Dave Duncan - When the Saints

And so on. But a story of four bodily intruders had now become one of a mirage. Alojz had changed Ugne’s mind for him in that flash of talent. Yesterday Wulf had seen Marek do the same thing when the Castle Gallant guards refused him admission, and even Marek had glowed for a moment. Justina would call that obscene abuse of power a crime, but the ability to change people’s memories explained how talent could be kept so secret. Now Bishop Ugne’s report to the archbishop would describe an apparition, and the other clergy would follow his lead when preaching to their flocks, no matter what he had said previously. Wulf was aware of Anton looking sideways at him, either outraged by this absurd volte-face, or perhaps himself uncertain if he had caught a side-splash of miracle.

Tweaking was forbidden by the second commandment, but what was Wulf supposed to do about it? Reverse it? Counter-tweak? How did he defend Anton against that sort of mental aggression? No doubt “brancher” Alojz had been trained by “handler” Vilhelmas and knew all the answers. A week ago Wulf had been thrown all alone into deep water with no help but an anchor, and he was still sinking.

“Can we now discuss the forthcoming attack by the schismatic Wends?” Ugne demanded. His face, always ruddy, was glowing brighter than ever in the icy wind. “What is Havel proposing?”

“I am begging on my knees that I be allowed to fulfill my vows and perform the duty I swore to King Konrad, may God preserve His Majesty!” Havel said. “Count Magnus and I are both lords of the northern marches. Our lands march together. We are bound by fealty and custom to come to each other’s aid when hazard looms, as our respective predecessors have done oftentimes. I know how poorly the late Count Bukovany, may Christ cherish his soul, prepared for this emergency, even after he had been warned of Wartislaw’s intentions. I know that his succ Sthais essor is young and understandably headstrong, but now he and his fief stand in deadly peril. Almost his first act on his accession was to dismiss the landsknecht mercenaries his predecessor had hired and whom he now so sorely needs.”

He paused for breath. Wulf kept his eyes firmly fixed on Alojz, who returned his attention with the amused contempt of one who is ahead on points and need only keep his opponent from scoring in order to win the match.

“You mean,” Anton said sarcastically, “that, having foxes yapping at my north gate, I should now open the south one to wolves? Cardinal Zdenek himself warned me not to make that mistake.”

Alojz rolled his eyes. Wulf did not lower his guard. If he saw the least flicker in the Pelrelmian’s nimbus, he was going rip the kid’s ear off-inside his helmet where no one else would notice.

“I hope you laugh at your folly when your head is mounted on a spike, my lord.” Havel looked to Ugne. “My lord bishop, can you not make this popinjay countling see reason? Can’t you explain to him that my life and lands are as much at risk as his are? If Wartislaw takes Cardice, he will have forced open the front door to Pelrelm also. I have fought the Wends all my life, and to accuse me of treason now is ludicrous!”

“How much did you pay the landsknechte to desert?” Anton asked.

Havel reached for his dagger. The bishops and heralds all wailed that this was a parley.

“You cannot defend this castle without my help!” the Hound yelled.

“I have the help of my brother,” Anton drawled, deliberately provoking the older man. “No, not this one, although he keeps our spirits up with an endless flow of droll stories. I refer to Sir Vladislav Magnus, a knight banneret famed throughout Christendom, who is now supervising our defenses and has assured me that there is no cause for alarm. He can hold off the Wends until it’s so cold their pissers freeze. Which is what the wind is about to do to me, so we should discontinue this meaningless blithering and save your venerable bishop from further distress. Or are you about to threaten to blast your way into my castle and steal it before the Wends do?”

Nobody spoke. Wulf wanted to look at their faces, but dared not take his attention off Alojz.

“That is your last word?” Havel growled at last.

“Almost. If you truly wish to help us,” Anton conceded, “I will admit that we are short of crossbow bolts. So if you care to deliver a wagonload or two to our outpost, I shall happily pay for them at standard rates. The same goes for rent or purchase of any bombards or other firearms you are not using, and of course suitable powder and shot. In short, your help with materiel will be welcome and gratefully acknowledged to His Majesty, but none of your men will set foot inside my gates, and that is final.”

Nicely done. A true patriot should be willing to negotiate on that basis. Wulf raised an eyebrow to invite Alojz’s approval of Anton’s verbal dexterity, but the youth just sneered.

And Havel turned his back. “Come, my lord bishop,” he said. “The boy is mad and we must leave him to God’s mercy.”

“Anton, my son, is this wise?” Ugne muttered.

“My lord bishop,” Anton declared, loud enough for all to hear, “I have knowledge sure as Holy Writ that Havel Vranov is in league with the Pomeranians.” He knew that because Wulf had seen the Hound drinking with the Wends at Long Valley last night; but Wulf could never testify to that in a court of law. “He has taken their silver on the promise of delivering Castle Gallant into their hands. His head will fall in good time to the headsman’s ax, and his soul will writhe in Satan’s furnace for eternity. Take your rabble out of my domain, Hound. You are an irrelevant nuisance.”

Anton took Bishop Ugne’s arm and turned him around. Arturas looked sadly at the opposing herald and both shrugged. The meeting broke up. The workadays went their separate ways, but Alojz Zauber lingered, probably checking that Wulf did not try anything as soon as his back was turned. Wulf also waited.

“How many of you Magnuses are there?” the Pelrelmian demanded. “You must breed like rats.”

“Enough of us to handle the Wends and the Hound without working up a sweat. You’re filling in for Father Vilhelmas, are you?”

The boy bared his teeth. “Assassins!”

“Are we? Ask the late Count Bukovany and his son.”

“Ask your brother the friar.”

“That murder was really stupid,” Wulf said. “For three hundred years, killing Magnuses has b een a swift form of suicide. Go home and talk to your confessor before it’s too late, boy.”

A life-and-death parley had degenerated into a child’s slanging match. Assuming that Anton was now safely out of range, Wulf turned on his heel and strode away.

Although there had been no attack on Castle Gallant in Madlenka’s lifetime, nor in her father’s either, her mother had lived through the siege of Castle Zamek before her marriage and knew exactly what had to be done, or thought she did. Quick as Madlenka usually was to find fault with Dowager Countess Edita, she had to admit that the old scold did a fine job in this instance. In no time, she had collected bedding, bandages, and priests, and transformed the hall into an infirmary. Every barber-surgeon in town had been ordered to attend and bring his implements Vt›

Madlenka herself took charge of the stretcher-bearing teams, partly because she thought her authority would get help to the wounded faster, partly because she dreaded the horrors of blood and pain that would unfold in the hall. In a way, she was being cowardly in choosing the danger of the battlements, and she remembered Father telling Petr that courage usually sprang from fear of being thought a coward.

Halfway to the barbican she realized that her mother had blundered when she set up the infirmary in the keep, for it was too far from the north gate. She should have consulted one of the Magnus brothers, any of whom would probably have advised her to requisition St. Sebastijan’s church, which was much closer. And as soon as this skirmish was over, they must organize another hospital near the south gate, probably in St. Petr’s. People forget how to fight wars after too many years of peace.