Night Blooming (76 page)

Therefore, reluctant though I am to do it, I am rescinding my grant of fiscs that I gave you, and I am requiring that you depart from them within ten days of receiving this notification. My courier will inform me of the day on which you read this, and he will remain to see for himself that you have departed. My second cousin Magenfrid will come in September to occupy the fiscs, and he will have my authority to imprison you if you have not left the fiscs by then. You may take your own belongings, of course, and as many horses and mules as you may need for your journey. I am sorry that I cannot provide you an escort to whichever border you seek, but as you know, the Great Pox has been rampant in the center of Franksland and I cannot spare soldiers, nor missi dominici, to guide you. I trust to your resourcefulness to bring you safely to the border you seek. You will be allowed to leave Franksland or Longobardia without any taxation being imposed upon you in my name, for in leaving your horses behind, you have supplied enough value to make silver an unnecessary addition to what I have already received. So long as you are gone by the time I have stipulated, you will be excused further charges against you. It is not much of a concession but it is the best I can offer you.

So that your passage will be unhampered, I am including with this a passagius, which will authorize you to traverse all Frankish and Longobardian roads without let or hindrance. The passagius will be enforced for forty days, after which time, if you are still within my territories, you will have to make what arrangements you can for your journey, and on terms that are not supported by my favor. This may seem harsh, but it is as lenient as I dare to be, given the feelings that have been aroused against you here in Aachen. It is a sad thing when I must turn away from so resolute a hobu as you have proven to be—and if you were a Frank, I would not—but these are difficult times, and, as you know yourself, I am not in a position to risk offending my own, for it is their support that has made my Empire flourish; much as I hold you in high esteem, I will not compromise all I have worked for all these years. I am sure you will show your fealty in the speed of your departure. If you do not leave in the time I have ordered, soldiers will be sent to the fiscs and you will be taken into custody in my name, and brought before my Court to answer for your defiance; I must warn you that if this should happen, your enemies will have an opportunity to strip you of everything you own and to cast you into prison for the rest of your life. As much as I would want not to condemn you, I cannot make an exception of you, a foreigner, and then impose such sentences on Franks, for that would lead to insurrection and war.

Since you will have to leave behind many horses, I will take them in change and add them to my own herds. This is as much of a tribute as I can offer to you, and to that end, I have ordered that your catch-colt—the tall one with the red coat—will be put into my stable as well, as one of my own mounts. This will show my kinsmen that I do not disdain you, and it may make it possible at some future time for you to return to Franksland and to my Court, when there is less unrest.

I pray that we will meet again, on this earth. There are many things that I should still like to learn from you, and I am certain that, in the years ahead, I will be able to make some demonstration of my good opinion once again. In the meantime, I wish you swift travel and the satisfaction of knowing you have served me well.

Karl-lo-Magne

Emperor of the Franks and Longobards and

Imperial Governor of all the Romans of the

West (his sigil by his own hand)

by the hand of Fratre Hinehild

Chapter Fifteen

I
NSECTS BUZZED IN THE WARM NIGHT
, small eddies of them following the two men and nine animals who made their way along the broad ruts that led across the swath of pasture-land toward the dark mass of the forest; the moon, two nights short of full, poured down its pellucid light on the fields in the last throes of summer, the brightness making all shadows blacker by contrast.

“There may be bandits in the woods,” Rorthger warned; he could not forget Waifar and their first encounter with him, and all that had resulted from it. That alone made him apprehensive; he was riding behind Rakoczy, leading a horse and three well-laden mules, and the hard pace his master had set over the last ten days was beginning to tell on him as well as their animals. They were moving through Austrasia at nine leagues each day, the best time they had made since they left Sant’ Cyricus.

“There probably are, but at this time of night, they will all be asleep. They only watch the roads during the day, or at twilight. No one is abroad after full dark, and the brigands know this better than anyone.” Rakoczy spoke as quietly as he could and still be heard; he led a remount and two pack-mules.

Rorthger accepted this. “The moonlight won’t help us when we get to the forest.”

