“The good doctor has not always kept such refined company,” said the empress as she released the clasp of her robe and let it fall to the waiting servants. Beneath, she wore a white chemise ruffled at the throat and wrists, draping over her pregnant belly and falling a bit short of the floor. “I pray he shall gather no more scars in his sojourn among us.”
Emerick retreated from the sight of the empress in her under things, turning a bit pink as he went to stand by Agnes.
“Sing for us, would you?” Empress Margaret smiled, then beckoned to Elisha as she started down the steps.
He pulled off his boots and hurried to join her. The empress placed herself, and her baby, in his hands. He took her hand upon his arm, escorting her into the water as if to a ball beneath the sea. The warm bath rose up above his hips, but the floor felt just rough enough to keep his footing. Agnes began a hymn that filled the chamber, a solemn song unlike her usual fare, but suited to the cavernous bath.
Walking steadily, Empress Margaret brought him to the far side, beneath the glowing salt. She moved a little apart from him, keeping his hand, then lay down with a sigh, her chemise floating around her, the rise of her breasts and belly swelling up from the water. Elisha sank to his knees in the water, guiding her drifting form until her head rested at his shoulder, sure to be clear of the water, her braided hair draping against his arm.
“Do be sure to monitor my pulses,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her weight borne upon the bath. No wonder she was so eager to come here. She lay as if on a bed of softest feathers, steam rising gently around her, arms loose upon the surface.
“Voices do not carry from here, Doctor. With Agnes singing, none shall hear what passes between us.” Her eyes opened, reflecting the strange light. “Tell me now, Doctor. What evil stalks my husband?”
Chapter 22
As Elisha spoke, overcoming their awkward intimacy, some of the comfort of the bath seeped into his own body, weary of vigilance, sore from the ride. He left out anything to suggest Katherine’s role, and minimized his own dangerous strength, but noted Bardolph and the mancer-guard as agents of the enemy. Almost, given the relaxation of her face and form as her eyes closed again, he thought her sleeping there upon the water, but her presence remained attentive and her forehead sometimes creased as he outlined what he believed about the mancer influence over Charles, and their desire to drive people to Rome, to strike a blow against the Church itself.
“Perhaps it is these sorcerers who control the madman at Rome,” she murmured. “It would explain much.”
“Then you do believe me.” He reached along her arm, taking her wrist gently to check her pulse—a gesture for Emerick’s benefit rather than his own; so close together, even the densely salty water could not prevent his attunement to her body.
“If all you say is true, then I should have you seized as a witch.” Her face grew solemn, her eyes searching his.
Elisha held his breath, awaiting her condemnation.
“But there have been many strange things happening here, not least of which is the power of the upstart to gather support away from my husband. I do think there may be something unholy in this.”
“The upstart is a man of great charisma, Your Majesty,” Elisha said carefully. “I don’t think he knowingly conspires with these sorcerers.”
“In spite of what you have seen, Doctor, my husband is not an angry man. Rather, it is the recent changes that drive him to his mania. I believe he must have some knowledge of these things, but that he fears to tell me. I am merely a woman, after all.”
He thought of how she had brought him here, every excuse with seeming logic and clear intent—yet quite different from her actual intent, creating the appearance of playful trust to make the space to hear him. “Your Majesty, I have learned not to underestimate women.” Brigit’s face and her own still form flashed in his memory.
“And Katherine? What do you say of her?”
Across the water, Emerick’s raised voice began to wonder if her majesty hadn’t been floating long enough now.
Drawing a deep breath of the salted air, Elisha felt he was breathing in Katherine’s tears. “The margravine is a fine woman, Your Majesty.”
“But you do not tarry for the sake of women?”
“My enemies—our enemies—are already moving against her, Your Majesty.”
“Again, you evade my question. This urgency you carry, Doctor, I do not understand it. You think that you must go to Rome. That you, yourself, must save us all.”
“Who else will?” Who else even could?
