Night Blooming (26 page)

“As you say, Optime,” said the Bellatore nearest him.

Pulling the door open by himself, Karl-lo-Magne went to his polished wood sedes where it stood two steps above the rest of the room and sat down, resting his arms on the broad, carved arms of the sedes. He coughed, spat, and nodded to his Bellatori. “Let them in. Keep them at least ten steps back from me: they are not my invited guests.” He took his diadem and set it in place on his brow.

The taller of the two Bellatori went and opened the reception room door with a bang and had the satisfaction of seeing the Burgundians jump. “Attend and give all honor and heed-fulness to Karlus Magnus, King of the Franks and all Franksland, Guardian of the Holy Catholic Church of Roma, who will hear you. Which of you shall speak?”

A man with a white beard and hunched shoulder said, “I will. I am Eutado, the Majore of our region.”

“Majore, are you?” challenged the Bellatore.

“I am,” said the old man firmly. “And have been since my old father died these twelve years gone; he was Majore after his father. I am also the carpenter.” This line of inherited authority was impressive enough to demand the Bellatore’s attention. “We have been true to Karl-lo-Magne as those who should be have not.”

“That must be what you wish to say to the King,” said the Bellatore. “Come and approach him, and when I tell you to halt, reverence him.”

Eutado nodded to show his understanding. “If there were others, less exalted, we would have gone to them,” he said as he kept up with the Bellatore, making his way across the floor in a painful limp toward the enormous man with the small golden diadem circling his head who sat on the huge formal sedes. When the Bellatore held out his spear to halt the Burgundians, Eutado led the others in reverencing the King.

“Very well,” said Karl-lo-Magne. “Tell me what you seek from me.”

Apparently the King’s high, harsh voice took the Burgundians by surprise, for Eutado hesitated before beginning to speak. “We are from Sant’ Yrieix, which has been in the fiscs of Ansegisus of Solignac.” When he saw no sign of recognition in the King’s blue eyes, he explained. “Sant’ Yrieix is an isolated place, and we have been depending upon your missi dominici to carry word to and from our village to our Potente, which Ansegisus has ordered us to do.” He paused, looking toward the man nearest him. “Ansegisus saw in a dream that he would die in Sant’ Yrieix, and so will not come to our village.”

Karl-lo-Magne nodded. “I have heard this.” He gave an impatient gesture to indicate he wanted them not to dawdle over details. “You rely on my missi dominici.”

“Yes. Fratre Cuvhild and Irmold of Chur have been the men to come to us in your name and the name of Ansegisus. They have said that they are conducting themselves in accordance with your Will, Optime.” Eutado stood still while the others mumbled their agreement.

“Where is the difficulty?” Karl-lo-Magne demanded. “I see nothing distressing in what you describe. It is thus in many parts of Franksland. That is the purpose of the missi dominici.”

“Yes,” said Eutado, his voice dropping and becoming unsure. “But do you give them rights to order men killed and women taken for their pleasure, and wealth seized, for the purpose of paying taxes they say we owe you, Optime?” He managed a touch of defiance. “All this they do in your name, and because of that we come to you to say that we do not believe that your honor is vindicated by what they have done.”

“Whom have they killed?” asked Karl-lo-Magne, making no effort to hide his doubts.

“They have killed my daughter’s son Marbettou, for one,” said Eutado, “and Riesina, the miller, and Dobando, the potter. They took Grasaneau, the joiner, away and we have not seen him again.” His voice became thick with emotion. “I myself saw these things.”

“Why were these men killed?” Karl-lo-Magne demanded.

“The missi dominici said it was your law they upheld,” said Eutado.

Karl-lo-Magne’s patience was wearing thin. “Which law was that?”

One of the other men—somewhat younger than Eutado, but still a man of mature years, with grizzled hair and beard—answered, his manner respectful but with an underlying dissatisfaction. “They said it was because we did not always speak Frankish or Latin. They took all the money these men had, and left their families with only their empty houses—no food, no firewood, no beds. How are their families to live? The men are killed or gone and the monastery will not take them for fear that the Bishop will punish the monks if they do. Some of the people in the town have given them what they can spare, but it is very little. We are in a harsh place and we still suffer from the famine of three years ago.” He stopped abruptly.

