The Burning Stone

A thin light bled from the stones, blossoming suddenly into an arch of flame surmounting the nearest lintel.



“I beg you, Mother!” cried Hugh, sounding as out of breath as if he’d run a league to reach them. “Call them.”



Rosvita took the horn from Mother Obligatia and blew: the sound arced, and sputtered, and then she tried again and this time it grew low and deep, resounding off the rocks, until she ran out of breath and it stuttered and failed. She heard an answering horn at once, and they waited.



Hugh strained to hold the lines in their new configuration and yet as the entourage rumbled up the path and the moon slid along its night’s road, some lines fell into place while others had to be nudged back into the pattern.



Captain Fulk and his soldiers came into view with Adelheid and Theophanu directly behind them, lamps raised to light their way, and they halted in astonishment as Rosvita and Mother Obligatia quickly stepped off the path.



“Quickly,” said Hugh, almost panting from exertion although he hadn’t moved from his kneeling position. His face was hidden; only the lines of his back and neck and the catch in his voice revealed his tension. His hair gleamed like gold. “You must go through now while the heavens—while the heavens are in this conjunction. Quickly. The path will close.”



“Dear God,” said one of the soldiers, and Captain Fulk told him to hush.



“But I don’t know—” Hugh went on, almost hoarse from exertion.



“You don’t know what?” cried Theophanu sharply. Like Adelheid, she was now mounted; her groom walked beside her with one hand on the bridle of her horse. The others crowded up behind them, horses whickering, servants and companions nervous and mumbling.



“—where you’ll come out.”



Adelheid laughed. She spurred her horse forward, past the soldiers, past Captain Fulk, skirting Hugh, to pass under the gleaming arch, where she vanished. Just like that.



Whether Theophanu hated to be shown up or suspected as cowardly, or had simply handed her fate into Rosvita’s hands without thought to the consequences, Rosvita could not guess. “Captain!” Theophanu called now, and Captain Fulk shouted the marching orders. His soldiers started forward with the grim expressions of men who have been ordered to march off a cliff for the good of their lady.



“Ai, God!” said Rosvita as Theophanu passed her, looking only at the frighteningly beautiful lattice shining in the night in front of her. “Mother Obligatia! I must speak to you.”



“I never thought—” Obligatia’s whispered words were almost lost beneath the tramp and creak of the entourage moving forward.



“Listen to me! I’ve no proof, and if my suspicions are true then the knowledge will be dangerous to you and to those in your charge—” A horse brushed close, knocking her off-balance, and she had to catch herself against rock, scraping her palm.



“Steady, child.” Mother Obligatia used her stick to fend away a straying servant who looked ready to bolt. “Knowledge is always dangerous. Come, Daughter. Move away where we won’t be jostled.” She drew Rosvita out of the way, hard up against a pinnacle. Moonlight made alabaster of her face, made her young again, an innocent maiden used and discarded.



Rosvita found she was breathing heavily and that she had broken out into a weeping sweat. Her stomach ached, and she was so tired. But she had to hurry. “I think Fidelis was Queen Radegundis’ lost child. That he was Taillefer’s last and only legitimate son. If that’s so, then you gave birth to Taillefer’s granddaughter, conceived in and born out of a legal and binding union. If I’m correct, then it’s not surprising that there are folk abroad in the world who seek you out, now that they know you are still alive, now that they may wonder how much you know. If I’m correct, then it means that Wolfhere is far more than what he seems. It cannot be coincidence that he appears so often in your tale.”



“Well,” said Mother Obligatia with the kind of smile a queen gives when she is finally handed proof that her best companion and adviser has been plotting treason all along, “that is a great deal bluntly said, Sister.”



“Sister Rosvita!” The cry came from the retinue, and she looked up to see Brother Fortunatus waving frantically at her even as he was pushed and prodded along. He tried to get out of line, to join her, he gestured and called to her, but he was forced along as the main party pressed on after the queen and the princess, the most reluctant thrust forward by the most loyal. A horse balked and had to be whipped. She could not see Hugh, for the path into the crown lay between her place and his. Threads of light still drew taut between the heavens and the earth, twined among the stones, and the stars seemed to pulse—or maybe she was so exhausted that she was seeing things.