Night Blooming (78 page)

“Why would Great Karl prefer a foreigner to—” Suddenly he nodded. “Oh. Yes, indeed.” He put his hand to his nose.
“Sub rosa.
Better not to use a Frank then.”

“Exactly,” said Rorthger, wishing he could break off this conversation. “Do you expect to have the Bishop receive you?”

This ploy failed. “How does it happen that you travel without escort?” asked Urtius, nodding toward the mules. “I would think that soldiers would—”

“Ah, but that would create more attention, and a war-like presence that would damage the mission,” said Rorthger, and shot a sudden look at Rakoczy.

“So! He is more than a courier, after all.” Urtius put his hand to his nose again. “Well, I will keep your council, and say nothing.”

“I am grateful to you for your wisdom; if my duty is compromised it will go badly for the Emperor,” said Rakoczy suddenly, and added to Rorthger in the language of the Asian steppes, “We had best avoid Fulda. We cannot suppose this man will not speak of this meeting.”

“I am sorry, my master,” said Rorthger in Frankish.

“Hardly your fault, old friend. These garrulous men can be tenacious. Perhaps I should have intervened before now. You had best say something that will frighten the fellow or he’ll stay with us for the next two leagues, and then we’ll have to turn toward Fulda or be even more conspicuous than we already are.” Rakoczy changed back to Frankish. “You should ride ahead now.”

“I will,” said Rorthger, and nodded to the merchant. “May your friend the Bishop receive you well, and may you prosper.”

“You are gracious,” said Urtius, beaming at Rorthger and ducking his head in Rakoczy’s direction. “I must tell you how pleased I am that we have met.”

“You are very kind,” said Rorthger. “And I pray you will have no reason to regret this meeting.”

“And may your mission be fruitful for Great Karl,” said Urtius, already anticipating the tales he would have to regale the Bishop and his company that night or the night after, whenever the banquet was held. “How could I regret this meeting?”

“The enemies of Great Karl are always alert to the failures of his messengers, and if that fate should befall my master, anyone we have spoken to stands in danger from them.” He ducked his head. “I am sorry to repay you so ill for your friendliness.”

Urtius went pale. “Ah. I had not considered … Your point is … I see your point.”

“For your own sake, keep this meeting secret. You would not want to suffer any grief on our account.” Rorthger made a gesture of protection. “May the Saints and Martyrs guard you, Urtius of Pavia. May you escape all danger.”

“Amen,” said Urtius, and did not protest when Rorthger moved out ahead of Rakoczy and the two took a side road rather than the main one.

They kept on all day, passing Fulda at mid-afternoon, standing below them in the valley. “The horses will need a good rest, wherever we fetch up this evening,” said Rorthger, pointing out Fulda through the screen of trees. “If we had gone to the monastery we would be resting now, you and I, and our animals.”

“I know,” said Rakoczy. “And I have been thinking. Do you remember the ford at Sant’ Wigbod? Where we crossed when we came into Franksland.”

“Where the peasants brought the sledges?” Rorthger asked. “Yes. It is north of here, perhaps thirty Roman leagues.”

“Yes. The road is clear between here and there. I trust we might cross at that point again,” said Rakoczy. “They must take many travelers over the river at this time of year.”

“But wouldn’t that be folly? The Emperor would expect you to go that way, and if he wishes to stop you, he will send his soldiers there.” Rorthger was troubled by this suggestion. “Why would he want to stop you? Is there some reason he might withdraw his defenses?”

“So he might. And we must be ready for that. But a handful of silver coins should buy us a day or two of protection among the peasants of this region.” Rakoczy managed a quick, hard smile. “The peasants are probably willing to keep our passage a secret for a day or two if I pay them enough, if only to have a secret.”

Rorthger shook his head. “It is too much of a chance.”

“I don’t think so,” said Rakoczy. “We have good reason to go that way. It is the easiest crossing into Wendish territory away from the main roads. From there it is only three days to the frontier, which is closer than in many places. There are no battles, or any campaigns, in that region, at least not now.”

“But it could be dangerous. Armed men could be waiting,” Rorthger said nervously. In spite of himself, he looked back over his shoulder as if he expected to see men in pursuit.

