The Burning Stone

by Kate Elliott

  Fortunatus caught her elbow. His voice trembled. “You were very ill, Sister. I despaired of you.”

  His concern steadied her. She could look at the poor man lying unconscious on the ground; Mother Obligatia worked efficiently. “What became of the other soldiers, then? Were they taken prisoner?”

  “Nay. Some creature haunts the stone crown. It killed them. This man was the only one to survive, and he will not live long.”

  Mother Obligatia rose with Captain Fulk’s help and stepped away from the dying man. “There is nothing else I can do,” she said to Fulk. “Has he taken any water?”

  “He cannot keep it down, Mother.” Fulk’s expression was grave.

  Obligatia nodded and at once made her way, hobbling slowly, out of the little side cavern with Rosvita, Fortunatus, and Fulk in attendance. Captain Fulk brought her a stool, and she sat between Adelheid and Theophanu, gesturing with a hand to show that the musicians should finish. Rosvita settled herself on the pillow at Theophanu’s feet, and Fortunatus in attendance behind her. When the soldiers’ song was done, Mother Obligatia turned to Rosvita.

  “Sister Rosvita, I am pleased to see you looking so strong. You have seen our visitor?” Mother Obligatia was sharp without being proud, wise without being serene, and generous without being kind. As always, she came straight to the point. “He was sent by Lord John to negotiate an end to the siege. His companions from Wendar are being held as hostage for his good conduct. Do you know who he is?”

  “Hugh of Austra,” said Theophanu in a tone as cool as if she were reciting the list of crops to be planted, “illegitimate son of Judith, who is margrave of Austra and Olsatia as well as a valued companion to my father, King Henry.”

  “You are acquainted with him,” said Mother Obligatia.

  “If I may speak,” said Rosvita quickly, and Theophanu nodded. After six weeks subsisting on Mother Obligatia’s charity, Rosvita saw no point in sliding around the truth. “I believe that both Princess Theophanu and I were sent south to Aosta so that we could not testify when Father Hugh was brought before a church council last autumn in Autun. He was accused of sorcery.”

  Adelheid sat forward, expression bright and curious. “Would you have spoken for him, or against him?”

  In the dim light, Theophanu looked more than ever like an ancient queen caught in paint on some ancient church wall, gilded with gold leaf, eyes darkened with kohl. She replied without emotion. “We have reason to believe that the charges laid against him were true. We must not trust him, whatever promises he makes.”

  “Strong words,” observed Adelheid.

  The ancient mother toyed with the polished walking stick laid across her thighs. Behind, half lost in shadow, Captain Fulk and the soldiers had hunkered down to listen. “It is difficult to know whom to trust when charges of sorcery are at hand,” she said.

  “Have you had experience in these matters, Mother?” asked Rosvita.

  “I have seen things I wish I had not. But nevertheless, in a week our stores will be depleted. It is time to make a decision. I am perfectly willing to starve for a point of honor, but I cannot ask my nuns to do likewise.”

  “Then it appears we must speak to him,” said Adelheid. Her smile flashed like laughter. “My soldiers say he is a remarkably handsome man. Is that true, Cousin? I haven’t yet seen him.”

  But Theophanu would not be drawn. “You must make up your own mind on that score, Cousin.”

  “Then it is agreed that we will speak with him?”

  “I am against it,” said Theophanu coolly. She glanced at Rosvita; they all did.

  Rosvita sighed. “In truth, Your Highness, there is no choice. I am no more eager than you, given what we have seen and experienced, but under these circumstances we must see what he has to say.”

  “I will not go to Ironhead without a fight,” said Adelheid. The fierce lift of her chin and the ringing trumpet she made of her voice contrasted baldly with Theophanu’s inscrutable calm, and by no means did Theophanu come off the better.

  Captain Fulk stepped forward. “If I may speak, Your Majesty? Your Highness? Mother?” When they assented, the soldier went on. “We must take action soon, one way or the other. Both food and tempers grow short, trapped as we are. We’ve already lost a quarter of the horses. After last night there are rumors of a goblin haunting the stone crown. My men are afraid of stable duty, because those halls lie so close to the summit. Some are fearful that now that the creature has tasted blood, that it will stalk them. Some would rather surrender than die in such a terrible way.”

