passed east from Eoforwic. Algarvians no longer swaggered through the streets of Forthweg’s capital. Now Unkerlanters stumped along those cratered, rubble-strewn streets. If they’d expected to be welcomed as liberators, they were doomed to disappointment. But they didn’t seem to care one way or the other.
“Just another set of conquerors,” Ealstan said one afternoon, when he got back to the flat he shared with Vanai and Saxburh. “They look down their noses at us as much as the Algarvians ever did.”
“Powers above be praised that we’re safe and that this building is still standing, so we have a roof over our heads,” his wife replied. “Past that, nothing else really matters.”
“Well, aye,” Ealstan said reluctantly. “But if we rose up against Swemmel’s men, they’d squash us the same way the Algarvians did. That’s. . humiliating. Is Forthweg a kingdom, or is it a road for its neighbors to run through any time they choose?” Almost as soon as the question was out of his mouth, he wished he hadn’t asked it. Too many times in years gone by, Forthweg had proved to be nothing but a road.
But Vanai surprised him by answering, “I don’t know. And do you know something else? I don’t care, either. I don’t care at all, if you want to know the truth. The only thing I care about is, the Unkerlanters don’t march through the streets yelling, ‘Kaunians, come forth!’ And if I go outside and my sorcery slips- or even if I go outside without my sorcery-they won’t drag me off to a camp and cut my throat. They don’t care about Kaunians one way or the other, and you have no idea how good that feels to me.”
Ealstan stared. Maybe because Vanai had looked like Thelberge for so long, he’d let himself forget-or at least not think so much about-her Kaunianity. The Kaunians in Forthweg often found Forthwegian patriotism bewildering, or even laughable. That was one reason, one of many, Forthwegians and Kaunians rubbed one another the wrong way. And he couldn’t blame Vanai for thinking the way she did, not after everything she’d been through. Still. .
A little stiffly, he said, “When the war is finally over, I want this to be our own kingdom again.”
“I know.” Vanai shrugged. She walked over and gave him a kiss. “I know you do, darling. But I just can’t make myself care. As long as nobody wants to kill me because I’ve got blond hair, what difference does it make?” Ealstan started to answer that. Before he could say anything, Vanai added, “Nobody but a few Kaunian-hating Forthwegians, I mean.”
Whatever he’d been about to say, he didn’t say it. After some thought, he did say, “A lot of those people went into Plegmund’s Brigade-my cursed cousin Sidroc, for instance. I don’t think they’ll be coming home.”
“That’s good,” Vanai admitted. “But there are always more of those people. They don’t disappear. I wish they did, but they don’t.” She spoke with a weary certainty that was very Kaunian indeed.
The day was mild, as even winter days in Eoforwic often were. They had the shutters open wide to let fresh air into the flat. A couple of daggerlike shards of glass remained in the window frames, but no more.
Motion down on the street drew his eye. He went to the window for a better look. Through much of the summer and fall, he wouldn’t have dared do any such thing-showing himself would have been asking to get blazed. A couple of Unkerlanters, recognizable by their rock-gray tunics and clean-shaven faces, were pasting broadsheets on still-standing walls and fences. “I wonder what those say,” he remarked.
“Shall we go down and find out?” Vanai replied. “We can do that now, you know,
“Why not?” Ealstan replied in the same language. Vanai smiled. Though she was more fluent in Forthwegian than he was in the tongue she’d most often used back in Oyngestun, he pleased her whenever he used classical Kaunian. Maybe it reminded her that not all Forthwegians hated the Kaunians who shared the kingdom with them.
Ealstan scooped Saxburh out of the cradle, where she’d been gnawing on a hard leather teething ring. She smiled and gurgled at him. Her eyes were almost as dark as his, but her face, though still baby-round, promised to end up longer than a pure-blooded Forthwegian’s would have. Vanai threw on a cloak over her long tunic. “Let’s go,” she said, and really did sound excited about being able to leave the flat whenever she wanted.
As usual, the stairwell stank of boiled cabbage and stale piss. Ealstan was resigned to the reek these days, though it had distressed him when he first came to Eoforwic. Back in Gromheort, his family had been well-to-do. He hoped they were well, and wondered when he would hear from them again.
Vanai pointed to the front wall of a block of flats a couple of doors down. “There’s a broadsheet,” she said.
“Let’s go have a look,” Ealstan said. Here in the street, another stink filled the air: that of dead meat, unburied bodies. The Algarvians hadn’t fought house by house in Eoforwic, not when it became plain the city would be surrounded. They’d got out instead, saving most of their men to give battle elsewhere with better odds. But a good many of them had perished, and some Unkerlanters- and, almost surely, more Forthwegian bystanders than soldiers from both sides put together.
The broadsheet’s headline was bold and black: the king will speak. Ealstan stared at those astonishing words. Vanai read the rest, “ ‘The King of Forthweg will address his subjects before the royal palace at noon on’“- the date was three days hence. “ ‘All loyal Forthwegians are urged to come forth and hear their sovereign’s words.’“
“King Penda’s back?” Ealstan’s jaw fell in astonishment. He grabbed Vanai and kissed her. “King Penda’s back! Hurrah!” He felt like cutting capers. He did cut a few, in fact. From Vanai’s arms, Saxburh stared at him in astonishment. He kissed the baby, too. “King Penda’s back! I never thought the Unkerlanters would let him show his face in Forthweg again.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased.” By Vanai’s tone, the news didn’t excite her nearly so much.
“Let’s go hear him when he speaks!” Ealstan exclaimed. His wife looked as if that wasn’t the thing she most wanted to do, but she didn’t say no. She might not share his patriotism, but she’d learned better than to argue about it with him.
And so, on the appointed day, Ealstan and Vanai and Saxburh with them went to the square in front of the palace. Ealstan wore his best tunic, not that it was much better than the others. Vanai hadn’t bothered putting on anything special.
Blue and white ribbons and streamers and banners-Forthweg’s colors-did their best to enliven the battered square and even more battered palace facade. In front of the palace stood a new wooden platform with a speaker’s podium at the front. Unkerlanter soldiers stood guard around it. More soldiers, these probably of higher rank, stood on it with a personage in fancy robes.
Ealstan got up on tiptoe, trying to see better. “Is that King Penda?” he said, almost hopping in his excitement. “Who else could that be but King Penda?” He took Saxburh from Vanai and held her up over his head. “Look, Saxburh! That’s the king!”
“I don’t think she cares,” Vanai said pointedly.
“Not now, but she will when she’s older,” Ealstan said. “She’s seen the king!”
The king did not come to the podium at once. Instead, one of the Unkerlanter officers strode forward. “People of Forthweg!” he called in accented but understandable Forthwegian. “I am General Leuvigild, King Swemmel’s commander for Forthweg.”
In dead silence, Beornwulf came up to the podium.
“People of Forthweg, I will make you the best king I can,” Beornwulf said. “We are allied with Unkerlant in the tremendous struggle against accursed Algarve. We shall follow our ally’s lead, and in so doing regain our own freedom. So long as we do that, we shall stay great and free. I expect all my subjects to recognize the importance of this alliance, and to do nothing to jeopardize it, as I shall do nothing to jeopardize it. Together, Unkerlant and
