Communion Blood (43 page)

“If he did not bribe him. They say Ragoczy is made of money.” The resentment Rothofen felt made his words sound like cursing. “He could purchase ten Magistrates to do his bidding, and he would not dress in rags.”

“A dispensation from a Pope no one cares about anymore. Whoever heard of such a thing?” Ursellos flung his half-empty glass across the room, grinning as it shattered. “More brandy, Salvatore,” he shouted. “And clean up this glass.”

“Do you think Alessandro VIII would set aside a dispensation of Urban III?” Rothofen suggested, a brightening in his eyes. “It was given so long ago, when the Church was trying to take back Jerusalem. If a dispensation from then were forgotten, who would care?” Ursellos had a disgruntled answer. “The Curia would care. Never forget the Curia, Rothofen: they never forget anything. And they hold all Papal decrees as sacred and untouchable. There is no power sufficient to make them give up a position once it has been taken. Unless there is some overwhelming reason not to; and money is not overwhelming enough,” he added cynically. “This dispensation is not enough for them to bother with so it will stand.”

“That Ragoczy should hide behind an ancient Pope!” Rothofen took another long sip of brandy, relishing the heat it added to his choler. “I want him shamed! I want him
ruined."

“An excellent notion,” said Ursellos with malignant glee. “Let us have him sent to the Pope’s Litde House as well. That would make up for what he has forced us to endure because of him. That knowing demeanor, the affectation of black clothes, as if he had some right to wear a priest’s habit.”

“Not Ragoczy—Aulirios,” said Rothofen. “He has done this to me. He is the one who has deprived me of the money and lands of the Clemens estate. Without Aulirios, there would have been no reason for Ragoczy to come to Roma, and no cause to take this before the Magistrates’ Court. If the Clemens estate had been left to the hands of the Magistrates to begin with, I would only have had to show my information and they would have brought it all to a happy end.”

“For God’s sake!” Ursellos exclaimed. “You need not rehearse it again. You aren’t going to be tiresome, are you? trotting out your grievances at the least invitation? No one will want to entertain you, if you do that.”

Rothofen was not quite finished. “Aulirios is the one who has offended me: Ragoczy is only his tool.” He held the glass more tightly. “Not that I would object to seeing him brought down along with Aulirios.” He tried to cross the room and staggered as he went; the brandy was only partly responsible—his outrage made him clumsy.

Ursellos watched Rothofen closely. “You’re not going to do anything impetuous, are you? That would be as tiresome as publicly nursing a grudge.” He was annoyed at the possibility and made no attempt to conceal his feelings.

“Not impetuous, no,” said Rothofen. “Anything I do will be carefully considered.”

With a dramatic sigh Ursellos pointed directly to Rothofen. “If you take action against either Aulirios or Ragoczy, you will be the first man suspected of any crime against those two. You will have to leash your indignation for a time. Let other enemies become uppermost in the public mind, and then you can act.”

“That could take months and months. I do not want to wait so long.” Rothofen drank more of his brandy as he dropped into one of the upholstered chairs near the marble-fronted fireplace. “I want satisfaction.”

“Do not fear: you will have it,” said Ursellos grandly. “Must you do the damage yourself, or are you willing to let others do it?”

Rothofen thought about this for a short while. “I would be content to have it done, if the punishment meted out was severe.”

“How severe?” Ursellos asked, enjoying himself hugely.

“Deadly,” said Rothofen just before he drank the last of his brandy. “Utterly deadly.”

Ursellos considered this reply. “I think I can make an arrangement that would please you.” He clapped to summon the servant to bring more brandy.

“I doubt it,” was Rothofen’s glum response. “I have paid men before to set upon Ragoczy and they have failed to harm him.” He watched as his glass was refilled. “They cost me good money, too.”

“Well, we shall have to find men who are more reliable, if you are to have your justice,” said Ursellos, then paused as the significance of Rothofen’s last remark struck him. “Whom did you pay, and when?”

This question brought back Rothofen’s sense of ill-usage. “I paid men twice: once to disable his carriage—that was early in this matter—and once, much more recently, to waylay him on the road. They managed to kill the man with him but could not subdue Ragoczy. You would not think that such a bookish fellow could fight, would you? But they say he can. I had intended to have my hirelings ambush Aulirios, but I knew that I would be under suspicion at once. I knew I had to do something to stop Aulirios. So I thought that if his advocate was badly injured, Aulirios could not muster enough of a case to prevail against my claim.” He shook his head several times. “Perhaps I should have had Aulirios dealt with directly, after all, and not bothered with Ragoczy.”