“We shall save the Germans, as your King Thomas has saved the English. As for Rome, it is the Pope who should be looking out for his city.”
Elisha’s anger returned the tension to his neck, and he said, “How can he, if he doesn’t know the danger? Or if he himself is the danger?”
“This is the obligation of the powerful, to tend those in their care, as my husband tends his own people. Those with the worldly power of kings shall defend the flesh, and those with the spiritual power of priests shall defend the souls. You have neither.”
The obligation of the powerful. Kings, she meant, and queens and empresses, the pope, the cardinals, the priests. Not one of them would see Elisha’s place—it was not quite among them—yet he had traveled so far from the people he always sought to serve. He thought of Isaac’s thirty-six, working quietly, wielding their power not from palaces, but from paths that others dared not walk. Their power was of the spirit, not of the world. Rulers like Thomas or Charles united worldly power to a strong sense of spiritual guidance—an ideal balance, if that guidance were not given by necromancers.
The empress let her feet sink, pushing herself to stand before him, limned in pink light and sheathed in damp fabric. She might have been seductive but for the hard expression on her face. “As we must look out for those who have stumbled. Katherine is not merely my friend, but also my husband’s vassal, who holds of him great lands—and the salt that keeps our land rich. A dalliance with an underling is a fine thing upon a journey, but now she is at home, and it must end. A husband shall be found to match her station—I will not have her sullied by her infatuation with you.”
Elisha’s head bowed beneath this sharp reminder of his true place. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It has never been my intent to damage her honor.”
“Since seeing you, she has been all a-flutter—fainting, foolish, tearful, and hopeful by turns. You do not say what power you hold, Doctor, but whatever it might be, it lies very close to the heart.”
As Elisha considered what might be said to that, her fingers pinched his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You are handsome, kind, and competent. Your scars make certain women feel an urge to tenderness—and none of those things confers the right to the liberties you have taken. Men have been castrated for less. If you do not stop, Doctor, and stop at once, I shall give you to the bishop and watch you burn.” She released him with a flick of her wrist that turned his face and dismissed him back to the rank of her servants.
Across the water, Agnes fell silent, and Emerick repeated his plea for their return.
“Bring me there, Doctor.” The empress put out her arm in the expectation of his aid, and Elisha took it upon his own. Water ran down her body, shaping her chemise to her full breasts and belly as he led her back to the party by the steps. It made her not a figure of desire, but of stone—a marble queen draped in majesty, at every moment cold and calculating. The empress’s attendants waited by the stairs, the mancer guard lurking by the entrance beyond. Katherine moved up through the others, with a stranger at her back, both looking anxious.
As she stepped from the water to the towels held by her waiting servants, the empress glanced over at her friend, then back to Elisha. “Thank you, Doctor. I shall keep my promise to you as well. My husband shall hear your words. There is no need for you to tarry any longe
r.”
Elisha’s jaw knotted, his eyes downcast, struck back to a barber once more, to live and die at the whim of others.
“He might wait a day, and speak his own message, Your Majesty,” said Katherine. “My steward tells me the emperor is on his way—to rally an army against the upstart.”
The empress broke her marble façade, her eyes fiercely alight. “Ludwig comes here? We must be ready.” Her gaze lingered on Katherine, and she said, “You may have a moment to say your farewells.” Then, to the others, she said, “Come!” The party broke before her to let her pass and swirled up the stairs again in pursuit of her.
“Emerick!” Elisha shouted, and the doctor pivoted on his heel. “Watch over her—she and the baby have enemies closer than she thinks.”
“I’ve seen it,” Emerick replied. His lips parted to say more, but he simply shook his head. “I’ve a feeling we’ll miss you before too long. Fare you well, Doctor.”
“And you,” Elisha murmured as the doctor hurried after his charge.
Katherine lingered as Elisha trudged back to where he’d left his clothes.
