Read Online The Miracle Thief by Iris Anthony - Free Book Online Page A

winter.”
    My father turned toward the count, the jewels of his crown glittering. “You say you cannot fight them, Robert?”
    â€œI cannot.” The count said it with such a firm set to his jaw I rather thought he wanted to say, “I will not.” But it was my father who was king, not he. And not his brother, Odo. Not any longer. The crown of the Franks had finally come back to where it belonged.
    My father replied to the count’s obstinate words the way he always did: with a firm and even tone. “Then if we want a treaty, we must believe they speak the truth.”
    The archbishop stepped nearer. “I think they will agree to a treaty, Sire.”
    â€œThey will take the lands I offered?”
    My father had offered them lands? As if they were the victors? I did not understand what was happening. Beside me, I heard a tut-tut. Turning, I saw Andulf. He was watching the proceedings, just the same as I. But I could not care what he thought, for the archbishop was already speaking again. And by the looks of his smile, he was saying something my father would not wish to hear.
    â€œâ€¦did what I could, but they insisted they do not want Flanders. They thought it too marshy for their purposes.”
    I hid my smile in my sleeve before I could laugh outright. Everyone thought Flanders too marshy, the Count of Paris among them. It served no purpose to anyone.
    Little Ermentrude toddled out onto the porch, and I sprang forward, looping a finger around the collar of her tunic before she could tumble from it. Her mother, the queen, must not be far. Though constantly breeding, still she was loathe to let my father stray from her side. I pulled the little girl toward me and caught her up around the middle, swinging her to my hip.
    She grabbed at the gold tips of my plaits and gave them a tug.
    â€œNot those, little sprite. You will make me immodest.”
    The count was speaking now. “They should be pleased with your benevolence. After all, it was myself and the other counts who won at Chartres, not them. If anyone should be taking lands for their troubles, ’tis me. Sire.”
    â€œBut it is not me who pleads for peace, Robert. ’Tis you. I find myself negotiating on your behalf, not my own.”
    â€œThen tell them if they do not take Flanders, they will take nothing.”
    I held my breath. It was not the count’s place to tell my father what to do.
    â€œIt will not be difficult to get him to agree to a truce.” The archbishop spoke the words with a smile, but this time it was a smile of triumph.
    My father sent him a sharp glance. “You know this already? How?”
    â€œIn exchange for better lands, he will agree to recognize you as his lord, submit himself to God, forsake his pagan ways, and be baptized.”
    â€œAll of this? But I have offered him nothing yet to which he has agreed.”
    I tickled Ermentrude’s cheek with my fingers. She squealed in delight, and I followed with a nuzzle from my nose. Was that a smear of honey on her cheek?
    â€œI also promised him the hand of the princess, Gisele, in marriage.”
    Andulf stiffened as I pulled my nose from the child’s sweetly scented skin. What had he said? Had the archbishop spoken of me?
    My father was calling him names that would have made even the devils in hell blush to hear. “I want to treat with him, not breed with him!”
    The child was tugging at my plait anew, but I could not bring myself to care. What exactly was it the archbishop had said? I hadn’t heard him clearly.
    â€œWhat in the name of God’s great throne possessed you to offer up such a prize to that—that—that pagan butcher?”
    â€œHe agreed to be baptized, Sire. He and all his men. All of the Danes.”
    â€œYou promised him my own daughter ?”
    My father’s counselors had wisely stepped away from him. All of them but the count. He had taken up a position beside the