The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars #5)

The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars #5) Page 317

“Seven in all,” said Mother Obligatia.

“How are we situated?” Rosvita asked. “You saw the last of the setting sun.”

“The sea lies south, more or less,” said Hanna. “We’re looking north.”

“It’s still winter, by the look of this snow. You’re sure it is King Henry’s army?”

“I am sure,” said Hanna. “The skopos is with him.”

“How could they have journeyed here so swiftly?” Rosvita rubbed her eyes wearily. Fortunatus kept a hand on her back to support her.

Hanna went on. “When I was in Darre, I was taken before the skopos. The Holy Mother spoke of a crown by the sea in Dalmiaka. Or we might have arrived in southern Salia or even as far west as Aquila.”

“As I remember from reading the chronicles,” said Obligatia, fingers still woven through Rosvita’s, “there are crowns with seven stones in all three of those places.”

“I wove east, or I meant to. This must be the Middle Sea at our backs.”

“We might be in the north,” said Hanna, “but if that were so, we would be in Eika lands now. I don’t see how King Henry could have marched here with such an army.”

“You agree this must be the Middle Sea at our backs?”

“It seems most likely, unless there are other seas we know nothing of. Yet then how could King Henry know of them? If we are come to Dalmiaka, this might be the selfsame crown that the skopos spoke of.”

“The simplest explanation is often the best one,” said Fortunatus. “If a maiden’s belly swells, it was more like a man who got her with child than a shade or an angel, no matter what story she tells the deacon. If the Holy Mother did not know where we were going, then isn’t it likely she came here of her own accord not expecting to meet us?”

“Ill fortune for us,” whispered Gerwita, sniffling.

Ruoda coughed, and her spasms set off Jehan.

“Hush!” said Aurea from the gloom, where she kept watch. “Look there! Torches!”

With a grimace, and aided by a spike of adrenaline, Rosvita got to her feet. Fortunatus kept hold of her elbow. Standing, she had a clear view of the land northward. A procession approached from the distant camp, no more than two abreast but more lights than Rosvita could easily count winding toward them.

“They are seeking us,” sniveled Gerwita. “They know we’re here!”

“They must have seen the threads of the spell sparking,” said Fortunatus.

“I pray you, let us go!” said Hanna.

“Where shall we go in such darkness?” asked Aurea, always practical. “We dare not light a torch.”

“We do not fear the darkness,” said Sister Hilaria. “If you can carry Mother Obligatia and the chest, then Diocletia and I can take turns leading the group. Night seems bright enough to my eyes. Teuda will bring up the rear. Let me take the staff so that I can test shadows and beat aside brush.”

“A wise solution.” Rosvita grasped hold of Gerwita’s shoulders. “Sister Gerwita, I am still weak from my labors. Fortunatus must help carry Mother Obligatia. If you cannot support me, then you must leave me behind.”

Gerwita’s choked sobbing ceased. “I shall never leave you behind, Sister! Here, let me put my arm around your back. Can you lean on me? That’s right!”

Heriburg had the books, which she refused to relinquish. Ruoda and Jehan had themselves to care for, and it was clear that both of the young novices suffered from a severe grippe but would not complain. It fell, therefore, to Jerome to carry the chest and Fortunatus and Hanna to lift the pallet while Hilaria and Diocletia took the van, each carrying a staff. Teuda and Aurea brought up the rear, shepherding Sister Petra, who showed a tendency to stray if she were not led.

“Have you a rope that you might tie on her?” Rosvita asked gently, and after brief consideration Teuda used Petra’s belt as a leash, so that the woman would not run off and delay them—or give them away.

In this fashion they stumbled east parallel to the cliff with the sea to their right and the wind stiff against their faces as it blew in off the water. It was cool but not cold. A salty damp pervaded everything, and as they walked, the fine blanket of snow faded into patches and at last gave way as a warm breeze rose out of the southeast. The ground was rocky and tremendously uneven, but there were few enough trees and large shrubs so Rosvita, walking directly behind Diocletia, did not find herself scratched and mauled too often as the nun flattened or broke off any offending branches. Even as Rosvita’s eyes got accustomed to the dimness, she still felt half blind, but the nuns walked as confidently as if they held aloft torches to light their way. Gerwita steadied her, and indeed the girl trudged along like an old soldier, as surefooted as sin. Behind, Jerome tripped once, landing with a grunt of pain and the heavy thump of the chest, but he insisted he was unhurt and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. They had to go on. They all of them glanced back frequently, and Rosvita felt a great sense of relief when the lay of the land cut off any view they had of the torchlit parade that snaked its way ever nearer to the stones.