Zdenek was just confirming the suspicion that Wulf had shared with d’Estouteville and with Otto, that he was up to no good. Marquessa Darina had hinted that she was not permitted to defend Cabbage Head against soft-footed gentlemen with stilettos. Even Speaker bodyguards were useless if their cadgers were in league with the assassins. Crown Prince Konrad was not among the Wise, and unlikely ever to be admitted.
To throw all this back in the old man’s face would be pointless. Wulf said, “The first Baron Magnus helped put the House of Jorgar on the throne, and his descendants have served it faithfully for centuries. At least two have served as royal bodyguards, and I can imagine no greater honor. However, I currently have certain problems involving the Inquisition, Your Eminence.”
The cardinal waved a hand as if to banish a mosquito. “I shall have a word with Archbishop Svaty.”
“Unfortunately, that will not suffice. Whatever his decision, he can be overruled by the Vatican. I have been ordered to return to Cardinal d’Estouteville by tomorrow evening with a contract of betrothal between Princess Laima and his nephew, Lou?s nephewis of Rouen. In return, I will be provided with a papal decree declaring my innocence in the relevant matters.”
Give him his due, the tough old rascal barely swayed. “Then I can offer only my deepest sympathy, Wulfgang.” He held out his ring as a sign of dismissal.
Wulf ignored it. “You haven’t told me what you want, Your Eminence, not what-you-really-want.”
The cardinal’s eyes narrowed. Regarding his visitor steadily, and probably taking him a little more seriously than before, he withdrew his hand and entwined it with the other on his lap. “And what do you think I want, young man?”
Now for it: Ready, Aim, Fire!
Wulf said, “I think you have served this land of ours since before I was born, with all your heart, loyally and diligently, winter and summer, day and night. Its caring governance has been your lifework. I think you cannot bear the thought of seeing it being ridden over a cliff by a lazy, incompetent, dimwit, drunken rakehell.”
That might be slandering the crown prince, but was probably a good description of what Zdenek thought of him.
The low sun flashed red on the cardinal’s eyeglasses. “Such talk is seditious, squire.”
“Then we shall not repeat it. As a true patriot, loyal to the House of Jorgar, I would dearly love to see you continue to handle its affairs while you train your new young master-and your own successor, whoever he may be.”
Zdenek sneered. “You, perhaps?”
“Heavens, no! I am warrior-bred. I can’t count above ten. You could find a thousand older men better suited than I. But I could make a good bodyguard, whether official or unofficial.”
Silence. The old man glanced over at his Franciscan guardian, as if judging his reaction. Wulf Looked through the cardinal’s eyes and saw the friar nod. Confirming that what was being hinted at was possible? Or that Wulf was sincere?
“Tweaking?” the cardinal murmured. “They call that tweaking, I believe, and even the Speakers condemn it as a sin against the Lord’s will.”
“Call it counseling,” Wulf murmured back. “Talent must be used for good.”
“As I recall, unwelcome tweaking fades rapidly and must be renewed every few days.”
“By someone close to the subject.”
Then the mood broke. The old man leaned back and laughed. “A fiendish suggestion! I could never trust you to keep your wo? keep yord.”
“Yes, you could,” Wulf said irritably. “When I wait upon the Eminent Cardinal d’Estouteville tomorrow to deliver the marriage contract, I will receive from him the document that absolves me from the taint of witchcraft and certain other allegations. Your secretary must accompany me to oversee any final details, Your Eminence.”
This time the pause was longer. Wulf could almost imagine the cardinal’s mind turning like a millstone as he ground out the risks of trusting this juvenile sorcerer’s good faith and compared them with the horrors of murdering or even just deposing his sovereign lord. Wulf had no doubt now that this was what the old devil was planning, but surely he must see it as a last resort, after a lifetime of faithful service? The English deposed kings all the time, but other nations regarded them as sacrosanct, anointed by God.
Zdenek nodded thoughtfully. “You met His Highness last night.” The unasked question was whether Wulf could possibly endure the thought of serving the dolt.
“I did have that honor. In fact, His Highness and I made a wager. I am due to meet him very shortly to demonstrate my horsemanship.”
The Spider was openly startled. He whispered, “Saints preserve us! I heard about that nonsense. You were serious?”
“Of course I was serious!” He was now, anyway. Whatever would Madlenka say if she knew?
“Nobody believed you. I doubt very much that Crown Prince Konrad will turn up for your rendezvous. Even he remembers his dignity sometimes.”
“Let us hope he at least sends a trusted witness,” Wulf said, trying to hide how much that suggestion dismayed him. If his bragging had been dismissed as mere insolence and nobody came to watch, then his chances of winning the prince’s trust would drop to much less than zero, tweaking or no tweaking.
The Scarlet Spider was regarding him with much more interest now. “What do you hope to win?”
“Just His Highness’s favor. He is an equestrian of note himself, I understand.”
For the first time, the old man smiled. “Yes, he is. That much we all concede. Well, maybe he will be fool enough to show. Tomorrow you said?”
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
“I shall attend Mass in the morning, of course, but I expect to be here after dinner. If you have some progress to show me by then, you may come and do so.”
Wulf sank to his knees.
Zdenek extended his skeleton hand. “His Highness must at least accept your service, though that alone will not persuade me.??ade me.
“Of course not, Eminence.” As Wulf kissed the ring, he slid a small wad of paper into the old man’s fingers. The cardinal’s complete lack of visible reaction suggested that people passed him secret notes that way all the time.
CHAPTER 38
A horse, a horse…
Wulf went to an empty stall in the Castle Gallant stable. He had never jumped Copper, so the horse he needed was Anton’s Morningstar. Morningstar had cleared the lethal brook at Chestnut Hill for Anton and would remember it. As usual the stable was dim, warm, and musty, full of the inevitable munching sounds and gentle clink of iron on flagstones, but there was a strange lack of voices. A quick look around confirmed that there were no people present, which was a surprise, but a welcome one. Wulf located Morningstar, who knew his voice and was pleased by the prospect of exercise. He made no complaint at being saddled.
Crown Prince Konrad was sitting on a fallen tree within a group of hunt companions, lecturing as usual. “The most I ever won at a single game of Nine Men’s Morris was two hundred florins, as I recall. You were there, weren’t you, Pavel? The night when that Italian bet a night with his mistress and lost?”
“Yes, sire. And the Greek mercenary who won her demanded his valet instead?”
His audience cackled like crows. Wulf recognized several faces from last night’s encounter. They were all fidgeting, impatient to be on their way.
They were almost certainly already at the rendezvous, but Konrad was paying no heed to the scenery, so the secret watcher could not be sure. They must be tired after a day’s hunt and anxious to head home, but none of them would be brave enough to tell Cabbage Head that he was wasting his time waiting around for the braggart Magnus brat to show up. They would rather let him make a fool of himself.
To ride out of nowhere at Chestnut Hill itself would be disastrous if the hunt was already there, so Wulf recalled a wooded hollow where the approach road dipped through a marshy area-not the sort of place people would linger. He arrived there safely, but then ran into an unexpected problem.