Night Blooming (43 page)

“It could be putting you into danger in the King’s stead,” said Vulfoald. “Why else would he send a foreigner to Roma?”

“Perhaps because I know the Roman Court,” said Rakoczy, and continued his account. “You will find justice and succor at my villa, in the person of my servant Rorthger, who has been my deputy in the past.”

“He’s also a foreigner,” said Vulfoald. “But we know him.”

“That you do,” Rakoczy agreed at once. “Until I return, you may rely upon him.”

Vulfoald held up his hands. “We will. But only if we cannot deal with our own, or if we must face outsiders.” He indicated the coins Rakoczy had given him. “We will use this at market, but only for those things we cannot trade to get.”

“That is all I ask,” said Rakoczy, and continued telling the villagers how long he supposed he would be gone.

Vulfoald ducked his head as soon as Rakoczy finished. “We’ll do as you say, when our needs are beyond the village.” He coughed. “We caught an outlaw, some months back. He was injured. He and his companions had been plundering small crofts about here. We killed him for what he had done.”

Rakoczy considered his response carefully. “In future, it would be better if you bring such criminals to my Court. If you have transgressors within your village, you may deal with them, but if they are from beyond, it is more suitable to allow my Court to—”

“Those outlaws have money enough to bribe any judge. We have suffered the injury, and we will be avenged.” Vulfoald folded his arms. “In other things, we will honor your order, but in this, we must have vengeance, or we will be left to endure more impositions.”

“I would rather you do, not do so, but as I will not be here…” He looked over at Rorthger. “What do you think?”

“I think that if I hear of vengeance being claimed here that I will have to demand someone answer for it.” Rorthger directed his gaze at Vulfoald. “And if I learn that a killing was concealed, I must report it to the King, and you know what Great Karl will demand.”

“All the men of the village will be taken as slaves, and all the women as whores. The children will be sold for slaves, and our stock will be given to the Magnatus,” said Vulfoald, and spat into the fire.

“Yes. And if I do not uphold the King’s Law, I will have to answer for it,” said Rakoczy, “as will my servant.”

“You can stay in Roma if you don’t want to answer to the King. The Pope will shield you,” said Vulfoald.

“Not this Pope,” Rorthger countered. “This Pope owes his life to Great Karl.”

Rakoczy kept silent knowing he could not say anything that would be acceptable. Finally he raised his hand. “I will come back, so long as I am … alive.”

Vulfoald studied him. “I am inclined to believe you, for now. You have kept your vows before,” he conceded.

“And I will do so again,” Rakoczy told him.

Again Vulfoald studied him. “All right. We will do as you tell us, foreigner.”

“Magnatus,” Rorthger corrected.

“Magnatus,” Vulfoald repeated. He lowered his head. “It was good of you to give us silver.”

Rakoczy nodded his acknowledgment and said, “Resume your meal. I rely upon you to hold to your Word as I will to mine.” With that, he rode out of the village, knowing Rorthger was close behind him.

“Vulfoald does not trust you,” Rorthger remarked once they were past the limits of the fenced land.

“No, he does not; I doubt he trusts anyone,” Rakoczy said, putting his grey on the narrow road back to his villa.

“He could betray you to outlaws,” Rorthger added.

“He could, but he won’t—it would wound his pride,” Rakoczy responded.

“He may have done it before,” Rorthger said. “Someone told those outlaws we were on the road, and where we were going.”

“Yes, but it didn’t have to be Vulfoald,” Rakoczy said.

“You’re inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Rorthger said in a tone that suggested his disapproval.

“Perhaps that’s because I would like him to do the same for me,” Rakoczy said, and went on in a steady manner. “He may be a scoundrel, and he may have parlayed with outlaws, but he has taken my coin, and that changes things.”

“Yes. It makes him want more from you,” Rorthger warned, and was content to ride the rest of the way in silence.

They reached the villa some time after dark, their only incident being a brief encounter with a flock of sheep that had escaped from their fold. They were met by Bufilio and Amolon, who were keeping watch at the gate for the Magnatus’ return.

“We must have a word with you, Magnatus,” said Amolon as he reverenced Rakoczy.

“Can’t it wait? My horse needs a good brushing and a measure of oats for his work today.” Rakoczy dismounted and started to walk toward the stables, his pace brisk as if he had not been riding all day, his grey gelding walked slowly behind him, his pace slowed by fatigue.

