Night Blooming (77 page)

“I’ll do it,” said Rorthger. “When you’re through.”

“All right,” said Rakoczy, and went on working. “I want to braid the mules’ manes, to keep them from worse tangles. We’ll be into the woods shortly, and they’ll have brambles and branches to snare knots in their manes.”

“Do you have thongs enough to tie them?” Rorthger spread the reeds he had brought; in the nets the ducks still struggled.

“I believe so.” He smeared wool-fat into the mane and forelock, then used a wooden comb to spread it through the hair. “One more to go.” He did the same for the jenny-mule’s tail.

“All right,” said Rorthger. “The peasants in the hamlet must be waking.”

“I heard the cows, and the cock,” said Rakoczy. “Milking will be first, and that will take a bit of time. When that’s done, they’ll go out into the fields. We have a little time yet.” He moved on to the last mule and gave him a good brushing.

“A pity we had to leave Livius behind,” said Rorthger, watching Rakoczy closely. “He would have assured us a welcome at any fisc.”

“But he would be remembered and he was wanted by Great Karl, who would have begrudged our taking him.” Rakoczy continued to ply his brush. “That and the catch-colt—such a sturdy horse, and sweet-tempered.”

“For the Emperor’s daughters to ride,” said Rorthger, and before Rakoczy could say anything more, changed the subject. “We’re all hungry.”

Rakoczy put his brush aside and reached for the wooden comb. “As soon as I am finished with this, I’ll deal with the ducks.”

Rorthger nodded. “I could use a good meal.”

“So could I,” Rakoczy admitted candidly. “But ducks will have to suffice for now.” He combed wool-fat through the jackmule’s mane. “I am sorry I couldn’t do anything to mitigate what became of Gynethe Mehaut,” he said in an under-voice. “I would have liked to have spared her suffering; she has had more than she should have done long before now.”

“Anything you might have done would have made her situation worse,” said Rorthger. “Think of Nicoris. She didn’t—”

“She didn’t want to live as a vampire must, and neither would Gynethe Mehaut. I know. And your point is well-taken.” He stopped grooming and put the brushes and the jar of wool-fat away. “Give me the ducks. I’ll do the camphor wraps while you eat.”

Rorthger lifted the two nets with their protesting contents. “Here they are.”

“I won’t take long,” Rakoczy assured him, and went to the far corner of the chapel to take what he needed as privately as he could. When he came back to Rorthger a short time later, the two ducks were silent and limp; Rorthger took them and went to work with his knife, removing the skin so that he could eat the raw flesh. When he was finished, Rakoczy had completed wrapping their animals’ legs and was nearly done braiding the mules’ manes. “Are you going to rest?”

“I think it would be prudent, don’t you?” Rakoczy asked. “We have a long way to go to Wendish territory, and not many days to get there. The King’s passagius doesn’t allow us much time to reach the frontier, and I don’t want to try to extend its grant of passage.”

“Do you think he intended that you shouldn’t get away?” Rorthger asked as he cut away his first long strip of succulent duck.

“I would like to think that he would not be so petty as that, but I cannot be certain,” said Rakoczy slowly. He tied his last small braid with a short leather thong and finally put his things away. “I will be glad of a short rest, I admit.”

“But you’re not well-fed,” said Rorthger.

“And I will not be for a while,” Rakoczy agreed. “Still, I can’t see any advantage in trying to find a woman to visit in her sleep—not here, and not at Fulda in the Travelers’ Hall.” The famous monastery was a day ahead of them. “The cubicula are watched.”

“Then one of the slaves?” Rorthger suggested.

“No. I will take nothing from slaves. They have lost too much already.” He frowned, remembering his time with the Emir’s son.

Rorthger knew better than to argue, but he could not keep from fretting as he ate the two ducks; he paid no attention to Rakoczy when he fetched his bedroll from the pack-saddle and opened it on the rough stones of the chapel floor. “Rest well,” he said as Rakoczy stretched out on the bedroll. “I’ll take care of the horses and mules,” he said as he finished his meal.

“Thank you,” Rakoczy said, lying back on the thin layer of his native earth.

After he disposed of the duck bones and skin in a hastily dug hole, Rorthger took their pail and went out to get water for each of their animals in turn. On his fifth trip to the stream, he saw a young boy staring at him from the other side of the water, eyes wide and face showing worried astonishment. Keeping the lad in his view, Rorthger filled the pail and went back to the chapel, noticing with relief that Rakoczy had not yet fallen into the stupor that passed for sleep among vampires. “I was seen.”

