“How will my marrying Adelheid gain me what I seek?”
“Is that your only objection? I cannot promise you the thing you want, but earthly power may grant you weapons you do not currently have. What kinfolk will aid you?”
“None.”
“What princes will assist you?”
“None.”
“You have only me. I can use you, and if you aid me, then I will reward you. So God command us. Those who serve will be given what they deserve.”
He nodded, having wandered by this time to a stand of skullcap. He twisted off a leaf. “The queen trusted me once. She may not do so again, even though I gave her no reason to distrust me. Yet if she refuses to trust me, there are ways to encourage her.”
The garden was still in its ragged spring garments; a few violets bloomed late; deep blue peeped from close stalks of rosemary. “So there are, but cautiously, Hugh. Cautiously.”
“I am ever so,” he agreed humbly, gaze cast down.
Satisfied, she beckoned for her attendants. “I will call for you later. Do not come to the feast tonight. We shall begin our persuasion of the queen tomorrow.”
3
LADY Elene always woke before dawn to pray. Because she had taken a liking to Brother Heribert’s strange manners, she insisted he climb the ladder to pray beside her every morning. Of course if Elene would pray, then Lord Berthold would come up with Heribert to pray also, Lord Jonas trailing at his heels. Blessing sulked on her pallet. Anna always dressed and knelt behind the nobles. Because she did not know the verses and psalms by heart, she must repeat them after the others had finished. Elene always remembered, as a courtesy, to ask the cleric who attended them to allow time for Anna’s response. In fact, to include Brother Heribert she had to, because he had not been quite right in the mind ever since the collapse of the hill on top of him and could scarcely recall his own verses and prayers, which he had once known better than anyone.
The others knelt on soft carpet. Anna knelt on the hard plank floor with her hands covering her face, the better to concentrate on God’s will. The better to disguise her words when she spoke “She” for “They.” No one knew that the phoenix had touched her heart. No one but Blessing, who had learned to keep silent about this one thing after that time when Prince Sanglant had punished his daughter’s servants for exposing her to heretical words. Blessing hated to see her servants punished, knowing she would never be punished herself. It was the one thing about her that gave Anna hope.
“Blessed be You, Mother and Father of Life,” said Lady Elene.
“Blessed be You, Holy Mother,” whispered Anna into her hands.
“Blessed be You,” repeated Brother Heribert in his awkward voice.
Lord Berthold yawned.
Lord Jonas made no sound. He often fell asleep kneeling, eyes open.
Blessing gulped down a false sob, stifled under her blankets.
On the floor below, the trap thumped open, landing hard. Anna flinched, hands coming down. Berthold rose, and Blessing’s sniveling ceased.
“Blessed is the Country of the Mother and Father of Life, and of the Holy Word revealed within the Circle of Unity,” continued Elene stubbornly, ignoring the clatter of feet beneath, “now and ever and unto ages of ages.”
A cleric’s cowl appeared in the open trap. The woman climbed higher and revealed herself as Sister Mara, one of the Holy Mother’s faithful attendants. She looked around the room. After a moment, she climbed all the way up and spoke in whispers to Julia, who shook her head. They walked around the room and opened up both chests while Lady Elene kept praying as if they weren’t there. At last, Sister Mara left.
When prayers came to an end, Berthold said, “What was that all about?”
“Begging your pardon, my lady. My lord.” Julia rubbed her brow with the back of a hand, looking nervous. Normally she had a robust confidence, but she seemed tired after speaking with Sister Mara. “You’re to stay within today, all day. No garden.”
Elene raised an eyebrow and looked at Berthold, who shrugged.
Blessing popped up from the bed, unaware and unashamed of her nakedness, although by now she showed the signs of blossoming womanhood. “I don’t want to stay in.”
“Shut up, brat,” said Berthold gently. “Please cover yourself.”
“I don’t want—”
“Do shut up!” snapped Elene.
“I hate you!”