When the Saints

CHAPTER 46

After the jury left, Lady Umbral beckoned Madlenka. Taking a firmer grip on her husband’s strong hand, Madlenka led him forward. She had not expected to find herself treated as the senior partner, but he seemed to accept that strange situation quite happily. He flashed a smile at her and they halted together at the edge of the dais. Madlenka curtseyed; he bowed. Even at close quarters, Umbral’s face remained bizarrely indistinct and unfocused.

“I congratulate you both on your so-recent marriage,” she said. “And you on your choice of husband, my lady. I know of no falcon ever achieving so much so soon. If you wish to join the Saints, we shall be most glad to welcome you both.”

Madlenka glanced at Wulf; he nodded.

She said, “We are honored, my lady. We have much to learn.”

“We shall see that you are instructed. Meanwhile, I am confident that the judges will support our case. Despite that ferocious leer the pasha is wearing, he knows that he is about to lose.”

They all looked at Mudar Sokullu, who bared his teeth at Madlenka. “But if I win, woman, I will take you home as a gift for my imperial master.”

He was joking, wasn’t he?

“Over my dead body,” Wulf said cheerfully.

“That is understood.”

“We are agreed, though,” Umbral said, “that the boy Leonas caused the deaths of your father and brother, and Sir Wulfgang’s brother. Although he cannot understand how he has sinned, he is more dangerous than a mad dog and must be clipped. It is a brutal process, which will leave him with even fewer wits than he has now. Do either of you disagree?”

“No,” Madlenka said sadly. “But then what will happen to him?”

“He is a pretty thing,” the janissary said. “I will take him and sell him in the market in Constantinople.”

Madlenka looked at Wulf and saw her own horror reflected in his face. “Is there no alternative?” she asked.

“I know a monastery that would take him in,” Umbral said, “but he would almost certainly run away, and then he would likely starve. Slaves are fed.” hat wou Wulf said, “A dead Magnus should be revenged, but I cannot kill a half-wit boy, and the real criminal is his father. So I do not object.”

“We will accept your judgment, my lady,” Madlenka said.

“Very well. Take him, Pasha.” Lady Umbral raised her voice slightly. “But give whatever you get for him to the poor! Now, what of that Alojz Zauber? He is not short of wits, but his ethics came out of the cesspool. He caused the death of Count Magnus, your former husband. Pronounce sentence, Madlenka.”

Madlenka started to protest that Wulf had lost a brother and should get that dubious honor, but he frowned and nodded at her to speak. “Obviously the squire has talent,” she said. “Could he be taught to behave himself, while securely bound to a better handler for, say, another year?”

“Probation?” Umbral murmured. “I believe there have been precedents.”

Wulf said, “I am sure Justina will be very bored without her present brancher to keep her company.”

A couple of eavesdroppers chuckled, but Madlenka did not think either of them was Justina.

Lady Umbral shrugged. “Will you accept probation, brancher, or would you prefer the traitor’s death?”

Alojz fell on his knees and was still spewing out his thanks when a gate opened and the judges filed back into the room. The tallest of them, one of the bearded, turbaned Turks, announced their verdict: “We find for the Saints on all counts. Wartislaw was employing a hireling within Catholic territory and the Agioi should have stopped him. The use of talent to invade Castle Gallant was a second trespass, and the brancher obviously regarded himself as subject to the voivode’s orders at that time. The Saints may claim compensation. The execution of Father Vilhelmas and destruction of Wartislaw’s army were both extreme actions, but justified by the laws of war. No compensation is required.”

Nobody cheered or applauded.

The pasha sighed. “The Utterly Just has spoken, but he will remember his children another day.”

“Lady Madlenka, Sir Wulfgang,” Lady Umbral said, “you may speak for the loss of Castle Gallant and the fate of Havel Vranov and his accomplices. You cannot ask for the return of the dead, but you may suggest any other penalty or compensation.”

The castle was a military matter, and Madlenka was not going to meddle in that. “Falcon?” she asked quickly.

Wulf’s face was grim. “Count Vranov is a traitor to his king and has treasonously slain my brother Anton and many others. I will attend to him myself.”

“You will not, rs. I will01D; Umbral told him. “You may demand his death, but others will carry out the sentence. This must be justice, not revenge. Remember that he holds your remaining brothers hostage.”