“Armed men could be anywhere,” said Rakoczy, as if knowing his apprehension. “For now, let us look for a village where we can pass a day or two. There must be some place in these hills where we can let our animals rest without attracting notice.” He, too, looked over his shoulder at the road behind them. “No one has followed us this far, and that is something in our favor.”

“You may be overly cautious,” Rorthger reminded Rakoczy.

“I may be,” he agreed. “But better too cautious and free than careless and in the hands of those who are against us.” He pointed to the crest ahead. “There should be a village or a hamlet in the next valley, or the one beyond, or perhaps a monastery. Let us hope, whatever we may find, they will be able to provide us a place to stay for a day or two.”

Rorthger tried to look skeptical, but had to admit that he had a strange sensation on the back of his neck. “All right. And then on to Sant’ Wigbod.”

“Yes,” Rakoczy said, and once again took the lead on the narrow track that led into the fastness of the rugged hills.

T
EXT OF A LETTER FROM
B
ISHOP
F
LODOARD TO
B
ISHOP
I
SO, CARRIED BY
C
HURCH COURIER AND DELIVERED SEVEN WEEKS AFTER IT WAS WRITTEN AND DISPATCHED.

To the most Sublime Bishop Iso, the greetings of your Brother in Christ and the Church, Bishop Flodoard at Fulda on the 22
nd
day of August in the Pope’s year 801. May you find favor in Heaven’s Eyes and advancement in this world. Amen.

The soldiers you dispatched to this monastery, after two weeks waiting here, have moved on, for the men they were seeking have not come this way. I have already dispatched word to the fortress at Erfurt, advising the Comes there that he may have to detain this Rakoczy and his servant As much as we have done to locate the criminal, we have not been able to discover where he may have gone. It is most perplexing to have a man and one servant so completely elude you. There has been no report of them amongst the travelers stopping here, nor has anyone seen them in the village around the monastery. The wine-merchant spoke of seeing a hobu with an escort some distance from this place three weeks since, but as no one else has reported such an encounter, I put little credence in his account, for he is often moved by what he sells, and in the retelling, a flock of sheep becomes an army. Yet even if he did encounter this foreigner, he makes it no easier to find the fellow. I know this is most disappointing to you, I know, for you have been determined to call this man to answer stringent charges. I am in sympathy with your predicament, for when such miscreants as this foreigner Rakoczy and his camerarius are said to be are allowed to move about the Empire of Karl-lo-Magne, all of Franksland must be held accountable for permitting his escape. For this alone you and I will have much to answer for if the Pope should ever decide to question these events.

At least the White Woman has Confessed at last telling Bishop Berahtram that she had congress with many devils who were summoned by Rakoczy in diabolical rites intended to harm the Pope and bring about the end of the Roman Church. She has also said she has been in the Circle of the Damned and heard curses called down upon our Emperor, and for such evil, not even the Pope can save her. It must be troubling to His Holiness that the White Woman so glamored him that he did not see Satan in her when she was sent to appear before him. He will not extend protection to her now that it has been shown that she is as a viper sent to poison the hearts and souls of good Christian Franks. Her immurement will provide her the opportunity to expiate the worst of her sins and bring sanctity to Sant’ Ianuarius, as well as enhance the reputation of Bishop Berahtram, who has been able to show her for what she is, and thereby defend both the Church and the Emperor. May God grant him long years and a good death.

I must tell you that I am disheartened that I have been unable to assist your soldiers in apprehending this foreigner. I am informed that Optime has been reluctant to condemn this Magnatus because he believes that Rakoczy rendered him honorable service during his time as his courtier. I cannot express what a disappointment I have experienced since I have learned that Great Karl has refused to send more soldiers to these eastern frontiers for the purpose of seizing this foreigner and sending him back to be tried before a full Council of Archbishops.

One of the travelers who recently came here to Fulda suggested that this missing foreigner might have been killed by bandits on the road. There have been more than twenty such killings this summer, and I must agree that this is possible, and, if it has happened, we must all thank God for deliverance from the powers of Satan. It is also possible that he was struck down by the Great Pox that still lingers in this region, and has claimed many lives since summer began. If that is the case, the man lies in some nameless grave and you and I may be free of worry. I have asked various pilgrims if they have heard of any foreign hobu dying of the Great Pox while on the road. I have learned nothing so far, but I have dreamed that he succumbed in just that fashion, and if, by the Nativity, I have heard nothing more of him, I will know my dream to have been a true vision. I pray you will find the same surety that I have, so that you may inform Optime that he has no reason to fear the return of Magnatus Rakoczy. My revered colleague, Bishop Iso, I implore you, let it be as if the foreigner never existed, and God will bring us all to Grace for honoring His Might.

