Night Blooming

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Night Blooming Page 32

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro


  The King had picked up his section of goose in his hands and was tearing at the skin with his big, yellow teeth. He stopped, chewed, and said, “If you are going to indulge in a contest of wills, Holiness, you would be well-advised to wait until you know that you can carry the day. If you remain here, all my Bishops will be summoned to vow their continuing allegiance to you, and that will make them eager to accompany you on your return, which will increase your strength beyond your present supporters.”

  Pope Leo thought this over while he used his knife to cut away a section of breast. “You have a very good point, but it isn’t persuasive enough to convince me that it is worthwhile to be gone longer than I must be.”

  “I would never feel I had done my duty to you if I should allow you to leave before you have had the opportunity to solidify your position with the Bishops of Franksland,” Karl-lo-Magne said with feeling. “They will be your staunch defenders if you need them.”

  More fowl was brought in on spits—ducks this time—and they were distributed among the men, a special spit being brought to the High Table. Each person there was given a duck apiece and another tub of butter to rub on the blackened skins.

  When he had drunk more wine, Pope Leo said, “In regard to your Frankish Bishops, I have a request to make.”

  “What would that be?” Karl-lo-Magne asked through a mouthful of hot duck.

  “Fratre Berahtram. He has done me excellent service and I would like to reward him for it, not only because he is deserving, but because he makes a fine example to all the rest of them.” He finished his wine and was nonplussed when Gisela refilled it for him.

  “Oh, yes. He is a most worthy man with a fine reputation. He deserves a bishopric of his own.” The King scowled. “Though Christ alone knows where I shall find one without giving offense to one or another of my Court; they have to defend their—” He broke off. “Wait a moment.” He picked up his honey-wine and drank it down as if it would speed his thoughts. “Wait. There is a place … part of a bishopric, but neglected. The Majore of the central village came to…” He thumped his forehead with the heel of his greasy hand. “What is the name of that place?”

  “What were you planning?” the Pope asked, alarmed at this display.

  “I will split this portion of the bishopric off from the other; they’re far enough apart that it won’t rile the other Bishops. The Bishop rarely goes there, if the peasants were correct in their complaint, and I would think Fratre Berahtram wouldn’t mind traveling a bit for his reward. The Comes doesn’t go there, either, and so I can advance one of the men who have supported me against the Saxons with fiscs that do not encroach on another’s.” He smiled wolfishly and took another bite of duck. “Ambrosius of Solignac has the bishopric, that much I recall. He will not mind giving it up if I advance that bastard of his to a Magnatus. He understands these things.”

  “Is there a monastery for his sedes?” Pope Leo asked, pulling a strip of meat off the duck and popping it into his mouth. “It is hardly a bishopric if he has no sedes.”

  “Oh, yes. It’s proper. It has four villages, as I recall, and at least a monastery.” He drank again; his cup was refilled by the mansionarius. “There’s a nunnery, too, as I—Sant’Yrieix!” he shouted, a spray of wine and half-chewed duck heralding the village. “That’s the place! Sant’ Yrieix. And the others are Cometou Gudi, Sant’ Ianuarius, Sant’ Damasus, and … and … Lacosasse.” He pounded the table with his fist; all those around him stopped eating and stared at him. He shook his head. “It’s nothing to do with you. Go back to your meal!”

  The Pope was at once relieved and dismayed. “Optime, you have frightened your daughters.”

  Karl-lo-Magne laughed, a great rumbling guffaw. “My daughters don’t frighten, Holiness. They have been on campaign with me for all their lives. They have seen the worst and the best of me, and they are not troubled by minor outbursts. Are you?” He looked from Rotruda to Gisela and then to Bertrada. “Well?”

  “You haven’t frightened us since you returned safely,” said Rotruda. “It is your absences that frighten us, not your presence.”

  “There, Holiness, you see? Even my wife knows not to fear me.” He reached out and tweaked her chin, leaving a smear of grease where his thumb had been.

  “It seems to me that some of your fighting men were startled,” said Pope Leo, determined to make his point.