Ursellos barked a laugh. “That foreign miscreant! He has more to answer for than the decision in Court today. He will be taken down.” Then he pointed a finger at Rothofen. “You cannot have found very dangerous men if all they could do was kill a catamite. How bold they must be.” His sarcasm was intended to sting. “You must exercise better judgment if you are to cause Aulirios to regret his victory.”

“He has no victory—he has surmounted through trickery.” He paused, frowning with concentration. “Is
surmounted
the word I want?”

“I have no idea,” said Ursellos, who was finding Rothofen’s complaints tedious. “He has made the law accommodate him. If that is what you intend to remark upon, then that is the word you want.” His eyes were aching, he realized, and his mouth felt dry; he had more brandy and told himself he had a little improvement.

“What shall I do?” Rothofen asked suddenly. “I gambled on getting the Clemens estates. I have debts. What am I going to do?”

Ursellos laughed. “Debts—everyone has them. Do not let them trouble you.”

“All very well for you to say, with a Cardinal for a brother and lands in Spain earning you money.” Rothofen was pouting now. “But I have no such lands, or riches, or any other income but what the Archbishop settles on me. Once your sister is married to his brother, I will receive a commission for my part in the arrangements, of course, but it will be a paltry sum: such commissions usually are.”

“Do your debts exceed the commission?” Ursellos was distantly interested, as if hearing of these misfortunes would ease the ache in his head.

Rothofen waved his hand to show that the disparity was vast. “Naturally. I was sure I would have the Clemens—” He stopped himself before he repeated his woes yet again.

“That was foolish,” said Ursellos. He pinched the bridge of his nose but the headache did not abate.

“Perhaps it was.” Rothofen said forlornly. “But who would have thought that those damned monks had kept records of her estates?”

“For a woman!” Ursellos laughed aloud at the absurdity. “For a woman.”

“Yes. Her ancestors must have paid the monks well to do this.” Rothofen narrowed his eyes as the magnitude of this perfidy struck him. “For generations, they surely spent a fortune to have the monks maintain such records.”

“Unfortunately there is no law against gifts to monasteries,” said Ursellos.

“But if it is a bribe ..Rothofen’s protest trailed off.

“They’re all bribes, either to the Church or to Heaven. Why else would anyone pay a stranger to pray for him?” Ursellos wagged a finger at Rothofen. “Do not repeat that; the Pope, even this Pope, would not like it.”

Rothofen laughed a little. “Dangerous sentiments, even in a Cardinal’s brother. You don’t mean that, surely.”

“Who better than a Cardinal’s brother to see the Church for what it is?” He drank more, and made a reckless gesture.

“And who better than a drunken man to speak of it?” Rothofen was feeling nervous because he knew he could be questioned by the Holy Office for the Faith in the Pope’s Little House for hearing such heretical—such blasphemous—opinions. He stared at Ursellos as if he could force his companion to talk of less troubling things. “The wedding? It is to be at the end of April, so I am told.”

“That it is. The Count of Oldenburg wishes to attend, and he cannot spare the time until then.” Ursellos looked put-upon. “My sister pretends she does not think this is a reprieve but it is obvious that she does. Not that I blame her; Hubert is no prize. But he is the means for advancing his family and ours, so she owes it to us to go through with it. She owes it to Oldenburg and the Pope as well, not that she admits it.” He swung around to face Rothofen, a smile wreathing his face. “You might be able to have the Count of Oldenburg take you on. You can address him while he is here for the wedding. He’ll be in a festive mood, no doubt. It isn’t the same, being a courtier in the German States, but it may be more lucrative. For a man in your position, Roma can be ruinous.”

“The Count might be better-pleased with another set of eyes here; a set outside of the Church, if you see my point,” said Rothofen seriously; he began to turn Ursellos’ flippant suggestion over in his mind, as if mentally tasting the possibilities.

Ursellos made a face to indicate his disgust with Rothofen. “You are nothing more than a merchant. You deal in whispers, innuendos, and rumors, but you are a tradesman.” It was a terrible insult and both men knew it.

