The Shieldmaiden's Throne (The Song of Madron (Song of Britain, Vol. 3)) by James Calbraith

Author:James Calbraith [Calbraith, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-29T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER X

THE LAY OF HERACLIUS

We ride slowly through the empty streets of Lutetia, the flag of truce a limp rag tied to my lance. Wary eyes of Croha’s crewmen and a few of Chararic’s Franks follow us as we approach the old baths. I took as few companions with me as seemed reasonable; Caius and Pedwyr will not raise anyone’s suspicion – they’re always with me wherever I go. Maegla and Hildut insisted I take them, too; they’re both good riders and will be of more use to the city outside the walls than on top of them – and they’re the only ones who know this part of Gaul well enough to lead us to Senones without hindrance.

But Senones is a long way away, and before we even set out on our mission, we first need to seek an audience with the one holding the only road out of the city. Over a sleepless night, I pondered ways for us to get out – all manner of subterfuge, distraction, sneakiness, mad dashes across the wooden bridge, swimming the Sequana in the darkness… But I had no doubt Croha would be prepared for all those eventualities. She is the shrewdest of warchiefs; the only way to get past her would be through honesty.

The guard – a tall, scar-faced Iute with a long-handled axe thrust in his belt – waits for us to dismount and leave our weapons on the flat slab of marble outside: I recognise it as a discarded altar from some pagan temple; then, he leads us past the triple archway of the entrance, through the square courtyard, down what would once have been a short corridor – if it still had a roof – past the many bathing chambers, and into the back rooms, which a few generations ago would have been used by those seeking further pleasure after bathing in the arms of their whores and mistresses.

Croha’s embrace is as warm and welcoming as ever, and for a moment, I forget all about the war outside.

“Chararic told me you were here, but I couldn’t believe it,” she says. “What strange Fates brought you to this far-away place!”

“Strange Fates indeed,” I say. I look at the two people standing behind her. On Croha’s left is Irminberht, the young Frank I first met when he was commanding a pirate fleet in the swamps of Lindocoln; after Hlodoweg came to power, he sent Irminberht as his emissary – and spy – to Cantia but clearly the youth’s mission has changed since then. I can’t identify the young woman on Croha’s right at first, though there’s something very familiar about her.

“Surely you recognise my daughter?” says Croha.

“You’re Adelheid?” I exclaim. Of course – now the resemblance is obvious – not only to Croha but to the girl’s father, Dux Octa.

“When you last saw me, I was just a ten-year-old girl,” Adelheid says, nodding slightly. “I’m a woman now.” She throws a quick, bashful glance at Irminberht as she says this, leaving me with little doubt who it was that made her “a woman”.

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