  “That’s because they’re on their mettle with me,” said Karl-lo-Magne proudly. He raised his fist and was answered with shouts and drumming hands. “They are ready to follow me into the mouth of Hell, if that should be what must be.”

  The Pope took another drink of wine. “Then you are more blessed than any King has ever been.”

  “That I am; don’t think I don’t know it,” said Karl-lo-Magne with a trace of smugness. “I thank God in all my prayers for all the good things He has heaped upon me, and I vow to serve Him as His vassal on earth, as I expect to be served by my vassals.” He drank most of his cupful of wine, and then said, “Now. About Sant’ Yrieix. Bishop Ambrosius appointed a priest there, and I would think that as soon as I notify Ambrosius of his change of enrollment, I should send missi dominici to the priest and the Majore, to inform them that they will have a new Bishop, a man of good character who has earned his advancement.” He winked at the Pope. “This is what the villagers wanted, and you know how obdurate peasants can be. I have punished the missi dominici who abused my trust, but I will now be able to make it possible for these peasants to have what they wanted.”

  Pope Leo heard this out with conflicting emotions: he certainly wanted Fratre Berahtram to have a real benefit from all he had done to treat him, but he was wary about the King’s decision being so relentlessly pragmatic; there was no concern for the souls of the peasants and monks and nuns, only a regard for their governance. He lifted his cup. “God will reward you for your labors as they are deserved.”

  Karl-lo-Magne raised his cup in agreement. “Amen, Holiness. May God hear you and answer you with Majesty.” He finished his honey-wine and signaled for more. “All in all, this has been an excellent day, Holiness. Yes. An excellent day.”

  “And say we all Amen,” said the Pope, and as he lifted his cup, he wondered how he would explain his coming change of circumstances to Fratre Berahtram. The one thing he decided he must do was perform the celebration of the monk’s elevation to Bishop before he departed for Roma. But that, he reminded himself, was for later. Now he wanted only to help Great Karlus applaud the latest defeat of the Saxons.

  TEXT OF A LETTER FROM ODILE AT AACHEN TO MAGNATUS RAKOCZY AT HIS FISCS.

  To the most esteemed Magnatus Hiernom Rakoczy on the full moon called the Woodman’s Moon, in the Pope’s year 799, my most sincere greetings.

  The missi dominici who carry this to you also return the books you were kind enough to loan to me in those days when we were lying together. You will agree that I would be in error to keep them now that I have the King’s child growing in my womb. I am so joyous I can hardly find words to express it. I will have another child before I die. And I will not lose all my late husband bestowed upon me. This is the one father my late husband’s family must accept, and receive with pleasure and favor, or risk losing their position of respect at Court They have been promised that the King will do my son honor, and if I give him a daughter, he will arrange a suitable marriage for her, or find a convent where she may be Abba, so that she will not be a burden on me or on my late husband’s kin.

  I am grateful to you for the time we spent together, for through your attention, my worth became apparent to Great Karl. I am also thankful that you did not leave me with child, or I would not be able to present the King with another child. For this and your many considerations you will remain in my prayers for at least two years.

  You must not grieve that I am no longer your mistress; you yourself said that we would not remain together for many years, and you know that I am resigned to our separation, as you must also be.

>   Odile

  Part Two

  HIERNOM RAKOCZY, COMES SANT’ GERMAINIUS

  TEXT OF A LETTER FROM ALCUIN OF YORK AT SANT’ MARTIN AT TOURS TO HIERNOM RAKOCZY, COMES SANT’ GERMAINIUS, AT HIS FISCS NEAR SANT’ CYRICUS AND SANTA JULITTA ON THE STAVELOT ROAD, CARRIED BY CHURCH COURIER.

  To the most excellent Magnatus, Hiernom Rakoczy, on this, the last day of January in the Pope’s year of 800, the greetings of Alcuin of York, Bishop of Sant’ Martin at Tours, of Sant’ Josse, Sant’ Loup, Flavigny, Sens, Ferrieres, and Cormery, with the prayers that this finds you in good health and enjoying the continued favor of Karl-lo-Magne.

