Child of Flame
Page 225

“Ah!” he said delightedly as he wiggled his toes under the water. “I’d forgotten how pleasant it is to have feet that are hot and dry for a change. After that tedious winter and spring, I thought I would never be comfortable again.”
With relief, Rosvita dismounted from her mule and found a flat-topped boulder to sit on. From this seat—no harder, really, than her saddle—she could survey the stream where the clerics of the king’s schola had gone to wet their faces, drink, and stretch. Although the king preferred that she attend him at all times, she had obtained permission to travel with the schola, the better to keep an eye on her precious books and young clerics.
Servants brought soft cheese from the wagons. She nibbled at this delicacy as she watched animals being brought up in bunches to water downstream, where a fallen log dammed enough of the current that a watering hole had been hollowed out of the earth. A hawk drifted overhead, spiraling on the winds that brushed down off the high peaks, now hidden by forest and foothills. A woodpecker drummed nearby, and she saw its white flash among pine branches.
“The months weren’t wasted entirely, Brother. At last I was able to make a great deal of progress on my History of the Wendish People.”
He smiled sadly, not looking up from the play of the water around his feet. “So you did, Sister. I only wish Sister Amabilia were here to copy your words in a finer hand than that I possess.”
“Truly,” she echoed, “I wish she were not lost to us. I miss her.”
Fortunatus sighed. He had never gained back the healthy stoutness that had made his features round and jolly; their adventures crossing the Alfar Mountains three times in the last two years had taken a lasting toll on him. “Will we ever know what became of her?” he asked wistfully.
“Only if we can trust dreams. I fear they lie as often as they tell the truth.”
As she finished her meal of cheese and bread, she called to her servingwoman, Aurea, and bid her bring her pouch from her pack mule. Aurea brought both pouch and travel desk, which unfolded easily to make a stout surface on which to set the History. Rosvita wiped her hands on a cloth and only then turned the unbound pages to her final entry, made three weeks ago on their last day at the palace of Zur, originally a villa built in the times of the Dariyan empresses and now a way station where a royal party could break its journey for a day or a week.
Some said that fully two hundred thousand Rederii barbarians were slain that day, either cut down by the sword or drowned in the marsh when they tried to make their retreat. After this, the young margrave Villam moved his army against the city mentioned above, but the inhabitants now feared to stand against him and therefore they laid down their arms and asked for safe passage. In this way, the city and all its wealth and all the household furnishings fell into the possession of King Arnulf the Younger.
When the margrave and his companions returned to Saony, King Arnulf received them with gratitude and praised their victory. It so happened that the king’s favored Eagle returned at this time from Arethousa with the news that the king had obtained what he most desired: an Arethousan princess who would stand in marriage to his son, Henry, a most radiant and worthy young man. When the glorious Sophia arrived with her splendid retinue, the royal wedding was celebrated with largess and rejoicing.
To Henry and Sophia were born these children: a daughter named Sapientia, a woman of merit, justly dear to all the people, who married Bayan, Prince of the Ungrians, and also a daughter named Theophanu, wise in all matters and of a cunning disposition, as well as a son named Ekkehard, who was invested as the abbot of St. Perpetua’s in Gent.
Here she had stopped. The rigors of a mountain crossing, even in the fine weather that God’s favor had at last granted them after several unsuccessful earlier attempts, had not allowed her to write more. Truly, the long winter and dreary spring had been inconvenient and uncomfortable, but she had had the leisure to work because they had stopped for as many as ten days at a time at various estates and palaces. What lay before them in Aosta she did not know, but she didn’t suppose that war would bring many peaceful interludes during which she might have the freedom to work without interruption. It was very difficult to work while on the move.
At times like this, she remembered why so many of her spiritual sisters, women devoted to their books, preferred to stay in the convent rather than traipse about the countryside as part of the retinue of their noble relatives.
“Sister Rosvita!”
She looked up to see the king’s favored Eagle at the side of the road.
“If you will, Sister Rosvita, Brother Eudes is taken ill again, and the king requests your presence.”