Night Blooming (22 page)

“A heavy burden for you to bear,” said Rakoczy.

“Possibly, but it is mine,” said Odile with a touch of pride. “My husband was a fine man, of good rank and excellent reputation, and I was proud to give him children, although God wasn’t willing to allow me to keep most of them. With just one son left alive, I am thankful to God for preserving our House, for we might have lost the whole of it.”

Rakoczy heard her out, paying close attention to her nuances of tone. “Still, you have lost much, and such losses demand a toll in grief.”

Odile looked away in confusion. “I wouldn’t have said so.”

“Perhaps not,” said Rakoczy. “But it remains with you, however you name it.”

Four scullions bearing spits came into the hall, with knives in their hands, ready to cut meat to serve the diners. The most senior of them had a platter balanced on his head, and this he held out to be filled once the spits were set on trestles.

“Boar, bison, goose, and lamb,” said the senior scullion, pointing to the meats on the spits. “Tell me which you will have.”

Bertrada got to her feet and made an inclusive gesture. “Cut from all of them, and we’ll take what’s to our taste.” Her color was high and there was a certain recklessness about her that alarmed her sisters; Gisela nodded to Rotruda, and both women motioned to Bertrada to sit down.

The senior scullion did as the King’s daughters wished, slicing generous portions from the meat on the spits. When the platter was well-laden, he summoned two of the scullions to carry the platter to the High Table, where Karl-lo-Magne’s three daughters stuck the cuts they wanted with their knives to carry the meat to their trenchers.

“The aroma is very good,” said Rotruda, pulling a bit of the boar off the rib with her fingers. “And it is tender, for a change.”

“We rubbed the meat with butter and honey,” said the senior scullion, going well beyond what was permitted of servants.

Rotruda scowled at him. “If I wish to know this, I will ask the kitchen staff.” She lowered her eyes. “You forget yourself.”

“My father will order you beaten if you forget yourself,” said Gisela sternly. “Servants think they’re better than they are.”

The senior scullion reverenced the women at the High Table and retreated into silence. As he served the low table, he refused to speak, communicating by gesture alone and doing what he was called upon to do with as much dispatch as he could manage.

“I will have bison and goose,” said Odile when the senior scullion came up to her. She poured wine into her cup and watched as the scullion offered the platter. When she had retrieved the meat she wanted, she set to work with her knife, trying to cut her portion into smaller sections.

“The food is getting cold,” said Bertrada from the High Table. “We should eat.”

At that the seven women fell to, eating rapidly and with gusto, washing down their mouthfuls with wine. For a short while the small dining hall was silent but for the sounds of chewing. Then there was an impatient step in the corridor, and Karl-lo-Magne strode back into the hall, glowering fiercely. He stepped onto the dais and back to his chair at the High Table. All the women stopped eating and watched him attentively.

“Magnatus,” said the King. “Come up to me.”

Rakoczy obeyed promptly, wondering what had so distressed Karl-lo-Magne that he should have lost all trace of joviality. He concealed his apprehension with an expression of cordial interest, his bearing respectful. “What may I have the honor of doing for you, Optime?”

“The messenger from Roma brings most troubling news,” Karl-lo-Magne muttered. He got out of his chair again and tugged on the black sleeve of Rakoczy’s gonelle, drawing him into a corner of the room. “There is a plot against the Pope.”

“Surely more than one,” said Rakoczy, recalling all the rumors he had heard.

“This one is more serious, and more treacherous. It is driven by ambition and apostasy,” said Karl-lo-Magne. “There are bands of scoff-laws in Roma who can be bought for all manner of mischief. It is said that money has changed hands, to secure the services of these marauders: there is an indication that two of the bands have been paid to waylay and murder Leo, or at least it is what His Holiness fears.”

“Is there any reason to think this more likely to happen than any of the other plots against His Holiness? Is there some reason to fear this present threat more than any other? Why should you think so?” Rakoczy asked, wanting to provide Karl-lo-Magne with as many options as he could. He wished he had been allowed to bring Rorthger with him, for now he wanted as much information as he could gain; Rorthger was always alert to the talking among servants, often more reliable than the rumors spread in Courts. But the missi dominici who had escorted Rakoczy to Paderborn had had no provision for including a servant for the Magnatus, and so Rorthger remained at the fiscs, in charge of the walled villa and the lands around it.

