The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars 3)

Hanna sighed. He was as passionately thoughtless as ever. “Well, you’ve certainly filled out through the shoulders, Ivar. You look more like your father than ever. But are you well? Why aren’t you at Quedlinhame?”

He still shook his head the same way, red curls all unruly, face gone stubborn. He always jumped before he measured the ground. “Is it true? That the king means Lady Tallia to marry? They mustn’t despoil her! She must remain the pure vessel of God’s truth.” He wrenched away from her again, clapping his hands to his forehead in an attitude of despair and frustration. “They’ll do to her what they did to Baldwin! They care nothing for vows sworn honestly to the church!”

“Hush, Ivar. Hush, now.” She drew his hands down from his head and pressed a palm against his forehead, but he wasn’t hot. His voice had the fever in it, not his skin. “Why aren’t you at Quedlinhame? Did your father send for you?”

He made a strange gesture, left index finger drawn down his chest over his breastbone. “If you’d seen—”

“Seen what?”

“The miracle of the rose. The marks of flaying on her palms. You’d believe in the sacrifice and redemption. You’d know the truth which has been concealed.”

Nervous, she pulled away from him and bumped up against the wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ivar. Is this some madness that’s gotten into you?”

“No madness.” He groped for her hand, found it, and tugged her against the wall. Her boot wrinkled the edge of a neatly-folded wool blanket, uncovering a posy of pressed flowers beneath, a love token. “The Translatus is a lie, Hanna. The blessed Daisan didn’t pray for seven days, as they wrote in the Holy Verses. He wasn’t lifted bodily into the Chamber of Light. It’s all a lie.”

“You’re scaring me. Isn’t that a heresy?” Surely the minions of the Enemy had burrowed inside him and now spoke through his lips. She tried to edge away, but his grip was strong.

“So has the church taught falsely for years. The blessed Daisan was flayed alive by the order of the Empress Thaisannia. His heart was cut out of him, but his heart’s blood bloomed on the Earth as a red rose. He suffered, and he died. But he lived again and ascended to the Chamber of Light and through his suffering cleansed us of our sin.”

“Ivar!” Perhaps the curtness of her voice shocked him into silence. “Let me go!”

He dropped her hand. “You’ll do as Liath did. Abandon me. Only Lady Tallia wasn’t afraid to walk where the rest of us were imprisoned. Only she brought us hope.”

“Lady Tallia is spreading these lies?”

“It’s the truth! Hanna—”

“Nay, Ivar. I won’t speak of such things with you. Now hush and listen to me, and please answer me this time, I beg you. Why aren’t you at Quedlinhame?”

“I’m being taken to the monastery founded in the memory of St. Walaricus the Martyr. In Eastfall.”

“That’s a fair long way. Did you ask to be sent there?”

“Nay. They separated the four of us—that is, me, and Baldwin, and Ermanrich, and Sigfrid—because we listened to Lady Tallia’s preaching. Because we saw the miracle of the rose, and they don’t want anyone to know. That’s why they cast Lady Tallia out of the convent.”

“Oh, Ivar.” Despite the fever that had overtaken him, she could only see him as the overeager boy she had grown up with. “You must pray to God to bring peace to your spirit.”

“How can I have peace?” Suddenly he began to cry. His voice got hoarse. “Have you seen Liath? Is she here? Why haven’t I seen her?”

r way back to Sapientia, she saw Ivar standing in the doorway to the residence where Margrave Judith had taken up quarters. He saw her, beckoned, and ducked inside. She followed him over the threshold. “Ivar?”

“Hush!” He drew her into a small storeroom where servants’ pallets lined one wall. The closed shutters made the room dim and stuffy. He embraced her. “Oh, Hanna! I thought I would never see you again! I’m not allowed to speak to women.”

She kissed him on either cheek, the kinswoman’s greeting. “I’m not just any woman!” she said unsteadily. “I nursed at the same breast. Surely we can speak together without fear of punishment.”

“Nay,” he whispered, opening the door a crack to see out into the corridor, then returning to her. “Rosvita wanted to see me, but it was forbidden, though she’s a cleric, and my sister. But she would only have scolded me anyway, so I’m glad I didn’t see her!”

Hanna sighed. He was as passionately thoughtless as ever. “Well, you’ve certainly filled out through the shoulders, Ivar. You look more like your father than ever. But are you well? Why aren’t you at Quedlinhame?”

He still shook his head the same way, red curls all unruly, face gone stubborn. He always jumped before he measured the ground. “Is it true? That the king means Lady Tallia to marry? They mustn’t despoil her! She must remain the pure vessel of God’s truth.” He wrenched away from her again, clapping his hands to his forehead in an attitude of despair and frustration. “They’ll do to her what they did to Baldwin! They care nothing for vows sworn honestly to the church!”

“Hush, Ivar. Hush, now.” She drew his hands down from his head and pressed a palm against his forehead, but he wasn’t hot. His voice had the fever in it, not his skin. “Why aren’t you at Quedlinhame? Did your father send for you?”

He made a strange gesture, left index finger drawn down his chest over his breastbone. “If you’d seen—”

“Seen what?”

“The miracle of the rose. The marks of flaying on her palms. You’d believe in the sacrifice and redemption. You’d know the truth which has been concealed.”