"I was five or six," he agreed. "I remember his passing and my father's grief. I recall, too, that Wolfhere vanished for some years."

"Yes, that was his exile, as soon as King Henry could compass it. But I knew Wolfhere was not dead. He's the kind that's hardest to kill—those who most deserve death! At intervals I glimpsed him through the fire, but I could not see where he was or what he was doing. Then—how easily we lose track of the time—he returned. The Eagles never cast any one of us out, you see."

"I'm surprised he came back," said Liath. "Or that King Henry allowed him to return."

She chuckled, then coughed. "So you may be, my lady. I convinced King Henry to take him back."

"You did?" asked Sanglant with a laugh.

"I did," she replied in the voice a woman of her kind used to remind a boy that he was not permitted to pilfer from the kitchen on such an important feast day. "Wolfhere was too valuable. He had done so much for the Eagles, and for Arnulf. King Arnulf trusted no one better than Wolfhere. The young prince—that would be you, Your Majesty—was old enough to be more easily protected. You were not at risk. But Wolfhere was indifferent to you in any case, perhaps because by then your sisters were born. He was seeking someone else."

Liath nodded. "Yes, he was."

"I pray you, Mistress Hedwig," said Waltharia, "I've heard this tale before but not, I see, all of it. If you are the one who argued for Wolfhere's return, then what made you and Wolfhere fall out later?"

It was difficult for the woman to lift her hands, but she managed to get one hand off the covers, indicating Liath. "This girl. Wolfhere felt no loyalty to Henry, to Arnulf's son, not as he should have. He felt no loyalty to Wendar, not as he should have. He returned only to discover what news he might. Of this one. I soon realized that was the only reason he came back. So I no longer trusted him."

She coughed again, and the steward found wine, and Liath helped her drink.

"Where is Wolfhere now?" asked Waltharia.

"No one knows," said Sanglant. "He escaped me in Sordaia. Maybe he is dead."

"What does it matter what has become of Wolfhere?" Waltharia asked.

Liath handed the cup back to the steward. For a while, she sat with hands folded on her lap, gazing at Hedwig.

Sanglant listened to the old woman's labored breathing, with its telltale sign of a consumption eating at her lungs. She was ill. She was old. That she had survived so long with her crippled legs and body and failing health was entirely due to Waltharia's care of her. What did this old woman mean to Waltharia? Why should the Villains give her shelter?

"This is what I understand of the matter," said Liath. "Wolfhere sought me because my father stole me from the Seven Sleepers. It was their intent to wield me as a weapon against Sanglant, whom they considered to be a tool of the Lost Ones in their plot to conquer humankind."