In the Ruins (Crown of Stars #6)

In the Ruins (Crown of Stars #6) Page 90

Then the curve of the road cut off the view, as it always did. Each path drew its own landscape. He understood that now. Something always got left behind, and sometimes it was even something you wanted to lose, but mostly the things you wanted to lose stayed with you.

He laughed, and Sigfrid, riding awkwardly astride a donkey, turned to look at him.

“How are you come to us, Ivar?”

“Let us ride until nightfall. Then I’ll tell the tale.”

They rode in silence, despite their joy, for it appeared Constance’s schola were too weary and exhausted to sing. Their pace was killingly slow, burdened by the grind of the two carts and the awkward seats of several of the monastics who, like Sigfrid, had never learned to ride and yet were too weak to walk far. Through stubbornness and God’s will they turned east onto a half hidden trail into the deeper forest and made it as far as that same clearing where Ivar had met Erkanwulf the previous summer. The thatched roof that covered the old stone chapel still held. They settled Biscop Constance and the weakest nuns in its shelter while the soldiers set up a half dozen traveling tents for the rest of them, in case it rained. The sergeant set out sentries and ordered a big fire built in front of the chapel. There was plenty of deadwood to be gathered and split for burning. Wind soughed through the leaves of the giant oak.

“Erkanwulf and I saw shades here,” said Ivar, chafing his hands as he stood before the fire. “They killed some of the men pursuing us and drove the rest away, but they didn’t touch us. I don’t know why.”

“We heard no news of that,” said Sigfrid. “Do you mean to say Captain Tammus suspected all along and sent soldiers to fetch you back?”

“I must believe so. Did no one confront the biscop?”

They turned. She had come forward, leaning on her stick and supported by Sister Eligia, one of the survivors.

“We have heard nothing, no news at all from the outside world for the last nine months, Brother Ivar,” she said. A pair of soldiers rolled a log up behind her as a bench, and she sank down and thanked them graciously. “Sabella passed by to gloat that same day you left us, but she did little more than inform me of Tallia’s latest stillborn child as well as rumor from the south that the Wendish army had been lost in the east and that a cabal of malefici meant to cast a spell to drown the world in water. I could not make sense of her report. There came a night soon after when unnatural lightning coursed through the skies and a powerful wind ripped past us. Poor Brother Felix was crushed by a falling tree limb. Sister Gregoria broke her leg so badly that it festered and even Sister Nanthild’s medicines could not heal her. That was a grim omen, for soon after, the sickness struck us down one by one. Give us your report, I pray you, Brother Ivar. Did you reach my niece, Theophanu? Is it she who has sent you to aid us now?”

Except for the sentries, every soul there drew close to hear.

“Princess Theophanu sent word that she has no army and no treasure and cannot aid you, Your Grace.”

Sister Eligia cried out, but Constance touched her forearm to quiet her. “Go on. How do you come to us now, then, with Lady Sabella’s seal?”

“We took matters into our own hands, Erkanwulf and I.” He told the story at length, and was interrupted often. The soldiers who knew somewhat more of the matter offered comments at intervals. The sergeant brought around ale and cheese and days-old bread, and they drank and ate with a will, and gratefully, for they were all so hungry. When Ivar had finished his story, Constance nodded. She lifted both hands in the manner of a biscop calling her flock to prayers.

“Let us sing in thanksgiving, Brothers and Sisters.” She had a light soprano, clear and true, and the others followed easily, accustomed to her lead.

“Exalted be God, our deliverer,

Who has rescued me from my enemies

And saved me from lawless men.”

But not delivered yet. Ivar brooded as the others settled down to sleep on blankets and furs. Having been cast out into the wilderness, they were content to be free. Ivar sat with knees drawn up and chin on knees. Beside him, Ermanrich snored softly.

“You are troubled, Ivar,” murmured Sigfrid.

“We must wait for Captain Ulric. It could all come undone if Lady Sabella suspects and sends another troop after us. If Captain Tammus rides quickly to Autun and discovers the truth.”

“A journey of some days. We are safe for the moment. That isn’t what troubles you.”

Ivar frowned, but it was Sigfrid asking: so frail in his body and so strong in his mind, a curious vessel for God’s favor but a precious and holy one nonetheless. “I wonder if I could have acted otherwise. I should have insisted that Hanna go with me when my father sent me south to Quedlinhame. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to her when we next met. What if Hanna won’t forgive me? Why was I so unfair to Liath as to think she might love me in the same way I loved her? Was I blind? And what of Baldwin?”