Elliott, Kate - Crown of Stars 3 (48 page)

"She won't tell me," she said, so caught up in her own anger that for an instant it appeared she hadn't heard him, until he realized she had just answered his question. "I asked her why she wears the gold torque, but she wouldn't answer me. She doesn't want me to know my own kin!"

"Or she has reasons of her own for keeping you ignorant. What
does
she want you to know, Liath?"

"The art of the mathematici."

' 'The iron does not know what it will become— " he murmured, then faltered, smelling smoke. He heard the
clip-clop
of Anne's mule, and a moment later she appeared around the bend.

That afternoon clouds blew in, and gusts of wind shook the trees and threw branches every which way. It began to rain so heavily that they were forced to take refuge at the first village they came to, and there they had to stay for two more days while storm raged and howled around them.

AS
they climbed the last long slope, Lavas tower gleamed in the distance, all freshly whitewashed and with a new thatch roof. They topped the rise to see Lavas Holding spread out before them. From here, Alain could see the river curling away through lush fields, the little church, the neat houses in the village, the enclosure, and the tower and great hall, all looking prosperous and busy. By the gates, a large crowd had gathered, and at the sight of Lavastine's banner a great cheer rose up. At once, the people waiting by the gates lurched forward into an ungainly procession, coming out along the road to greet their lord.

"Chatelaine Dhuoda has made ready for our coming," said Lavastine.

"Your fields look well tended," said Tallia. "And your people clothed and fed."

"That they are," he replied, not in a smug way, merely stating a fact.

"The church is small," she added.

"But richly furnished, as is fitting." He glanced at Alain, then back at Tallia. "There is also a chapel in the tower where we pray each day."

They rode down to an enthusiastic greeting. Many of the gathered servants and villagers reached out to touch either Lavastine or Alain on the foot as they rode past. Alain noted a number of unfamiliar faces on the fringe of the crowd, people dressed in ragged clothes and with expressions drawn taut with hunger, watching, hopeful.

"Your people love you," said Tallia. People called out her name and prayed for God's blessing on her womb. "When we rode through Arconia, the folk would gather to watch us go by. But they feared my parents, they did not love them."

Lavastine held court in the great hall, an assembly that took all afternoon. He distributed certain items he had obtained on the king's progress to his chatelaine, his stewards and servants, and the village folk: inks and parchment, iron tools, a bull to be used in common by the villagers to breed their cows, a dozen stout ewes, cuttings from quince, fig, and mulberry trees, and vine cuttings from one of the royal vineyards. There were harness and leashes for Master Rodlin, cooking pots for Cook, and javelins, spears, and knives for the men-at-arms.

"We have an unusually great number of laborers this season," reported Chatelaine Dhuoda. "We hear rumor of a drought in Salia. Many have come in hope of harvest work."

Tallia did not even wait to see the tower and grounds but walked out at once with her attendants to give comfort as she could among the poor. Dhuoda led Lavastine and Alain upstairs to show that she had followed the orders sent ahead by the count. A new bed had been built and placed in the chamber the count used as his study.

"This will be my sleeping room," he told Alain, gesturing to the study. They took the curving stairs up to the sleeping chamber that by custom belonged to the count of Lavas and which he and Alain had shared before. Now the bedspread marked with the combined symbols of Lavas hounds and Varren roes brightened' the room, and Tallia's chests had been moved into place. "This will be yours. In that bed all the heirs of Lavas have been conceived."

"Even me?"

Lavastine sighed, frowned, and absently patted Terror's head. By his expression, he looked a long way away—in time, if not distance. "Even you, Son. But God are merciful, and They forgive us our sins as long as we do our duty on this earth."

Alain walked to the bed, set a hand on the bedspread, and looked back at Lavastine. Walking had been agony twelve days ago when every step meant that his clothing rubbed against his blistered and raw skin, but he had healed, and the nettle blisters had even gained him some sympathy from Tallia. More importantly, they had allowed him to get through the rest of the journey without any further rash incidents that might turn her against him.

But coming home had lifted both impatience and despair from his heart. As Aunt Bel would say:
"If you want to start a fire, you must chop wood for it first. "

He had not forgotten the
Life
of St. Radegundis, which they

had listened to while on the king's progress and which Tallia had so admired. So as quiet day succeeded quiet day, as crops ripened and came to harvest, he walked with her every morning among the poor laborers who had come to Lavas in hope of work and bread. When she spoke of founding a convent in honor of St. Radegundis, he encouraged her. Together with her favorite lady, Hathumod, they spent many pleasant hours with the builder she had brought with her, a cleric educated in Autun, who discussed the traditional design favored by St. Benedicta in her
Rule
as well as certain modern innovations devised by the brothers at St. Galle.

At night, when they lay down together, he remembered the nettles.

"What of the old ruins the people here speak of?" Tallia asked Alain one day. "Wouldn't it serve God to build over an old temple and reconsecrate the ground for holy purposes? My attendants tell me that the servants here say there is an altar stone there where terrible sacrifices were performed. They say you can still see the stains of blood."

She looked so eager at the mention of sacrifices. When she was in this mood, she would often touch him, brush her fingers over his hand, lean against him, all unconsciously. He wanted to encourage that, and yet it would be a lie to agree with her when he simply didn't know. "It's laid out with defensive walls. I think it was a fort."

"But they must have worshiped their gods there. Such people always do."

"We'll go ourselves. You can make your own judgment of whether the old ruins would be suitable for a convent."

