Dave Duncan - When the Saints

At the back, beyond the big table, was Sybilla, beaming with glee… And Madlenka, paler than usual but wearing an expression of unspeakable relief. Her eyes met Wulf’s and for a moment there was no one else in the world. The temptation to rush to her made him sway on his feet.

“Sir Wulfgang!” Louis of Rouen spoke as if he had said this before and not been heard. He both looked and sounded amused. “You may not have satisfied my uncle, but you have more than satisfied me.”

Hope sprang anew, like returning pain in a wound that had gone numb but might not be mortal after all. “You are gracious, my lord.”

“And you are dangerously ingenious!” He laughed. “My remorseless uncle there wanted to throw you to the Inquisition. I told him that I was more than happy to accept what you had made possible. Every night I dream of clasping your lovely little princess in my arms. I will ask only one favor.”

“If it lies within my power, it is granted.”

Louis smiled. Already he had registered as a very personable man. Therein lay his danger, of course. “Don’t be so hasty with promises! All I ask is that if your King Krystof does prove impossible-if revolution begins to bubble and you can no longer in good conscience support him-then I ask that you transfer your loyalty to his sister.”

If the new king had produced an heir by then, the child would take precedence, but Louis and Laima might very well be the best guardians available. The last few days had taught Wulf to take life as it came. “You have my word on it, my lord.”

“Give him his absolution, Uncle.”

D’Estouteville grunted, but he was holding back a smile. “Giulio?”

Father Giulio came forward with Brother Daniel at his heels. If those two large rolls under the priest’s arm were the betrothal contract, then they had sprouted several more seals since Wulf had last seen them. But first Giulio handed a smaller document to the cardinal.

“This is signed by the Holy Father,” d’Estouteville said. “And bears his seal. It absolves Wulfgang Magnus of all sins committed before this date. That would include any involvement in the death of Father Azuolas or any Satanic practices that might be charged against him.”

Wulf reached out a hand, but Brother Daniel’s was there first.

“I take this,” he said.

Wulf nodded. Madlenka stared across at him in horror, but that was the unspoken deal Wulf had made with Zdenek: the cardinal would hold the parchment that stood between Wulf and death, so that he must keep his side of the bargain.

Father Giulio seemed surprised, but did not question. He handed another paper to the cardinal. “The annulment, Your Eminence.”

“Ah, yes.” The old scoundrel had decided to enjoy himself. He was one of those people who are always on stage, playing roles. He unrolled the scroll and pretended to study it, although he was much too blind to read without a lens. “This is addressed to Bishop Ugne, disallowing the alleged handfasting he approved, on the grounds that a handfasting is only admissible when there is no priest present to perform the sacrament of matrimony and the woman has been properly advised of her rights. Of course the dates are a little unorthodox, since your petition has not yet had time to reach Archbishop Svaty, let alone be referred by him to Rome. And this reply cannot reach Jorgary for weeks yet.”

He glanced up and changed his tone to one of professional sympathy. “We have not yet commiserated with you on the death of your brother, Wulfgang, but we now do so, and will remember him in our prayers. You could not marry his widow, but this documen have t effectively removes that obstacle, if such is your wish.” He beamed at Madlenka. “Is it?”

“Oh yes, Your Eminence!” She curtseyed, not knowing that she could be no more than a blur in his sight.

“And the betrothal,” Father Giulio concluded, holding out the two major rolls.

“Give those to my nephew. When Sybilla returns him to Paris, he can file one copy and send the other off to Mauvnik, after a suitable delay. Daniel, you may assure my eminent brother Zdenek that the terms are acceptable and the contract will shortly be on its way back. You have our leave and our blessing.”

Brother Daniel departed.

Now Wulf could hold out a hand to Madlenka. “And we too, Your Eminence?” he asked as she hurried to his side.

D’Estouteville grunted and frowned. “And where do you think you are off to in such a hurry? Heading for a bed, I shouldn’t wonder!”

Louis and Sybilla both chuckled, sharing smiles.

“Definitely,” Madlenka said.

Ladies were never so outspoken. Everyone stared at her in shock and even Wulf was startled. With Anton not yet buried? “Definitely?”

“Definitely,” she repeated. Her smile lit up all Rome.

He was still getting to know this Amazon he loved. Their life ahead would surely have stormy patches when two strong wills collided, but rather a wildcat than a lapdog.

“Definitely,” he agreed.

“Mph!” said the cardinal. “We cannot condone such carnality outside holy matrimony. Father Giulio, will you do the necessary, please?”

The priest looked outraged at this roughshod shortcut through proper ritual, but he would not argue with His Eminence.

“Certainly. Wulfgang Magnus, as the Holy Father has specifically ruled that there is no impediment…”

Wulf took his bride into the privacy of limbo and kissed her. There was no danger of either letting go. Between kisses they spoke of love and longing; they promised faith and happiness. They spoke also of sorrow and guilt.

“I truly mourn Anton,” Madlenka said. “Had there been time, I might have accepted my duty to love him. You would have gone away-I might have managed.”

Wulf doubted that he could ever have recovered from the loss, but that did not stop him from mourning his closest brother. “He gave you no cause to love him. And me very little, but I shall miss him terribly. Had I known he was hurt, I could and would have healed him.”

“He did give me up, remember? He wanted us both to be happy. He would not stand between us.”

When Otto forced him not to… But what she had said was true.

“There is no cure for death, and only time heals wounds. My father told us that when he was dying.”

She already knew that Anton was dead and the Pomeranian flag flew over Gallant. He listed what else had happened in the two days they had been apart: that he was now Sir Wulfgang, so she was no longer a countess, but he was the prince’s master of horse, so they would live in Mauvnik, and her name was officially Magdalena, and they would have to make up some story about who she was and how they met. And they had to sup at the palace that evening.

She kissed him again. “First things first,” she whispered. “Let’s find that bed. I can tell that you need it. So do I. And I want there to be no doubt that we are now husband and wife.”

An offer he could not refuse. He opened a gate. “Welcome to the Bacchus, in Mauvnik. The Horse Room.”

She stepped in and peered around in near-darkness. “Did you say ‘room’ or ‘stall’? Is that bed really big enough for what you have in mind?”

Oh, that smile! Was his face as flushed as hers?

“What I have in-”

“At last!” Justina appeared in a swirl of cold air.

Madlenka jumped in alarm and he tightened his embrace. He peered over her shoulder at the twilit landscape beyond the new gate. “Where is that?”

“Elysium. A former monastery and the Saints’ meeting place. Lady Umbral is in conference with the Agioi, and we have been waiting for you. Come!”

Reluctantly he unwound himself from Madlenka so they could obey, but they were still holding hands as they stepped through the gate into a tiny paved courtyard, barely more than a passage between two stone buildings. A river of wind rushed through it, billowing his cloak and the women’s dresses. Straight ahead was a perilously low parapet, and beyond that, nothing, only air and sky, all the way to far-distant hills, dark against the last glow of sunset. Overhead the stars were wakening.