Dave Duncan - When the Saints

The room was a bedchamber, bright with many candles, their light glittering on gilt and crystal and fine enamel. The only occupant was a youngish man sitting on a chair, the only chair. The window drapes were purple velvet; the carpet was thick and soft. A huge crystal mirror above the dressing shelf made the place seem less cramped than it really was. The door stood ajar, admitting sounds of distant music.

The man sprang up and bowed. Sybilla made introductions. Madlenka curtseyed; he kissed her fingers.

Yes, he impressed. For some reason she had expected an effete courtly fop, although she had never met such a creature, for there were none in the hills of Cardice. Louis was not that. He was not unlike Wulf, in fact, although a little older-broad, deep-chested, and muscular, as evidenced by the calves filling his hose. His face was more craggy than handsome, and certainly not soft or feminine, but he had a wonderful smile that flaunted a complete set of white teeth. He was clean-shaven of course, bronzed and of fair complexion, although not flaxen like Wulf. His eyes were gray, not golden, and his clothes had cost a coach and four.

Yes, so far he impressed.

He gestured at the other chair. “Do please sit here, ma’am.” His Latin was much better than hers, and her French was too despicable to try. “Sister, you will have to settle for the bed, I fear.”

He dropped on one knee and leaned his forearms on the other. It was the attitude of a humble petitioner, and made him seem eager and attentive. Sybilla closed the door and sat as directed.

“Ma’am, will you pardon my atrocious manners if I come straight to the point? My sister and I must soon return to the ball and the longer we talk, the more people are likely to start spying on us.”

“Please do, m’sieur.”

He nodded graciously. He did have a wonderful smile, and knew how to usnew how e it.

“I am a suitor for the hand of your beautiful princess. Yes, I have seen her, although we live at opposite ends of Christendom, but I would not admit that if I had not been assured that you are one of the Wise.” He shot a twinkling glance at his Speaker sister. “Laima has beauty to make fire flow in the veins of any man. Her wit and grace are well known. I concede that I am far from her only suitor, and very far from the greatest.”

Madlenka must say something. “But not the least favored, I am certain.”

“You flatter, ma’am. Here in France I am the youngest son of a marquis, which is better than being a schoolmaster, but in Jorgary, I would be a prince. My offer to your sovereign, King Konrad, included a pledge that I would reside in your country and learn to speak your vernacular tongue, whereas most other suitors would expect the lovely Laima to go and live with them in their homelands. I am sure that difference would matter to her, but I doubt if her opinions are of importance, alas, or even known. I am not rich; my estates bring in a few thousand livres a month, but that is penury by royal standards. I cannot increase my original offer to your esteemed Cardinal Zdenek, which was one-half of whatever dowry the princess brings to the marriage.”

One-half…? Madlenka must have let her outrage show, because he shrugged. Graciously, of course.

“Alas, it is to be expected. That is how ‘arrangements’ are made, and others will have offered him more. Because of my own circumstances, more than one-half would be unfair to my bride, exposing our poverty to the shame of all.”

Then Louis paused to let her comment. Her mind spun frantically. She was not accustomed to managing the most valuable livestock in Christendom, or whatever Sybilla had called Wulf. But, of course, there was something very obviously missing.

“You want me to contract my, um, falcon’s services to Cardinal Zdenek, so he will agree to accept you as Princess Laima’s husband?” She took his nod as acceptance. She thought he was hiding his amusement at her fumbling attempts at negotiation. “And what are you offering me, as his cadger?”

That smile again…

“I have an uncle who stands very high in the Church. He will do all he can to further my suit. He could provide your falcon with a papal absolution for any past misdeeds. Sybilla has established that your handfasting to Anton was highly irregular and not properly explained to you in advance. You were subjected to unseemly pressure. A papal order to your bishop to annul it would be included.”

Stars danced and birds sang. Then clouds of doubt swept in. “According to a reliable source, His Holiness has already prejudged the case and found my, um, falcon, guilty of Satanism.” Madlenka looked to Sybilla for confirmation, since she was the source in question.

Sybilla nodded impatiently.

Louis said, “I expect that His Holiness was merely establishing a bargaining position.”

“Oh, was he? Is your uncle higher than the pope?”

Brother and sister exchanged glances of amusement.

Louis said, “Not quite, although he came close to being elected pope by the conclave of 1458. He is bishop of several places, including Rouen and Ostia, and he is dean of the College of Cardinals. If my uncle asks for the documents I have mentioned, the Holy Father will sign them as a personal favor to him.”

A churchman’s “nephews” were often his illegitimate sons, but did this apply even to the dean of the College of Cardinals? Madlenka had certainly soared to new heights. Vertigo was a clear and present danger. She nodded while thoughts whirled in her head like snowflakes.

Cardice was not all mountain, and its lower slopes nurtured herds of wild horses, which local ranchers would round up and sell to traders traveling the Silver Road. Madlenka Bukovany had spent a significant part of her childhood watching horse trading.

“So you offer me my falcon’s life and liberty. You offer Cardinal Zdenek the same bribe he has already rejected, but presume that this time he agrees and gives you the hand of the princess. You must raise your bid, m’sieur.”

Louis smiled with all those wonderful teeth again and glanced at Sybilla, who was starting to fidget.

“I told you,” she said, speaking as fast as a drumroll, “the Scarlet Spider has five hirelings. That is a remarkable collection when even the king of France has only six. Zdenek has two of them guarding him, one watching over the crown prince, and two keeping old Konrad alive. Those two are exhausted, working day and night. He is sorely in need of more, especially to tend the king, for if one of the attendants nods off, the patient will die. If he spares one of his own bodyguards, he may be kidnapped or tweaked. He saw Wulfgang as a gift from the gods even before he did anything. Now that he has slaughtered the Wends single-handed, he is beyond price.”

“So how long would my falcon be required to serve him?”

Louis had the grace to look shamefaced. If he wasn’t genuine, his duplicity was impressive. “That is up to you to negotiate, ma’am. You are his cadger. Zdenek is a very old man and may not last long. He cannot ask for more than a lifetime contract, or until he is dismissed as first minister.”

“Which will be no more than fifteen minutes after the old king dies,” Sybilla said tartly. “Young Konrad detests him.”

Louis spread a hand, palm up. “In return, I am offering to save your falcon from the Inquisition, to snatch him out of the torture chamber and the pyre. His only alternative now would be to swear fideli swear fty to the pope, a transfer of allegiance that would require your compliance. The pope may not even want him, as he has many falcons already and sees Wulfgang as a priest killer. Surely two or three years’ service to a high state officer is a better price to pay than being burned? And you might die with him.”