“No; we will find a place to stop before we get there. It is still many leagues distant.” Rakoczy relented. “Your point is well-taken, old friend. I must not punish you or our animals for my own dismay.”

“Dismay?” Rorthger said before he could stop himself; he did not want to question Rakoczy, knowing that such inquiry could send his master into a more removed state of mind than the one in which he already was. “Why should you feel dismay?”

“What else should I feel: perhaps chagrin,” Rakoczy said ironically. “I, of all men, should know not to rely upon the gratitude of rulers.”

This admission brought Rorthger fully alert. “Did you rely upon Great Karl?”

“Far more than I should have,” Rakoczy allowed with a hint of a rueful smile. “I should have remembered that for a Frank, kinship is everything, and that I, as a stranger, would never have his complete support no matter what he promised. I knew that, but I allowed myself to be persuaded that he would not be bound by the demands of his relatives. It was foolish and I know better: nothing is more compelling than the ties of blood.” He managed a single chuckle. “How could I forget such an essential thing?”

An owl flew over them on silent wings, then dove into the field, emerging with a rat in its talons.

“Great Karl doesn’t uphold blood as you do, and he professes to honor merit above blood; it was an easy thing to believe, for he has advanced those not among his kin—think of Alcuin, who is no Frank,” said Rorthger. He peered into the limpid distance. “There is a hamlet up ahead.”

“Yes; I see it,” said Rakoczy. “We’ll probably hear dogs barking shortly.”

“Doesn’t that trouble you?” Rorthger asked; he had seen Rakoczy like this many times in the past, and always it had disquieted him—that careful courtesy and slightly reticent demeanor that served to tell Rorthger that there was deep pain and intense grief behind the self-contained facade.

“They will assume deer have come down to graze in their fields, or a bear is in their orchard. They won’t expect two men and a string of horses and mules.” He looked at the leads in his hands. “If they see our tracks in the morning, they’ll assume merchants went by before dawn.”

“You’re sure of that, are you?” Rorthger challenged.

Rakoczy did not answer at once. He kept his eyes on the road ahead. At last, when they had gone another half-league, he spoke up again. “The worst they might do is throw rocks.”

“And they will remember,” Rorthger warned.

“Perhaps, if they actually see us,” said Rakoczy. “But so far, not even one dog has barked.” He urged his grey on as the road began to rise. “Do you remember the ponies we rode across the steppes? They would be useful to us just now, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes, they would,” said Rorthger. “And so would good Roman roads.”

“True enough,” said Rakoczy. “In another two months, this will be a mire, and it will be well into spring before anyone will travel on it again.”

Rorthger knew it would not be possible to get Rakoczy to speak about what was vexing him, so he abandoned the attempt. He settled in for a long, silent ride on the twisting road. The moon rode overhead, sliding down toward the west as the night began to fade; they were not far from the trees now, and the first stirrings of night’s end had begun, and Rorthger looked around for an isolated building to bring to Rakoczy’s attention.

“There,” said Rakoczy, pointing to a small stone chapel. “It is a good place to spend the day.”

“If no monk or hermit lives in it,” Rorthger cautioned.

“No, not now,” said Rakoczy. “There is a Pox sign on the side of it. Whoever lived there died during the summer.”

Rorthger knew that Rakoczy could see in relative darkness far better than he could, but this startled him. “You can see it?”

“So can you if you care to look,” said Rakoczy. “It is quite large.” He pointed to the side of the squat stone building. “In rust-colored pigment. The Great Pox took a high toll on this part of Franksland since May. We have seen its depredation from our crossing at Mainz. Everything to the east of the river has been blighted by it. That hamlet may have lost half its people if the outbreak was as severe in this region as it was at Mainz; they lost at least one in six in that town—that has been the pattern here for more than two centuries.”

“The Great Pox is a curse to men,” said Rorthger. “Anyone it touches takes its mark whether they live or die.” He wanted to add something about the whiteness that marked Gynethe Mehaut, but he could not bring himself to speak of her, fearing he would worsen the pain that had Rakoczy in its grip; he bided his time and hoped that eventually Rakoczy might offer his thoughts of his own accord.

