“Come on! Captain’s here, off duty, and willing to hear us out. Hurry!”

They ran across the square and were ushered into a lamplit room at the end of the barracks hall where Captain Ulric slept and ate. The captain was sitting on a bench beside two of his sergeants, all three picking at the remains of a chicken.

Ivar’s eyes watered, but he forced himself to look at the captain instead, trying desperately to ignore the trickle of moist juices. He was so hungry.

“I didn’t expect to see you again, Brother Ivar,” said the captain, although his tone wasn’t unfriendly. He meant what he said.

“With your help, Captain, we were able to reach Princess Theophanu.”

“So Erkanwulf led me to understand. What news?”

“None. Her Highness sorrows to hear of her aunt’s plight, but she has no army and no treasury and cannot act against Lady Sabella and Duke Conrad. She offered us coin, fresh horses, good cloaks, and such weapons as we might use to defend ourselves, but nothing more than that. She bides in Osterburg at the seat of the duchy of Saony. That is all.”

“The Wendish king, the first Henry, was duke of Saony before he became king.” Ulric pushed the chicken away but paused with a hand on the wooden platter as he caught the desperation of Ivar’s gaze. “You two look hungry.”

He shoved the carcass toward them, then engaged his sergeants in conversation while the two young men stripped every last scrap of meat and fat from the bones. Ale was brought, and the cup refilled after they had drained it. That, and the warmth and smoky draft from the lamps, made Ivar so tired that he forgot his rehearsed arguments.

“Do you mean to support Biscop Constance, or not?” he demanded. “If you do, I have a plan that may allow us to free her. If not, then I pray you will let me go my way without hindering me, and let Erkanwulf remain here with no punishment. He’s been a loyal soldier.”

“Oh, I know it,” said Ulric without looking at Erkanwulf, but Erkanwulf grinned at hearing those words and his shoulders lifted as he self-consciously rubbed the dirty stubble of a beard grown along his jaw. “But if you free Biscop Constance, what then? She has no loyal soldiers and no treasury. She is in no wise different than her niece in Saony. Better she remain safe in Queen’s Grave. If she escapes, Lady Sabella will hunt her down and this time kill her.”

“We must move quickly. I will need your help, horses, provisions, men to escort us. A special seat built onto a saddle so that the biscop can ride, because she is crippled.”

“If all this comes to pass, then what?”

“We will ride to Wendar, to the town of Kassel. That way, Lady Sabella holds no noble Wendish hostage in Varre. Once the biscop reaches the duchy of Fesse, she can choose herself whether to ride to Osterburg.”