“As we travel, we will discuss what choices we have,” Constance agreed. She paused and turned her head as though seeking something.
The soft light cast its muted glamour over the clearing. Horses grazed at the sparse grass. They were being led in groups to water at the nearby stream, heard as a quiet laughter beneath the constant noise of men walking, talking, hammering a stronger axle into one of the carts, and, here and there, singing.
“I woke at midnight in the deep wood
I woke at midnight when the moon was new
There I saw a kindling fire
A bright fire!
Truth rises with the phoenix.
So spoke the holy one:
Truth rises with the phoenix.”
“What song is this?” Ivar whispered to Sigfrid, who sat cross-legged beside him with his bony hands folded in his lap and his thin face composed and calm.
“I’ve not heard those words before,” said Sigfrid, “but I know the melody well enough.” He hummed along, picking up the refrain at once.
“Truth rises with the phoenix,” echoed Ivar. Wind rippled, bringing a spatter of rain. He wiped his eyes as the mizzle shushed away into the trees. Above the chatter of men and the clatter of branches, he heard the tramp and rumble of an approaching procession.
Naturally, Baldwin rode at the front on a handsome roan mare. His seat was matchless. Even his clerical robes, cut for riding, fell in pleasing folds and layers about his legs and was swept up in back to cover his mount’s flanks. A well-dressed girl of about fourteen rode beside him on a sturdy gelding. She was so dazzled by Baldwin’s attention to her that she did not notice the captain approaching with a frown on his face.
“Louisa! Come at once to pay your respects to the holy biscop.”
Her eyes widened. She startled and touched the linen scarf that mostly covered her dark hair. “Yes, Father. I pray you, Brother Baldwin, excuse me.”
He smiled at her, and she flushed.
“Shameless!” muttered Ivar.
Beside him, Sigfrid chuckled. “You are no different than any of us. Poor Baldwin. Do we truly love him, or only his beauty? Yet he looks well.”
He looked well. He cast his gaze anxiously over the multitude, found what he sought, and smiled so brilliantly at Ivar and Sigfrid that Ivar actually heard murmurs from the followers who with their carts and donkeys and bundles were moving in a sluggish flow into the clearing. Many faces turned to watch the young cleric as he dismounted and pressed through the crowd. Hands reached out to touch his robe, and seemingly unconsciously he brushed his fingers across the foreheads of small children pushed into his path.
Ermanrich whistled under his breath. “You’d think he was a saint the way they treat him.”
“Ivar!” Baldwin surged forward to embrace him, weeping with happiness. “Ai, God! Sigfrid! Ermanrich! Hathumod!” He kissed each of them, tears streaming in a flood of joy.
“You must greet Biscop Constance,” said Ivar, whose temper had sparked with unfathomable annoyance.
“It worked?” Baldwin asked as guilelessly as a child inquires about the ineffable mystery of God. “She is free?”
Biscop Constance approached them, leaning on her staff and assisted by Sister Eligia. “I am free, Brother Baldwin, in no small measure because of the risk you took in Sabella’s court.”
“Baldwin!” Ivar tried to keep his voice to a whisper, but his irritation kept pushing it louder. “It’s not right to make the holy biscop approach you. You should have gone to her first!”
Baldwin dropped to his knees before the biscop. When she extended her hand, he pressed her ring to his lips. His tears wet her hand. Remarkably, she also had tears on her face.
She, too, was blinded by his beauty.
Ivar found himself wiping rain off his face, only it had stopped raining and he had already dried his face once.
“Are you the one?” she asked Baldwin.
“I am Lady Sabella’s seal. I admit to worse things I did. I was her concubine, it’s true, but I’m not proud of my sins, Your Grace.” His face was so open and innocent that it appeared that whatever he had done he had done without malice or forethought.
“We have all done that which displeases God.”
“And God’s mercy has saved us. I have sworn an oath to God, that I will serve Her alone and for the rest of my days, as penance for my sins and in service of Her glory, which has come down to us out of the heavens and casts its brilliance across the Earth.”
Constance examined him closely. “Are you that one I have heard whispers of? The rose among thorns?”