Wulf set his jaw defiantly for a moment. “I demand that Havel Vranov suffer a heart attack, and that he survive just long enough to make confession and receive absolution, no more than one hour. His son, Sir Marijus, was obviously an accomplice in his crimes, but if he will at once withdraw his forces and return to Pelrelm, handing over Castle Gallant to my brother Sir Vladislav, then I will see that he receives a royal pardon.”

The listeners muttered.

Umbral laughed. “You can guarantee such a pardon, Sir Wulfgang?”

“Yes, I can. If Marijus refuses the offer, then I demand his death also.”

Madlenka had married a warrior and must expect him to think like one. She would not argue. But she remembered how Radomir had died while she held his hand. “And we want compensation for all the widows and orphans in Gallant, not just victims of Vranov’s attack, but the Wends’ assault, too.”

“Indeed?” Lady Umbral seemed surprised at such a notion. “About a thousand florins?” She ignored a loud gabble of Turkish from the janissary. “Does any member of the jury consider these penalties excessive?”

None of the six spoke.

“Very well. Pasha, take the boy Leonas and deliver a thousand sequins to Lady Magnus by tomorrow noon. Vranov must be dead by then, and his army must be back home in Woda within a week. That concludes our business.”

The janissary sprang nimbly to his feet. “For today, yes. But there will be many tomorrows.” He was looking at Wulf as he said it.

Mine Host Oldrich looked around from a heated argument with his wife as the front door of the Bacchus opened to admit Sir Wulfgang Magnus with a striking young lady on his arm. A glance at Lady Magnus’s clean gown told him that she must have arrived by coach, although he had not heard one draw up. He bowed low, greeted the guests, and presented his wife.

“Our luggage has been delayed,” Sir Wulfgang announced. “I believe we could use a supper, a fairly substantial supper. Right, my dear? What is on the table tonight?”

“Roast boar, honored sir? And partridge pie. Well hung, very delicious. Ham, trout, a fine selection of cheeses.”

The prince’s latest favorite glanced at his companion and received a smile of acceptance. “That will be excellent. Send up a couple of flagons of your very best wine, right away, and the food as soon as possible. Aprinceter that, we are not to be disturbed, even if King Konrad himself arrives at the head of the Royal Hussars, understand?”

“Indeed, I do, sir. A linkboy…”

“Just give me that lantern and we’ll light our own way,” young Magnus said, with the impatience of youth.

Oldrich obeyed. “The wine will be ready in an instant!” He sighed as he watched the couple trotting up the stairs, being rewarded for his attention by a glimpse of Lady Magnus’s divine ankles. Some men were just born lucky.

“I thought we had to sup with the prince tonight?” Madlenka said as Wulf escorted her along the corridor.

“Plans have changed. Cabbage Head had a harrowing interview with Cardinal Zdenek today. As a result, he has already drunk himself into oblivion. His cronies put him to bed. You will have to wait until tomorrow for the joy of being presented to His Highness, but then the sight of your beauty will at once cure his hangover and arouse him to avid anticipation of reunion with his darling wife, a lustful eagerness second only to my own present state.”

“Your fingers are trembling.”

“I may need some guidance.” He unlocked the door of the Horse Room.

Madlenka went in. “And Otto will be the next count of Cardice, I suppose? He is the eldest.”

“Vlad,” Wulf said. “Otto won’t want it, and no one can do a better job of modernizing Gallant’s defenses than Vlad.”

“Can you really arrange things like that?”

He closed the door and turned to face her. For a moment the shifting lamplight seemed to shine through a crack in his facade of wedding-night joy and excitement to illuminate the dread inside. “ I must!” he said. “It is my duty, plain and simple. For three hundred years the Magnuses of Dobkov have served the House of Jorgar without cavil or stint, and more than half its sons have died in that cause. My service will be different, but to be true to my ancestors, I must do my utmost to keep King Krystof on his throne as long as I have breath in my body. You won’t,” he added with sudden alarm, “forbid me this, will you, my darling cadger?”

“Of course not,” she said. “My family has held the northern gate of the kingdom for even longer, and many a Bukovany has fallen defending it. We’ll serve together.” Then she couldn’t resist adding, “And God save the king!”

Wulf exploded in laughter and pulled her into an embrace.