"I am already crowned and anointed. At your hand. To what purpose do you raise these objections now?"

"I wish to prevent war, Sanglant."

"How will my stepping down prevent war? Who then would rule as regnant?"

"Conrad and Tallia."

"No!" cried Theophanu, standing up. She was furious.

"Conrad?" Liutgard's laugh had a mean heart. "Tallia? Do you mean Sabella's daughter? That wheat-faced creature who wept blood and moaned and cried?"

"She professed a heresy," said Theophanu. "You yourself threw her out of Quedlinhame, did you not?"

"I did not," said Scholastica coolly. "Henry took her to marry Lavastine's heir, the one who was a thief and a liar and a bastard."

"Conrad?" murmured Sanglant, but as hard as he could think this through, he could not figure how his aunt would be willing to throw the regnancy out of Henry's line. Her own line.

"Conrad has a claim." Liutgard was white with anger. "And I have a claim, Mother Scholastica. What of me? I am the last descendant of Queen Conradina. She, after all, did not give the crown to her younger brother but to her rival and ally, the elder Henry, who was then duke of Saony. Her words are famous. In truth, we learn them early in Fesse so as not to forget the stain upon our family's honor. 'For it is true, Brother, that our family has everything which the dignity of the regnant demands, except good luck.' Sanglant has brought us this far out of disaster. Who else could have done so? It was Henry's last wish that Sanglant become king after him. I witnessed Henry's last words."

Sanglant tapped one foot, waiting. The plank flooring of the hall was swept clean. No carpets covered the long boards. The scritching of quills continued unabated. Clerics bent their heads over tables, writing and writing and writing. He wondered that their hands did not begin to ache.

"Then a proper marriage," Mother Scholastica said.

"We settled this at Gent," he retorted.

"A subtle player made that move. Her kinfolk out of Bodfeld are not even counts, nothing more than minor lords. Her father was dedicated to the church and should never have fathered a child. It can't even be proved that she is legitimate rather than a bastard. It can't even be proved she has a soul. Without your support, Sanglant, she is nothing more than an excommunicated practitioner of forbidden sorcery. Subject to execution, if the church so desires."

"With such plain speaking, you can scarcely expect me to withdraw my 'protection,' " he answered. "I weary of this game."

"The throne, or the woman."

"It is a false choice. Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why are you so stubborn?" She was mightily displeased. Her anger made him uneasy, but he would not back down. "You are a fool, Sanglant. It would have been better if Henry had married you to Villam's heir, as Villain wanted."

"You were against the match at the time, as I recall."