When the Saints (43 page)

“I see you love your fellow men, Brother. But your love is so overwhelming that it would destroy them restroy tather than tolerate any deviation from perfection. I don’t think you understand what love truly is.”

Wulf stood up and stepped to the water basin to rinse his hands. He had taken the edge off his hunger and would have to be satisfied by that. What Luigi was hinting, but would never put in words, was that even if the pope absolved him, the Inquisition would not. It would pursue him relentlessly, every day of his life, until it could find cause to charge him with sorcery, and his death for that would avenge Father Azuolas.

The friar rose, fired with a righteousness so intense that it could admit no dissent. “Go and fly, little falcon,” he whispered. “Soar and circle as you will, but one day you will stoop, as falcons do, and then our snares will have you. We will catch your jesses then, falcon, and haul you down.” He turned and padded to the door.

As soon as it closed behind him, Wulf went back to his seat and resumed his meal.

CHAPTER
44

Father Giulio and Brother Daniel were bent over the table, apparently comparing two documents word by word. There was no sign of the taller priest, or Prior Luigi. Or Madlenka. Cardinal d’Estouteville was slumped in his favorite chair, looking weary, and older than he had yesterday.

Wulf knelt to kiss his ring, then waited in vain for the order to rise.

“You truly are a remarkably effective young man,
Sir
Wulfgang.”

“Your Eminence is kind to say so.” He was starting to believe it himself.

“We are impressed,” the old man mused. “He has obtained almost exactly the betrothal terms we required. He won a knighthood and the trust of his prince, and he persuaded the Scarlet Spider to change his mind for the first time in decades. And all within the time limit we set for him—which, frankly, we did not dream he could meet.”

Puzzled, but forced to assume he was still being addressed, Wulf said, “Happy to serve Your Eminence. I am free to go?”

“Oh, no!” The cardinal’s voice sharpened. The half-blind eyes looked down at him for the first time. “‘Almost exactly’ is not exactly ‘exactly.’ Zdenek’s draft proposes sending the girl to France instead of receiving my nephew there. Whose idea was that?”

So the change had been noticed and Wulf had failed. His chances had never been good. “I honestly believe that these are the best terms that—”

“Answer my question!”

Wulf would never see Madlenka again, for she could give Samson back his hair, and Samson in his strength was too
effective
to be trusted. It would be safer for all concerned, Church and state, to dispose of him. Light the faggots! Make him a salutary example of the hazards of Satanism.

Magnuses did not plead for mercy.

“My idea. Granted Crown Prince Konrad is not the most promising clay from which to fashion a great king, but he does have the right to wear the crown of his forefathers. He deserves a chance to try.”

“You are saying that the presence of my nephew in Jorgary would imperil your future king? That my nephew would foment revolution to put himself on the throne instead?”

“The temptation would be there.”

“Opportunity!” d’Estouteville shouted. “The opportunity would be there. I want Louis to wear a crown, and I am not accustomed to being thwarted by apple-cheeked boys,
Squire
Wulfgang. You want to rule Jorgary yourself. You would make your prince a puppet and manipulate him by sorcery, bring back his wife and tweak the impotent pervert into siring a son—change his name, ban his orgies, make the people cheer, leave the Spider spinning webs into his dotage. God save King Whosis! You dare to pass moral judgment on me?”

Wulf had no defense against those charges. In the absence of defense, attack. “Since you mention morals, by what right did you bring me here? By what right did you abduct Countess Madlenka?”

“By what right do I hold back the Lord’s Dogs? Shall I call for Brother Luigi?”

Someone laughed. “That’s enough, both of you,” said a new voice.

Wulf glanced around and then jumped to his feet. He had not heard the newcomers enter, so they could not have come through the door. There was no doubt who the young man in front was—Wulf had seen his face on a miniature. They bowed to each other.

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…”

CHAPTER
45

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.

“You must be careful what you say,” Justina said, pushing through the wind to a low doorway. “Weigh every word. And you keep that temper of yours firmly nailed dowwhat n, Wulfgang. You had better leave all the talking to your cadger.”

Madlenka squeaked in alarm.

Wulf squeezed her hand. “She just means you must not let me lose my temper.”

“Yours? What about mine? My temper’s much worse than yours.”

“No, it’s not! Mine is a hundred times worse.”

“Imagine what ferocious children we will have!”

“How many? Five brothers to teach one another fighting and five sisters to love?”

“Will you two alley cats stop that!” The old lady had managed to wrestle the door open. She ducked under the lintel, but both Wulf and Madlenka had to stoop as they followed, still defiantly holding hands. The wind slammed the door behind them and continued to moan through chinks in the shutters.