anxiety ate away at Hanna. What if something terrible happened to Liath? Hanna had sworn in her heart to protect Liath, and now she had broken that promise.

Through no fault of your own.
Isn't that what Birta would say? Isn't that what Liath herself would say?

But Hanna could only think of broken promises as she stared down the slope toward Sabella's army, drawn up in a strong line below them. She had sworn to protect Liath, and now she rode far from her side. Sabella had, by all reports, sworn an oath to Henry and now she had broken it.
By my deeds,
Hanna thought, /
belong on Sabella's side.

Then, angry at herself for this ridiculous musing, she let out an exasperated sigh. There was no use blaming herself. She was not the Eika chieftain who had besieged Gent. She had not asked those Eika to attack the five Eagles. She
had
fallen off her horse and sprained her ankle, but the truth was, she was still not that experienced a rider. She and Hathui had brought the message of the siege to Henry as quickly as they could. She had done her best and now must live with what came after. It was not her fault but rather Sabella's that Henry could not ride immediately to Gent.

Liath
was the one who worried incessantly and to no purpose, wondering what she had done wrong rather than accepting that sometimes one did nothing and still had ill luck. That was the way of the world, though perhaps Deacon Fortensia might say it was a heathen way of looking at things.

But Hanna and the rest of her family still laid flowers at the foot of certain trees in the forest and offered garlands where the spring rose from rock along the south ridge. Of course she believed in Our Lord and Lady and in the Circle of Unity. But that did not mean the old spirits had ceased to live in the world. They had only gone into hiding.

The old spirits
—like that boy who had held the reins of the biscop's white mule and stared at her so strangely. He had an odd, fey look about him. And those hounds! They weren't ugly, like the Eika dogs she had seen, but they looked as deadly; yet they sat next to the boy like sweet puppies. Ai, well, there were a great many strange things that walked abroad in the world, if only one had the eyes to see them.

"
—the young Eagle—

She shook her head and attended to what Henry was saying.

—will attend Sapientia. She knows what to do. I will have Constance back before Sabella can retreat and take her away as a prisoner."