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“Or even two. That would be a fine philosophical question for the skopos’ schola, would it not?”
“No doubt St. Peter the Geometer would have something to say on the question of how many points make up a circle,” said Ruoda.
“I will let you lead the discussion, Sister,” said Rosvita with another smile. Ruoda had the grace to blush, yet Rosvita did not like to scold the young clerics under her supervision for loving their learning a little too much. Age humbled one soon enough, as she knew from her aching back and the headache still afflicting her, a last vestige of the summer fever. Both Heriburg and Ruoda had gotten sick, but they had recovered so very quickly; let them believe that youth and rude good health would protect them a little longer. The world would teach them otherwise soon enough.
Fortunatus crossed abruptly to the window, leaning out as if to make sure no birds had come to perch on the sill to listen. At last, he turned back. “The little dove had a spoken message for you as well, Sister. I am to meet her tomorrow after Vigils to bring her your answer.”
“Can she not come to me?”
“She said she feared she had already drawn attention to herself by asking after you. I know not what she is afraid of, but I swore to honor her request. She seemed to find me trustworthy.”
Rosvita smiled. “Do not look so downcast, Brother Fortunatus. Good behavior has quite ruined your reputation as a reprobate, but I am sure you will recover in time.” Ruoda giggled. When Fortunatus had chuckled, even if weakly, she went on. “Pray tell me what message Mother Obligatia has sent.”
“A puzzling one, to be sure. A woman seeking refuge has come to the convent, where she remains for now in the guesthouse. She wishes to be admitted into the convent as a nun. She calls herself Sister Venia and says she took part of her education at the schola in Mainni and part of it at St. Hillary’s in Karrone. By her accent and bearing, the good mother believes she is a woman of noble background, either from southern Varre or from the kingdom of Karrone. She seems well educated and familiar with the skopos’ palace. The good mother wishes to know if you know aught of her. She is an old woman, kindly, unaccustomed to physical labor but very learned.”
“I know of no such woman.” She glanced at the two girls, who merely shrugged. They had come south with Rosvita and the king and knew even less than she did. “Was there anything more?”
“That is all the girl told me. Truly, Sister Rosvita, I wonder that Mother Obligatia would not welcome more dedicated nuns. Her convent was dwindling. It must not be easy to lure novices to such an inhospitable place.”
“Alas, that we must all be suspicious in troubled times. I tell you truly, I am hesitant even to ask here in the palace, among the clerics, for fear that I should, like Paloma, draw attention to myself.”
“We could ask,” said Ruoda. “All the elegant Aostan clerics think we are hopeless Wendish barbarians anyway. If we’re careful, no one will think anything of our questions.”
“Especially if a question about the existence of Sister Venia is only one among many,” murmured Heriburg. For such a tidy, quiet soul, she manifested a startlingly roguish gleam in her eyes now and again.
Rosvita’s father, Count Harl, had trained his most spirited hounds that way: by giving them a little more freedom with each lesson rather than beating them into submission. “Very well, but do not—”
The door opened without warning. Rosvita slapped her hands down over the parchment, although truly it was vain to attempt to hide it. Aurea entered carrying a tray of bread and wine. Her face was flushed, as though she had been running.
“My lady! There’s a presbyter here from Lord Hugh. You’re to go at once to attend the queen.” She began to set the tray down on the table but pulled up short, seeing the parchment.
Rosvita rolled it up. “No word of this to anyone, Aurea. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my lady.” She asked no questions where they were not wanted. That was one reason Rosvita had kept her in her service for so many months.
“Fortunatus, I must ask you to keep this with you for a little longer.” She handed him the rolled-up parchment. After a pause, he tucked it up his sleeve. “Go and see what is keeping Ingeld and Eudes.” As he left, she seated herself again while Aurea poured wine into her silver cup and sliced off a hank of bread. Her stomach growled for the first time in days. “Let him in, Ruoda.”
Lord Hugh’s messenger was a stout, diffident presbyter, older than Rosvita, with a placid manner and neat hands. “Sister Rosvita, the queen requests your presence.” He waited a moment, then went on in his slow way, which made it easy to understand him. “It gladdens my heart to see you eating, Sister. Everyone knew how ill the summer fever took you. It’s always northerners who take it hardest, it seems.”
“I thank you, Brother—Petrus, is it not?”
“You are kind to remember me, my lady.”
Was Hugh kind to use a senior presbyter as his errand boy, as if Petrus were no better than a common steward? Or was he only showing Rosvita the respect he felt she deserved because of her status as one of Henry’s cherished counselors?
“Let me but finish, Brother Petrus.”
The meal was quickly taken, shared with the young clerics and with Aurea, who finished up anything left over. Normally Rosvita might not break her fast until after the service of Sext, but with illness she knew she needed to eat more frequently in order to gain back her strength. Girls, of course, would eat whenever they could. Petrus had the habit of stillness. With folded hands, he bowed his head and shuttered his eyes. His lips moved in a silent prayer. Unaccountably she felt needled by his calm piety. Why should she not trust Hugh? He had shown nothing but complete loyalty both to his king and to God in the weeks since they had arrived in Aosta. In truth, some said—although never within Hugh’s hearing—that Henry and Adelheid would have faced far more resistance had Hugh not quelled Ironhead’s mercenary troops.
Fortunatus arrived with the rest of her retinue in tow: timid Gerwita, serious Eudes, the Varingian brothers Jehan and Jerome, and Ingeld, who was very young but recommended particularly by Biscop Constance herself. Bolstered by their presence, like a noble lady with picked warriors at her back, she let Petrus escort her through the Hall of the Animals and outside along an arcade surmounted by a procession of saints, each one lovingly carved into the marble.
Hugh received them outside the queen’s apartments. “I pray you, Sister Rosvita, be of good cheer. We have news from Wendar that comes ill today, with Princess Mathilda still feverish.”
The men had to wait outside. Not even Hugh entered the queen’s private apartments. Rosvita found Adelheid still seated in bed while one of her servingwomen finished plaiting her wealth of dark hair, tying off the end of the braid with a gold ribbon. A net of gold wire interlaced with tiny sapphires dressed her hair.
Two noblewomen had been allowed to sit on stools beside the bed. Rosvita recognized the two Gislas, neighbors in the region of Ivria. They had obviously been arguing.
“This cannot go on,” Adelheid was saying firmly. “Jinna pirates have attacked the coast thrice now, this summer, and because you two are feuding over a plot of land, no one can join together for long enough to end the raids.”
