The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars #3)

The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars #3) Page 319

With a shout, Captain Fulk and his soldiers burst into song: “In honor of the king, I sing.”

Amazingly, as they rode down and passed through the gates of Wertburg, Rosvita found herself weeping.

They rode, truly, as a rather bedraggled expedition, much depleted in number and without the dazzling magnificence due a queen. But as they passed down the dirt streets, townsfolk gathered on plank walkways to stare, and by the time they reached the biscop’s palace, they had a substantial escort trailing behind them, folk who were curious to see what this meeting would bring.

King Henry was holding court in the great hall. The throng of petitioners crowding the doors parted to let Adelheid through, and she strode forward into the hall with Theophanu at her right side and two servingwomen to her left carrying the only portion of the queen’s treasure that had survived her flight. Rosvita and the other clerics stuck close behind them, followed by the rest of their noble companions. Captain Fulk and the soldiers remained outside.

She saw him, first, seated on his throne and listening patiently to a group of petitioners. His trusted Eagle stood behind him, and at intervals he would beckon to her and she would lean down and murmur a comment into his ear. He seemed lost in thought, somewhat distracted from the complaints and entreaties brought before him. He had lines on his face that hadn’t been there before, and he looked tired, drawn out, and worn of spirit.

She still had tears, and she let them fall. At that moment, she comprehended the heart of the exile who at last has come home. Hadn’t his courtiers been taking care of him? How had he fallen into such a careworn state?

Hathui saw their party at once, and she got his attention, whispered urgently in his ear.

Surprised, he rose.

The petitioners shrank back, like water parting before the stem of a proud ship. Adelheid had little enough, a rich gown that had stood up remarkably well on their travels, rings and necklaces fit for her station, black hair that had come partially undone to lap her shoulders and frame her pretty face, but most importantly she had youth, and intensity, and a determined, rapturous expression.

Henry took a step forward. He had the kind of stunned look on his face that afflicts very young men who have seen a beautiful woman smile at them for the first time. But he had been king for almost twenty years; he knew how to collect himself.

“Word was brought me that your party had been sighted,” he said, “but I did not expect to see you so soon. Daughter.” He extended a hand, brought Theophanu to him, and allowed her to kiss him on either cheek. “Bring a chair,” he said to his stewards. “One for my left hand.” He indicated to Theophanu that she should sit there, but it was obvious that he was having a difficult time keeping his gaze off Adelheid. “And one for my right.”

“King Henry,” she said, in greeting. “Well met.”

“Queen Adelheid. You are welcome in my kingdom. I pray you, sit beside me and rest.”

She gestured to her servants to open the little chests they carried. “Truly, after such a journey in desperate circumstances, I cannot rest until I am sure of your intentions. See what I have brought.” Her voice rang easily throughout the hall. Clasps were opened; oiled hinges wheeled. A servingwoman knelt and uncoiled cloth from the objects nestled in the first chest: two burnished gold crowns set with rubies. “These are the queen’s crown and the king’s crown of Aosta,” she went on, “which I have rescued from the grasp of John Ironhead. I have with me also all that I could salvage: the tribute lists, the royal insignia, the seals, the scepter, and the royal cup of the Adeline line, and the robe of the blessed Daisan which we have kept in our treasure for a hundred years. These things I have brought to you, for surely you have heard by now that I was driven from my throne by one unworthy to hold it. I am in need of your aid, Henry.”

She paused to look once around the hall, as if gauging her audience, as if measuring them. The last of the combs holding up her hair, already jogged loose, slipped out and fell to the floor just as her hair tumbled down in a sensuous fall. A servant bent to retrieve the comb, but Henry reached it first, picked it up, and with a sudden and quite startling smile presented it to Adelheid as if it were a precious jewel rather than a simple ivory comb.

Their hands touched.

Only Rosvita and the servingwomen stood close enough to hear Adelheid’s hoarse whisper. “You are everything I expected you would be.”

Ai, Lady! What man was proof against a young, passionate, and pretty woman who held in her possession the crowns of the realm he had so long desired? Not Henry.