  Everyone quieted, and Rosvita realized now how much tension had ridden the air. The yellowy gleam of the lamp gave scant protection from the darkness. But Mother Obligatia showed no sign of nervousness. “A daimone does indeed haunt the stone crown at the height of this rock, but it is not more dangerous than the goblins that lurk in the hearts of those who are discontented with their lot in this world. My predecessors and I have guarded this convent since the days of St. Ekatarina, four hundred years ago or more. We have not been troubled by the creature trapped above, nor felt its claws.”

  “Where did it come from?” Theophanu asked. “Why does it haunt this place?”

  “It has always been here. That is why I forbade your party to explore the crown.”

  “You said it was a consecrated place, forbidden to any who are not sisters in this convent,” objected Adelheid. “You did not say it was haunted by such a creature!”

  “Now you see why it is forbidden. We do not tell everything we know. Nor do we need to.”

  Even a queen could look abashed. Adelheid did so now. “I beg your pardon, Mother. I’m sure you know better than we do in such matters.”

  “Ancient knowledge must be guarded lest it fall into hands made rough by ignorance or ambition. Do you think we want a man like Lord John suspecting we have secrets hidden within these walls?”

  “Like the knowledge of the Aoi,” murmured Rosvita, but Mother Obligatia had keen ears and now swung her walking stick off her thighs and rapped it once, sharply, on the floor. The sound rang with echoes in the cavern, and men jumped, startled. A murmur, a ripple of nervous chuckles, spread and settled.

  “With old secrets it is better to be cautious. I would rather you not have known, because an ancient secret is like a great stone. Resting on the shore undisturbed it remains silent. Uprooted and cast into a still pond it creates strong ripples that alter the very fabric of the water and may even overset or wash away the net of life that flourished there.”

  “I give you my word, Mother Obligatia,” said Adelheid. “You have shown us much generosity. I will never reveal your secret.”

  “If any of Ironhead’s soldiers escaped after their attack last night, they will have a tale to tell. So be it.” She settled her stick over her thighs as if to indicate that the matter was closed. “Captain Fulk. Have a dozen of your men escort our visitor here. Be sure to blindfold him. What he does not know he cannot reveal to Lord John.”

  Captain Fulk chose five men and went himself with one lamp. Because they had so little oil left them, Mother Obligatia suggested they wait in darkness, and no one was eager to object. With the lamp snuffed out, the darkness in the cavern was so profound that Rosvita could not see her hand held in front of her nose. She felt the chill of the stone as intensely as the fever of curiosity as she sat in the blackness with the rustle of nervous soldiers around her. What would Hugh say? How had he come to be here? How had he gotten The Book of Secrets! What was the creature that haunted the stone crown? Was it truly a daimone, and if so, what did a daimone look like? They were creatures of the aether who lived above the sphere of the moon, so how had it become trapped here below the moon? With what power had it killed the soldiers? Would it come in search of the rest of them, or did the crown itself contain it? And if the crown did contain it, then what property inherent in the stones could confine a creature of such power and unearthly provenance? And if so, did all stone crowns hold within themsel
ves intrinsic magical properties? Was it even possible that poor Berthold had somehow been imprisoned within the stone crown above Hersford, instead of killed by a fall or a cave-in, as she had assumed? Was there truth in her dreams?

  Theophanu shifted in her chair. Fortunatus coughed softly.

  “Perhaps a song,” said Adelheid in a voice that the darkness made startlingly bright, like a sudden shaft of light that makes the eyes sting.

  Tentatively at first and then more forcefully as the sound filled the echoing space, the soldiers began to sing: “To the Lady and to the Lord both light and dark are one.”

  “I have been reading your History, Sister Rosvita,” said Mother Obligatia as the soldiers continued with a quiet tune composed of more secular sentiments: a lost love, a long journey.

  “I fear it is incomplete. Had I time, and with your permission, I would consult your library to see what I could learn from any chronicles you may have here. Yet here in Aosta there is no reason why chronicles would contain records of the doings of the Wendish. No doubt my people are still considered barbarians to those who once ruled as part of the glorious Dariyan Empire.”