Bufilio was clearly nervous, tugging at his cuculla and camisa as if he were a child caught in mischief. He coughed. “Magnatus, you must hear us. It is urgent.”

Rakoczy stopped and turned to his mansionarius. “What is it, Bufilio?”

“Amolon discovered the theft; I saw the thief flee. We knew you had to be told.” He shook his head as if unwilling to impart any more bad news without permission.

“Told what?” Rorthger demanded as he dismounted. “What is so wrong that you meet us at the gate with your tidings?”

Rakoczy held up his hand and shouted for Hradbert. “Mariscalcus! Come get these horses!” He led his grey around the well in the courtyard, saying, “Until he is groomed, he needs to be kept moving.”

Rorthger followed after him, leading his bay at a brisk walk. “This gelding needs to have his shoes checked; his on-side rear shoe is clicking.” He turned to Rakoczy. “If Hradbert is at comestus, then I’ll walk the horses until they are claimed for grooming. You go with Amolon and Bufilio.”

“Whatever they have to say, you should hear with me,” said Rakoczy, unwilling to relinquish his reins. “I’ll wait until you can be with me.”

“You may not want Rorthger to know—” Amolon began, only to be cut off.

“Rorthger will have to serve in my stead. He must know everything I do,” said Rakoczy. “If you cannot tell him, then you must not tell me.”

Amolon ducked his head. “Very well.” He was about to withdraw when Hradbert came bustling up, wiping his hands on a square of cloth. “I didn’t realize you were back, Magnatus,” he said to Rakoczy. “I ask your pardon. I should have met you at the gate when you arrived.” He held out his hands for the reins.

“A moment,” Rorthger said, and told Hradbert about the loose shoe. “They must have oats tonight, and be given a day to pasture so that they may rest.”

“I will do so,” said Hradbert, taking the horses and leading them away.

“Now,” said Rakoczy to Bufilio, “what did you need to say to me?”

“Here? In the courtyard?” Bufilio looked shocked at the very idea.

“Yes. In the courtyard. No one can approach us without being seen,” Rakoczy said. “In the house, it is possible for any person to listen, if he isn’t noisy. Tell me what troubles you.”

“It is Waifar,” said Amolon, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“What about Waifar?” Rakoczy asked.

“He is gone,” said Bufilio. “I saw him leave. He had a sack slung over his shoulder, and he went out by the gate by the kitchen, where no one was watching.”

“You were watching,” Rakoczy pointed out.

“But I was there because I had been talking to my uncle. I was not stationed there as a guard,” he said. “I saw him go, and it struck me as odd that he would leave in such a manner.”

“And what manner was that?” Rakoczy asked, noticing how apprehensive Bufilio had become.

“Furtive,” said the mansionarius. “He slipped away as if he feared pursuit.”

“That may be his habit,” Rakoczy said. “He has been an outlaw and must have studied how to move stealthily.”

“Then it is well-learned,” said Amolon. “I found that your small chest in your book room—the carved one that contained your jewels?—was empty. The mansionarius for the ground floor told me that Waifar had been in your book room only a short time before.”

Rorthger whispered a curse in Latin. “That is how he thanks you for saving his life.”

“I never expected thanks,” said Rakoczy, a sardonic lift to his fine brows.

“Just as well,” said Rorthger, who knew of how genially obdurate Rakoczy could be. “Are you sure he is the one who took the jewels? Are you certain they are gone?”

“Yes,” said Amolon, cowering in expectation of a beating. “I would have stopped him had I known what he had done.”

“I am certain you would,” said Rakoczy. “I’m not holding you responsible, nor you, Bufilio. If anyone is to blame, it is I, myself.” He glanced at Rorthger and saw his disapproving expression. “You cautioned me, and I didn’t heed you.”

“But your jewels are your fortune,” said Amolon, daring to speak in spite of his fear.

Rakoczy nodded. “That they are. And a man in my position must have some wealth of his own beyond what the King grants him.” He took a deep breath. “So I suppose I will have to make more of them.” He managed a quick, enigmatic smile.

“What do you mean?” Amolon gasped; he looked about guiltily.

