Lackey, Mercedes & Flint, Eric & Freer, Dave - [Heirs of Alexandria 01] (102 page)

Sachs had paused, as if he too had been waiting for something. Then he continued. "Knight-Proctors. Step forward and collect your orders. Squads are to remain together, at their assigned posts, until the tocsin bell rings. Then you will move out, with your assigned group of Servants of the Holy Trinity, to protect you from whatever magic these ungodly ones may attempt to unleash at you. Fear not! God and the holy Saint Paul are with us!"

Erik and Manfred found themselves assembled in a front salon along with some twenty knights, under the command of Knight-Proctors Von Welf and Von Stublau. Many of the other knights had been kept back in the courtyard.

He and Manfred walked up to the two knight-proctors.

"Who said you could break ranks?" snapped Von Welf.

Manfred took a deep breath. "We need to take you to see Count Von Stemitz, Von Welf. There is something he's got to tell you."

Von Welf smiled a particularly unpleasant smile. "We'll be seeing him soon enough. As soon as the bell in Saint Mark's Square begins to ring continuously. His name is on the top of our list."

There was a moment's silence. Erik heard footsteps shuffling behind him; quietly, as if heavily armored men were trying to move stealthily across a tile floor. Two or three of the knights in the salon were coming up behind him and Manfred.

He was quite certain of their purpose, and had to fight down a savage smile.

In the distance a bell began to ring. "That's early," said Von Stublau, quietly, almost conversationally. "But it's the signal. Such a pity that Petro Dorma ordered you killed. The evidence and report are on their way to the Brenner pass right now."

But Erik was moving before the Prussian had finished the last sentence. He knocked Manfred aside with a thrust of his right arm and spun to the left, dropping to one knee as he did so. The poignard in the hand of the knight assigned to stab him in the back passed overhead harmlessly. An instant later, the Algonquian hatchet sheared through the knee joint in the knight's armor.

The knight screamed and toppled forward. Erik rose up beneath him and added his own thrust to the topple, sending the armored man crashing into the two Prussian knight-proctors.

Erik glanced at Manfred. The prince had been expecting treachery also, of course. And if Manfred did not have Erik's lightning reflexes, he could move much faster than anyone would expect. Erik's shove had sent him out of immediate danger, and by the time the knight assigned to murder Manfred had reached him...

The prince had his sword out. A sword he had learned to use extremely well over the past year. His assailant attempted a feint, which Manfred countered by the simple expedient of lopping his arm off. The knight went one way, the arm another. Blood poured over the tiles.

For a moment, Erik studied the remaining knights in the salon. They were still frozen in place, immobilized by the sudden and unexpected violence. Clearly enough, none of them except two had been directly involved in Von Stublau's plot.

Von Stublau and Von Welf were struggling back onto their feet�no easy task for heavily armored men sent sprawling to the ground. Von Stublau was on Erik's side, Von Welf nearer to Manfred.

Von Welf never made it up at all. Manfred's sword, in a backswing, shattered his helmet and the skull inside it. Von Welf sprawled back onto the floor and lay there motionless.

Erik disarmed Von Stublau with a quick hooking motion of the hatchet, a maneuver the Prussian neither expected nor had ever encountered before. He was still looking more puzzled than anything, when his attention was riveted by the razor edge of the hatchet�three inches in front of his eyes.

"Make any move and I'll take off your face," said Erik cheerfully. "That nose guard might as well be a lady's veil, as much good as it'll do you."

Von Stublau froze. The Icelander's thin smile was as friendly as a wolf's.

"You made two mistakes, Von Stublau. The first one is that bell. You see, that isn't the one from Saint Mark's Square. That's the Marangona, the bell they ring every morning at the Arsenal. It goes on for half an hour every morning, so you should know it. As this isn't morning, and as the Arsenal is working right now, I imagine someone has found out about your plot."

The knight-proctor looked startled. Then, began to pale.

"And the second one is that you shouldn't assume everyone is as stupid as you are."

He raised his voice. "Prince Manfred, Earl of Carnac, your uncle His Imperial Highness, Charles Fredrik, Holy Roman Emperor, has given me orders to kill any man who threatens your life." Erik grabbed the lower edge of Von Stublau's helmet and jerked him forward, kicking the knight-proctor's legs out from under him and driving him back down. The Prussian grunted with pain as his knees smashed into the floor.

