The Burning Stone
“Do you see it?” he cried. Beyond, nestled at the opening of a steep valley that cut up into high mountains, lay a walled town. “Brother Amicus says it is Novomo, fully a hundred leagues or more from the convent. One step has brought us this far! We are saved by a miracle!”
“No miracle,” she said hoarsely, “and more likely damned than saved. Is this truly the winter we left behind us?”
But he hadn’t heard her, he was laughing, and slowly the warmth of the day and the high spirits of the others melted into her and warmed her. The memory of poor Amabilia faded, as did the horror of the pit. She had chosen to seek aid from Hugh, knowing what he was, like a desperate woman using a tincture of wolfsbane to treat a child’s raging fever knowing that the ointment was as likely to kill as cure. But they had lived; they had even escaped. For that, for now, she would be content.
As their cavalcade straggled toward Novomo they gained an escort of curious farmers and a handful of soldiers who had hastened out to see who they were and sent a message back to their lady. On the ride, Adelheid could speak of nothing but their mysterious journey.
“Only imagine if we can harness this power! Armies could move swiftly. We could always be a step ahead of our enemies.”
“I beg you, Your Majesty,” interposed Rosvita. “It is dangerous to rely on those who have gone against the church in order to learn such skills.”
“Are you sorry we escaped?” demanded Adelheid.
Theophanu watched Rosvita, saying nothing. She seemed distant, preoccupied.
Rosvita sighed. “Nay, Your Majesty. But our situation was desperate. I would hope never to have to make such a choice again. It may be that we were lucky this time, and might be lost on a second attempt. Nor is it clear to me that such a gateway could accommodate an entire army. Can it be held open indefinitely? Do the gateways only accommodate small retinues? What if clouds cover the sky? In any case, I wonder if we have truly come through unscathed. Doesn’t this landscape seem strange to you?”
“Those are the Alfar Mountains. Beyond Novomo lies St. Barnaria Pass. To the south the road leads to Darre, not more than ten days’ ride. None of this seems strange to me, Sister.”
“Not the flowers, or the warmth? What happened to winter, Your Majesty?”
That stilled Adelheid, and when an elaborate escort, alerted by the scouts, rode out from the city to greet her, she made no mention to them of the mysterious gateway through which they had traveled.
“Your Majesty!” The lady of Novomo dismounted and made her bow. She was shaken by Adelheid’s appearance, and at once she began to look nervously around her at the copses of trees and the fields where dutiful farmers broke the ground for sowing. “God is merciful, Queen Adelheid. We heard that you were dead.”
“Dead!” cried Adelheid.
“You have not heard? The skopos crowned John Ironhead king of Aosta over one month ago, in Darre.”
“King!” cried Adelheid.
“We have been betrayed,” said Theophanu coolly.
But Adelheid was not ready to bow under at the first sign of adversity, not after their astounding escape. “I am not dead, as you see, Lady Lavinia. I can march on Darre to take back what is rightfully mine!”
Lady Lavinia was an older woman with keen brown eyes and the sharp wariness of a lady who has learned to brew her own potions so that her enemies will have no opportunity to poison her through her own laziness. She gestured now toward the raggle-taggle retinue, all strung out behind queen and princess. The horses looked appalling in the clean light of day. Three were already bloating from a surfeit of fresh grass, and one had broken its leg, bolting after it came through the stones, and been put down. Most of the servants were on foot, and even some of the noble companions limped along, their once elegant clothing as filthy as six weeks under siege with only enough water for drinking and cooking could make them. No doubt they all stank, and would have been horrified at their own smell if they hadn’t become accustomed to it.
“I beg your pardon, my queen, but with what army will you march on Darre? Once Ironhead hears that you are still alive, he will send his men to capture you. His spies are everywhere. Indeed, Your Majesty, I cannot march with you because my eldest daughter has been taken to his court to live as a hostage for my good behavior. You will find, I fear, that Ironhead has gathered many allies to him in this same manner. You must free them from their fear for their children before you can count on their loyalty. Many would willingly rally round you, because we know what Ironhead is, but in truth, there must be a chance of victory or we will all lose our lands.”