“I wouldn’t think so, but for the urgency and the source of the message: it came from one of my Bishops, and under Church seal.” Karl-lo-Magne pulled on his beard. “I cannot ignore this appeal for protection. Much as it would be difficult to arrange to protect the Pope, it is preferable to being forced to accept a Byzantine tool as Pontiff. If Leo is killed, who knows who will sit on Sant’ Pier’s Seat?”

“Then what do you plan?” Rakoczy asked, aware that Karl-lo-Magne expected the question.

“I suppose I must be prepared to send a company of soldiers to Roma to be guards for the Pope, and I must authorize the arming of monks faithful to Leo himself, if it comes to that” He tugged on his beard again, his scowl directed at a place on the floor. “This must be settled within the year, or Constantininus and his mother in Constantinople will have the advantage, and the Papacy will be lost to the Greeks.”

“What do you want me to do?” Rakoczy inquired with a minor reverence.

“I don’t know yet, but I want you to stay near at hand. I may have use for you, and when I do, you must not be away from my Court.” He laid his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “If the Pope falls, then we will be at war with the Byzantines.”

“It would seem urgent, then, to be sure Leo lives,” said Rakoczy.

“That is why I must ready soldiers to go to Roma. I hope I will not have to send them, for it would provoke all manner of trouble.” Karl-lo-Magne looked directly at Rakoczy. “There are many peoples who may want to take advantage of the change in Roma. I will have to be ready to hold my borders here in Saxony and in Longobardia and in other places. This will be a demanding time, no matter what I must do to protect the Church. But if I lose what I have gained in maintaining the Church, I will forfeit the strength that the Church depends upon me to provide.”

Rakoczy heard him out. “You will have to decide how to balance these matters, Optime. And, as I am a foreigner, I can only tell you that your Kingdom is a rich prize and you have enemies beyond those you share with the Pope.”

Karl-lo-Magne uttered a single, angry laugh. “Of course I have enemies. All men have enemies.” He folded his arms. “I cannot let it be known that I have received this message, or my enemies will act at once to align themselves with the Moors in Hispania or the Greeks in Byzantium.”

“That is nothing new, Optime, and so far no such alliance has survived long enough to damage anything you have achieved.” Rakoczy looked over his shoulder. “Your daughters are listening.”

“Let them,” said Karl-lo-Magne. “They will hear about the whole of it soon enough.” He shrugged. “So will all the Court. I must be prepared before any word gets out.”

“Cherished father,” called Rotruda. “Our meal is getting cold and our wine is getting hot.”

“Then eat and drink,” said Karl-lo-Magne testily. He put his hand on Rakoczy’s shoulder. “Stay near, mind. I may have need of you, and I don’t want to wait upon your arrival. For now, return to your place.”

“I will,” said Rakoczy, reverenced the King, and went back to the lower table where he once again sat beside Odile.

“Optime shows you distinction,” Odile remarked.

“I am much honored,” said Rakoczy.

Odile smiled. “How very well you keep his confidences.” She reached out for another helping of meat—lamb this time—and dropped it into her trencher.

Ermentrude reached across Rakoczy to secure another portion of bison for herself. “There are men who will watch you, Magnatus. Not all of them are your supporters.”

“I am aware of that,” said Rakoczy as graciously as he could.

“And you must realize that you are watched in suspicion,” Ermentrude added, reaching for her cup of wine for another long drink, as did Leoba Baldhilde.

Rakoczy did not bother to answer her; he could see she was feeling her beer and wine, and therefore could not be held accountable for anything she said. He reached for the platter of meat and offered it to Ermentrude, and when she had helped herself to another slab of boar, he held the platter out to Odile. “What would you like?”

“Nothing more,” said Odile, suddenly looking bashful.

“Don’t refuse food on my account,” said Rakoczy. “If you are hungry, eat.”

“And you?” Odile asked, pulling a bit of bread off her trencher and eating. “Do you deny yourself?”

“From time to time,” Rakoczy replied. “As all men must.”

Odile shuddered. “Yes.” She made a sign to ward off bad fortune.

Rakoczy thought of her husband and children dead of famine, and told her, “You have had great losses; I am sorry that cannot be changed.”

She shrugged and said in a rush of candor, “If I am to be your mistress, I must also be Optime’s spy.” Then she clapped her hand to her mouth as if to keep more words from escaping.

