Open the gates of victory that I may enter,

That I may praise God.

It was a familiar psalm, and by the time they entered the streets of Osterburg much of the populace had taken up the hymn, repeating its verses in ragged, heartfelt voices. So many folk flooded onto the streets to watch the regnant and his noble companions ride that it was difficult to pass. Some were certainly refugees who had fled from outlying areas where they could no longer find food or safety. Five or ten thousand altogether, she supposed, a vast number, yet she could not help but reflect that Osterburg and all the Wendish cities were only towns compared to the great cities of the south along the shores of the Middle Sea and in the lands of the heathen Jinna. Even Darre, now only a humble shadow of its imperial self, dwarfed as important a town as Osterburg. Yet Wendish soldiers had defeated Aosta's best armies. The new often overruns the old as the old gets worn and tired. That was the way of the world, so her father had taught her.

Newest of all were the Ashioi, the refugees who had at long last come home.

5

AT dawn, the morning after the magnificent feast to celebrate both the feast day of St. Sormas and the investiture of the new duchess of Saony, Sanglant slept, but Liath woke. She had trouble sleeping past the break of day. As soon as she woke, she thought of

Blessing, and as soon as she thought of Blessing, she could as easily go back to sleep as fly. Sanglant slept soundly, one arm splayed over his head and the other thrown across his torso. He was out cold. He'd had a lot to drink. She dressed and left the inner chamber of the royal suite. Although she stepped carefully, she woke Hathui, who lay on a pallet athwart the door that let into the inner room.

"What? Eh? Ah. Liath."

"No need to rise. I'm just going out to walk."

Hathui groaned, pressing the heel of a hand to her forehead. "You've the head for it. Mine aches."

“As it will, if you drink so much," said Liath with a laugh.

Hathui burped. 'Ai, truly, it was a good feast."

"Well deserved," said Liath, sidling on, wanting solitude. "Princess Theophanu will rule Saony wisely and well."

Which was true, and scarcely needed to be said. Still, Theophanu was a puzzle to her. She respected Theophanu but felt no warmth and no camaraderie. Theophanu was nothing like Waltharia. She smiled a little, thinking of the margrave. Maybe a friend. Certainly an ally.