Rakoczy said nothing more until they reached the turning for the chapel, and then he said, “If you will look for a well or a spring?”

“Certainly,” said Rorthger. “The horses and mules need drink.”

“And it would be pleasant to wash. I feel as if I have grime everywhere,” said Rakoczy; he noticed a stand of reeds. “There may be a stream.”

“If there is a stream, there are surely ducks,” said Rorthger, who did not want to admit how hungry he was.

“Yes,” Rakoczy said, his tone still distant.

“Do you plan to go on before nightfall?” Rorthger asked, and patted the neck of his copper-dun as if to reassure the horse that their long night was almost over; his back was tired, and he hoped for a full day of rest before they rode on.

“Probably we should leave in late afternoon.” Rakoczy was almost at the entrance to the chapel. “We’ll have a clear night again and I hope to make the most of it while the moon is at its brightest.”

“Shouldn’t we go after dark? You will be able to guide us through the trees, and fewer people will see us,” Rorthger suggested. “I will catch a brace of ducks.”

“Just as well. We’re both hungry.” Rakoczy got out of the saddle and took the reins and leads, pulling the animals toward the entrance to the chapel. “Take them all inside. Give them grain from the sacks, and a palmful of oil each.”

“All right,” said Rorthger as he dismounted. “The peasants won’t like having their chapel used as a stall.”

“Will you tell them? For I won’t,” Rakoczy countered with a trace of amusement. “We can bed the floor and sweep it out before we leave.”

This satisfied Rorthger. “I’ll help you cut reeds for bedding. We have time enough before dawn.” He forced open the door, pushing it back in spite of groaning hinges; the chapel was dank from disuse, the air stale. The altar was little more than a plank table under two high, barred windows.

“Close quarters,” said Rakoczy, moving his animals inside and making room for Rorthger.

“Truly,” said Rorthger as he came inside with his horses and mules.

“We’ll make do,” said Rakoczy. He tied the reins and leads to the frame of a small shrine near the door. “I’ll take the sickle with me. If you’ll see to the unsaddling, I’ll get the first armful of reeds.”

“Of course,” said Rorthger, and secured his animals to the other side of the shrine. “Which Saint is this, do you suppose?”

From the door, Rakoczy laughed slightly. “I suppose it is one of the old gods who has been re-formed as a Saint. Look at the cat at her feet. One of the old goddesses rode in a chariot drawn by cats—I forget which one, but I suspect the villagers could tell me, for if they say this Saint has a connection with cats, I surmise that connection is similar to the one the old goddess had.” He slipped out of the door, leaving Rorthger to his tasks. He returned a short while later with a double armload of reeds. He put them down almost as soon as he was inside and began to spread them about. “Not as good as straw, but better than branches and twigs,” he said as he continued to work on the bedding.

Rorthger had stood the saddles on end and was preparing rough-leather nose-bags with grain and oil for their animals. “I’ll take them down to drink in a while.”

“Why don’t you go get more reeds and snare a pair of ducks for our comestus?” Rakoczy recommended. “I’ll tend to the grooming; I’ll make camphor wraps for their legs to reduce the chance of lameness.” He picked up the box of brushes and began to work on his older grey. “Their manes need wool-fat. I’ll treat them, and their tails.”

“Very good,” said Rorthger. “I’ll catch the ducks—you can have the blood and I’ll eat their flesh.” He knew he sounded hungry, and for once, he did not care. Taking the sickle and a pair of weighted nets, he left Rakoczy to care for the horses and mules. As he stepped outside he looked up and saw that the eastern sky was beginning to lighten, a soft dove color shone over the mountains; in the west, the moon had dropped below the peaks. In the distance, a cock crowed, announcing morning, and Rorthger hurried to do his work, not wanting to be discovered by early-rising peasants. A short while later, as he snared his second duck, he heard two cows lowing; he hastened to cut an armful of reeds and carried them and the squawking ducks back to the chapel.

“I don’t think it would be wise to make a fire,” Rakoczy said as he saw Rorthger come inside. He was brushing down the fourth mule and had a large jar of wool-fat tucked under his arm. “Do you want me to flay the ducks for you?”