“Is all well?” Amolon asked Rorthger from the corridor.
“Thus far,” Rorthger replied. “And you?”
“Yes. I have informed the Magnatus that the escort has arrived.”
Rorthger smiled slightly. “I must suppose he heard the commotion.” He cocked his head. “I’m sure the monks of Sant’ Cyricus know you have arrived.”
“That’s so. Our master has many things to do before he departs with them, and must finish before he can greet them properly. He said he will not present himself until the soldiers have had their bread.” Amolon tugged at his beard. “They will probably be drunk soon.”
“Probably,” Rorthger seconded this. “But when they have slept it off, they will be better company.” He turned back to stop one of the scullions going back to the kitchens for more bread. “Cut the loaves in half, or they will stuff themselves and they won’t waken for comestus.”
The scullion nodded and hurried on.
“You!” Notrold shouted, pointing at Rorthger. “Come here!”
Rorthger obeyed stiffly. “What is it, Bellatore?” he asked with as much propriety as he could summon up in front of these men. He glanced at Einshere to see what the leader of these soldiers would say; Einshere remained silent, staring down into his cup.
“Who held these fiscs before your master?” Notrold demanded.
“I am told it was Comes Udofrid,” Rorthger answered.
“No kin of your master?” Notrold went on.
“No. My master is from distant mountains. None of his blood, save he himself, live in Franksland.” Rorthger paused. “And the King knows all this.”
“There! You see?” Notrold half-lunged at Usuard and Theubert. “Your patron has no connections to support you if he should fall from favor. Better to ally yourself with kinsmen of the King than rely upon this Magnatus.”
“Under whose roof you now eat,” Rorthger reminded Notrold more sharply than he had intended.
Notrold waved this away. “If he is a sensible man, the Magnatus understands these things, and he will help you two in finding patrons more worthy of your skills.”
“The Magnatus is obliged to maintain two soldiers for the King,” Rorthger said with a quick glance at Theubert and Usuard. “These are the two he has undertaken to patronize.”
“Well and good for the Magnatus, but a disadvantage for these soldiers.” Notrold was becoming pugnacious, leaning on his elbows and holding his half-devoured loaf of bread between his hands like a dog with a bone. “You have accepted patronage, but it is good to use it to advance in the world. You needn’t rely on what I say: anyone would tell you the same if you bothered to ask.” He wolfed down another mouthful of bread and followed it up with more beer.
“We cannot spurn our patron, especially not in his house,” said Theubert. “I have a great obligation to him. His patronage has already advanced me beyond my expectations. I was a guard at the monastery of Sant’ Cyricus, two German leagues from here, and I never thought I would be more than that; without a patron I could not have advanced beyond that position. Magnatus Rakoczy changed my life, and I am in his debt for all he has done.”
“Which only goes to show that he is clever. Many foreigners are, of necessity and to make a place in the world.” Notrold shook his head emphatically. “He is not in a position to do any more than he has for you; others will hoise you, not Rakoczy. It is correct that you show him regard, but it is time you looked about to improve your lot. Ask our leader; he’ll tell you the same.”
“Not while we are guests here,” said Einshere, and occupied himself in slathering clotted cream on his loaf of bread.
Rorthger, who had listened to Notrold with amused indignation, interrupted the debate by saying, “Your cubicula are ready for you, if you would like to rest before comestus. If you would finish up your bread and cheese, I will have Amolon, the buticularius, escort you there.”
“You want to get rid of us; do you?” Notrold challenged.
“No, good Bellatore,” said Rorthger, his manner now once again deferential. “I wish to do as my master has bid me, and see that you are fully rested for your long journey that you will start tomorrow.”
“Humph,” said Notrold, but began to eat with more determination. “Shortly. We will be ready shortly. If our leader will release us.”
“You may do as you wish,” said Einshere.
Anshelm took the tub of cream and used his knife to scoop out a generous portion; he spread this on his loaf and began to consume it in large gulps as if he expected the bread to be snatched from his hands. His grin was enhanced by a sheen of grease; he continued to bolt his loaf. He said as he chewed, “Will there be bread to take with us?”