  “Then it is well you are writing their history, since no one in Darre will do so. I came here from the North.”

  “You have surprised me, Mother. I hear no trace of the North in your speech.”

  “I was raised from an infant at a convent in Varre, but when I was fourteen I was taken from there to St. Radegundis’ convent in Salia. Indeed, I came to her convent not six months after St. Radegundis passed out of this world and into the Chamber of Light.”

  “That is incredible. Surely you have looked at the Vita, then?”

  “Sister Petra has been copying it diligently these last six weeks. You yourself in your delirium mentioned that this manuscript is the only copy in existence. Such a precious document must not be lost to us.” Her voice had the familiar quaver of age, as fragile as stalks of flowers torn by a gale. The company had stilled, and it was silent as Obligatia spoke as a biscop might, reading from the scriptures to edify her congregation. “‘The Lord and Lady confer glory and greatness on women through strength of mind. Faith makes them strong, and in these earthly vessels, heavenly treasure is hid. One of this company is Radegundis, she whose earthly life I, Fidelis, humblest and least worthy, now attempt to celebrate so that all may hear of her deeds and sing praise in her glorious memory. The world divides those whom no space parted once. So ends the Prologue.’”

  Something in the abbess’ tone made Rosvita’s skin prickle, like a mouse nibbling cheese down to the fingers that hold it.

  “How did you come by the book, Sister Rosvita?”

  “I received it from Fidelis’ own hands—” She broke off, hearing Mother Obligatia gasp, as at a pain.

  “His own hands! You must have been very young.”

  “Not at all, Mother. He lived to an incredible age. It was not two years ago that I received it from him.”

  “Two years! How can that be? He was already old—”

  The ring and echo of soldiers’ voices and of boots tramping on stone cut through the old woman’s reply, and light rose just quickly enough that Rosvita caught the end of Mother Obligatia’s gesture: wiping a tear from her cheek.

  Then Hugh came among them. It was impossible to know how he could walk so gracefully, blinded by cloth bound over his eyes. Steered by Captain Fulk, who kept fingers pressed to Hugh’s arm, he knelt before the three women, whom he still could not see. Rosvita hitched the trailing edge of her robe sideways, half afraid that if any part of him came in contact with it, he would know of her at once, that he would know everything about her and all that she suspected, all her loyalties and weaknesses.

  “I had hoped to be brought before Queen Adelheid or the blessed Mother of this convent,” he said in his beautiful voice. The soldier holding the lamp stood behind him, which had the effect of giving a halo, the crown of saints, to his golden hair. “I am Hugh of Austra, son of Judith, margrave of Austra and Olsatia. I beg you, let me speak if that is your will.”

  “I am Adelheid.” She rose, though she knew he couldn’t see her, but surely he heard the change of position because his head shifted slightly, an odd questing motion like that of the great cats Rosvita had seen in the menagerie in Autun, lifting their heads when they heard the sound of the gate being opened and closed as a deer was driven into their enclosure. “How did you and your party come to be here, Lord Hugh? This convent lies on none of the main roads.”

  “Your Majesty.” He did not precisely incline his head, but he had mastered the art of shifting his shoulders to show respect: as proud as a nobleman, he was not too proud to acknowledge her greater rank. “We had crossed St. Vitale’s Pass and were riding south to Darre when we were accosted on the road by Lord John’s soldiers and brought against our will to this encampment. We still wish to ride on to Darre. That is our only goal.”

  “Then why did Ironhead send you up here, if you are his prisoner? What of the other people in your party?”

  “Alas. Lord John is an ambitious man, Your Majesty. I will tell you truthfully that he was suspicious of our reasons for traveling. He suggested that we must be agents of King Henry of Wendar. He believes that we have messages for the skopos from King Henry regarding the fate of Aosta. He was blunt, Your Majesty.” He paused as Adelheid laughed. “He said that were he Henry, he would send a message to the skopos offering protection and gold if she were to support him as king of Aosta.”

