“I pray you, Eagle, do nothing hasty,” he called. “Where is Sister Rosvita? If I can speak with her, then surely we may come to an agreement.”
From far above, Rosvita called down, her voice faint and raspy, but audible. “I know what you are, Father Hugh. I know what you have done. I fear we are enemies now. Forgive me, but there can be no negotiation.”
He sighed as might a mother faced with a stubborn child who, having done wrong, will not admit his fault. “You cannot escape, Sister Rosvita. Better to surrender now, I think.” He shaded his eyes to survey the setting sun. There was perhaps an hour of daylight left. “If you refuse, I will be forced to besiege you and your party. I know it is possible to climb the north face.”
“Why not let her go, my lord?” Hanna asked. “What harm? If you wanted her dead, you had plenty of time to see it done when she was a prisoner.”
Hugh smiled softly. “I do not want her dead, Eagle.”
Hanna shuddered. How simple it would be to shoot him full in the chest. I do not want him dead. Was it sorcery that stayed her hand and clouded her mind? Or only the memory of a naive girl’s infatuation? I was that girl once.
Rosvita knew the truth about King Henry and the daimone that infested him; she had witnessed the death of Villam at Hugh’s hand. But Hugh had not killed her when he could easily have done so.
He is deeper than I am.
Yet Hanna knew that if she could not kill him, then she had to run with the others and pray that Sister Rosvita could outwit Hugh. Rosvita was the only person who could. Not even Liath could stand against Hugh; he had abused her too badly.
Just as Bulkezu abused me.
I am no different than Liath. I have to learn to stand firm despite what I have suffered—and I haven’t even suffered the worst.
The other riders remained beyond arrow shot. She rose, unstrung her bow, and climbed the steep steps carved into the rock face. She resisted the urge to look down, although she heard the sound of horses moving, hooves rapping on the earth, men calling out each to the others. Any soldier who sought to impale her with an arrow would find her an easy target, clinging to the rock well within range of their bows.
No one shot. She reached the next ledge to find Fortunatus waiting for her. Aurea and Ruoda struggled up the second ladder, on their way to the next ledge. The basket bobbed against the wall somewhat above and to the side of Aurea, and it scraped and jostled the rock as it was hauled upward. She could not see Rosvita from this angle but was happy enough to catch her breath, leaning her weight against the cliff, as she watched the basket rise away from her.
“We’ll not be rid of them easily,” said Fortunatus with a grin. He was red in the face from the exertion of climbing but his usual wry humor lightened his expression. “Look.”
The servants below had begun to set up a traveling camp.
“Why does Lord Hugh not wish to kill Sister Rosvita?” Hanna asked. “Can she not convict him if she testifies against him?”
“If any court would believe her.”
“Then what does it matter to him if she lives or dies? Better to kill her and have done with the threat.”
“So you would think,” he agreed, glancing up at the basket, now nearing the next ledge where anxious faces peered down, awaiting its safe arrival. “Were I in Hugh’s place, I would have disposed of her as soon as I could. Perhaps it was not Hugh’s choice that she remain among the living. Perhaps the skopos stayed his hand.”
“Do you think so?”
“I am only a simple cleric. I cannot presume to guess the thoughts of the Holy Mother or her favored presbyters. They are as far above me as … an eagle above the humble wren.”
“I would take you more for a starling, Brother. They fly in a flock. Wrens are more solitary, are they not?”
“We will be an evening’s tidbit for the eagle below if we do not fly, my friend.”
She insisted he go first. By now they were high enough that any archer might have trouble finding his mark. None tried: Hugh’s servants finished setting up camp as afternoon faded. One of them caught the goat while a score of soldiers took torches and fanned out to set up sentry posts around the base of the huge rock.
In the morning they would climb, as she had done. Then her party would be well and truly trapped, no better than Rosvita in her dungeon cell.
By the time Hanna reached the uppermost ledge, Sister Hilaria had already conducted the first arrivals within the safety of the convent walls.
“Well done,” Hilaria said as Hanna heaved herself over the lip and lay flat on stone, aching, out of breath, and greasy with sweat. Her heart hammered against the ground. A spasm stabbed through her right hand, and she lay there gritting her teeth as a wave of pain convulsed her hand and forearm.
