Free A Mankind Witch by Dave Freer Page A

everyone in the world doesn't have anything against him," said Erik, with a yawn.

    "True," said Manfred. "But then Francesca said that, in her assessment, our problem here was that the Danes and Knights had nothing to offer the locals. Remember. She was saying how in Catalunia the local barons bought into the Empire, because they kept their lands and it was better than that mad archduke of theirs. Strikes me that we have the same problem with the Poles on the border there. The serfs like the Knights better than Jagellion, once they get used to it. And the Knights are not gentle on them, as you remember. It's the minor gentry we need to look at seducing too. In the longer term this Szpak might be useful there, too."

    "She's got you thinking in her terms, anyway," said Erik, sardonically. "Be realistic, Manfred. Jagellion's nobles—even the minor knights—are more hidebound than even the Prussians about their birth. Now, let's get some sleep. We'll winnow some more wheat in the morning, and move on to the next chapter house."

    Erik was usually right. But he was wrong this time.

     

CHAPTER 7

Kingshall, Telemark

    The gables of the Odinshof was held up by two massive, ancient, and deeply carved wooden pillars. Outside the grove, the ancient sacred Vé circle-grove still stood, the oaks marking the waerd of the temple. Every midsummer and again at midwinter the high priest would don draupnir , the "dripper"—the heavy, inscribed golden arm ring—and walk the bounds of the Vé , walking widdershins around the circle within the circle, chanting the galdr , calling the blessing of the one-eyed wanderer down on the kingdom. The sacrifice would be made, and the needfire kindled. Oaths would be sworn and renewed.

    It was said that while the circle of wood, stone, and gold remained unbroken, so, too, would the kingdom remain whole.

    The screaming carried much farther than the bounds. It carried all the way to the royal hall. Signy bit her lip, knowing that it could not continue much longer. The blood-eagle rite was both terrible and painful. But the victim—with his lungs pulled out of his rib-cage, spread into eagle-wings on his back, and the wounds salted, usually died quickly. The jarl had been both a Vestfolder and an enemy, and, it was reputed, a Christian. He was therefore an appropriate sacrifice. It was a rite that Vortenbras was fond of. He would sever the ribs and pull the lungs out himself. Today three of them would die. One at dawn, one at midday, and one at nightfall.

    If possible Signy would ride out. As far out as possible. Hawking, officially, to provide some game for the feasting tonight. Hawking was an activity the dowager queen mother had declared noble and ladylike, so Signy often got away with this. The queen fussed about hats and gloves, declaring nothing so injurious to the feminine complexion as the sun. Albruna avoided it. Signy usually managed to forget either her hat or her gloves, or both.

    Today, unfortunately, the queen had been less obliging. When she had come through to Signy's chambers, with three of the coastal jarl's wives in tow, she'd found her stepdaughter already dressed in her riding habit. "No, my dear," the queen had said, with that false sweetness that she sometimes used in front of strangers when addressing her stepdaughter, "Today I need you to join me at the temple."

    Signy knew that it was futile to try to resist the honey-sweet pressure that her stepmother could bring to bear. Still, she tried. "It makes me feel sick, Queen Mother." She wrung her hands, and looked pleadingly up at Albruna.

    The queen mother always looked like the perfect mother-figure, with her apple-red cheeks, gentle smile, blue-green eyes, thick braided blond hair, and ample bosom to clasp her children to. A part of Signy always hoped that she really would be like that.

    "We must show a proper respect, Princess Signy," said Albruna, with just a touch of rigidity in her voice.

    Signy had come to dread