“This we knew, Your Grace. It is why we waited so long to act.”
“Why act now?” she asked him, but glanced at Ivar as the words faded and Ulric did not immediately reply. “Brother Ivar convinced you?”
“He gave me the means, but it was not his argument that convinced me. In truth—” He paused to grin at Ivar with a look that seemed half apologetic. “—there have been other portents and omens. Dissatisfactions and fears.”
“Stories of grace,” she said, “as I have been hearing these two days.”
He nodded. “Stories of God’s grace. Of the phoenix. We all know them, Your Grace. We know they are true. But the lady is reckless. She punishes those who work the land and shows mercy to those who are most cruel and greedy. The wars to the west have taken the lives of a score of my militia, but their families gained no bounty for their sacrifice, not even a payment for each lost man, as is traditional. The weather is wrong, Your Grace. I am no farmer, but I know the way of the seasons. First came that unnatural wind that blew down houses and smashed trees throughout the woodlands. We’ve had no sun for months, not since the autumn. We had untimely rain last summer and little enough this winter. The stores in Autun grow low. The lady has not husbanded them wisely, not as you would have done, seeing that each family received a ration to last them through the lean months and seed corn if they lost their store to wind and bad weather. Lady Sabella has lost God’s favor, so I believe. She has usurped what does not belong to her. Thus we are come. This one—Brother Ivar.” He nodded toward Ivar. “I took his plea as a sign that it was time to act. We have gathered our families and left behind our homes to follow you, Your Grace.”
“Where is Baldwin?” demanded Ivar. “Didn’t you find him? Is he lost?”
“Nay, nay, he is with the others, he and Erkanwulf, a few hours behind us. We rode ahead to find you. We must move rapidly, Your Grace. Our desertion will be known too soon. Because we are so many, and laden with carts and children, we will not move as swiftly as Lady Sabella’s mounted cavalry when they ride on our trail. We have done what we can to cast doubt upon our road, but they will discover it.”
“I see.” All this time, Constance had held his hand. She let go, and he pressed it briefly to his forehead, gaze cast down. “You have stepped onto a path from which there is no turning back.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“You have put yourself into my hands.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
She was used to command. She had been born into the royal family, and had been younger than Ivar was now when the biscop’s staff had been placed in her right hand.
“I must ask of you and your company that you ride a more difficult and thorny path even than the one you have embarked on now. I have interviewed Brother Ivar at length. It seems clear to me that my niece Theophanu cannot aid me, perhaps will not aid me, and may not even have the means to feed and house my growing retinue. She may even see me as a threat, and certainly as a reminder of her weakness. Avaria is too far. While it is true I might find refuge in Fesse, I am determined to take the harder path.”
The captain blanched, as might a man preparing himself for worse news than what he has just heard. “Your Grace.” He bowed his head and thereby accepted his fate.
“Sabella usurped my place and imprisoned me because she rightly feared to murder me outright, although I am sure she hoped my injuries would kill me. They did not. Now I am free to act as I was not before. I will not ride into exile in Wendar. Henry set me as steward over the duchy of Arconia. No more would I trust a steward of my own who fled in time of trouble. I cannot act in a way I would myself condemn. We must rouse the countryside and fight to restore what is ours.”
Ivar was too stunned to speak, and yet his heart thrilled to hear her impassioned words. She was crippled by her injuries, but she was not weak. Examining her proud face and brilliant eyes, he saw that she was in some measure stronger than she had been before her fall.
“Your Grace.” Ulric clenched one hand. The other rested on his sword hilt.
The men murmured, their voices like the rush of wind through leaves. Farther away, a hawk skreed, and Ivar glanced up to see the bird glide away over the treetops. The fire popped loudly as a stick, burned almost to ash, broke into pieces. Sister Eligia coughed.
“I can offer nothing but uncertainty,” said Constance, “but this I promise: We will win Arconia back.”
Every man and woman knelt, and some sighing and some with a grin and one weeping and several with expressions of grim fatalism, promised to serve her and her cause.
Even Ivar knelt. How could he do otherwise? Still, he was a little disgusted that he had planned so well and now had to watch the arrow curve off target.
“Where must we go?” he demanded.
She nodded. “That, too, I have considered. We must circle north to avoid capture, and then west to a place where we will find support and refuge. We will ride to Lavas County and seek aid and comfort from Lord Geoffrey.”
“Best to travel as one group,” said Captain Ulric as they waited for the baggage train to arrive. “We might split into many smaller groups and hope to reach Lavas County undetected, but every small group will therefore be more vulnerable. Our trail is easily followed if we travel together, but we are also protected by our numbers. Lady Sabella will have to hear of our journey, and our road, and raise a large enough force to meet us without fear of being defeated by our numbers. That will take time and forethought, and may give us the advantage we need. Yet we must also consider, Your Grace, what we will do once we reach Lavas County. Of a certainty, Lady Sabella or Duke Conrad will send an army to drive us out.”
dded. “Stories of God’s grace. Of the phoenix. We all know them, Your Grace. We know they are true. But the lady is reckless. She punishes those who work the land and shows mercy to those who are most cruel and greedy. The wars to the west have taken the lives of a score of my militia, but their families gained no bounty for their sacrifice, not even a payment for each lost man, as is traditional. The weather is wrong, Your Grace. I am no farmer, but I know the way of the seasons. First came that unnatural wind that blew down houses and smashed trees throughout the woodlands. We’ve had no sun for months, not since the autumn. We had untimely rain last summer and little enough this winter. The stores in Autun grow low. The lady has not husbanded them wisely, not as you would have done, seeing that each family received a ration to last them through the lean months and seed corn if they lost their store to wind and bad weather. Lady Sabella has lost God’s favor, so I believe. She has usurped what does not belong to her. Thus we are come. This one—Brother Ivar.” He nodded toward Ivar. “I took his plea as a sign that it was time to act. We have gathered our families and left behind our homes to follow you, Your Grace.”
“Where is Baldwin?” demanded Ivar. “Didn’t you find him? Is he lost?”
“Nay, nay, he is with the others, he and Erkanwulf, a few hours behind us. We rode ahead to find you. We must move rapidly, Your Grace. Our desertion will be known too soon. Because we are so many, and laden with carts and children, we will not move as swiftly as Lady Sabella’s mounted cavalry when they ride on our trail. We have done what we can to cast doubt upon our road, but they will discover it.”
“I see.” All this time, Constance had held his hand. She let go, and he pressed it briefly to his forehead, gaze cast down. “You have stepped onto a path from which there is no turning back.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“You have put yourself into my hands.”