“Some hard, dark bread,” Rorthger told him. “Not this good white, which does not last long. It isn’t prudent to take it on journeys. You will not be deprived; you will have several wheels of cheese, and many strings of sausages.” He reverenced the soldiers at the table. “There is food in plenty being readied for your travels. You need not fret.”
Just this recitation made Anshelm’s eyes glaze in anticipation. “It sounds wonderful,” he said, and avoided the glare Notrold directed at him. “The Magnatus is very generous.”
Notrold snorted. “The Magnatus is seeing to his own tastes.”
Rorthger was tempted to deny this, but kept his thoughts to himself; there would be nothing gained in wrangling with Notrold, who clearly flourished on such disputes. “If he is, who can blame him? The journey is long, and you will not always be able to find shelter and food for the night, or a bed to sleep in. This way, you can be assured of a meal, at least, and a blanket to wrap yourself in. There should be enough to sustain you to Lake Como and my master’s villa there.”
Notrold looked shocked. “He has property in Longobardia?”
“And in other places,” Rorthger said, deliberately vague.
“Does the King know of this?” Notrold asked cholerically.
“Notrold,” Einshere admonished him without looking up from his food.
“I must suppose he does, for he has ordered my master to break his journey there so that you will not all arrive in Roma worn out from the road. He has horses there, and orchards, and vineyards. You may pass pleasant days there.”
As much as this pleased the other soldiers, it displeased Notrold, who scowled ferociously. “He may be in league with the Longobards, and working to their benefit. His villa may be a trap, set for all of us, to keep us from the tasks set for us.” He rocked back as far as the stay on the bench would allow. “You say the King has approved this?”
“So much so that he has said he will dispatch his missi dominici to that villa with any new orders he may have, as your leader must know.” Rorthger signaled the mansionarius to pour more beer for Notrold. “You should have been informed of this before you left the Royal Residence of Herstal.”
Notrold finished the last of his bread. “I was told the missi dominici would be sent. Einshere said that they would visit us before we reached Roma. I was not told where we would wait for them; only our leader knows, and probably the Magnatus, as well. Yet I gave it some thought and I supposed it must be Milan.” He shot an angry look at Einshere as if to blame their leader for his own embarrassment.
“No,” said Rorthger. “Nor Pavia. You will go to the villa and you will receive the missi dominici there.” He watched while Notrold took another long draft of beer. “My master can show you the orders from Karl-lo-Magne.”
“No,” said Notrold, who could not read. “But if I think we have waited too long, I will order us to go on to Roma.”
“As you think best,” Rorthger murmured.
“You said there will be comestus this evening?” Pepin asked as he reached for a half-loaf of bread.
“Yes. You will have a good meal,” said Rorthger. “This is only to relieve the fast of travel.” He indicated the scullion with the basket of bread. “There will be trenchers tonight. You may take bread with you, if you
like.”
“You will be … you are willing to feed us twice in one day?” Pepin wondered aloud. “This would be sufficient.” The others glared at him, and he fell silent.
“You are soldiers of Karl-lo-Magne, and my master is his willing vassal. We are honored to have you here.” Rorthger reverenced the soldiers.
Notrold drank down the last of his beer. “Well,” he said as he surged to his feet, “I would be glad of a rest. So would you all, I should think.”
“Oh, yes,” said Anshelm, and nudged Sulpicius. “What do you say?”
“A rest is welcome.” He colored to his scalp. “The senescalus is right.”
Rorthger accepted this designation. “Amolon will escort you. When you are ready,” he added as he watched Notrold feel down the dining hall toward the corridor.
“We must be ready for comestus,” Notrold blustered. “A nap will help.”
Anshelm got to his feet. “I’ll go with him,” he said, and left the table. Einshere watched them without saying a word.
Amolon looked to Rorthger for his recommendation; Rorthger nodded, and Amolon said, “If you soldiers will come with me?” and started off toward the stairs to the second floor. “Along the gallery there are cubicula,” he said. “They have two beds to a room. The first three cubicula are set aside for you.” He pointed to the doors as they approached them.