Flodoard,

Abbott and Bishop Fulda, Sant’ Maclovis,

Santa Fabronia, Emaerich, and Sant’ Fides

by my own hand and under seal

E
PILOGUE

T
EXT OF A LETTER FROM
A
TTA
O
LIVIA
C
LEMENS IN
V
ENICE TO
R
AGOCZY
F
RANSICUS IN
K
IEV, CARRIED BY MERCHANTS AND DELIVERED NINETEEN MONTHS AFTER IT WAS WRITTEN.

To my oldest dearest friend, Ragoczy Fransicus, still in Kiev in the Khazar Empire, the greetings of Olivia in Venice, and a miserable place it is, too, all filled with water and the constant movement of the tides, on this, the onset of Lent in the Pope’s year 815.

Not content with leaving Karl-lo-Magne’s Empire, you have stayed far away from the Empire in the West I cannot believe that you would prefer to remain in that distant city. On the other hand, I can understand why you want to be beyond the reach of the Franks. They certainly excoriated your reputation as soon as you were gone. But Karl-lo-Magne is dead now, for a bit more than a year, and his son, thus far, has not shown his father’s energy the way his daughters do. How unfortunate that power had to pass to Louis and his Court of Bishops instead of Bellatori. If Gisela or Rotruda had been able to rule, things wouldn’t be as precarious as they have become.

Living here in soggy Venice, I often hear from sailors and merchants of what is taking place in the broad world. The merchants from the north—some from as far away as England—say that there are Norsemen coming in long, shallow boats to plunder the western part of Franksland and the northern ports of Hispania. I have seen no proof of this for myself, and I hold such accounts in some question, but there have been enough of them and they have been consistent enough that I am willing to believe that they are true, which means that Louis will have to make some attempt to shore up his harbors against these Norsemen or lose the control of them. Can you imagine what his father would have to say about that? I fear if Louis isn’t strong enough to hold his ports, it will only be the first of his misfortunes. I also understand that Frankish custom requires him to divide his lands among his sons, as Karl-lo-Magne would have done had more of them than Louis outlived him. At a time when the Empire is in peril, dividing it seems to me to be folly. But perhaps I am too much of an old Roman to see the virtue in this arrangement.

One of the many things I dislike about this horrible collection of islands is that I cannot keep my horses here. Everything is boats, boats, boats. I can see the advantages in that arrangement, but I cannot accustom myself to have my horses on the mainland, where any thief might take them, while I am condemned to a small stone house that even Niklos Aulirios finds insufficient to our purposes. Still, it is a place where the Pope does not come, and the Church confines itself to two islands, affording me a degree of license I have lost in Roma. It is unfortunate that I could not mend my break with Leo, but since matters worked out so badly for Gynethe Mehaut and she was my guest, I was tainted in Leo’s eyes, and absenting myself from the city has been prudent. I have heard that Leo is ailing, and if it is so, I may soon be able to return to Roma; eleven years in Venice has been an eternity of discomfort to me. I will be delighted to see the Flavian Circus and all the old Fora once again, and love them, no matter how damaged and battered they are. Roma is my native earth, and I honor it as the first of my lares.

It is a most dreadful thing, the loss of Gynethe Mehaut. Nothing you tell me will convince me that Bishop Iso did not have a hand in her disgrace. And as for Bishop Berahtram—who is now Archbishop of Arles, as you may have heard—I am deeply troubled by all I hear of him. He is high in the ranks of Louis’ advisors and he is regarded as highly as any Grav in the Empire. I think the man is a toad who bullied and frightened Gynethe Mehaut into saying things that would advance him in the Church, not help her soul. It is ironic that the people of Sant’ Yrieix have begun to make shrines to her and ask her to pray for them in times of affliction. Nothing the Church has commanded thus far has stopped them from revering her. It is scant consolation, I know, but it should salve your wounds at least a little.