  “Is that the message that you and your company are bringing to Darre?” asked Adelheid sharply.

  “Nay, Your Majesty. I have been accused of sorcery, and I am being sent before the skopos to be judged.” How easily the words came out of his mouth, so easily that for an instant it was impossible to believe that he had been anything but falsely accused. “Lord John sent me to persuade you to surrender in return for letting my party go. That is all.”

  “Or in return for letting you go free, so that you can escape the skopos’ judgment!”

  The cloth blindfold did not conceal his beautiful mouth. He smiled now, not quite enough to reveal the chipped tooth. “I do not intend to persuade you to surrender, Your Majesty. I intend to reveal to you how you can make your escape. After that, I will convince Lord John to release me and my party so that we can continue on to Darre.”

  Adelheid laughed delightedly, and Rosvita realized that she was enjoying the match, like two swordsmen playing at an absurd battle. “What loyalty do you have for me and my followers?”

  “I have no loyalty toward you, Your Majesty, although I hope you will not take offense from my plain speaking. I am a loyal subject of King Henry. If Lord John captures you, he will force you to marry him and use that claim to establish himself as king of Aosta. King Henry has ambitions in Aosta as well.”

  “Does he?” asked Adelheid coyly. “I am not altogether sure what it is that Henry wants in Aosta.” She glanced at Theophanu but did not address her directly. Theophanu sat unknowable in her silence.

  Hugh seemed caught by surprise. “King Henry sent a force south to find you, Your Majesty, but perhaps you did not meet them. That would account for this terrible situation you now find yourself in. Therefore I beg you, Your Majesty, let me act as King Henry’s ambassador: he seeks to aid you, who are the rightful queen of Aosta. He will aid you with an army, if need be.”

  “Yet I have heard he seeks to marry me to his bastard son, Sanglant, whom he intends to become king beside me.”

  There it was: a change in his expression as startling as a peal of distant thunder ripping away the calm of a hazy summer day. Then it was gone. “Why give to the son what the father deserves?”

  “Do you think Henry wishes to marry me?” asked Adelheid.

  “He would be a fool to turn away from a woman of your rank and quality, Your Majesty.”

  Theophanu came alive as a painted figure might stir, cracking its shell of paint, to walk out into the room. “My father’s wishes can
not be known to you! He hopes that Sanglant will marry Adelheid.”

  “Your Highness!” He was startled. He shifted, marking her place. “I did not know— This blinding cloth has disoriented me, or surely I would have been aware of your presence—”

  “And changed your tale?” demanded Theophanu. “But I am here, and I have listened. How do you intend to aid Ironhead in his plans?”

  But he was more in control than she was. “No man can serve two masters. To aid Ironhead for my own gain would be to betray King Henry.” He had the elegant speech of a courtier, graceful and pleasing, but for the first time Rosvita heard a different timbre ring underneath that elegant tone, one as unyielding as granite. “I have done things I am not now proud of, I have been made to see how shamefully petty ambition can ruin a man of promise. But I have never acted in any way against my regnant.” He almost seemed to be daring Theophanu to suggest otherwise, but she did not reply.

  “I wish to hear Lord Hugh’s proposal,” said Adelheid.

  “Is the Mother of this convent here?” asked Hugh. “Her permission must be gained, for what I propose might not meet with her approval.”

  Theophanu’s grunt was itself a comment.

  “I am here, Son,” said Mother Obligatia. “Speak freely before me.”

  “There is a crown of stones atop this rock. It is possible to travel long distances quickly through gateways created by the architecture of these stone circles.”

  “To travel?” demanded Adelheid, then laughed as at a particularly fine joke. “You must explain yourself, Lord Hugh. I do not understand you.”

  “When we travel by ship, Your Majesty, we make landfall not at any cliff or coastline but at harbors suited to putting ashore. Think of the stone crowns as harbors, and the road traversed between each crown not as land or sea but as the aether, the element of the seven spheres, all that lies above the moon.”

  “How can this be possible?” cried Adelheid. “Isn’t it blasphemy to suggest that we can travel the aether while we are living? Only the souls of the dead ascend through the seven spheres when they journey toward the Chamber of Light.”