"
Kneel, traitor
. May he be shriven first, My Lord Earl?"

Everything was moving too fast for the remaining knights to understand what was happening. Most of them were still slack-jawed with surprise. But at least two thirds of them, out of training if nothing else, had drawn their broadswords.

The doors at the back of the salon opened. The entry of soldiers or other knights might have simply made the situation explode into violence. Outnumbered sixteen to two, Erik and Manfred would have been hard-pressed to survive long enough for any kind of rescue.

Except... by an unarmed, haughty, imperially-dressed woman, accompanied by an elderly gentleman in court clothes. The woman looked like a princess. She certainly wore enough jewels.

Francesca smiled at them from under her tiara. The knights parted like the Red Sea before Moses, opening up to allow her and Count Von Stemitz to walk through.

She curtsied to Manfred. The count bowed low.

Manfred behaved as if he had, not a few moments back, been in a fight for his life, and didn't have a bloody sword in his hand. "Princess." His mind raced for a suitable address. Well. There were enough little principalities in the Empire. Let the Knots guess. "How may we assist?"

She smiled regally. "Your imperial uncle has asked me to deliver certain warrants to you." She handed him the sheaf of parchments he'd left with her not an hour before.

Manfred took them and leafed through them, as if he hadn't written them himself. "Count Von Stemitz," he said calmly, "Who am I? Please explain that to these assembled Knights."

Von Stemitz bowed again. "You are Prince Manfred, Earl of Carnac, Marquis of Rennes, Baron of Ravensburg. You are also Privy Emissary Plenipotentiary for his Imperial Highness Charles Fredrik of Mainz. He has invested you with the full and independent power to act for the imperial throne."

Manfred cleared his throat. "I have a message from Emperor Charles Fredrik to read to all of you. He says to remind the Knots that he holds their charter, the deeds to all their monasteries�
and
that they are perilously close to his displeasure.
And
that he has more than sufficient military forces to crush the entire order of the Knights of the Holy Trinity, should they persist in defying him.
And
to remind any confrere knights that he is their sovereign and their estates are his to dispose of."

The salon seemed to chill by many degrees of temperature. Charles Fredrik was known to be reluctant to use military force except when he felt it was necessary. He was also known to use it with utter ruthlessness when he did so.

The threat was particularly shaking, obviously enough, to the confrere knights who made up perhaps half of the force assembled in the salon. Not one of the confrere knights in the salon doubted for an instant that the old Emperor would make good his threat to kill all of them�and expropriate their families in the bargain. As surely as a farmer will butcher a hog for a feast.

Erik cast quick eyes around the salon. He could see at least four�no, five; then six�of the confrere knights start shifting their stance. Moving, now�and none too subtly�to be prepared to subdue the two regular knights who were most prone to religious fanaticism. And then saw the other regular knights sidling away from the two zealots. The sudden shift in the balance of forces was as palpable as a lead weight.

Count Von Stemitz coughed in the tense silence. "May I remind you further,
Ritters
, that standing in the presence of the Emperor's nephew and Privy Emissary Plenipotentiary with drawn weapons is�ah�dangerously close to treason."

Weapons were sheathed, hastily. With the naked blades absent, the tension began to ease.

Manfred, meanwhile, had been sorting through the bundle of parchments as if he had not a care in the world beyond scrupulous attention to the Emperor's correspondence.

"Here, Erik." He handed one to the Icelander, who still held the kneeling Von Stublau. "Show him that."

Erik held the parchment in front of the knight-proctor's eyes.

"See that seal, Von Stublau?" said Erik, coldly. "Your life, your lands, and your family's lands are forfeit. You and they are landless peasants. You are shortly going to be a dead landless peasant."

The big Prussian's eyes widened. He had been afraid of the axe. This�to the Prussian�was worse. "I... I didn't know..."

