When the Saints

CHAPTER 29

On a dull winter morning, Madlenka could take two hours to complete her toilet. Today, she slipped on a better pair of shoes, coiled up her hair, wrapped it in a turban, pulled her fox fur cloak over her shoulders, and tore out the door, arriving at the solar out of breath but directly behind Anton. He turned in the entrance, frowning at her.

“I don’t think this involves you.”

“I am sure it does.” It was a real pleasure to contradict him.

“It may be dangerous. The Inquisition may draw the wrong conclusions.”

“I suspect it does so quite often,” she said with an airy confidence she certainly did not feel, “but I assure you that the Wulfgang problem now concerns me more than anyone. Shall we go in?”

She staged as regal an entrance as she could manage, nodding politely to Otto and Vlad and heading for an empty chair. There was a fourth person present, who was presented as Great-aunt Kristina, to be addressed as Justina. She was of advanced years, but well preserved. She wore a fine royal blue robe, which she had opened for comfort in the stuffy room, exposing a dowdy gray servant’s dress below it. Evidently the robe was the correct signal, for she did not rise to defer to a countess. In this company, it was a fair guess that Great-aunt Whoever was a Speaker and a member of the Saints guild that Wulf had mentioned.

Vlad rose and brought Madlenka a glass of wine, letting Anton take his chair. The big man would not normally defer to a younger brother like that, but Anton outranked all of them. And the youngest of all was a Speaker. If Vlad now saw himself as the junior brother, the big man’s self-esteem must be suffering, but he showed no sign of sulks. There was nothing small about Vlad.

“Wulfgang left with that priest,” Anton said glumly. “He put up no resistance. The four of them just walked out into the dressing room and vanished.”

The gloom spread as quietly as a stain. “Does anyone know who the priest was?” Madlenka asked. “Was he from the Inquisition? 3”

“The Inquisition usually sends friars, Dominicans or Franciscans,” Justina said, “but it is certainly possible. He was a Speaker.”

“Why did he come here first,” Otto asked, frowning, “instead of going directly to Wulfgang? Courtesy to Anton, as host?”

Courtesy did not sound like the Inquisition; but what other reason could there be?

“To warn me off, I think,” Justina said.

Madlenka suppressed a need to scream at the memory of Wulf’s despairing surrender. When no one else spoke, she did. “So what happens now?”

“We are waiting for the prelate of my order, the Saints. She was prepared to jess Wulfgang-bind him, that is. The time for that has passed, if he is in the hands of the Inquisition.”

“The time has passed because he is already jessed. To me.”

“What?” Great-aunt Justina could be very nearly as loud as Great-nephew Vlad. “Who told you the words of the jessing oath?”

“He did.”

Justina gave Madlenka a look that suggested a desire to burn her at the stake. “Did he include anything about transferring your authority over him to another by mutual consent?”

“Not that I recall.” Madlenka didn’t see why she shouldn’t lie if everyone else could. If she told the truth, they would just insist that she transfer his oath to someone else, which would be a betrayal of his trust.

Justina muttered something barely audible and likely indecent. “And what liberties did you give him?”

“Liberties, Justina?”

“Standard permissions. What did you tell him he could do? Defend himself from attack? Defend you? Look wherever he can? Walk through limbo to escape from jails?”

Madlenka saw the pit yawn before her and mutely shook her head.

Justina emptied her glass in one great gulp. “Then he is as powerless as a workaday. They can rack him, flog him, break him. Just like Joan of Arc, who worried him so much.”

“He did say something about defending me. Why don’t you tie me to the flogging post and see if he… No?”

“How is he to know you need defending, you witless wench? You left him blind and deaf.”

Holy Mary forgive me! Was she to be Wulf’s Delilah? Madlenka covered her face, unable to bear the reproach in their eyes. Wulf had been almost out on his feet, but she had no such defense. She had let love blind her, or at least bypass her wits.

“Let’s tilt at this thing once more,” said Otto, ever the peacemaker. “Where is he now, Justina?”

She bit her lip. “He’s asleep, that’s all I know. They took him straight to a dark room. I did see that it had a bed in it. He was out cold in seconds. He isn’t even dreaming.”

Vlad grunted. “Bed is good. Straw in dungeon is not.”

“But they may want to try jessing him. They’ll try kindness and trust-us first. If he refuses-as now he must-then things will get harder.”

