Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion

Francesca froze. Diego coughed into his fist, discreetly. "The Hohenstauffen dynasty," he murmured, "has perhaps dipped too often into that well for the subterfuge to work as nicely as it did once. And the Earl of Carnac is a rather distinctive young man. And… well, as it happens, I met him once." Hastily: "I'm sure he doesn't remember. He was only sixteen at the time, visiting Orleans with his mother. And, ah, quite drunk. Sad to say, the lad fell into bad company?roistering students, the city's plagued with them?and, ah…"

Francesca rolled her eyes. "I can imagine," she muttered. She brought her eyes back to meet Eneko's. "He doesn't even know that I know who he is. I'm his whore, not his confidant."

The Basque priest's gaze remained level. He said nothing. After a moment, Francesca looked aside. "I suppose I'm being a bit disingenuous."

"More than a bit, I think. The earl trusts you, Francesca."

The look which came on Francesca's face made her seem much younger, for an instant. "I think he does," she said, almost in a whisper. "Why is that?"

Eneko's gaze was still level. Francesca sighed again. "I'm a disgrace to the Aquitaine," she muttered. "What kind of respectable whore can be trusted?"

Still, level. Francesca threw up her hands. "All right, then! Damn you. I'll do it." She rallied briefly: "When the time comes, not before. And how will I know that?"

Still, level. Francesca glared at Diego and Pierre. "Does he ever glance aside?"

The Basque's two companions grinned. "Welcome to our brotherhood, Francesca," said Pierre. Diego coughed behind his fist. "In a manner of speaking," he added.

As they were about to leave, Francesca placed her hand on the door and held it shut. "This will cost you, Eneko."

He smiled. "Not in coin, I trust."

"Coin I'm not short of," she snorted. She glanced at Pierre. "Although I'm a little shorter now than I was. Your Savoyard here is not the only one who can smell the stink coming from Casa Brunelli. I hired a bodyguard a week ago, after the Doge's last soiree. I do believe Lucrezia Brunelli has placed me on her list of enemies, and she's got a reputation. At least two courtesans have been murdered in Venice in the past year, both of whom apparently attracted too much attention from her."

The three priests frowned simultaneously. "We did not notice any bodyguard, coming in," said Diego.

Francesca smiled. "He's very good. Cost me plenty, but it was worth it. Another Aquitaine, unfortunately. So he insisted on coin rather than, ah, taking part of his payment in trade."

"How long do you intend to keep poking me, Francesca?" asked Eneko. His tone was very mild. "It's quite pointless. I have no doubt you will set a record for the longest stay in purgatory, when the time comes. Purgatory is not my concern."

She made a face. "No, it wouldn't be. And how stupid can I be to get involved with a priest who doesn't care about my sins?" Stubbornly: "It'll still cost you. And you know the payment I want."

The Basque nodded. "Trust. Confidence. To play a part?as you thought you did once, as a girl?in the great affairs of the world. Sitting again at your father's table, excited by knowledge; excited, even more, by the feeling that your knowledge mattered."

She lowered her head and removed her hand from the door, squeezing her eyes shut to hold in the sudden tears. "Thank you." Then, in a very small voice: "Forgive me, Father, for my sins."

Eneko placed a hand on her head and kissed her forehead. "Not so many sins as all that, child." He chuckled into the glamorous hair. "Well… many sins, I admit. Or, at least, the same sin oft repeated. But, in the end, not such a great one, as sins go."

Pierre scowled. "It's still sinful, and you should give it up," the Savoyard grumbled. "But…"

Diego smiled. "He's a witch-smeller, you know. It's quite a rare talent. But that's really why he kept insisting on kissing your hand at the Doge's palace."

Francesca's eyes were quite dry, now. She peered at Pierre intently. "And?"

The Savoyard looked away. "You should still give it up," he insisted. "But… there's nothing here in the way of that stench coming from Casa Brunelli and the Imperial embassy."

"Enough, Pierre," commanded Eneko. To Francesca: "I will keep our end of the bargain, Francesca. Be sure of it. Whatever we discover will be passed along to you." Slyly: "This will be quite an adventure, you know?"

After she closed the door behind them, Francesca leaned her forehead against the ornately carved wood. She could still feel the slight moisture from the priest's kiss. And was not really surprised, when she thought about it, that Eneko Lopez did not have dry lips. Whatever his vows?and Francesca was certain he kept them?she didn't doubt for a moment that the Basque was also the most passionate man she'd ever met.

"Quite an adventure," she murmured. "Idiot woman!"

But when she pushed herself away from the door, she was smiling. And did not even try to deny, to herself, that she felt as if she'd shed years as well as sins.

The effect translated immediately into action. Francesca had been trying to decide for days…

She went directly to her little writing table and penned a note. Quickly, for all the impeccable handwriting. Then, sealed it with wax and went back to the door.

Her bodyguard was standing in front of her, not more than an instant after she opened the door. Francesca had no idea where he'd come from. Nor did she care?that was what he was being paid for, after all.

"Have this taken to Casa Montescue, Louis. No?better yet, take it yourself. I'll be safe enough here tonight and I want to be certain it goes directly to the person addressed. Let no one else see it. Understood?"

Louis examined the name on the note and nodded. "Easy enough," he said, and was gone. Francesca watched him leave, wondering if she'd hear any sound at all.

She didn't, of course. Louis Marillac had come highly recommended.

The next evening, when she opened the door, the man who entered made no attempt to walk quietly. Not that he clumped, even as big as he was. The noise his feet made was more in the way of a shuffle. As if he were trying to disguise embarrassment.

"Mademoiselle de Chevreuse," he said, bowing and kissing her hand. "I was delighted to receive your invitation to pay you a visit, of course. Didn't feel I could refuse. But?"

"Please, come in!" Smoothly, Francesca closed the door and guided him into a chair. "And I insist you call me Francesca."

The man cleared his throat. "Francesca, then. But?"

He fell silent, obviously groping for words. "I must explain?"

"You need explain nothing." Francesca smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I asked you to come, did I not? I am well aware of the straightened financial circumstances you are suffering from at the moment. I simply wanted the pleasure of your company, that's all."

The man stared up at her; his eyes disbelieving, at first. Then, slowly, the stiffness in his face began to ease. "It's been a long time," he murmured.

"Too long, I think." Francesca took his hands and lifted him out of the chair. "Come."

Quite some time later, as he stared at the ceiling of the bedroom, the man's face had lost all of its customary sternness. "I haven't felt this good in years."

"Not so old as all that, eh?" She lifted herself on one elbow and smiled down at him, running her hand across his wide chest.

He rolled his head on the pillow and met her gaze. "What do you want from me, Francesca?"

"I want you to think about the future, for a change. That's all, Lodovico. Your grand-daughter is my best friend. Your?obsessions?are not good. Neither for her nor for you."