“I have banned all tongues but Frankish and Latin,” said Karl-lo-Magne, “but I did not mandate death as punishment, except when such use is an act of defiance, and therefore against my rule.”

“This was no such case. It has been our intention to abide by your law, when we can. We have not had much instruction in Latin or Frankish, the monks at the monastery using our language as often as the rest of us,” said Eutado. “They pray in Latin.”

“Still, they should be more obedient to my laws. Yet you are not to blame for the monks’ failure to teach you as they ought.” He frowned at the Burgundians. “You say these killings were done with my authority, by my missi dominici?”

“That is true,” said the younger man. “I saw all, and I will swear on God’s Altar that this is what happened.”

The King stared into the middle distance. “How were the men killed?”

“They were beheaded with Frankish axes,” said Eutado. “In the market-square. Two on the same day, the other half a year earlier. Soldiers were sent by Ansegisus to do the killing, both times the same number. There were six of them, all mounted, armed and spurred.”

“You,” Karl-lo-Magne said, pointing to the younger man who had spoken. “Who are you?”

“I am Nonateo. I am the cow-herd. I own sixty-two head.” He stood a bit straighter. “I am among the Elders of Sant’ Yrieix, and I am a man of respect, which is why I have been doubly troubled by the disgrace that has been visited upon my family: my sister was taken by the missi dominici to warm their beds, though she said she had no wish to do so.”

“What did she say when it was over?” Karl-lo-Magne asked, smiling slightly.

“I don’t know. I wish I did, for my sake as well as hers. They took her with them and we haven’t seen her again. Her name was Fellmeris, a pleasant girl with red hair and a winning smile, and she had hoped to be the woman of the master mason next year. The missi dominici were drawn to her, and they demanded she he with them in spite of the master mason: he would not have her now, no matter what has become of her.” Nonateo’s color heightened, and he could not look at the King directly.

“You say there were other women taken,” Karl-lo-Magne reminded them.

“Other than Fellmeris, there were sisters hardly women at all, though they were comely. Two of them, no older than twelve, and they, too, have not been seen since the missi dominici summoned them to their beds. They were called in the night and by dawn, the missi dominici and the sisters were gone.” Nonateo went pale as he spoke. “And there was a woman who had often served the men who gathered at the brewer’s house. No one begrudged the missi dominici her use, for that was her worth.”

“You have seen nothing of these women? Have none of them sent word to you? Has no one seen any of them?” From the way the King asked he was far from troubled by the information.

“No. We have learned nothing,” said Eutado. He looked to the men with him for their concurrence and was rewarded by their immediate nods.

Karl-lo-Magne took a long breath while he thought. “And you came all this way to make this report because you supposed I would punish my men?”

“We want justice for our kinsmen and our women,” said Eutado. “We know Ansegisus will do nothing, for he will not come to our village, and the Bishop will not hear us, for he leaves all to the Patre. Besides, the missi dominici are your men, and their acts account to you.”

“They are my eyes and ears and good right arm; they are my voice to my people, and my promise to all of them of my regard,” Karl-lo-Magne agreed.

“They bring disgrace to your name, and they dishonor the Bishop, who also is Bishop in Solignac and is rarely in our village,” said Eutado.

“He has three bishoprics,” said Karl-lo-Magne. “The third is Sant’ Leonhard of Noblac near Nevers. It is a most important monastery in its region.” He pulled slowly at his beard. “It is no great crime for a man to use a woman.”

“But it is a crime to sell them to brothels,” Eutado said, daring to speak.

Karl-lo-Magne fixed the old man with a stare. “Do you know this is what they did? How do you know? What report did you receive?”

“Patre Drasius, who serves our village and three others, said he was told that one of the women had gone to a brothel in Arles,” said Nonateo. “He could not accompany us to speak to you: he has many other duties and his wife is about to give him another child.”

“You have a monastery and a priest?” Karl-lo-Magne exclaimed. “How does this happen?”

“Bishop Ambrosius does not often come to Sant’ Yrieix. He prefers Solignac and so appointed a priest for us and Sant’ Ianuarius the village and the nunnery, Cometou Gudi, Lacosasse, and the hermitage of Sant’ Damasus.” Eutado folded his arms and avoided the King’s gaze.

Karl-lo-Magne cocked his head. “This is not satisfactory. The Pope cannot have approved it.”