  Magnatus, I have taken the liberty of writing to you in order to prepare you for the changes that may soon come upon you. I know Optime is not inclined to allow his people time to prepare for the work he intends for them. I think you would be better served knowing what has recently passed between the King and me in regard to you and your many skills.

  Well do I know that you have been more devoted than most of those Franks who are his kinsmen, and that you have received more envy than thanks for all you have done. Therefore I am going to tell you what the King wishes you next to do: he will send you to Roma, in advance of his going there. He has certain unfinished business with his Holiness which must be smoothed unofficially, and that is the task he intends to wish upon you. At another time he might have sent me on such a mission, but he is now trying to keep the Church from any appearance of dispute as well as giving Pope Leo every opportunity to show his own power so that it will not be assumed that the Pope has become a Frankish puppet and not a Byzantine one, as some of the Cardinal Archbishops continue to hope.

  Since Optime is aware that I am not in favor of his efforts to make himself Emperor, he has permitted me to remove myself from the contention in Roma, which I am grateful to him for granting me to do. The Bishops of Franksland are divided enough for many reasons; I have no desire to provide them with an excuse to be more alienated one from another. So some of my burden will fall on your shoulders. You, as a foreigner, need not uphold the honor of any kin, and this gives you opportunities most of Great Karlus’ Court do not, and cannot have. You may not think this a reason for rejoicing, but I must tell you that you perform a true service when you undertake this mission.

  In addition to all the rest, the King will ask you to escort the Pale Woman, Gynethe Mehaut, to Roma so that the Pope may make a decision in her regard. As you may have been told, after due consideration, it was thought too dangerous to bring her to him while he was still recovering from his wounds, in case her bleeding hands are truly a sign of the Anti-Christ, and therefore sure to be harmful to Pope Leo. In Roma, surrounded by Cardinal Archbishops, the Pope will have fewer reasons to fear Satanic strength than he would have in Paderborn, where he lacks the support of the Cardinal Archbishops. If you are not troubled by her—and I have been informed you are not—then you would spare many clerics, and the young woman as well, the risks that many feel she represents. I hope you will pray on this, and meditate on all she may represent before you agree to escort her, for once she is in your care, you will not be able to walk away from her until she is in Roma, and by then, you may be damned. That would be poor recompense for all you have done, and an unworthy end to your service to the King and Church. If you decide you can endure her company, then God will surely bless your endeavor unless you succumb to the lures of diabolical forces.

  Bear in mind, if you will, that this woman is not like others, and though she appears similar to most, she is apart from humanity, as much as she would be if she were an ape. Do not be deceived. You will have to protect yourself from any malign influences she may have, and it will be your duty to be sure that others are likewise protected. Your escort cannot be snared by her seeming helplessness, or you will not be able to travel safely. If it should be revealed that these wounds and her pale skin are signs of God’s Favor, then all who guide her may count themselves most blessed for the honor of being in her presence for so long as it takes you to escort her.

  The King will provide escort of his own soldiers, which will vouchsafe his protection through all his realm. For that reason, you will not be needing your manservant, who may remain on your fiscs in order to act in your stead as he has done before. The soldiers will not tend to your wants beyond their mandate, but you do not need a servant to look after you at all times as some of the effete Romans do. Be sure to take such belongings as you will need in Roma, including a full ceremonial dalmatica for the coronation Optime is planning for himself. If you would prefer to purchase such garments in Roma, then be sure you take sufficient sums to pay for them; as much as Karl-lo-Magne shuns display in his general life, he insists upon it for ceremonial occasions, and no one is exempt from his requirements, no matter how great the cost may be.

  I hope you will receive this in the spirit in which I intend it, for you have been a most exemplary Magnatus and therefore, in my opinion, deserving of a chance to prepare for the journey you will have to make. You are an experienced traveler, and that is to your credit. I pray that you will find the roads passable and free of bandits and other rogues, but that is in God’s Hands, is it not?

  Alcuin of York, Bishop

  By my own hand

  Chapter One

  RORTHGER SECURED THE STRAP around the second trunk filled with Rakoczy’s native earth and tested it to be sure it would hold. “How soon must you depart?”

