“You are well come back to Wendar, Sanglant.”

“I pray for your forgiveness, Waltharia. You will have heard the news. I did not even find Druthmar’s body.”

She was serious and sorrowful, wiping away tears, but not angry. She did not take the news too lightly, but she did not beat her breast and moan and wail. “I have wept, and will weep again,” she said gravely. She and Liutgard exchanged a knowing glance. “He knew the risk, and served as he was able.”

“He was a good man,” said Sanglant.

“Yes.” She looked past him to Liath, smiled with a strange expression, and spoke in a tone that balanced amused regret and sincere interest. “This is your bride, the one you spoke of?”

“It is.”

“Well met, Liathano.”

“Well met,” Liath echoed, but she had a horrible, disorienting moment as she met Waltharia’s honest gaze.

I will like her.

Waltharia smiled slightly, withdrew her hands from his, and moved to stand beside Liutgard and Burchard. Liath felt the other woman’s presence like fire. It almost made her forget about Hugh, waiting with apparent humility in the second rank.

Beautiful Hugh.

He was not looking at her, and because of that, she kept glancing at him to see if he was looking.

“It is no surprise that Villam is loyal to Sanglant,” said Theophanu. “Where is our sister Sapientia, Brother?”

Sanglant sat down. “She may be dead. Certainly she is lost.”

“It was your doing,” said Theophanu calmly, where another woman might rage or accuse.

“I do not deny that I took control of the army from her. She was not fit to lead, Theophanu. I did not kill her.”

Liath could not help but think of Helmut Villam, and perhaps Sanglant did as well, because he chose that moment to look toward Hugh. The other man had his gaze fixed modestly on the ground.

Two noblewomen standing beside Theophanu spoke up.

“No loss. She was always foolish.”

“You would say that! Knowing foolishness as well as you do!”

“I pray you, Sophie. Imma.” Theophanu did not raise her voice, but the two women fell silent. “Let us have neither quarreling nor levity. It is a serious matter to accuse one in our family of responsibility in the death of a sibling.”

“We are not Salians or Aostans,” remarked Mother Scholastica, “to murder our kinfolk in order to gain preference or advantage for ourselves.”

“Or Arethousans, for that matter, happy to sell a sister into slavery or death if it means wealth and title for oneself.” Wichman’s comment came unexpectedly, for he had loitered quietly to the left of Duke Burchard this entire time.

“Have you a complaint, Wichman?” asked Sanglant.

“Not at all. Sapientia was weak, and a fool. She’s better dead, if she’s dead. Henry named her as heir only after he thought you were dead. I don’t care if you’re a bastard, Cousin. Although certainly I know you are!” He laughed. “I care if you can win the war and hold the kingdom together. If you will, grant me the duchy of Saony. I’ll hold it honorably and support you.”