The valet’s efficiency was incredible. In moments he was shaving the prince and had returned Wulf’s Italian finery, washed and ironed and smelling pleasantly of wood smoke from the fire that had dried it. Meanwhile the lodge resounded with bellows of anger as the guests fought to find their own clothes and take turns with the chamber pots.
Princes wait on no man. It was very little more than fifteen minutes before Konrad ran down the long stair and out into the first flat light from a sky the color of duck eggs. He was freshly shaved, fed, and dressed in finely laundered hunter’s green. Nobody else was. He had enjoyed a full night’s sleep, too.
He caught Wulf’s arm as their horses were being led forward. “We can talk more back in Mauvnik. I’ve made you unpopular enough already. Watch your back from now on.” Then louder: “Pavel! You ride with me. And Juraj, you great pervert. I want to hear who was doing what to whom last night. Which girl was screaming?”
Wulf found himself alone, wondering how literally Konrad had meant the warning. Were any of these baby-faced parasites capable of sticking a knife in him?
“May I ride with you, Sir Wulfgang?” inquired the buck-toothed Lubos.
“I would be honored, my lord.”
As the cavalcade streamed off down the road with half the riders still dressing, Lubos opened the interrogation. “I trust you slept well, Sir Wulfgang?”
“Eventually, yes.”
“Eventually?”
“His Highness talked a lot.”
“Ah.” Lubos smiled cryptically at his horse’s ears. “How do you fancy your chances on the mat with him?”
“Those shoulders terrify me.”
That began about three hours of conversation, none of which made any sense. Wulf was partnered with a dozen different people in turn, even a couple of the very few women whose palfreys were capable of matching the prince’s frantic pace. Half the guests dropped out. At one point the new master of horse had to ride forward to warn Konrad that he was damaging some of his guards’ mounts. Konrad pouted, but did rein in the black super-horse he was riding. By the time the hunt thundered through the palace gates, the courtiers knew everything there was to be known about Wulfgang Magnus, which was effectively nothing, and he had learnehe had ld more about them than they had guessed or he had ever wanted to know.
As they entered the palace, Konrad grasped his arm in an oversized fist. “To the mat! I want to see how far I can throw you. After that-hot bath, dinner, and then we’ll beard the Spider in his web, mm?” He stormed along the hall at a pace Wulf’s longer legs could barely match.
How many hours left until Cardinal d’Estouteville’s deadline? Wulf’s impatience was scratching like a hair shirt. Zdenek was already in his office. He had a pile of papers on his lap and was discussing them with Brother Daniel, a different Brother Daniel.
“Now might be a good time to catch His Eminence before the crowds… I mean, a good time to catch him, sire.” Even the cardinal would not make the crown prince cool his heels in the anteroom.
Wulf had not made his remark a tweak, at least not deliberately, so he was surprised when the prince agreed. Perhaps he was trained like a hound already, eager to obey his master’s wishes.
“Let’s go and see.” Konrad took the grand staircase at a run, with his cronies trailing behind him. Servants and courtiers hastily cleared out of his path and bowed after he had already gone by. Wulf did not suggest that more royal decorum would be in order. He had tweaked and nagged far too much already, and a show of youthful energy might be just what Jorgary needed after Konrad V’s long decline.
Even on a Sunday, the cardinal’s big anteroom held a couple of dozen petitioners. The friar guarding the door looked up in astonishment at the army of green-clad hunters bearing down on him. Then he recognized the leader and sprang to his feet.
“I shall inform His Eminence of your arrival immediately, sire.”
“Or sooner,” Konrad remarked cheerfully, but he did come to a halt. His train caught up with him and gathered around, grinning and, in some cases, puffing.
In his office, Zdenek looked up from his papers with the start of an angry protest, but then nodded and laid his work aside.
“Your Highness, His Eminence will receive you now…”
Konrad took one step before his nerve failed him, and he gestured for Wulf to accompany him. Wulf did, aware that every one of the dozen men he was leaving was mentally measuring him for a coffin. He had stolen the sun from their sky, cut the ground from under their fancy shoes. They must assume that he was now Konrad’s lover. There was no other possible explanation-except the truth, which would be much worse to have them believing.
By the time he entered the now-familiar office, the prince had already kissed the cardinal’s ring and was making polite apologies for not warning of his coming. The cardinal returned to his throne. The friar in attendance-an older, tubbier one thabbier onn yesterday-fetched a chair for the prince, exchanging a nod of respect with Wulf, each acknowledging the other’s halo. Wulf had not expected to be presented, but he was.
“Sir Wulfgang Magnus, Eminence. He’s a brother of that exhibitionist clown you made count of Cardice.”
Zdenek nodded as if mildly surprised and extended his ring. He murmured, “Sir Wulfgang,” as a man might in the circumstances, but there was enough fire in his eyes to warn that he was displeased about something. He said, “Your honored grandfather made that appointment, not I, Highness. I heard that Sir Wulfgang accosted you a couple of nights ago and offered to repeat his brother’s jump with his hands tied behind his back.”
Konrad uttered his high-pitched titter. “We didn’t tie his hands, but he did repeat it. Quite amazing. He used the same horse. I’m going to steal it off him.”
Wulf, standing at the prince’s side, said not a word. If his new liege continued to perform throughout this meeting as well as he had started, then he would have earned Morningstar. He was bearding the lion for the first time. The interview was probably costing him as much cold sweat as the jump had cost Wulf.
“Quite right, too.” Zdenek’s faint smile somehow conveyed the message that he had greatly enjoyed this little chat but now he had work to do.
“To business.” The prince raised a thumb. “First, I want you to send an escort for my wife and bring her back to the palace as soon as possible.”
“I am delighted to-”
“And issue a proclamation along the lines of needing her love and support during the trying times ahead.”
Brother Daniel was scribbling notes.
The cardinal frowned. “That would be an admission that His Majesty is dying. It is customary for monarchs to remain in excellent health until they are actually dead.”
“Everyone knows it’s coming,” Konrad snapped. He raised his index finger. “I think we have had too many Konrads already. I mean, I feel unworthy to fill the shoes of et cetera, et cetera. No one will argue with you on that. When the time comes, have me proclaimed by my second name, Krystof. King Krystof the Second? Christoforos Secundus Rex. Has a nice ring to it.”
The cardinal did not quite close his eyes and shudder, but Wulf did expect him to protest that hundreds of documents had already been prepared with the other name on it, awaiting only a date. He didn’t, but it must have cost him.
“Should have asked me,” the prince murmured anyway. He raised his middle finger. “I wish to be briefed on the funeral plans. Tomorrow morning?” ="0em"› “Certainly, Your Highness. I will have the lord herald wait upon you.” A faint flush had appeared in the cardinal’s normally ivory cheeks. His fists were clenched. As Wulf had predicted, he could not now refuse such instructions.