“By whom?” Rakoczy asked.

“A child.” Rorthger held the pail for the third mule.

“Boy or girl?” Rakoczy had pushed up onto his elbow and was watching Rorthger closely.

“A boy,” said Rorthger. “About six or seven.”

Rakoczy frowned. “Did he speak to you?”

“No. He gaped at me, and fretted,” said Rorthger. “He might have seen a haunt.”

“You said nothing?” Rakoczy asked, sitting all the way up.

“Of course not. He was alarmed enough without that.” Rorthger shook his head. “He was still standing there, watching me, when I came back here.”

“That’s something,” said Rakoczy. “If he is apprehensive, it may buy us some time.” He rose and began to wrap up his bedroll. “I’ll help you saddle up.”

“Do you mean you intend to leave?” Rorthger stared at him. “The animals haven’t all been watered yet.”

“We’ll do it on the road,” said Rakoczy. “Give the others a little of what’s in that pail.”

Rorthger shook his head. “They’re tired.”

“Then we’ll go slowly.” Rakoczy tied his bedroll to the pack-saddle again.

“Won’t the passagius give you the right to rest here, if anyone questions you?” Rorthger asked.

“If there is someone in that village who knows what a passagius is, which I doubt, and someone who can read it, which is unlikely, then it might help us, but under the circumstances, it makes more sense to get away while we can.” He took a saddle-pad and put it on the grey he had been leading. “Ride the remounts. We’ll remain at Fulda for two days, to let the animals recover.”

“And if the Great Pox is there?” Rorthger took the pail to the next mule. “These animals are wearied already.”

“So are you, and I,” said Rakoczy, hefting the saddle onto the gelding’s back. “We should be away as quickly as possible.”

“Why do you expect trouble?” Rorthger demanded as he set the pail aside.

“Because this place is a shrine and we are strangers. Our presence defiles this chapel, or so the peasants are likely to think. There is no church in the village, nor is a monastery or convent near-by, so this is their sacred place and if they are like most Frankish peasants, they will defend it from outsiders.” He secured the girth and began to buckle on the breast-collar.

“This isn’t Csimenae’s land, and there are no cups of horses’ blood on the altar,” Rorthger pointed out. “You don’t know these people will be as … ferocious as she has been.”

“Her people aren’t the only ones who guard their shrines.” Rakoczy put the next saddle-pad on the jack-mule standing beside his horse. “I’ll remove the wraps before we go. I want them to get as much benefit as they can from them.”

“Do you think the peasants will come here?” Rorthger began to saddle his red-speckled roan. “I’ll lead the copper-dun, as you like.”

“It’s easier on the horses.” He lifted the laden pack-saddle with an ease that would have astonished anyone but Rorthger or Olivia; he settled it on the mule’s back and reached under for the girth. “Are the nose-bags empty? These two are.”

“Yes,” said Rorthger. “They’re hungry as well as tired.”

“I’ll see if we can purchase some apples along the way, for a treat.” He tightened the girth and then the breast-collar. “I want to be away from here as soon as possible.”

Rorthger kept his thoughts to himself, but he was convinced that Rakoczy was being more cautious than necessary. He kept on with his work; although he sensed Rakoczy’s urgency, he did not feel the same pressure within himself. Still, his long centuries with Rakoczy had taught him to respect his master’s intuitions. When he finished saddling the pack-mules, he handed a bridle to Rakoczy and kept one for himself as he removed nose-bags from all the animals. Rakoczy busied himself taking off the leg-wraps and storing them in the sack on the fourth mule’s saddle while Rorthger gathered up the leads and handed three of them to Rakoczy, keeping four for himself. “Are you ready?” He swung up into the saddle as Rakoczy pushed the door open before mounting.

“Yes. And in good time,” said Rakoczy. “A pity we didn’t have time to sweep out the bedding, but…” He gathered up the reins and the leads and started toward the road. The sun was half-way up the sky, brilliant as brass in the cerulean expanse; the day was turning hot already.

They had gone less than a thousand paces when they came upon a group of peasants, many armed with pitchforks and sickles, coming toward them; four of the men in the lead had badly scarred faces and the wan look of those recovering from the Great Pox. Rakoczy pulled his horses and mules to the side of the road and allowed the people to pass. He did not expect any of the peasants to speak, for it was not acceptable for peasants to address a hobu without permission. By moving off the road he had been more generous than most Franks would be. He signaled to Rorthger to keep behind him.

