The Burning Stone

“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.”