Very gently he touched her cheek. “I know,” he said.

T
EXT OF A LETTER FROM
R
ORTHGER TO
H
IERNOM
R
AKOCZY AT
P
ADERBORN, WRITTEN IN THE
L
ATIN OF
I
MPERIAL
R
OME, AND CARRIED BY MISSI DOMINICI TO
P
ADERBORN.

To my most esteemed master, Hiernom Rakoczy, Comes Sant’ Germainius, the greetings of Rorthger at his master’s fiscs at the longest day of the year.

Most puissant Magnatus, I am pleased to report that the crops are flourishing and it is likely that you will return to a good harvest I am relieved that this has been a good spring, and that the summer bids fair to continuing along fruitful lines. I have also taken the first of the spring lambs to market, as well as five shoats, and traded them with local peasants slightly to the peasants’ advantage, but not so much that they will seek to dupe you in future. I have secured beer for the mansionarii and the masons I have engaged to restore the walls of the villa, in accordance with your instructions. The two brewers in the village have agreed to keep the villa supplied so long as we provide fruit and berries, along with a few silver coins, which is reasonable enough.

In order to keep on good terms with the Church, I have arranged to purchase wine and mead from the nunnery of Santa Julitta, and from the monastery of Sant’ Cyricus I have asked to purchase parchment and ink; I have made donations to both communities in your name, with the assurance that you will continue to support a portion of their endeavors on a yearly basis, an arrangement which the Abbott and Abba have accepted, at least for the time being. I have also promised the nuns of Santa Julitta that you will send medicaments to their infirmary when you return from your service to the King, which the Superiora has welcomed.

I have bred two of your mares to the stallion Atta Olivia Clemens has sent to you: he is a fine creature, deep-chested and sturdy with a fine, arched neck and a good manner. Niklos Aulirios vouches for the horse, saying he has responded well to his training, and his get will be as strengthy as he is. He is a blue roan, which Bonna Dama Clemens informs me you will understand and appreciate. The mares have settled, so next May there should be foals in the pasture as well as calves and lambs.

In addition to the stallion, Bonna Dama Olivia tells me news of Roma, some of it most distressing. She informs me that the Pope was attacked by roughians, and was feared to be near death, only he has vanished from Roma, and it is not known where he has gone. Some speculate he has died and been secretly buried, so as to delay the next Papal election. Some say he has been kidnapped by the Byzantines, and is even now in a cell in Constantinople. Some say he has fled to Karl-lo-Magne for protection. Some say that the Church has sent him to a monastery in Longobardia, where he can recover from his injuries under the protection of the Church. Whatever may be true, from what Bonna Dama Olivia tells me, Roma is in disarray over these events, and the confusion is likely to spread outward from Roma into all the Roman churches and monasteries. If this were the case, you would need to be very careful, for until the fate of the Pope is known, there is likely to be a great deal of bickering and discord throughout the Church, and you may find yourself under scrutiny, for many of these Franks are wary of foreigners, as you are already cognizant. I mention this only to keep your precarious circumstances uppermost in your mind. She also writes that most of this incident, very widely reported and believed, is generally false, for although the Pope was waylaid, his Guard extricated him from the miscreants and have generally confined him to the Lateran Palace for his safety, and that the Pope is truly still in Roma, no matter what tales are spread abroad, most of which are intended to undermine Leo’s authority and make him seem incapable of continuing to lead the Church. And if he is long a prisoner of his own Guard, what they say may become true, and he will not be able to maintain his position. Bonna Dona Clemens also believes this has been an attempt to force Karl-lo-Magne to reckless action on the Pope’s behalf, which could lead him to a confrontation with the Byzantines that could be Pyrrhic in cost.

I hope you will return before harvest. It will do much to please the people of this region to see you at their festivities, particularly if you will hold a Court, so that their various grievances may be addressed in a way that will stand up to the scrutiny of the missi dominici, who come here four times a year in the King’s name to see that his Will is carried out everywhere. I am continuing to administer the fiscs along the lines of your instructions, and I am pleased to report that there has been a softening of the attitude of the peasants in the villages near-by, to the point that they no longer refuse to enter the gates of the villa, but will bring their livestock to the buticularius for the kitchen, making our work much easier. I cannot say that you are welcomed enthusiastically, but that you are no longer regarded as a baleful presence.