The Burning Stone

Theophanu removed the pillow from the chair and set it on the floor. “Sit here, if it pleases you, Sister.”



“I thank you, Your Highness. Your Majesty, where is Mother Obligatia?”



“She is still with the wounded.”



“If I may attend her for a moment?”



Both queen and princess assented. A soldier came forward to escort Rosvita to the side chamber where the wounded lay, and as she ducked under a low arch carved into stone, she heard the music begin again behind her, echoing weirdly in the great cavern.



Weeks had passed before Rosvita had understood that the ancient nun who was tending her through her sickness was Mother of the convent. Now, by the light of a single lamp, Mother Obligatia knelt beside a fair-haired man who had been wounded fighting off one of Ironhead’s fruitless attacks. She was carefully rewrapping the poultice at his shoulder.



“Bless you, Mother,” he murmured as Rosvita came up beside them.



She said a blessing over him before bracing herself on a stout walking stick as she struggled to her feet. Before Rosvita could move forward to aid her, Captain Fulk appeared at her side to help her up.



“How may I assist you, Mother?” Rosvita asked.



“Stay beside me a moment, Sister. I am done except for this poor soul, but I fear there is nothing I can do for his wounds.”



One man rested apart from the others, and he lay silent except for a ghastly whimper that escaped him at intervals, sometimes followed by a string of hoarse words that made no sense until she realized he was speaking in Aostan, not Wendish: “no beginning no end cold sting in my heart falling the stone it hurts Lord protect me Ai God! the eyes!”



The shadows were a merciful cloak. His injuries had festered. Skin peeled away from his mouth, exposing teeth and gums, and one eye seemed seared shut with silvery threads impressed into the curve of his skull. A faint metallic scent stung her nostrils, a flavor like iron filings that she could almost lick from the air. Then Mother Obligatia undid the wrappings that covered his chest. Rosvita gagged at the stench of decay and had to step back.



A hand steadied her: Captain Fulk. He murmured an apology and hastily stepped away. The soldier holding the lamp shut his eyes.



From the pool of darkness outside the lamplight, Brother Fortunatus ghosted into view to take his place at Rosvita’s side. “You are well, Sister?” The murky light made his face seem unnaturally pale, or perhaps it was only the poor soldier’s suffering.



“You are too anxious, Brother,” she said fondly. “I am recovering well for a woman of my years. I have nothing to complain of. Dear God, how could I?” She gestured. “What has happened to this poor man? Is he one of Queen Adelheid’s soldiers?”



Mother Obligatia dabbed a sharp-smelling ointment on his wounds, and the soldier began thrashing, moaning horribly. Rosvita had to look away as Captain Fulk knelt to hold the man down.



Brother Fortunatus shifted nervously before he spoke in a whisper. “There is magic here, Sister. It has been hidden from us until now.”



“You cannot believe that Mother Obligatia or any of these good nuns indulge in sorcery?”



“There is a secret hidden here,” he insisted stubbornly. “Look at him. He was brought in last night, just before Vigils. It seems odd to me that their attack should come only hours after Lord Hugh begged leave to speak with the queen.”



“What do you mean?”



The man gasped out a strangled croak, an unintelligible word, and then passed out. The threads of silver burned into his face gleamed, pulsing as if to the beat of his heart.



“He is one of Ironhead’s soldiers. A party of a dozen or more climbed the north face of the outcropping last night. They reached the stone crown at the summit at dusk. I suppose from there they meant to drop down upon us from above.”



She felt abruptly weak, shaken with memories of uninterpretable dreams. The ground seemed to rock beneath her like a boat shifting on the waters, and her stomach ached. “I must have been asleep.”



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?”