for the past six days , queen firalda had woken in the dead of night , drenched in sweat , her heart hammering and her mind overflowing with awful , vivid dreams in which fantyr , her beloved son , was murdered in the most hideous ways : stabbed in the mouth with a sword , burned alive , and even , once , most horribly , roasted on a spit like a pig , while a fat , vile man tore off chunks of his poor flesh and ate them .