“You’ll want this,” she said, holding out a towel. Her gaze traveled slow across his chest, as if it caught upon every scar before she looked into his face. He reached for the towel, but she did not let go, using his grip on the other end to pull herself closer. Her right hand slid across his lower back, stroking upward, tracing the hatchwork of scars left from his lashing. “I’ve brought your Jew,” she said into his skin, but her touch carried longing.
“Thank you.” He bit off the words, ducking her glance. “Her majesty has said she’ll kill me if I dally with you.”
Far from driving her away, this statement drew her closer, her breath against his shoulder. “So that is what she meant about farewells, but did she not say just yesterday that she needs you to tend her baby?”
“Not as much as her husband needs your salt in his control. It was a useful ruse, but we must have done with it.” He jerked the towel from her grasp and started to scrub the salty water from his hair.
Katherine slid her arms about him, her face pressed to his back, her palm pressed to the brand upon his chest, the smooth patch where no hair would grow, cut by the groove of Thomas’s blade. Elisha froze, his heart thundering beneath her touch. The last time any held him so, Thomas drew him half-drowned from the roiling Thames and carried him to Mordecai, desperate to save his life. “Margravine, please,” he hissed.
“My watcher remains at the door, Elisha,” she said against his flesh, pleading, the fear that chilled his skin at odds with the passion she displayed for the benefit of their witnesses. “The flagellants hold vigil in the church below. They are mounting against us, against you, and now Margaret has turned against you.” She broke away from him then, blinking back tears as she retreated. “Forgive me, Doctor. The empress has decreed that you must go.” She trailed her fingers along his arm, sending, “Go. I will find my children, somehow.”
Could he leave her? He still had no plan for how to find them, or how to break the mancers from their power, even here in the deadening salt. The mancer by the door resonated his interest, the Jewish worker—his non-magical presence not even marking Elisha’s dulled awareness—studied a mosaic by the entrance.
“I should,” Elisha murmured, knowing his voice would echo. He focused what awareness he could muster on the mancer by the door, then he stepped up to Katherine, dropping the towel, gripping her shoulders as he kissed her, as if he said farewell. The spike of the mancer’s interest pierced Elisha’s awareness. “Do you feel him watching?”
Katherine, startled first by his deed, then by his words, took a moment to reply. “Faintly—as anything is felt down here.”
“The mancers. Do they share moments other than killing?”
“You mean—?” She stared up into his eyes, her face flushed.
“If they thought we would be lovers,” he insisted. “If they thought you would kill me at the height of passion, they would come for that. They’d have to be close, in order to feel it, to share in that betrayal.”
“It is just the sort of moment they revel in.” Her reply felt hollow, dismayed. “But the empress—”
“We’ll do it now, tonight. I’ll talk to Daniel and find out what I can, where your children might be hidden. You go to the empress and do what is needed for her—let her imagine I’ve already gone—and tell the mancers your plan. Ask for their aid in killing me—but insist on seeing your children before you deliver me.”
“They already think we are in league. Why would they believe me?”
He softened his hands upon her shoulders. “Katherine, what would you do to save your children?”
The strength of her talisman surged through her, and she need not answer.
“They will believe you. For a death like this, they will be too tempted not to.”
She leaned into him. Her hand once more upon his chest. “My Raphael,” she murmured. “How will you survive?”
“Let me think on that.” Elisha stroked her face and smiled, radiating desire for the benefit of the mancer, his loins tightening at her touch. How far could he go in counterfeiting love before his body betrayed him by making it real?
Katherine pushed up and kissed him again, lightly, then withdrew, gathering her skirts, already touching the hidden talisman that would summon her watcher to follow. “Here is Daniel Stoyan to speak with you. He can answer questions about the healing properties of the salts. Come to the kitchen before you go and I’ll see you’re given . . . sustenance.” She let her eyes linger on Elisha, then cut her gaze away and vanished down the corridor, the mancer-guard stalking after. The foreman bowed as she passed, acknowledging her authority. Had Elisha truly gained an ally among the mancers, or had he just given her the way to secure her children’s safety with his death?