"You knew," said Manfred scathingly. He looked down on Von Stublau. "You and Von Welf both knew. Now, you must pay the price of treason. Your lands are confiscate to the crown. I will, however, temper justice with mercy. I will not act against your family's holdings�
if
I am told the full details of your plot. Should it emerge, later, even twenty years hence, that you didn't tell us all you knew... then your kin can join the Polish peasants on your lands."

"The peasantry will kill them," whimpered Von Stublau. "They'll tear them apart."

"Maybe you should advise them to start some reforms immediately," said Von Stemitz dryly.

Erik gestured at the door. "Time for this later, Manfred. There are a lot of knights out there, and Sachs too."

Manfred nodded. "True. De Grinchy. Lutz. Take charge of this one. Bring him with us."

They marched out, with Manfred at the head of the column of knights. Erik, watching his back, reflected that power was a strange thing. Sachs, and the knight-proctors involved, would have chosen their adherents for this squad. Yet when Francesca had shifted their balance, the reins had ended up firmly in Manfred's hands. Even the two zealots�

Erik's lips twisted in a smile that was as bitter as it was wry. The worst of Sachs's camp followers would be the quickest to strike off any head from anyone who dared to dissent. And yet, really, in actual fact, they were still completely at the mercy of their former foes.

"How did you know to come now?" he whispered to Francesca. "And where did you get the jewelry?"

"I wouldn't like this jewelry examined in broad daylight or by a skilled jeweler," said Francesca quietly. "I've taken my task seriously, Erik. I've had my watchers keeping an eye on Manfred too, you know. He's a very valuable client, to say the least."

Erik's eyes narrowed. "Besides, you know Von Stemitz."

Francesca dimpled at him. "Indeed. You are too observant, Erik. Hendrik has been a regular, ah, friend. But I really don't think Manfred needs to know that petty detail."

Mutely, Erik shook his head.

Francesca's dimples were now quite dazzling. "Ah, what would you do without me?"

Mutely, Erik shook his head.

Benito was a little edgy. For starters, the old man couldn't move very fast. For a second thing, the town felt like a powder keg. There was a tension in the air you could almost taste. He and Lord Montescue had gotten to the gondola landing to find several anxious-looking people with brass-bound staves waiting to take their vessel. There'd been someone running back across there....

Then they'd entered the narrow winding calle which led to Marco's digs�and found a cluster of people in front of them, in the middle of what was obviously a tense confrontation.

And then he heard Maria shout: "I'll shoot at least one of you others!"

He left Lodovico and ran forward.

"Benito!" Maria nearly dropped the pistol. "You idiot! I almost shot you."

Lopez stared at Benito. "You!" Then, incongruously, he burst into laughter. "It needed only this!"

Benito noticed that Kat was pushing the muzzle of her own pistol into the Spaniard's belly. "Er. Kat. Why are you doing that?"

"He's maybe the one behind all the magical murders!" snapped Kat. "And he probably killed the bishop, too�that
you
nearly got executed for killing. He's certainly the driving force behind Venice's woes!" The lightning progression�
maybe; probably; certainly
�didn't seem to perturb Kat in the least. The youthful inquisitor, in full fury.

Benito took a deep breath. "He's also a Legate of the Grand Metropolitan in Rome. And�well, he's helped me."

Lopez bowed his head and smiled wryly. The fact that a cocked pistol was pressed into his midriff didn't seem to worry the man in the least.

"Here at the request of Metropolitan Michael to investigate the activities of the Servants of the Holy Trinity," he elaborated, in quite a calm tone of voice. "Particularly with reference to their persecution of magic-users. Since then I have been seconded to try to find out who was committing these magical murders, as well as how they were being achieved. And to determine�and thwart, it at all possible�the purpose behind them."

Luciano growled. "Well, look no further than your precious Servants of the Holy Trinity then. They're in league with Chernobog�be sure of it! And the woman you're looking for is that so-called 'nun' of theirs."

"Katerina," puffed Lodovico, who had just hustled himself forward. "What is happening
now
? And why are you threatening this gentleman with that pistol? Be careful, for the sake of God! You've got it cocked!"

Kat frowned, uncertainly. But her weapons training had been rigorous. She removed the weapon from Lopez's waistline; then, carefully and expertly, disengaged the lock. "I
hope
it may just be a misunderstanding, Grandpapa."