Eric Flint - Much Fall Of Blood

Erik came forward also and bowed and kissed her hand. Maria blushed slightly. In the canals, a friend would have given her a hug and kissed her on both cheeks. She decided that it was time he learned some canal manners. She stepped forward and hugged him. He hesitated a moment and then hugged her back. "Gently," she gasped. "I'm not a bear that you have to squeeze to death."

It was his turn to blush. Manfred pushed him aside. "I should have gotten Francesca to give you lessons. This is how you do it." He enclosed Maria in an embrace only fractionally less bear-like, but also with a kiss on each cheek. "Better?" he said cheerfully. "Mind you, he's a braver man than I am, is Erik. I was more wary about hugging young Benito's wife. At his age men are very possessive."

"Well," said Benito, "I would be jealous except that Erik told me that you were starting to become senile and not really responsible for your actions anymore."

Maria laughed. "Don't worry, Benito. If they become too familiar, I will make them hold Alessia. I have found that she controls most men better than I ever will."

"And how is the young charmer?" asked Manfred, looking at the rocking crib.

"She likes to be moving when she goes to sleep," explained Benito.

"Like her father, she has restless bones," said Maria. "She sleeps best if she is very tired and we are traveling."

"Of course it could just be that she likes the rocking motion," said Benito, "but that does not allow it to be all my fault." He grinned and assumed a posture of deep dignity. "We fathers have our responsibilities."

"We have a few of those too," said Manfred. "Currently, in the shape of a group of Mongols from the Ilkhan that we are supposed to do something useful with. We're hoping to put them on a ship heading for the Black Sea. We thought you'd be the best person to deliver them."

Benito blinked. "What?"

They explained.

"So," said Manfred, "we are relying on you to get these Mongols to the lands of the Golden Horde. Hopefully, that will stop Erik muttering incomprehensibilities at our rather useless horseboy."

"What?" said Benito again.

"I was trying to learn some of the Mongol tongue," explained Erik. "The horseboy is supposed to be teaching me. In exchange, he avoids doing any work. He's better at that than at teaching, I'm afraid."

Benito rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. "I think I may be able to deliver your Mongol emissary, and possibly without mobilizing a fleet and subduing Constantinople."

"Don't tell me," said Manfred, grinning. "You have a new plan which avoids ships entirely. You're going to disguise us as Magyars and persuade Emeric of Hungary to send us there with a personal escort."

"That's not a bad idea," said Benito, "but not quite the one I had in mind."

"No doubt something worse. Why do we always fall in with these lunatics, Erik?" Manfred helped himself to more wine. "I mean, he's better than that mad bastard up in Telemark. The Turk would have attached all of us by leashes to the feet of well-trained eagles and flown us across. Screaming, because that's what we did mostly when involved with his clever 'solutions'. I suppose we should be grateful. With Benito, at least we just end up as nervous wrecks, shaking a lot."

Benito had heard about their misadventures with a certain Jarl Cair in Telemark. They sounded a little too magical to him, and far too involved in matters he understood less well than warfare or thievery. Cair was a problem he'd rather not face, by the bits that Erik had left unsaid. Fortunately, he wasn't likely to be his problem. Telemark was a long way from Corfu or Venice. "While it does involve crossing the land of the white eagles, I hadn't yet decided to attach you to any of them. I cannot say that it isn't tempting though, as an idea."

"And where are you going to find enough eagles to carry something that size, especially in armor?" asked Erik, jabbing a thumb at Manfred.

"He means Illyria," said Maria. "The land of the white eagles."

"I see he hasn't gotten any less crazy since we met him," said Erik. "It would probably be easier to disguise us as Magyar. From what I've heard, it would take a fairly large land army to fight its way across the Balkans. And the terrain is hell. Straight up-and-down, apparently. Rough on anything except the locals. Bad for a big slow-moving field army."

Benito smiled. "There used to be a road, a Roman road across. As it happens I have been in… ah, negotiations with Iskander Beg. The Lord of the Mountains, as they call him."

"What he means is that he went and did more crazy things, and got himself accepted into one of their tribes," said Maria tartly. "I was very angry with him, and he's been trying to persuade me ever since that there are great advantages to us being close friends with our ancient enemy."

"Well, there are some advantages, if they have stopped trying to kill you," said Erik.

Benito laughed. "I wouldn't go that far. Illyrian ideas of hospitality are enough to kill most people. But I do think it would be possible to have them take your party of Mongols off your hands and escort them across the mountains. That would solve one of the tactical issues that's really been bothering me. Forcing our way through the Bosphorus is going to be tricky enough. If we find that the Byzantines have been reinforced while we're in the Black Sea, things could become very awkward indeed-especially if we've suffered losses."

"Planning your campaign already?" asked Erik.

"He's collecting maps," said Maria. "Some of them smell."

"And none of them are too accurate," said Benito grumpily. "Or at least no two of them seem to agree with each other exactly. I'm hoping that they'll have better quality maps and more information in Venice. There has to have been more to this than one message from the Ilkhan."

Manfred nodded. "I think you'll find that is true. Petro Dorma and the Council of Ten maintain a pretty effective and widespread network of spies and assassins. So does the Holy Roman Empire. You know it often only takes one keystone piece of information to make it all fit together. From what you say, they've been conferring. It may even be that this confirms information that hasn't come back. Jagiellon uses some means which are denied to the rest of us to maintaining his security. And working in his territories is a high-risk profession."

"Petro is not exactly a rash individual," said Erik. "I think you can guarantee that he knows more than just the information we sent from the Ilkhan."

"I hope so," said Benito. "What we have now is not much to plan a campaign upon."

"Why don't you come down and discuss them with Falkenberg and Von Gherens? You wouldn't find much better advice," said Manfred. "Just so long as you bring the wine with you. They're too expensive for me to provide for at the dockside tavern. For men of God, the knights drink far too much."

"I've noticed that you only complain now that you're paying," said Erik. "And they drink far less than you do. We also need to discuss the possibility of sending Mongols across the Balkan mountains with the tarkhan himself. He's not the easiest of men to read or get along with."

Manfred grunted an agreement. "The Mongols keep to themselves. A couple of the warriors speak a little Frankish. So does the tarkhan. But he doesn't talk to anyone."

"I suppose keeping to himself is part of what an envoy has to do," said Erik.

"Huh," said Manfred. "Old Eberhart can and will talk to anyone, usually at such length that they will pay him to go away. And my uncle says that he is one of the most effective diplomatic envoys in the Empire."

"Still, talkative or not, we could use the Mongols not coming south." Benito paused. "Actually, what we really want is information from the Black Sea. Or better still… An alliance with the Golden Horde and we would have successfully isolated Alexis and flanked Emeric, and threatened Jagiellon. By a stroke of diplomacy we would have won more than the Knights of the Holy Trinity have in the last fifty years."