In the Ruins

Page 94

He shook his head, bewildered by her comment. The captain’s daughter had come as close as she dared to stare at Baldwin, but her father drew her back with a look that might scar.
“Truth rises with the phoenix,” said Constance.
He blushed. “Oh. That. It’s true I made up words to pass the time, and set them to a melody I liked to sing. It was an easy way to help folk remember the phoenix.”
“Then it’s true, for surely you have a form most like to the angels.” She bowed her head.
Baldwin looked up at Ivar and mouthed the words, “What’s true?”
Ivar could only shrug.
She raised a hand and by this means brought silence to the assembly crowded around to hear. “A great evil has fallen upon us. Famine, sickness, war, and dissension plague us. God is angry, yet She has not forsaken us as we have feared. Many here have heard the stories of God’s grace.”
“Truth rises with the phoenix!” cried a woman from the back, and other voices echoed her.
“Do not fear the days to come,” said the biscop as folk around her knelt. “Her glory has come down to us out of the heavens and casts its brilliance over the Earth. If we will only believe, then we will be safe. God will answer us in our time of trouble, grant our every desire, fulfill our every plan. She sends us help from her sanctuary.” She raised Baldwin to his feet as he smiled pliantly with that look of beautiful incomprehension that in Quedlinhame had so charmed his praeceptors. “A holy one walks among us.”
Behind Ivar, Hathumod burst into tears.
5
“YOUR Excellency! I pray you, forgive us for disturbing you. Come quickly, Your Excellency!”
The servant’s voice was shrill with a panic that roused Antonia out of a restful sleep. She grunted and slapped a hand over her eyes to shut out the flicker of lamplight as the clumsy servant leaned over her and the sting of oily smoke made her cough.
“Your Excellency!”
“I have woken.”
The fool woman remained poised there, as stupid as a cow. “Come quickly.”
In the adjoining room, little Berengaria began to wail as Mathilda’s shrieks filled the air. The servant groaned and fled, leaving Antonia to rise in her shift and grope her way through the dark room to the opened door that led from one chamber into the other. There was, mercifully, lamplight, and a trio of servants hastily shoving a heavy table out of the way.
Young Mathilda was spinning, arms straight out and rigid, hands in fists. “Get away, you beast! It has red eyes! Why can’t anyone else see them?” She sobbed gustily.
“Your Highness, if you will only sit down—”
“Shan’t! You’re trying to kill me! Just like Mama and Papa! They’re never coming! You did it! You did it!”
She swung wildly, battering her attendants. They skittered back to circle as nervously as a pack of dogs waiting to have a stone thrown at them.
One of the double doors leading out into the courtyard creaked open and Captain Falco slipped in. He was dressed, armed, and alert. He slept athwart the doors on the pavement outside, but despite his constant faithful presence and the quiet surroundings in Novomo where they had bided many weeks now, Mathilda still suffered from night terrors.
“I hate you! I hate you!” she shouted, but it was not clear whom she hated, or what she feared.
“Your Highness,” ventured Captain Falco.
“Go away! Go! Go!” She stamped her feet over and over, drumming them on the floor, and flailed with her arms as she screamed and screamed. It was as if she was possessed by a demon.
“Your Highness!” said Antonia sternly.
A nursemaid had caught up Berengaria, who could not cry for long before starting to cough, and bent her efforts to soothing the little one.
“Take her into my chamber,” said Antonia. “Get her away from her sister! You should have done it at once, when you saw the fit coming on.”
The nursemaid whimpered, and started for the other door, but Mathilda leaped forward and grabbed at her shift.
“No! You shan’t steal her away! She’s mine!”
Berengaria set up a wail that at once broke into racking coughs, and the child was wheezing and gasping for breath as Mathilda began to jump up and down shrieking with each leap, completely out of control.
“Captain Falco! You must restrain her!”
He hesitated. He hated to do it. He knew the princess fought him, and despised him, although he had never done one thing to harm her. Indeed, his softness had done the most damage, no doubt. A stern hand must control a hysterical child.