“We’ll take the nearest to the stairs,” Notrold declared.
“As you like,” said Amolon, and opened the door for them. When the two soldiers had gone in, he closed the door and returned to the ground floor and the dining hall, where the other soldiers were now waiting to be taken to their cubicula.
When all the soldiers had retired to rest, Rorthger climbed to Rakoczy’s room at the top of the house, where he found the Magnatus sorting through a handful of unpolished jewels. “Just in time,” Rakoczy said. “Well, how are they?”
“The Bellatore Notrold is likely to try to force his authority, and take the place of the leader, a fellow named Einshere, who keeps to himself, or tries not to argue with Notrold; I don’t know which,” said Rorthger “Einshere is probably trustworthy, but he isn’t of an emphatic disposition. Notrold has the inclinations of a tyrant, and though Einshere is the leader, he isn’t inclined to stop him. The men are not much minded to oppose him, though they may be pushed too far by Notrold’s despotism. Einshere isn’t apt to insist on, any change in behavior.”
“I shall keep that in mind.” Rakoczy took a small leather bag and counted fourteen gems into it. “The rest will stay here with you,” he said to Rorthger. “Keep them where Waifar cannot find them, in case he returns for another harvest.”
“Do you suppose he will?” Rorthger asked. “I would have thought he would flee.”
“Perhaps,” said Rakoczy. “But if he has kinsmen here, he may prefer to remain with them than to forge his way alone.”
“It’s possible,” said Rorthger dubiously.
“If I am wrong, where is the harm in being prepared? Nothing will be wasted, no matter what Waifar may do, wouldn’t you concur?” Rakoczy asked gently. “Think, old friend. I will be gone for many months, and that may lead-some to believe that this place is undefended, which you and I know is not the case, but those who have lived here for generations may not comprehend. It is fitting that you should be prepared to deal with any number of impositions.”
“All right. I’ll put the jewels in an unlikely place for safekeeping.” He scooped them up and dropped them into his wallet. “For the time being, I’ll keep them here.”
“Very good. Make sure, if you must sell them, to offer them to the King first, and then to the local Bishop Karl-lo-Magne may not want them, but he would want to have the opportunity to purchase them ahead of all others.” He touched the tips of his fingers together. “With his coronation coming, he may want to array himself for the occasion. Sheepskin is all very well for hunting bison, but it will hardly do for a celebration at Sant’ Pier’s.”
“Truly,” said Rorthger, and patted the wallet. “I will tell the mansionarii to refuse Waifar access to the villa.”
“Do so,” Rakoczy said, “but remember that we are the foreigners here and we need not be obeyed as those who have been here for generation upon generation.”
“Do you mean you think someone may let Waifar into the villa against specific orders? That is a very dangerous thing to do. A servant’s betrayal of a master is punishable by execution.” Rorthger nodded before Rakoczy spoke. “Of course that could happen in spite of the possible consequences, if there are familial reasons. You’re right, my master. I will keep that upper-most in my thoughts.”
Rakoczy looked around his upper room, at the various vessels and measuring devices, at gleaming basins of gold and beakers of glass, at his athanor. “I don’t like having to leave,” he admitted.
“You could tell the King you are unable to travel. Say you were warned in a dream not to go beyond your fiscs until autumn.” Rorthger wasn’t entirely serious, but there was a suggestion of sincere purpose in what he said. “Great Karl puts much stock in dreams.”
“Yes, he does,” Rakoczy agreed. “But if I refuse him this, he may not trust me again, and that would be far more perilous than going to Roma. Karl-lo-Magne is a loyal friend—when he believes he has the fealty of his ally. When he suspects, or imagines, falseness, he is quick to requite the wrong. If I were his kin, he might allow me some leeway, but as I am not even a Frank…” Shrugging, he reached for a silver pectoral chain studded with rubies and clasped by an ornament in the shape of his eclipse device; he put this into a silken bag and put it into the saddle-pack that lay on the floor at his feet. “I will send your word along the way, so that you needn’t be left to wonder what has become of me.”