“Let’s start with the Inquisition, then,” Otto said. “They’ll have trouble making a public case for the death of Father Azuolas without admitting that he was a Speaker himself. How did he come to Cardice? What was he doing in the bedroom with the two monks when Wulf shot him?”

“They don’t have to go public,” Justina said. “All they need is Wulfgang’s signed confession. They’ll leave him enough of a hand to hold a pen.”

Madlenka was confident that her stubborn beloved was as capable of resisting torture as any man, but all men could be broken eventually. She said, “Can we be absolutely certain that the Inquisition will try to make him confess? Won’t they try to enlist him in Azuolas’s place?”

“He’s already jessed by you, and you say your loyalty cannot be transferred. He killed a priest, so he must die, one way or another. He’s helpless without your permission to use his talent. If you die, he’s a workday forevermore. One thing that seems certain is that you will never be allowed near him again.”

Madlenka had not thought of that. Wulf should have known-must have known! But Wulf had been stupefied by lack of sleep and hadn’t thought of it in time.

Otto waited. When no one else commented, he said, “Can we rescue him?”

“Can I rescue him, you mean?” Justina said. “No. The Saints do not launch armed assaults on the Inquisition. The Church is leery enough of us already. We exist on its sufferance. Some future pope will launch a crusade and wipe us out.”

“Can we bargain, then? Ransom him?”

This time her response was slower and more measured. “Umbral did hint that she might be able to buy the pope, as she put it. But that was when the boy was still a haggard. Now he’s jessed, can’t can? un-jessed, and in the Church’s hands already. A novice falcon jessed by a novice cadger is not a promising addition to the Saints. He’s unpredictable and ungovernable. She’ll wash her hands of him.”

So their only ally was leaving the battlefield. More gloom. Madlenka could not help thinking that two days ago there had been five Magnus brothers; so now there might be only three.

Anton asked the next question. “That leaves Zdenek, then? He says he can buy off Archbishop Svaty.”

And Otto answered. “Maybe he can. But how does he buy off the Inquisition? Jorgary is a small kingdom. What does he have to offer?”

“What about Crown Prince Konrad, soon to be king?”

Otto said, “I can’t see Wulf wanting to serve a man with his reputation. Birds of a feather flock together, snicker, snicker. We aren’t certain that it was the Inquisition who took him. Could it be the others-the Agioi?”

“He was dressed as a Catholic,” Justina said. “Orthodox priests have beards, and this one was clean-shaven.”

No one commented. The meeting seemed to have run out of ideas. The clamor of church bells came and went, only faintly audible through the walls. The castle staff were celebrating around a bonfire down in the bailey, with drums, singing, and trumpets, but despair, not joy, ruled in the solar. The man who had saved the castle, the town, and the kingdom seemed to be doomed to a horrible death which no one could save him from except-just possibly-the mysterious Lady Umbral, whose help he had not wanted. It would, Madlenka decided, be better than nothing, under the circumstances. She was starting to regret her lie about transferring the oath; Wulf should at least be given the chance to decide.

“Let’s talk about something cheerful,” Vlad said, “like pestilence, maybe?”

Granted that the big man had a very odd sense of humor, plague was nobody’s joke.

“What pestilence?” Madlenka demanded, alarmed.

“Fake pestilence, maybe? This mind-changing sorcery, Justina? Could it make someone believe in plague when there wasn’t any?”

“You mean one or two cases, or a raging pestilence?”

“Just one case.”

Madlenka had thought of Vladislav as being the stupid brother, but no one was laughing.

Anton was actually leering. “Yes! You think that that’s how Havel got rid of the landsknechte? I knew there was something wrong about that story! When I first met Captain Ekkehardt, in the cathedral, h cathedre just wanted more money. When I spoke with him later that evening, no price in the world was going to keep him in Cardice. The change was very sudden! Justina, could that have been witchcr… tweaking?”

“Tweaking?” Madlenka thought she must be the most ignorant cadger in the history of Speaking.

“Changing his mind for him,” Anton said. “Speakers can do that. Like making women think they’re in love with them, for example.”

She felt her face flame. Was that what he thought? That Wulf had used his talent to win her love? There was rage in Anton’s eyes. He would still be within his legal rights in ordering Madlenka into his bed tonight. If Wulf had gone forever, there would be no annulment.

“Tweaking has limits,” Justina said quickly. “It works best when the subject is already inclined that way and just needs a nudge, and it tends to wear off. But certainly, Father Vilhelmas was a very skilled and unscrupulous Speaker. He could have tweaked your landsknechte man into believing he’d seen a case of plague.”

