CHAPTER FIVE
I
Abingdon
Ealdstan stood near the altar rail of the stone church and spent some time peering up at the carvings. He recognised the work of the carver, an almost supernatural master at forming stone, one he’d persuaded to join the stonemasons of Ni?ergeard nearly a hundred years earlier. Even now the man spent his days shaping and decorating what he intended to be an outer defensive wall.
He waited.
At length, there was the sound of horses and the many calls and orders that entail the arrival of a retinue of the king, which served to remind Ealdstan just in time:
The entourage entered. Though Ealdstan had only seen the king once, as a young prince-and even with them all dressed in a similar fashion-the old wizard was able to pick out the king. He was thin, with wavy, shoulder-length hair. He had sharp features and a long, straight nose that tilted downward. There was a harried, hangdog expression in his eyes, and his face seemed older than it should be, his once straw-coloured hair now a platinum white.
“Good greeting, my king.”
Etienne de Blois, or King Stephen, as he was known to the people, approached him. He threw a gesture behind him, and those who entered the church with him paused in the doorway-either slinking along the back wall of the church or wandering outside.
Now relatively alone, Stephen seemed to relax. “They never leave me a moment’s peace. Everybody wants something of me.” The king sighed and eyed him. “And you, Ealdstan, what do you wish of me?”
“I do not wish to impose,” Ealdstan began, wondering which tack to take with this ruler and what his temperament was. “But I may remind you of the debt your family owes me. Your aunt, Queen Emma-”
“Yes, yes-I know of the debt. There is no need to remind
Ealdstan fixed him with a cold stare. He was just opening his mouth to speak when a young man in leather battle gear walked through the church doors.
“Your pardon, sire,” he called from the other side of the building. “Only you said that you would give my men their rest once we had reached the encampment.”
“And so I did, but we are not at the encampment.”
“No, we’re not at the encampment, sire,” the apparent commander answered in an insolently didactic manner. “But we
“Yes, yes,” said the king with an annoyed wave of his hand.
“If your highness
“Take them, take them away,” the king snapped at the man.
“My lord.” The young warrior nodded, turned, and then left.
“The rest of you,” the king called to the others lounging around the door and in the back. “You may go too, if it is your will to do so.”
The words of their monarch made little impression on the idle lords and earls clustered at the back. They stayed where they were.
Ealdstan turned fully toward them and raised his staff, bringing it down in front of him three times, pounding the floor with its tip. His eyes flashed with a fierce light and he gave a long look to each of the lords in turn.
One by one, they left.
The king, more at ease now in only Ealdstan’s company, pulled a couple stools away from the wall and sat on one, gesturing for Ealdstan to sit in the other.
“Thank you,” he said.
“No, thank you,” said Stephen. “I’ll make it up to them later. They haven’t had a very easy time of late. These are uncertain days. They are saying that Christ and His saints and angels are asleep and will not waken again during my reign. Maude is still playing at foxes and hens with me. . and this after I allowed her to escape from Oxford last year. I thought that if I showed her mercy, then that would be the end of it. But no, she continues. She has a son, Henri is his name. Nine years old, and already his strength and power are boasted of by the house of Anjou. They say he is as strong as a full-grown man, and comely to boot. I do not believe their reports entire, of course, but it twists the knife to think they are more united by the character of a young boy. I look around and I can see no one able to wield the power of the nation after me-no one I can trust.”
He gazed up at Ealdstan with a piteous, beseeching gaze that should never be found in any king. Were those tears in his eyes? Ealdstan was repulsed. Here was a weak man, an ineffectual ruler. But his sister and her son. . he himself had heard many of the reports Stephen had mentioned. Perhaps they
He bit back a sigh. Cultivating. Was that all any of this was? Just choosing the best from what was available? Trying to limit intrusion from the worst? Christ and His angels sleeping? Yes, he hoped so. He feared what would happen when they awoke.
“You can trust me,” Ealdstan said, smiling at the king from the opposite end of the aisle. “I will help you in this, but I will need your best men.”
“Need them to do what?”
“No, you misunderstand,” said Ealdstan. “I mean I will
II
Ni?ergeard
Breca climbed the wooden platforms erected around the large stalagmite that they were so very carefully hollowing out. The sound of their many chisels pounding into the rock around the structure made an oddly beautiful and soothing chorus. In a land of silence and darkness, it was refreshing to hear noise, of any type. For a moment the warrior stood looking up at the workers perched upon the scaffolding, working by the light of silver lanterns.
