Child Of Flame by Elliott Kate

Author:Elliott, Kate [Elliott, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-11-08T22:56:51+00:00

means to appoint his cousin as the new skopos, although she is not even a cleric!"

Rosvita leaned forward over the neck of her mule.” Have you heard any rumor of a Wendish frater among Ironhead's counselors, Lady?"

"Nay, Sister Rosvita, although it is said that a Wendish-born presbyter held great influence with the ailing skopos. I have even heard it whispered that he used sorcery to keep her alive, for she suffered greatly from a palsy in her later years. No one knows whether this presbyter supports Ironhead, or defies him, although it's said that he tried as well as he could to keep young women out of Ironhead's rough hands. But I hear only rumor. No noble lady or lord who travels to Darre is safe from Ironhead. None of us dare go there ourselves, for fear he'll kill us outright. You know, of course, that he gained his lands and title by murdering his half brother, and that he murdered his wife when he had no more use for her."

"How many wait for us in Novomo?" The catalog of Ironhead's sins had made Henry impatient.” Who else will march behind our banners? What number of milites and horsemen may we expect?"

"The wars have taken a toll on us, Your Majesty. Perhaps seven hundred."

They rode on for a while in silence. The ring of harness serenaded them. The muted rumble of wagon wheels behind them sounded like distant thunder, but the sky remained cloudless, a hard blue shell.

"Shall we gather more support, Your Majesty?" asked Lavinia finally, as if she could bear the silence no longer.

"Nay," said Adelheid fiercely, "let us strike hard and immediately at Ironhead, before Lord John has time to respond and build up his army." But as she spoke, she looked toward her husband. It was his army, after all.

Henry stared ahead. They had come within sight of Novomo, its walls and towers rising where the land opened into a fine landscape of rolling hills and extensively farmed lands, fields cut by ranks upon ranks of orchards and vineyards. They had come down far enough that, looking north, Rosvita could again see the tips of the mountains touching the heavens, distant and cold.

Beyond Novomo the road ran south to the heart of Aosta. Some trick of perspective allowed her to see a distant, flat-topped hill studded with dark shapes that she first took for sheep. With a shudder of misgiving, she recognized the hilltop of standing stones. Through those stones she and Adelheid and Theophanu and the pitiful remnant of their armies had staggered over a year ago, in the spring, propelled to safety by Hugh's magic. A spike of dread crippled her heart. Certainly they had escaped John Ironhead's army, but they had not yet escaped the full consequences of letting a man accused of sorcery harness a most dangerous magic, one long ago condemned by the church, to help them. She could not erase from her mind's eye the sight of the daimone Hugh had bound.

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