“I am told the Archbishop at Arles permitted it,” said Nonateo. “Fratre Cuvhild said something of it the last time he and Irmold were in Sant’ Yrieix, or so the brewer informed me. The missi dominici stay at his house when they are in our village.”

“Is the brewer with you?” Karl-lo-Magne asked, his tone higher and sharper than before.

“No. He is serving as Majore in my absence,” said Eutado.

“It could be that more than my missi dominici have been lax,” the King said as he considered the problem. “I may have to appoint a more diligent Bishop.”

“I ask you to do that,” said Eutado at once, holding up clasped hands in the gesture of petition.

“I will look into it,” said Karl-lo-Magne. “You, in the meantime, will go to the room just beyond this and you will dine at my table, on food from my kitchens. You will have beer from my barrels and my own mansionarii and slaves will wait upon you.” He rose. “I will send for you in the morning. Do not go far from the main gate.”

“No, Optime,” said Eutado for them all.

Karl-lo-Magne signaled to his two Guards. “Escort them to their comestus and be sure all their wants are satisfied.”

The Guards gave their Frankish salute and moved to the Burgundians, indicating with a motion of their spears that the men from Sant’ Yrieix were to proceed to the dining chamber.

“This is a troubling report, if it is true,” Karl-lo-Magne said to Bishop Agobard, who waited just outside the King’s private door to the reception room. “They have complaint against my missi dominici and Bishop Ambrosius as well.” He then summarized what the Burgundians had told him.

“A bad business, if it is true,” said Bishop Agobard, his attention on Karl-lo-Magne.

“So I think. My missi have many privileges, but it is not fitting that they should exceed their authority, for it smirches me and mine if they do. I do not like to think that they would carry out executions without confirming them with me.” He was strolling down the corridor, keeping his pace slow so that the Bishop would not have to rush. “What do you think? Should I summon Archbishop Heuges from Arles to tell me why he made such an arrangement with Bishop Ambrosius?”

“If he knew anything of this. It is an easy thing to say that the Archbishop has agreed when he may know nothing of it.” Bishop Agobard shrugged. “On the other hand, he may have done so for excellent reason. It might be better to summon Bishop Ambrosius and Potente Ansegisus to discover what they have done. I will decide what is best before comestus tomorrow.”

“And while you are considering summons, do not forget Irmold of Chur and Fratre Cuvhild—I have not. It is not fitting for men of my household to act against my wishes, if, indeed, they have done. I will not condemn them out of hand. They must have some explanation for their actions. They should present them to my face.” Karl-lo-Magne paused at the head of a flight of stairs leading up toward the cubicula where most of the Court not closely related to the King were housed. “In the meantime, I want you to consider which man might serve Sant’ Yrieix better than Bishop Ambrosius has done. I will take your recommendation as soon as you decide upon a candidate. I do not want to leave the Burgundians in disorder.”

“You will take the bishopric from Ambrosius?” Bishop Agobard cried, appalled at such a notion.

“Not all of his bishoprics, just the one he is not willing to administer,” said Karl-lo-Magne. “Your conclave may review my decision, as soon as all the Bishops arrive. This early snow will not bring them any faster.” He held up his hand. “The men from Sant’ Yrieix deserve our attention, for whatever else may have troubled the people of the village, if the Bishop has appointed a priest for the village and four others, he is not doing his duty. Another man will be willing to serve the Church—and me—in that place.” He wanted no argument and held up his hand to forestall one.

“What about your sons? Couldn’t one of them be sent there as your deputy, to—” Bishop Agobard got no farther.

“I have had one son rebel already. I will not provide incentive for another to do so.” Karl-lo-Magne shot a hard look at the Bishop. “If my missi dominici have failed me, that is for me to redress, not one of those ungrateful whelps of mine.” He stalked off up the stairs, his mind on the Burgundians and their disturbing accounts; he wanted to put his mind on other matters, and decided where he could manage that. He found Magnatus Rakoczy alone in his cubiculum, busy reading a leather-bound tome by the low light of an oil-lamp.

At the sound of his door opening, Rakoczy rose. “Optime. You should have sent for me.”

“And been waylaid by courtiers at every step?” Karl-lo-Magne said bluntly. “No, I would prefer not. This suits me very well.”