“Vilhelmas wasn’t in town then, though. Bishop Ugne had refused to let Vranov bring an Orthodox priest in with him.”

“Oh, really?” Justina said. “A Speaker can go anywhere and not be noticed. Besides, Vranov had another Speaker with him this morning, one you hadn’t met before. If Vranov wanted to hobble you by removing your mercenaries, that would be an easy, clever way to do it. Inexpensive, too.”

“Could be good news, then.” Vlad yawned hugely. “Wolfcub isn’t the only one needing to catch up on sleep. The best sleep of all is the one after winning a great battle. Thanks to Wulf, that’s what we can all enjoy tonight. Call me early and I’ll kill you.”

“Good idea,” Otto agreed. “But we were waiting for Lady Umbral.”

“Don’t,” said a girl in a sumptuous orange and black ball gown and a hat like two great wings. Her jewels sparkled like sunlight on fresh snow and her teeth flashed even brighter. The men all lurched to their feet.

“This is Sybilla,” Justina said in long-suffering tones, “my brancher. I really have the worst luck.”

“About to be jessed!” Sybilla snapped. “So you won’t have anyone to nag and bully.”

“About to be jessed, may God in His Heaven be praised.”

The luscious Sybilla favored the room with another lovely smile. “And I am also Lady Umbral’s daughter.”

Justina’s face darkened. “You’re not supposed to say that! o say thx201D;

“Oh, dear, I forgot! Anyway, Mother sent me to tell you, my lords and ladies, that the Wulfgang situation is out of her hands, so don’t wait up for her.”

When no one else spoke, Madlenka said, “What does she mean by ‘out of her hands’?”

Sybilla sighed. “She didn’t explain exactly, but she was supping with the pope tonight and I was Looking-not all the time, just now and again-and it was quite obvious that His Holiness was refusing to bargain. He regards Wulfgang Magnus as a dangerous homicidal Satanist, and will see him burn if he has to light the pyre himself. Now, if you will excuse me, I will return to the ball. Royalty must not be kept waiting, you know.”

She turned away and vanished like a maltreated soap bubble.

No one was looking at anyone else. This was the end. The Church had Wulf and the pope had decided. Abandon hope.

Eventually Madlenka said, “Can we believe her?”

“Sometimes,” Justina said. “And in this case, yes, because I also Looked in on the pope’s little supper party a couple of times and that was how the conversation was going. Sixtus the Fourth is a very determined man, very inflexible. All popes are, but he’s the hallmark. He has far more falcons at his beck and call than anyone else, so he really doesn’t need another, no matter how effective. He won’t want anyone else to have him, either.” She heaved herself to her feet as if the hour had suddenly grown heavy on her shoulders. “This has been a great day for some, and very bad for many. A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” Giving Madlenka a nod that conveyed no clear message at all, Justina disappeared.

“That concludes the fun,” Vlad said. “Now the business begins, Count. You and I must go and inspect the troops.”

“What business?” Anton stood up, almost as wearily as his great-aunt had.

“Can’t you hear the bells out there, the bands? You have a victory to celebrate. The town and the castle will expect you to turn up everywhere, making speeches and leading extempore prayers. Not to mention decreeing public holidays and thanksgiving. And your report to the Spider must leave at dawn, even if you do know that he knows already.”

“I suppose so.” Anton looked doubtfully at Madlenka. Was she or wasn’t she his wife now?

“Go without me,” she said. “I must check on Mother, and on the infirmary, and it has not been an easy day for me, either.” She was going to bolt the bedroom door.

He probably knew that, but he nodded. “And I have work to do. Good night, my lady.”

amp;t size="#x201C; Personally,” Otto said, “I am going to spend some time in the chapel first. This was Wulfgang’s day. He destroyed the Wends and he pulled the Hound’s teeth. The fact that Gallant is celebrating tonight is entirely due to him. I intend to give thanks to the Almighty and beg Him to extend mercy to a boy who may have made mistakes, but means no evil. I will beseech Him to soften the heart of His servant the Pope, so that he will grant Wulf absolution.”

“I will pray also,” Madlenka said. It was her fault that Wulf had been taken by his enemies when he was helpless to save himself. But she was exhausted, and must sleep. Perhaps tomorrow she would think of some way she could find him and give him back his magic.

Like Vlad said, nothing was going to happen before morning.