Elisha quickly toweled himself off and pulled his tunic over his head and arms before addressing the foreman. “Herr Stoyan. Forgive me for making you witness that scene.”
Daniel Stoyan took a step nearer, his hands fidgeting with a few oddments that hung from his belt. “I . . . am given to understand that the margravine needs fresh information about the mines. I assume you are the doctor I have heard about? I have been told to trust you, first by my mother, and now by the margravine herself.”
Taking up the cloak, Elisha displayed the pin Isaac had given him. “Forgive me, as well, for taking you from your duties, but it’s true that we need help.”
Locks of gray twisted through his black curls beneath a dark cap. “To plan a tryst.”
“To save the lives of children,” Elisha shot back. “When was the last time you saw the margravine’s children?”
“Fraulein Sonia has gone for a visit with friends, I am told.”
“And the boys?”
“The whereabouts of children are hardly under my purview, Doctor.”
“Sonia is murdered, and the boys are missing. I have reason to believe they are concealed somewhere in the mine, hostage against their mother’s obedience to enemies of the empire.”
For a moment, the man regarded him blankly, echoing, “Sonia, dead? Can it be?” Then he said, in that same distant tone, “For holding captives, it is not the new part of the mine you want—miners are there at all hours. It is the oldest parts, where the veins are no longer stable. From the church you would go to the east, bearing east at the turning. A portion of the tunnel collapsed that once led to the hillside above the lake. It’s a warren of ancient rooms and broken passages. The miners fear to go there, now.”
“Can you show me a map?”
“Come back to the office,” Daniel said, with a gesture toward the door, but Elisha stopped him.
“My enemies have power beyond the salt—and I would not recognize them all.” Within the salt, his sensitivity let him feel the mancers if they drew near. Beyond
it, he lost that advantage to men with stronger attunement to this land. Elisha studied the mine foreman, his broad shoulders and strong arms. Outside the mine, any magus of power could sense the presence of the desolati, those without power. And within it? They were invisible. Another advantage. Elisha grinned. He did not know what the mancers had planned for him, but he could pre-empt their plans with one of his own. “The margravine—what would you do at her command?”
The man’s downturned lips sank a bit further, and Elisha beckoned him closer, away from the entrance and deeper into the salt. “We are laying a trap, an ambush,” he said softly, and the foreman leaned in to hear him. “Our enemies believe that the margravine and I are lovers, that we’ll plan a tryst tonight before I’m forced to leave. They’ll come to try to kill me—and they’ll have to reveal themselves. If you and some of your men hid in the caverns, you can help me stop them.”
“You’re asking me to kill. To bring up my men and tell them to kill these people you claim are your enemies.” The miner snorted, shaking his head.
“Don’t think of me—think of her, and her children. Before you agree, find out if she’s seen her children, when anyone saw them last.”
“You asked for a map,” the man prompted.
“I need to find a room, not too far in, where it might be reasonable to—plan a tryst.” He tried to say it lightly, but the idea shook him still. Most of his recent experience had been with the whores of Coppice Alley, trading their favors when they had no other way to pay him for his own service. When he’d pursued Brigit, not knowing all she could do, she delayed his passion until she knew she was ready to conceive a child. She claimed to love him, and perhaps the baby allowed her to keep a part of him even while she planned for his death. Since that night with her, he remained celibate, to guard his own heart if for no other reason. And if desire stirred him toward the king, he could pretend it was only the bond they shared through the battles they had nearly lost, and finally won together.
The foreman squatted, dipping a finger in the water and drawing on the stone. “Here’s the church, and the passage out, as I said. Two turns left and one right brings you to this room, with a few little niches and such, broken tunnels, as I said. These two other tunnels are intact, one down to another level that we still work, and this, branches toward the lower mines again, and back up to the western slope for ventilation. There’s a few other little chambers, but mostly narrow, and others lower down.” He stared down the map he had drawn, Elisha kneeling beside him. “An eager man, one who didn’t know the mines, wouldn’t want to go that way.”
Elisha Mancer Page 19
