Disciplined, Tiphaine thought with approval.
As Father Lucien turned back to her the three paced the precincts, waving censers and sprinkling water, praying and chanting. One stood and sang the “Kyrie Eleison.” His powerful baritone fought the wind and rain. The other four picked up the descant and response.
Father Lucien signed the cross before her.
Did I just feel something from my amulet? Damn, but I’m not used to this. I don’t like it.
“Shall we pray for her soul?” he asked, between verses. “Christ died for us all. Even her.”
“I don’t know. She was born in the Church. She turned apostate and traitor for personal power. Probably about ten years ago. I could say her soul was stolen from her. With her permission, I think, but still.”
“It’s going to take a long time to reduce this to ashes,” observed Father Lucien. “I and my fellow priests will stay here, watch and make sure that all is consumed. And we will pray.”
Stratson cleared his throat. “Did you say you wanted to strip and bathe, Grand Constable?”
“Yes,” she said, and closed her eyes for an instant with a crushing weariness that made her bones ache. “Everything I have on goes on the fire. The bathwater to be poured out by the marsh; the towels on the fire.”
Father Lucien smiled at her. It was a small smile, and a bit tight. “Not taking any chances, I see, my lady Grand Constable.”
Tiphaine looked at her sword and sighed. She pitched it carefully into the center of the flames. It stood, quivering. Then she pulled off her helm and tossed it carefully to land at the foot of the blade, wincing as she thought of the cost of a new suit of plate armor. Stratson gave her reasonably knowledgeable assistance with the parts you simply couldn’t handle yourself. She turned to Lucien as she pulled off her right gauntlet. The scar stood out, inflamed, with a white rope of scar tissue down the center.
“She did that to me in May. It nearly cost me my hand. All it took was her sucking one of her needles and running it down my hand. She didn’t even scratch the flesh; just touched it.”
He looked carefully, but forbore to touch her. Then he nodded and strode forward, to stand by the cantor at the fire. By the time she had all the plate and mail off and was stripping the gambeson, tunic and trews, Stratson had all the men facing outwards.
I feel stupid doing this Lady Godiva with gooseflesh thing. But I was the one grappling with… that… and splattering its gore all over. If I inhaled her blood, or spit got through the armor and gambeson… I might wake up tomorrow loosing my guts or showing pustules or carbuncles. Better get really clean.
The amulet was warm and comforting between her breasts. This is probably a good thing to do.
“My lady.”
Father Lucien bowed before her and kept his eyes firmly over her left shoulder.
“Your page is inside with Father Manuel. They’ve prepared three baths for you. The boy has towels all warmed up and we really can’t have our Grand Constable sick. And I assure you, we are taking extreme care. We will hold the vigil and not let even a spark or scrap get loose.”
He frowned up at the security block. “I’m going to insist, as hard as I can, that the whole building be burned. Burned, exorcised, then let nature cleanse it for generations.”
Tiphaine looked at him. I am finding myself thinking good thoughts about a former Inquisitor. The world is a very strange place.
“You are probably right. I’ll speak to the Lady Regent and strongly recommend that we do so. God knows we’re broke, with the war, and we will be for years to come. But this… needs doing.”
COUNTY OF THE EASTERMARK CHARTERED CITY OF WALLA WALLA CITY PALACE OF THE COUNTS PALANTINE PORTLAND PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION (FORMERLY SOUTHEASTERN WASHINGTON STATE) HIGH KINGDOM OF MONTIVAL (FORMERLY WESTERN NORTH AMERICA) AUGUST 24, CHANGE YEAR 25/2023 AD
Countess Ermentrude looked at her husband. When he nodded confirmation, she pulled the night-robe around her more closely and shivered.
“ That was what you fought?” she asked him. “Or something even worse? Merciful mother of God, Felipe!”
Tiphaine held out her glass. “Rigobert, do the honors, would you? That isn’t my favorite memory and I have some… doozies.”
He poured from the decanter he’d moved to within arm’s reach. She drank again, ignoring the quiet speech in the background while she let the smooth fire of the brandy relax the knot in her gut.
But Delia was able to help with the nightmares. Reason to love, number seven thousand one hundred forty- two: doesn’t freak out when I wake up sweating and shaking and grinding my teeth.
Felipe set down his own snifter, rose and bowed, the full formal gesture.
“My lady d’Ath, House Arminger and the Protectorate are very well served in their Grand Constable. House Artos and the High Kingdom of Montival will be as well.”
“It needed doing, your grace,” she said with a shrug. “I was there, and I did it.”
He exchanged another glance with his wife.
“My lady Grand Constable, I cannot repay your aid with gifts, but I would give you one, if I might, as a symbol of our regard and a pledge of future friendship between our Houses. We spoke of my hunting lodge of High Halleck, in the mountains-my mother had it built and named it.”
Tiphaine inclined her head. “I was thinking just a little earlier of asking for the loan of it,” she said. “When the war is over.”
He shook his head. “Not a loan. I… we would gift it to you, my lady, lodge and land and forest right. In free socage, not asking vassalage, of course.”
Tiphaine put down the brandy snifter and made her mouth not drop open. House de Aguirre didn’t do things by halves!
Sandra would be pleased. And Rudi and Mathilda would, too. I’ve certainly nailed down the Eastermark politically, the way they wanted. But I don’t think… I’m Grand Constable, accepting a princely gift like that might…
She stood and bowed in return. “My lord, my lady, my office forbids that I accept such a gift in my own person.”
Felipe began to frown slightly, but Ermentrude touched his sleeve and spoke, “But you have an heir, I believe, Lady d’Ath?”
“Yes. My adopted son, Diomede. Born to Lord Rigobert and his wife Lady Delia.”
“Second son,” Rigobert said helpfully.
Which gave a perfectly reasonable excuse for his welcoming a son taking the name of another House; it solved the inheritance problem rather neatly. Arrangements of that sort weren’t at all uncommon, where a fief- holder had no heir of the body.
Count Felipe’s face cleared, and he beamed. “Which enables me to express my gratitude to you both,” he said. “I must insist.”
Gisarme-butts stamped in the corridor outside. Rigobert opened the door, and the Mother Superior of the Walla Walla abbey swept in. She made a curtsy: “My lord Count?” she said. “I came as quickly as possible.”
Tiphaine stood. “I leave you in very capable hands, your Grace,” she said.
She and de Stafford shook the nobleman’s hand and bowed over Ermentrude’s.
“And that is that,” she murmured, as they walked back through the family quarters.
Bewildered work crews were already tearing up the bloodstained parquetry. The Baron of Forest Grove nodded approval.
“Except for winning the war, of course,” he said. “And now we have to manage a fighting retreat for the High King.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ARMY HQ THE HIGH KING’S HOST HORSE HEAVEN HILLS (FORMERLY SOUTH-CENTRAL WASHINGTON) HIGH KINGDOM OF MONTIVAL (FORMERLY WESTERN NORTH AMERICA) OCTOBER 28, CHANGE YEAR 25/2023
