Night Blooming (44 page)

Rorthger did his best to look pleased with this high-handed demand. “Good Bellatore, we know that you must rise early. We will also take every care to see that your horses are ready for the journey. Your tack will be cleaned and any necessary repairs made, and your mounts will be groomed. Their legs and hooves will be inspected, and we will do the same for the mules that will carry the materiel needed for the long days ahead. You may leave here certain that your animals are sound and you have enough food, for yourselves and your horses and mules.” He was pleased to see the mansionarii emerge from the house with pails of beer and a tray of large drinking cups. “See, Bellatori? Here is your first libation of welcome to this villa. Drink in the name of my master and Great Karl.”

Einshere took the first cup offered and watched impatiently while it was filled. Then he shouted, “All honor to King Karl-lo-Magne!” and drank down the whole contents and held out his cup for more. “Is your well sweet?” he asked, adding, “So many are not Water is a chancy thing.”

“In that we are fortunate here,” said Rorthger. “This well is pure and runs the year around. It’s true that many other villas are not so fortunate as we are.”

“And your master?” Einshere demanded in an abrupt change of subject. “Where is he?”

“He is completing the packing of his garments and readying his chests for travel,” Rorthger answered as if this were the most usual thing in the world.

“He does not use his servants for such work? Where are his slaves—in the fields?” Einshere was half-finished with his second cup of beer. “This is very good.”

“My master, being a foreigner, keeps no slaves. And he has traveled much in his life, and has oftentimes packed his own chests.” Rorthger could see that Einshere was becoming flushed already, his fair skin turning ruddy on his cheeks and forehead. “Let him suit himself. Your bread and cheese await you in the dining hall. I fear it is not a grand chamber, such as you find in Royal Residences, but it is sufficient to handle your numbers.” He indicated the door and graciously led the Bellatore toward it. “There will be comestus come Vespers. You will be well-fed then. They are already busy in the kitchen, turning two lambs and a shoat on spits for you, and making a porridge of lentils and onions.”

“Fine fare!” Einshere held his cup so that he left a dribbled trail of beer for the others to follow. “I am hungry. Three days in the saddle and I am a wolf at table.”

“As any man would be,” said Rorthger at once, doing his best to be cordial. “Well, come in and have your bread and cheese. There is no new butter—the day has been top wet for that—but there is clotted cream, and that should serve in its place.”

Behind Einshere, Usuard and Notrold, a burly soldier from Mainz whose father had been Archbishop there, shouldered his way, forcing the others to move aside; Notrold looked about as he entered the house, saying as he did, “Your patron does well for himself. Look at those hangings. Such rare things they are.” He pointed to two lengths of embroidered silk that had come from China more than two centuries ago. “Those are treasures the King would not despise.”

“Yes,” said Usuard, awed by the hangings and the fine Spanish hanging lamps. “Yes, he does.”

The dining hall was only large enough to accommodate forty men, but the two tables were of fine polished woods, and the benches had low backs on them, a touch that had Notrold’s immediate approval. “Very wise, No man will fall over and take the whole row with him. Someone in this household is clever.” He went and took a seat near the fireplace, thumping his fists as he sat; his cup rang like an ill-tuned bell. “Sit, sit,” he said to Usuard. “The scullions won’t bring us our bread and cheese until we’re all seated. That’s how it is in grand houses like this one.”

“And you know this, do you?” Einshere muttered.

Usuard did as he was ordered, taking the place opposite Notrold. A moment later, Theubert of Sant’ Cyricus sat beside him. “Did you know our patron was so well-off? He is grand as a Comes, they say,” he whispered. “The servants are well-fed and their clothing is new.”

“I noticed this,” Usuard admitted. A moment later, the rest of the escort took places at the table.

Rorthger went to the door leading to the kitchen and called for the scullions to attend at once. “You have the bread and cheese ready. Bring it here.”

The six men thumped the table in anticipation and were shortly rewarded by the arrival of loaves of new bread and a wheel of cheese as well as a tub of clotted cream; their leader did his best to maintain an air of decorum, but failed. The men at the table fell to as if they had not eaten in days.

“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?”