“Well, it is one of the things that is whispered about me among the servants, is it not? That I make jewels?” Rakoczy asked, his manner becoming remote. With Bufilio and Amolon staring at him, he went into the house, leaving Rorthger to explain his remark.

T
EXT OF A LETTER FROM
B
ISHOP
I
SO AT
S
ANT’
S
TEPHEN
P
ROMARTYR IN
T
RIER TO
B
ISHOP
F
RECULF AT THE
R
OYAL
R
ESIDENCE OF
Q
UIERZY, CARRIED BY MISSI DOMINICI.

Amen

To the Sublime Bishop Freculf currently residing at Quierzy at the behest of Great Karlus, King of the Franks, the earnest greetings of Bishop Iso at the church of Sant’ Stephen Promartyr in Trier on this, the beginning of the Paschal Season in the Pope’s year 800.

Good Bishop, surely you must see that your continuing defense of the Pale Woman Gynethe Mehaut is proving to be a most contemptible stance for so worthy a Churchman as you have shown yourself to be in years past. I can only conclude that this creature has bewitched you with the power gained by her bleeding hands and her red eyes. You seem unaware of the risk she imposes upon you, and for that reason, if no other, I am inclined to pray for your deliverance from her influence; I have dreamed again of her malignity, and the disaster she is capable of bringing to all Christendom through her most reprehensible blasphemies, which you mistake for blessings.

How is it that I cannot persuade you to turn away from her and make it plain to all good Christians that she is a snare and a deception? How else is it possible for a woman—the instrument of Adam’s Fall—to bear the wounds of Christ but that she intends to pervert the Sacrifice Our Savior made for us? Say whatever you will, this woman is clearly the agent of the Anti-Christ, if not, in fact, the Anti-Christ herself. How could she be anything benign with such eyes?

I implore you to abandon your defense of her, or if you will not, that you will remain in Franksland and not follow the Court to Roma. Without your advocacy, the Pope is certain to find that she is the demonic presence I know her to be. If you insist on pursuing your ill-conceived apology for her, you may yet throw the Church into disorder that will serve no purpose but to further weaken the position of the Pope and the Roman Church, which may well lead to the capitulation to the Byzantines and the end of Salvation.

If you cannot concede that your course may lead to debauchery, ruin, and unspeakable sin, then it can only be that the evil of that Pale Woman has overtaken you, and when it is shown that she is a snare to all the faithful, you may have to share her fate. Before you put yourself into any greater danger, I beg you to, think on these possibilities and pray for the guidance you have not had thus far. As it is the Paschal Season, I urge you to remember His Death and His Resurrection, and in such contemplation, I trust that God will give you His Light to lead you from the darkness you have embraced in this Pale Woman. If you cannot learn from the Passion of Christ, then you must truly be lost to our faith. If that should be the case, then I will supplicate for your removal and excommunication, which are abhorrent to me.

In the Name of God and His Son, forsake the cause you have made of this woman before you are the first and most lamentable of her victims. Her penitence is a ruse, and her worship contaminates everything she touches. Renounce your adherence to her and leave her to the Pope—so I pray.

Iso,

Bishop and Brother in Christ

Chapter Two

A
MONG THE SIX SOLDIERS WHO ARRIVED
with their leader at Rakoczy’s villa to escort him were his own patroned men: Usuard, son of Ansgar, and Theubert of Sant’ Cyricus brought up the rear of the armed men who would accompany Rakoczy and Gynethe Mehaut to Roma; this was intended as a compliment to Rakoczy, for the King rarely permitted his Court to be guarded by patroned soldiers, for fear of creating a potential insurrection. The soldiers rode in at mid-afternoon and were greeted by Rorthger, who ordered beer and bread for them, along with rounds of cheese. “In the dining hall, as proper guests.” It was the only proper way to greet men of rank who had been on the road, and Rorthger had been prepared to give them the expected reception for the last two days.

“A handsome offering,” said the escort leader Einshere, for once meaning it rather than simply following the forms demanded by custom; his fourteen years of soldiering had taught him to appreciate true hospitality. He signaled his men to dismount and permit their horses to be led away to the barn for a grooming and oats. “We will leave at dawn tomorrow,” he shouted to Hradbert and the grooms. “See they are fed again at Matins. You must hear the bell at Sant’ Cyricus. Rise with it, and give oats with hay.”