When the peasants had passed, Rorthger said, “We should have left sooner.”

“We went as quickly as we could,” said Rakoczy. “At least we are on the road. And now, I think, it would be wise to pick up our pace for a while. The peasants will come back in a short while and we should be gone.”

“Do you think they would detain a hobu and his servant?” Rorthger inquired.

“Do you think they would not? Who knows where we are?” Rakoczy pushed his gelding to a jog-trot, and reluctantly, the mules jogged after, craning their necks as the leads pulled on their halters.

Rorthger kicked his speckled roan to a jog and followed after Rakoczy and his remount and mules. By noon they were into the next valley and on a better road, leading to the monastery and town of Fulda. There were other travelers around them now, some of them showing the ravages of the Great Pox; a wagon drawn by goats held half-a-dozen children—orphans by the look of them—and behind them came a carpentum loaded with slaves bound for the monastery; a monk led the oxen.

“There’s supposed to be a fair in the town,” said a merchant from Longobardia, his clothes identifying him as much as his language. He had dared to speak to Rakoczy because his carrucum was laden with wine-casks bound for the table of the Bishop or the Abbott.

“Even with the Great Pox?” Rorthger said. “I would think most people wouldn’t dare to enter the town.” He spoke off handedly as if he thought that would be the end of their talk, but the merchant beamed at him and fell in beside him on the road.

“You haven’t lost a summer’s worth of selling, as I have, and many of the peasants have, as well. They must have a market or face a hard, hard winter. After the Great Pox, who can blame them for wanting to bring what goods and wares they can, for trading and for a copper or two, or a tun of ale for a wheel of cheese. The Great Pox has taken a toll on us all. My own escort was struck, and when two men took the fever the other two refused to go on, so I was forced to journey alone or fail the Bishop.” The merchant laughed with a kind of whimsy that was eloquent of years of just such troubles. “The Bishop wants his wine. That’s something I may be sure of. The rest is in the hands of God and Fortune.”

“And do you know this Bishop?” Rorthger asked, knowing it was expected of him.

“Of old, of old. He is Flodoard, a distant kinsman of Karl-lo-Magne himself. I have brought him wine for fourteen years, and he has never found a faulty barrel among my wares. He has even served some to the Emperor himself, and been praised for its quality. Well, he would do, with his family bond and Fulda such a prize. He has to show his gratitude.” The merchant grinned. “I am Urtius, from Pavia. It’s a pleasure to have someone to talk to.”

“Urtius,” said Rorthger. “I am the camerarius of Comes Sant’ Germainius, my master.” He could see the dubiety in the merchant’s face but decided to ignore it.

“He doesn’t look like much, black as a crow, and no jewels,” said Urtius. “But what man travels in jewels if he has no soldiers to guard him?” He chuckled fulsomely. “The cloth of his gonelle is high quality, I can see that for myself, and his horses are from good lines—any fool must know it.” He arched his brows speculatively, his large, fleshy features creasing into an obsequious grin.

“It is suitable to his rank,” said Rorthger in a tone that would have put off most men.

But Urtius from Pavia was not easily discouraged. “A man of some influence, is he? Your master?”

“He is highly esteemed by Great Karl; he has done many things for him, and been thanked, though he isn’t a Frank,” said Rorthger, and in the next instant wished he had bit his tongue, for he saw Urtius’ small bright eyes grow shiny.

“He is probably nothing but a faithless Bishop,” said Urtius. “He has been sent away from his bishopric.” He licked his lips eagerly.

“He is a Magnatus,” said Rorthger, “and a man of learning.”

“But not in the Church? Is he a Jew?” Urtius cocked his head. “I do business with Rindarus, the Jew. He is a great friend of the Bishop here.”

“My master is faithful to the teaching of his fathers,” said Rorthger.

“But you said the Comes isn’t a Frank, didn’t you?” Urtius feigned surprise. “He doesn’t have the look of it, with dark hair and eyes. Was his mother from Hispania?”

“No, he isn’t a Frank. That is why he was chosen for this errand. It would be wise for you to keep in mind that the journey we undertake is for the Emperor.” Rorthger could see that Urtius was already anticipating boasting of this encounter, and perhaps enlarging upon it. “Keep in mind that secrecy is required for the task my master is charged with to succeed.”