The Gathering Storm Read Online Free

border of hilly country, and from this height they had a good view north along the river valley. A broad stream wound north through pastureland and autumn fields, and she recognized where they were with a clarity so ruthless that it pinched. Here among fields of rye the Eika and their dogs had attacked them, when she, Manfred, Wolfhere, Liath, and Hathui had ridden toward Gent in pursuit of Prince Sanglant and his Dragons. Here, when King Henry had come with his army to fight Bloodheart, she had seen the chaos of battle close at hand as Princess Sapientia had urged her troops forward to descend on the Eika ships beached on the river’s shore.
    “Hanna?” Folquin’s tone was sharp with concern. “Are you well? You didn’t finish your porridge last night nor eat the cold this midday.”
    “Nay, it’s nothing.” She sneezed. Each breath made a whistle as she drew it into her aching lungs. Yet what difference did it make if she hurt? If she shivered? If she went hungry or thirsty? Nothing mattered, except that Bulkezu still lived.
    Harvested fields lay at peace. Cattle grazed on strips of pasture. The rotund shapes of sheep dotted the northwestern slopes, up away from the river bottom lands where grain flourished. A few tendrils of smoke drifted lazily into the heavens from the walled city of Gent. The cathedral tower and the mayor’s palace were easily seen from this distance,their backdrop the broad river and the white-blue sky, empty of clouds today. Was that the regent’s silk fluttering from the gates, marking Theophanu’s presence? The chill wind nipped her face, and she shuddered.
    “Best we move on quickly,” murmured Leo in a voice so low she thought he did not mean for her to hear him.
    At the western bridge, a welcoming party greeted them: thirty milites braced in a shield wall in case the approaching soldiers were marauders or enemies. One of Princess Theophanu’s stewards stepped out from behind the shields to greet them as Hanna rode forward beside Thiadbold.
    “I bring a message from Prince Sanglant, from the east,” Hanna said. “The prince sends as well these Lions, to strengthen Her Highness’ retinue.”
    “God be praised,” muttered the steward. She gave a command, and the shield wall dispersed.
    As the Gent milites clattered back through the gates, they swept through a little market of beggars and poor folk gathered in the broad forecourt beyond the ramparts, almost trampling a ragged woman with a basket of herbs for sale. The milites did not even notice their victim, tumbled in the dirt while the folk around her muttered uneasily, but Hanna hurried over to help the beggar woman to her feet, only to be spat at for her pains.
    “Here, now,” said Thiadbold as he came up beside Hanna, “never a good deed but goes unpunished by the frightened.” His smile melted the old woman’s anger, and she allowed him to gather up marjoram, cinquefoil, and dried nettle. “No harm done, mother, once it’s all set to rights.”
    Hanna felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. Her heart thumped annoyingly, and her breath came in short gasps.
    “Come, now, friend,” Thiadbold said as he took hold of the reins of her horse so she could mount again, “she was scared, and acted out of fear.”
    “Next time those soldiers will cripple some poor soul, and never bother to look back to see what they’ve wrought. Ai, God.” She got her leg over the saddle, but the effort left her shaking. “I still have nightmares about the ones who cursed me.”
    “There was nothing you could have done to help them. You were as much a prisoner as they were. You did your duty as an Eagle. You stayed alive.”
    Words choked in her throat.
    “What are you speaking of?” demanded the steward, who had waited behind to escort them. “We’ve heard rumors of Quman, of plague, of drought, and of foul sorcery, but seen nothing. Rumor is the speech of the Enemy. Lord Hrodik rode off with Prince Sanglant. There’s been