Rothofen made himself laugh. “That is the brandy speaking, not you.”

“In vino veritas,”
said Ursellos. “And doubly so when the drink is distilled.” He raised his glass. “To trade.”

This insult was too much for Rothofen, who set down his glass and rose stiffly. “I will spare you the pain of my company, Signore.” He made a leg and prepared to leave, his face blank with fury.

“I was jesting, Ahrent—
-jesting,”
Ursellos protested with an indulgent chuckle. “You must not be offended by what I say.”

“Why not—I would demand satisfaction of any other man,” Rothofen said bluntly.

“I didn’t
mean
it,” Ursellos cajoled. “You take me too much to heart.” He held out his hand. “Come. We must continue as friends, if for no other reason than to move against our common enemies.” Rothofen paused. “You said that there was truth in wine just now. Do you now disclaim that?”

“Most certainly,” said Ursellos. “I often disavow myself.” He did not quite laugh. “Any number of tavern wenches will attest to that.” “Are there many Calaveria y Nessuna infants in Roma?” Rothofen gibed, grinning to show he was joking.

“The women cannot use my name when they have their bastards— my brother sees to that. So they are Nadie y Nessuna.” He beamed at this witticism. “Nobody on both sides.”

“Does that never trouble you?” Rothofen asked. “Bastards can be a problem for those in the Church.”

“They are not my brother’s, and that makes his position a powerful one; as for the infants, he pays well to have them forgotten.” Ursellos coughed and changed the subject abruptly. “I am going to Napoli for a few weeks. If you want to join me, I would expect my brother will pay for it. He prefers me to have company.”

Ordinarily Rothofen would have leaped at such a chance; now he took a deep breath and said, “May I tell you in a day or so? I have certain . .. arrangements I must make.”

“Not against Aulirios or Ragoczy?” Ursellos demanded. “That would be—”

“No,” Rothofen cut him off. “I must make some arrangements for my more pressing debts, and that
means...
I must arrange to sell certain possessions. I would prefer not to have to, but as I must, the sooner it is done, the better.” He rubbed his face as if to shape his expression to a more content one. “Once those matters are settled, I will be wholly at your service.”

“How much is involved?” Ursellos asked at his blandest.

“I do not think it concerns you,” said Rothofen. “Suffice it to say that it exceeds my resources.” The pleasant glow brought on by the brandy was fading rapidly.

“Would two hundred gold Angels be enough to cover most of them?” Ursellos asked in an elaborately offhanded way.

“Two hundred gold Angels?” Rothofen repeated, enthralled by the amount.

“I have a few wagers that I have recently won, and I am just now very plump in the wallet, as the English say. If you would take that sum from me, and pay it back as you can, or earn it in occasional private services for me, I would be glad to put it at your disposal.” Ursellos let his offer dangle. “You need not tell me at once.”

Rothofen cocked his head. “Is this another jest?”

“Not at all. I am completely serious.” He waited while Rothofen thought this through, adding, “With the wedding coming, I promise you I will make you earn it.”

The amount was too much to refuse. “What murder do you want done?” He laughed to show he did not expect such a commission.

“We will talk about that, later,” Ursellos said as he summoned his servant to bring more brandy to seal their bargain.

Text of a letter from Bonaldo Fiumara to Ferenc Ragoczy, Conte da San Germain.

To Su Eccellenza, Abbe and Conte, the greetings of Bonaldo Fiumara, masterbuilder, regarding the current state of work on the villa currently being built for your use.

As you are no doubt aware, we have reached the point where work must begin on the inner walls and decorations. Your generous payment has made our work progress rapidly; as a result, it will be possible to put the roof on the building by the end of March, and then to tend to the finishing of the inside, including flooring and wall decorations, before summer. It will be useful to discuss with you any and all plans you may have for ornamenting the interior of your villa, for the appropriate craftsmen will need to be engaged, and their Artei contacted in regard to payment for their work.

Thus far you have acquitted yourself most honorably in regard to recompense for labor, and with so sterling a record, I would be loath to see any smirching of your admirable record. Therefore I would recommend that you plan to meet with me and various representatives of the Artei in regard to what you will require for your villa. I will superintend all such work, and hold the results accountable to you, as the means of demonstrating your good-will, and our compliance in it.