In the Ruins

One shrieked. “What’s that? What’s that?”



It was only a white skull, caught in brambles, staring out at them.



“Go get it, Fetch,” said the eldest.



“I won’t. It might be cursed!”



“Have we a shovel or anything to dig with?” asked Alain. “Best we dig what grave we can and let these poor dead rest. It’s all we can do.” He looked at each of his companions in turn and shook his head. “Come now. Their souls have ascended to the Chamber of Light. They can’t hurt you. If it were your own brother lying here, wouldn’t you want him laid to rest so that animals would stop chewing on his bones?”



They had in their party only one shovel, but another man had an antler horn he used as a pick and the rest sharpened stout sticks and by this means and some with their bare hands they dug swiftly and deep. Blanche watched silently, sucking her thumb, and it was she who was first to help pick up bones that had been dragged away into the bushes and she who brought the skull and laid it on the heap collected in the pit. She wiped her hand on her skirt and sighed.



“Will I be just bones like that one day?” she asked.



“The part of you which is flesh will die, it’s true, and rot away to bone, but see how white and strong bone is. It’s to remind us of the strength of our souls, which lie hidden beneath flesh as well.”



She frowned at him but said nothing more. The chatelaine’s cleric said a prayer over the dead, and they filled in the hole. One of the lads shook out the leather vest and rolled it up; the leather only needed a bit of cleaning and oiling to restore it and there was no sense in letting such good leather go to waste.



“It’s getting late,” said Alain to the chatelaine. “We’d best think of camping for the night.”



“I don’t like to camp in a place of death,” she said. “We’ll go on a way.”



“Think you there are bandits still lurking?” Fetch asked Alain as they walked along at the front of the group.



“There might be.”



A branch snapped in the trees, and all the milites flinched and spun to look, only to see a doe spring away into the forest. They laughed and called each other cowards but hurried forward anyway to where the woodland dropped back into an open countryside marked by low, marshy ground and thickets of dense brush where the earth rose into hillocks. The road had been raised to cross this swamp, and it was out on the road they found themselves at dusk with nothing but mosquitoes and gnats and marsh flies for company.



“Light fires,” said the chatelaine. “We can see anyone coming from either side if thieves have a wish to attack us. The smoke will drive off the bugs.”



It was difficult to find dry wood, but enough was found that they breathed in smoke half the night and were bitten up anyway. The wind came steady out of the northeast. Late, very late, Alain woke and, startled, found himself staring up at the heavens. Blanche snored softly beside him.



Stars winked, and then were covered again by cloud.



“Ah!” he said, although he hadn’t meant to speak.



“Do you see?”



“I pray you, Chatelaine. Can you not sleep?”



“I cannot sleep, my lord. But I saw there a glimpse of hope. God smile on my journey. It is right that I sought you out. For months we have seen no sign of the sky. But now … now I have.”



“Any spell must ease in time.”



“You persist in believing that these clouds are the residue of a vast spell woven by human hands?”



“I know they are.”



“Not God’s displeasure?”



“It is true that some evils fall upon us without warning or cause. Yet so many of the evils that plague us we bring about by our own actions. Why should we blame God? Surely God weep to see their children act against what is natural and right. So the blessed Daisan would say. So Count Lavastine said. We aren’t made guilty by those things that lie outside our power, but we aren’t justified by them either. Evil is the work of the Enemy. It is easier to do what is right.”



“Think you so, my lord? It seems to me that humankind have in them a creeping, sniggering impulse to do what is wrong.”



“Yet none say it is right. Those who do wrong make excuses and tell stories to excuse themselves or even blame their folly on God, but their hearts are not free of guilt. That guilt drives a man to do worse things, out of pain and fear. It is a hard road to walk and more difficult still to turn back once you’ve begun the journey.”



She chuckled scornfully. “Many folk say they are doing right and believe it. The Enemy blinds them.”