The next few days he spent with Lavastine overseeing the harvest. It was usual for the lord to bend his own back to cut the first sheaf of grain in each field, for luck, and Alain did not mind the work. It reminded him of his childhood. But Lavastine never let him labor in this fashion for long; that was not a lord's place.

The expedition was set for the feast day of Raduerial, the angel of song. By the time servants, attendants, and grooms assembled, Alain felt as if they were going on progress, not just a short way up into the hills. Tallia's ladies chattered excitedly. Lavastine observed their laughter and gossip with a shake of the head. "I do believe," he said to Alain, "that King Henry se lected only those girls who were as empty-headed as possible. If they have brothers, I expect they think of nothing but hunting, hawking, and whoring."

"Lady Hathumod is not like the others."

"True. She's a sober girl, but she came from Quedlinhame with Tallia. I suppose they rid themselves of her because of the heresy. She's the only one who can pray for as many hours as can your wife."

"Prayer to God is never wasted," retorted Alain, a little stung.

Lavastine whistled back Terror, who had gone to investigate a fresh pile of horse manure. "I am more inclined to believe that God values good works above prayer, but let us not argue this point, son. Lady Tallia is generous to the poor. The king chose wisely when he picked these girls to serve his niece. Tallia will make no useful alliances here."

Lavastine signaled to the grooms, and they set off. They followed a broad path through the fields and up into woodland heavily harvested by the villagers for firewood, small game, and herbs. In late summer the sun seemed to bleed until the air itself took on a golden sheen. Pigs scurried off into the brush. They flushed a covey of partridges, and the huntsmen ran off in pursuit. Alain had to whistle Steadfast back when she loped after them. The path branched, narrowed, and they climbed onto steeper slopes into old forest untouched by human hands. Tallia's deacon entertained them with a story as they rode.

" 'At that time, the savage Bwrmen marched west on the rampage that eventually led them to the great city of Darre, then called Dariya.'"

"Didn't the Bwrmen destroy Dariya?" asked Hathumod, who was inclined to ask questions.

"They did, indeed. Laid it waste, burned it, killed every male above the age of twelve, and made all the women and children their slaves. But the reign of Azaril the Cruel lasted only five years, for God's mercy is great and Their justice swift."

"But what about the visitation of the angel?" Tallia spoke quietly, but Alain was by now so sensitive to every twitch she made that he could hear her as clearly as if she rode beside him. "Let me return to my story." Cleric Rufino was as bald as an egg and had ruddy cheeks from working so many hours out in the sun supervising construction. "As they marched west toward Dariya, the Bwr army besieged a town called Korinthar.

Now the people of Korinthar had been visited by St. Sebastian Johannes of Eisenach in the course of his holy travels, but although he sang the mass most sweetly, the townsfolk had not heeded his preaching. Instead they mocked him, and when the Bwrmen approached, these same townsfolk thrust him outside the gates into the path of the Bwr scouts. In this way God granted St. Sebastian Johannes the glorious martyrdom he desired. Meanwhile, the people of Korinthar readied themselves for the final battle with the savage Bwrmen. Although they knew they would lose, they believed it better to die fighting than to beg for mercy from an enemy they hated. But the angel Raduerial visited the chamber of young St. Sonja, who alone in that town had heeded the preaching of St. Sebastian Johannes. The angel blessed her with the gift of song.

"St. Sonja offered herself at the gates in the hope of saving her people, even though they ridiculed her for her faith. Because of her youth and beauty, she was taken to the tent of the cruel king, Azaril, where she sang so sweetly that his heart was softened. He spared Korinthar and all those people who lived inside its walls. At this sign of God's grace, the entire town wept and prayed at the tiny church built by St. Sebastian Johannes with his own hands, and pledged from that time forward to follow the faith of the Unities."

"What happened to St. Sonja?" asked Hathumod. "No one knows," admitted the cleric. "Some say the Bwrish king took her captive and later had her killed when she refused to become his wife."

One of the girls squealed. "But it's said that the Bwr people aren't people at all but—

"I beg you, my lady!" From such a mild-mannered man, the retort bit doubly hard. "It would be abomination to speak more on that subject. That's only a tale concocted to tempt men and women into improper thoughts. Most agree that she walked of her own accord into the dark lands inhabited by the Bwrmen, to bring the Light of the Unities to their tribes. She was never seen again. But in any case, she left Korinthar and did not return."

"Look!" Tallia jostled her way to the front of the procession and now emerged first into the wide clearing. Alain rode up beside her. The ruins lay sprawled below them. She stared, pink staining her cheeks, and as he surveyed the walls, he wondered if there was a Dariyan road hidden here, now covered by grass and moss.

While the rest of the progress fanned out to explore, Tallia dismounted, and he followed her into the ruins where she exclaimed over the carvings on the stone: spirals, falcons, people with human bodies and animal heads. "We must tear all these walls down! We can chisel these evil images from the stones and use them to build a convent where our prayer will glorify God."

She grabbed his hand to tug him along. Inside the altar house she knelt beside the white altar stone—still holding Alain's hand—and with her free hand traced the pattern of four spirals that led into a fist-sized hollow sunk into the center of the pale stone. She shuddered ecstatically and drew Alain against her. "We will build the church right here! The chapel, with the Hearth, right over this very stone!"

Her shoulders were so thin. She was still quivering. The feel of her body against him swept such strong feelings through him that he tried to disengage his hand from hers so he could step back. The memory of nettles was not helping.

She stood so close he could easily tilt his head down and brush her mouth with his own. She stared up at him with her lips parted and a breathless urgency in her gaze. She did not shrink away when he gathered her more closely against him.