“How will you get your messages back to me? You dare not give them to the missi dominici; Great Karl would not approve of it,” said Rorthger.
“No, he would not,” said Rakoczy. “But I can engage Fratri who are going to shrines and monasteries, to carry a letter for me. If I make a donation to the monastery, and give the Fratre a small token to aid him in his travels, you will receive my letters safely enough.”
“If that is acceptable to you, I will receive every monk who comes this way,” said Rorthger, a trace of amusement in his tone. “The Abbott at Sant’ Cyricus may not approve.”
“Why would he not?” Rakoczy asked, puzzled.
“He is a man who knows his own importance,” said Rorthger. “Abbott Hroccolf will feel slighted if I do not send some of the peregrines to him. He may even hold it against the fiscs, which I will have to address somehow. I may provide him with more bread; that should lessen his affront.”
Rakoczy nodded once. “Yes. You’re right.” He set two pair of Persian boots aside. “These will go in with my clothing in the saddle-pack.”
“Do you suppose your goods will be gone through?” Rorthger asked.
“It’s possible. It may be also that we will be robbed or our goods seized.” Rakoczy gave Rorthger a long, steady look. “You know that as well as I.”
“But it seems you don’t trust your escort, either,” said Rorthger.
“No I don’t,” said Rakoczy.
Rorthger shook his head in exasperation. “Allright I won’t question you any more, but you mustn’t reprehend me for having misgivings about this whole venture.”
“I would not do that, old friend,” said Rakoczy with an elusive smile.
“Will you send for me if you decide not to return to Franksland when your stay in Roma is over?” He asked in the language of western China, afraid they might be overheard.
Rakoczy answered in the same tongue. “Of course. I don’t want you to have to search half of Europe to find me.” He finished loading his saddle-pack. “This is ready, and my sack of medicaments. They should go on my saddle. The rest should be carried by the mules; four for pack and one to draw the Pale Woman’s wagon. I’ll want eight changes of horses—one for each of us—so
that we’ll not be stranded if something happens to any of our mounts. Get the long leads, so the remounts can be ponied.”
“Of course,” said Rorthger. “And I’ll supervise the loading of food and drink on the second mule.”
“Very good,” Rakoczy said, and prepared to leave his upper room. “I’m going to miss this place.”
“As much as your house in Spain?” Rorthger said.
“They aren’t comparable,” said Rakoczy. “The Spanish house is lost to me for now and I may never see it again; this villa is still mine, or as much mine as the King will allow.” He went to a chest near the stairs and retrieved two swords and a dagger. “I wish I had one of those little throwing axes the Franks use: the francisca. Perhaps when I return I’ll make a few of them.”
“What will Great Karl think?” Rorthger was doing his best to make light of the matter.
“If I approach him properly, he may well be flattered,” Rakoczy said seriously. “Remember that Chian Dju?”
Rorthger nodded, his visage more austere than ever. “He wanted to kill you for using his weapons.”
“It may be that Karl-lo-Magne is very like Chian Dju, afraid that a weapon will change its loyalty if used by another.” Rakoczy picked up his saddle-packs and handed them to Rorthger. “If you will tend to these?”
Rorthger took the two packs. “Do you want to carry your medicaments yourself?”
“It might be wiser that I do it,” said Rakoczy, slinging the strap over his shoulder. “It’s prudent to let the soldiers see this and know what it is.”
Rorthger held open the door so Rakoczy could leave the upper room. “Shall I lock this room, my master?”
“No, it would only inspire the mansionarii to try to get into it. Close it, and be sure to check it once a day,” Rakoczy said as he stepped onto the stairs. “Have the soldiers gone to rest? I would rather not encounter them until after comestus,” said Rakoczy, descending the narrow flight two steps ahead of Rorthger.
“Do you think they’ll find that odd?” Rorthger asked.
“They may; but I want them to get used to the notion that I won’t eat with them. If I keep away during their meals here, they won’t be too surprised when I … dine in private while we’re traveling.” He reached the floor below. “Are they in the cubicula along the gallery?”
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