  “The escort will be here tomorrow or the day after, if we have no more rain.” He looked around his upper room, the small windows ajar, his athanor still cooling from his night’s work. “There will be gold enough for the both of us for more than a year as soon as I can remove the crucible.”

  “That is all to the good,” said Rorthger. “You will make another tour of the fiscs before you leave?”

  “A cursory one, yes. I’m afraid I have to ask you to come with me, so that the villagers understand that your authority is my authority while I am gone.” He sat on the tall stool and opened an alabaster jar set on the table in front of him. “This is for all manner of stings, bites, and burns. Use it sparingly. And remember, it is no help against the bite of a mad dog.” He stared into the middle distance. “Almost nothing is.”

  Because he had heard these instructions many times, Rorthger asked no questions; he watched his master, doing his best to read his state of mind in his behavior. “No. Almost nothing is.” He glanced toward the largest window, indicating the cloudy sky. “This is a wet spring.”

  “Yes,” Rakoczy agreed. “And the water will be high, for a wet spring here brings an early thaw in the mountains.” He looked down at his Persian boots of black, embossed leather; the thick soles and heels were atypical for the design, but only Rakoczy and Rorthger knew that. “The earth in my soles should be replaced tonight.”

  “I’ll attend to it,” Rorthger promised. “Will you see Waifar? His arm is fully healed and he is becoming unreliable.”

  “Is he stealing?” Rakoczy asked.

  “I think so. He’s also snooping about the villa. One of the women in Sant’ Fleur complained that he had tried to waylay her when she went to drive the sheep into the meadows.” Rorthger shook his head. “He has no gratitude to you, and no obligation.”

  “I didn’t set his arm with that anticipation,” said Rakoczy, and went to his old, red-lacquer chest. “You know where I keep the sovereign remedy and the lotion for pustules. The drawing-paste is in the yellow jar, and the tincture for wheezing and coughs is in the tall bottle. The syrup of poppies is in the stoneware container. Linen strips are in the drawers. What am I forgetting?”

  “It hardly matters, my master,” said Rorthger with a faint smile. “I know where you keep all your medicaments. The green box has the herbs to ease childbirth, and the covered scyphus has the liquor for bathing open wounds.” He approached Rakoczy and closed the doors of the chest. “How long do you suppose you will be gone?”

  “I hope less than a year,” Rakoczy told
him. “The King won’t travel south until he has spent much of the summer and fall on campaign. Then, when winter stops the fighting, he will come to Roma for his coronation, or so I understand from what the missi dominici said before they left yesterday.” He rubbed his face and encountered stubble. “You’d best shave me and trim my hair before I leave, as well; with no reflection, I can hardly trust myself with a razor or shears.”

  “At least mirrors are few,” said Rorthger, determined to shake off the first intimations of melancholy that were encroaching on Rakoczy. “I will tend to that when I have done your boots and your brodequins. Will you visit any women before you go?”

  “You think I should, don’t you?” Rakoczy said. “I may. Will you be content to leave it at that?”

  Although it was not the answer he hoped for, Rorthger nodded. “You have a long way to go, and in sunlight. It would be prudent to fortify yourself.”

  “I don’t disagree,” Rakoczy said. “But with Waifar on the prowl, it might be wiser to find a woman at some other estate on my travels.”

  “You will go from here to Attigny?” Rorthger asked.

  “Yes, to get the Pale Woman. Then we’ll go south to Luxeuil, through Burguntly to Tarantaise, then east across the mountains to Lake Como.” He ticked these destinations off on his fingers.

  “To your villa there?” Rorthger asked, supposing it would be his destination as a break on his journey.

  “Yes, if there is no trouble with it. I have a Will from my supposed uncle, bestowing it on me. It will match with the copy at Sant’ Chrysogonus, and that should be enough for the local Potente to permit me to take possession of it; he does not know me. My native earth is in the foundation and it will certainly strengthen me.” He shook his head. “Old friend, please believe that I will not put myself in any danger that I can avoid.”

 

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