King's Dragon (Crown of Stars #1)

King's Dragon (Crown of Stars #1) Page 156

“So did he order me, my lord. I am his obedient servant. And in truth, I feared no mischief. They are only old ruins. I have seen such with my own eyes and feared nothing from them. I made sure he took six of his best men-at-arms with him when he left this morning after Prime.”

“Yet he has not returned.”

The old armsmaster hung his head. Even in the inconstant light of torches she could now read clearly his guilt, his recognition of his own bad judgment, written as plainly as if he had spoken aloud.

“Take torches, picks and shovels, whatever you need, and ten of my men-at-arms and the rest of my son’s retainers. Go now.”

They did as Villam ordered.

Rosvita joined the prayers at Compline. It was crowded, for not only the king but every noble who could command room crowded into the monastery’s church. But when the others filed out, Villam remained, and he knelt on the cold ground, hands clasped in prayer, for the rest of the night.

The monks sang Nocturns, then, at first light, Lauds. King Henry arrived for the office of Prime fully arrayed for riding, wearing a coat of mail. Sapientia walked behind him, also fitted for riding; she carried her father’s helm under one arm and she wore the badge of St. Perpetua, Lady of Battles, on her right shoulder. Theophanu would remain in the train, behind the main army, with those like Rosvita who did not fight.

As soon as Prime was sung and the last prayer spoken over the Hearth, Henry left the church and crossed to where his horse waited, already saddled. It was just dawn. No men had returned from the night expedition to the old ruins.

“We must ride,” said King Henry.

Villam bowed his head, for of course he knew the king spoke truthfully. He splashed water on his face to refresh himself and then, with the others, set forth.

That morning the army did not range out ahead of the cavalcade of wagons and animals that constituted the people and goods of the king’s progress. At midday, a party from the monastery caught up to them.

Rosvita hastened forward from her place in the train in order to hear the news. Berthold was a good boy, full of promise. She felt herself responsible. She had not watched over him as she had said she would.

But she read no hope on the face of the old armsmaster, who came forward as spokesman for the others.

“It is a grievous tale I have to tell, my lord.” His voice was even, but his eyes betrayed the depth of his distress.

“My son is dead,” said Villam, as if voicing the words would cause the worst of the pain, of a father’s loss of his favored son, to be over with quickly, to fade that fast into the dull ache of a loss suffered years before. Better that than the raw grief that cut to the heart.

The armsmaster bowed his head. “No, my lord.” But his tone was not encouraging. He caught breath and could not for a moment go on.

Rosvita slipped into the crowd. Folk made way for her as she came up beside Villam. He saw her and set an arm on the sleeve of her robe, steadying himself. King Henry, now, had come from his place at the front of the army. People made way for him so he could stand beside Villam.

“I have seen strange things I cannot explain. This is what happened.”

This, St. Ambrose’s Day, the second day after the Feast of St. Susannah and the third day of the month of Sormas, had dawned clear and fine and the weather looked to continue that way. Surely this was an omen that the Lord and Lady favored their expedition. And Rosvita noted, as the man told his story, that the weather did not shift, nor did the fine down of clouds that lined the northern horizon spread to engulf the sky. The sky remained clear; the sun remained warm. What this meant she could not be sure. If sorcery was awake, it was not at this moment directed at them.

“It took us many hours to climb the slope,” said the armsmaster. “Even with the moon’s light and though we followed the path, it twisted and turned in such a confusing fashion that we lost our way several times. We came to a stand of wood, tall northern pines, which none of us had seen from below. At first light we came to a rocky outcropping which we had not known was above us, though one of your men-at-arms, my lord, recognized it as that place where the holy man had retired to meditate.

“To our amazement, as the light rose and we could see more than an arm’s length in front of us, we saw two lions resting at the height of the rock. When they saw us, they sprang away into the rocks and we lost sight of them. Fearing for the life of the holy man, we hastened to his hut.”

Now he drew the Circle of Unity at his breast and then touched knuckles to lips softly, as if giving a kiss to the Lady.

“When I touched the door, it fell easily aside, revealing what lay within.” He blinked several times as at a sudden blinding light. “A miracle! There sat the holy man, upright in that tiny space yet not touching the side of the hut. He smelled as fresh as if fields of flowers had bloomed there inside with him, but there was nothing except him, the thin white loincloth in which he was dressed, and the dirt floor. And when we ventured to touch him, to wake him, for he appeared to be asleep, he was cold as stone. He was dead.” His voice shook.