The Burning Stone

The snow had melted, but a blizzard of activity met Alain when he hurried back to the hall. He had little enough to do but wait: his people knew their jobs, and he allowed them to perform them without interference.



In the late afternoon, after the service of Nones, the retinue marched into view, fine banners and polished spears, bright tabards and merry songs. For a moment he forgot himself, recalling that time—so long ago—when he had first seen a noble retinue, when he had seen Lady Sabella’s progress. It had seemed like a vision sent from heaven to him, then; now, he could not help but calculate how many days they would stay, how much meat and bread they would eat—leaving less to distribute among the poor—and how much mischief they would cause with their gossip and intrigue.



The cavalcade wound its way to the gate amidst much laughter and shouting. His own people lined the road to stare as he waited on the porch of the hall with the westering sun on his face, Tallia at his side, and Sorrow, Rage, and Fear sitting obediently at his feet.



“What do you these long faces mean?” cried Duchess Yolande as she dismounted to kiss Tallia’s cheek. She looked stout, well-fed, and cheerful. Despite her weeks of recovery, Tallia looked thin and sallow beside her. “It is spring, and we should rejoice. Ah, Count Alain. See whom I met on the road! I have brought him to you so that you may celebrate spring together.”



Riding at her side as if he were her kinsman was Lord Geoffrey. He greeted Alain with dutiful politeness, kept carefully back from the hounds, and paid his respects to Tallia. By then, Yolande had heard about their day’s work, and she insisted on being taken to see the bier.



She chattered on as they walked. “I meant to come earlier, indeed, but I was brought to bed early with this child. Thank God he has proved strong despite his small size.” Alain had seen no sign of the child, who seemed to be in the care of a nurse back with Yolande’s entourage. “So we rested a while at Autun, where I was brought to bed. I was so grateful for the prayers of the biscop that I named the child Constantius, in her honor. He’s quite dark-haired like his father, more’s the pity. Ah, well. But Autun was quite the maze of gossip. I would hear one thing one day and then quite the opposite the next. Henry is discontented with his children. He banished Sanglant from court for consorting with one of his own Eagles, but then the Eagle was excommunicated and outlawed for malevolent sorcery. It seems she cast a spell on the prince because Henry meant to set the bastard up as king after him and she wanted to be queen. But Sanglant was such a womanizer anyway that I wonder if it can be true. More likely he seduced her than the other way around!”



“I pray you,” interjected Alain, startled by these tidings. “What was her name?”



“Whose name? Meanwhile, the king is marrying Sapientia to some barbarian, and sent her east to fight the savages. That can’t bode well for her chances at the throne. He would never have married her to an Ungrian had he meant her to rule after him. He sent Theophanu south to Aosta, so perhaps it’s her he favors, but she’s so coldhearted. She never shows her feelings like a true person. It’s her mother’s blood that marked her, I swear to you. The boy he sent off to Gent to be abbot. What make you of these tidings, Cousin? It seems to me that Henry thinks none of his legitimate children are fit for the throne.”



Tallia started, flushing. She had a way of listening without listening; Alain recognized it now. Yolande’s talk had flowed over her like water over a stone, and she hadn’t even realized how all of it was directed at her.



Finally, with a nervous glance, she responded. “What of my mother?”



“I was only allowed to see Lady Sabella with Biscop Constance in attendance.” Yolande laughed bitterly. “For my father’s crimes against Henry, I am still not trusted. But she is well. Your father has taken vows as a conversi at Firsebarg. They say he is content there. Your mother is not so content, although she knows well enough to hold her tongue. I told her of your vision of Our Holy Mother, who is God, and Her Blessed Son.”



Tallia came alert, like a hound to the scent. She was so beautiful when she was passionate. Yet the nail weighed against Alain’s chest, the heaviest burden he had ever carried—except for the lie he had told Lavastine and the oath he had broken to his foster father, Henri. “What did my mother say? Did she embrace the True Word? Does she understand the miracle of His sacrifice and redemption?”



Yolande shrugged casually. “She said that the one who is regnant can use her power to influence the church.”



“Oh!” Tallia glanced at Alain, then away. Her color was high; her slender hands twitched as if she held the leash of an excitable dog. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said softly, and then abruptly shut her mouth and stared fixedly at the church porch as they came in under its shadow. They waited inside the nave for a moment to let their eyes adjust. Then, in a group, they went forward to the bier.