Eric Flint - This Rough Magic

Francesca looked at the Emperor in some surprise. "Maybe it really is a pity that you spent so much time in the pleasure-palaces in Alexandria."

The Emperor gave a small snort. "Not nearly as much as you might think. I learned a great deal about things that my tutors hadn't mentioned, while I was there. But a fool and his empire are soon parted. Alexius VI of Byzantium is busy proving that. And while I, or Conrad, or even Manfred might not be the best person for the job… as my father said to me, when I protested that I didn't really want to be Emperor, better those who have been trained for it but don't want it, than someone who just wants it. A man who wants this kind of power, does not want the responsibility that goes with it." He shrugged. "Nobody would."

Francesca's smile was small, tight, and sympathetic. "I think most of them would just choose to ignore the responsibilities. I think the Holy Roman Empire has been fortunate in its Emperor."

"To my sorrow, no. One of the reasons that I want Manfred to pray for my soul is that I know I have failed sometimes, Francesca. Too often," he said quietly, shaking his head. "And thanks be to the hard lessons I got from Erik's father that I can acknowledge this responsibility. You know, I once said something stupid and arrogant about some peasants. Hakkon explained that if they'd said the same about me, they'd have died. And, as I couldn't learn if I was dead, he'd simply made me wish I was dead. It gave me an insight the imperial heir had previously lacked."

He paused, lost in reflections. Francesca waited, patiently. "Now, to return to the Ilkhan. I think we can benefit each other. Of course Eberhard of Brunswick will be doing the actual negotiation but I would like you to be able to… shall we say, 'smooth things over' if there are difficulties." He smiled. "This means I will have to trust you, which Jagiellon would not."

Francesca shook her head. "So: You will have to trust me, which Jagiellon would not. But, Your Majesty, neither, by the sounds of it, would Emeric of Hungary trust me. He is, by all accounts, a man who would match your image of the Grand Duke. And he is closer, too. Why do you focus on the Grand Duke?"

Charles Fredrik sighed. "It is ill fortune to have two such men on the thrones of powerful neighboring lands. But Emeric is not threatening us at the moment." The Emperor smiled grimly. "I have reliable information that he is turning his attention to the southern Balkans. Being involved in a war down there would be, for him, what being involved in the wars of Italian principalities would be for us. There is an Illyrian chieftain down there who is giving him considerable pause."

"What!?" Manfred shook his head. "You want me to take a couple of hundred knights with me? That's an army, Uncle! That's ridiculous. You managed fine in Italy-with just Erik and me escorting you."

The Emperor shook his head. "I enjoyed that. But we were traveling incognito, Manfred. I am afraid that part of the point of this exercise is to travel in the full glare of public view. Even two hundred men-at-arms may not be enough."

Manfred thumped a meaty fist on the table. "When I went to Sweden I had seventy! And for all the use they were, I might as well have had none!"

The Emperor glared at him. "You were within my realms and supposedly protected by my hand. The fact that you went off into Norway, to Telemark, with just on half of that, when I had clearly and expressly told you to 'take a sufficient escort' just proves to me that I have to dictate how many men escort you. And I hear from the master of the chapter house at Lodose that it was only on his insistence that you even took that many with you. Accept it, Manfred. I've heard the story from Erik. Your days of being the young, happy-go-lucky knight are over. Even in the Knights of the Holy Trinity, where you were supposedly anonymous and protected, you were a target. They tried to kill you, Manfred, as a way of getting at me. The day is fast approaching when they'll try to kill you just because of who you are. You won't always have Erik there. Besides, you need some command experience. The men I'm going to have sent with you are older, tough, solid veterans. You'll be younger than almost all of them. Less experienced. You'll spend half your life commanding men with the advantage over you of age and experience. Learn how to do it now, when you don't have to do it in combat."

Manfred groaned. "Bad enough that I've got to put up with old Eberhard's moralizing and carping. Now you're saddling me with a bunch of graybeards who are going to spend the entire journey, to and from Jerusalem, complaining about their rheumatism and grumbling how things aren't like they used to be when they were young."

The Emperor snorted. "You will treat Eberhard of Brunswick with respect, Manfred. Learn from him. He is a statesman and a truly skilled negotiator. One of the best. I've always thought that if he hadn't been born a noble he'd have been the richest horse-trader in the Empire. He's a valuable man, probably worth as much to the Empire as you are. If you don't treat him with respect I will curtail your personal allowance-which I imagine you and Francesca would find difficult. And as for the quality of the men I'm sending with you: I took Erik Hakkonsen's advice. I have asked the Knights of the Holy Trinity to send me a knight by the name of Von Gherens. Erik suggested I get him to select the men who will accompany you."

Manfred brightened. "Well, that's not so bad. Von Gherens can drink."

The Emperor shook his head and laughed. "Manfred! What are we going to do with you? I keep hoping Francesca and Erik have worked miracles and then you give me that sort of comment."

Manfred grinned. "Well, I have made some inroads in teaching Erik to drink! He still does it badly, though. And I've failed with Francesca entirely. Teaching her to drink properly, that is. I've had successes in other important areas, of course."

The Emperor shook his head again, helplessly.

"And I'm looking forward to visiting Venice again. Some fine red wines those Italians produce."

"I hope Erik beats you," grumbled the Emperor. "And I'm going to have a word with Francesca too."

"So long as you keep to talking," said Manfred, warily.

Eneko Lopez stared impassively at the face of the Grand Metropolitan. He did not allow the thoughts roiling in his mind to show. He hoped not, anyway.

"You obviously made quite an impression on Emperor Charles Fredrik, Father Lopez," said the frail, pale-and powerful-man sitting on the throne before him. The Grand Metropolitan held up a scroll, almost as if it were a scepter.

The Grand Metropolitan had a reputation for vacillation; however, he was still the most powerful figure in the Church. And Eneko was never certain how much of that vacillation was because of the Holy Father's nature, and how much was because, in the end, when one kept from making up one's mind, things tended to sort themselves out without forcing one to take a stand.

"I found the Holy Roman Emperor to be a pleasant enough companion on the road here," said Eneko dryly. "A not overly pious man, though."

The Grand Metropolitan gave a reedy chuckle. "It appears that he, on the other hand, did find you to be one. It is a signal honor of sorts. And, quite honestly, not a request easily denied."

"God is omnipresent," said Eneko stiffly. "He can be addressed as well from Mainz as from Jerusalem."

The Grand Metropolitan gave another reedy chuckle. "A viewpoint that I am sad that I will not be able to hear you express to the Metropolitan of Jerusalem. None the less, it is the express desire of the Emperor of the most powerful Christian state that you should go to Jerusalem to pray for his soul, as he, as the bastion stone of the Christian Empire, cannot leave his duty to millions of other Christian souls merely to indulge the desire of his old age."