Maeniel sat up late over his wine, talking about matters of state with Antonius. The rest of the pack had adopted his bedroom as a sleep ground. They were draped with abandon over the Persian carpets, the silk sheets, and the folding couch. When he was tired, those in the bed would make room for him. All except Gavin, who was asleep on the floor under the table.
Antonius saw something flicker at the corner of his eye, glanced over, and saw Gavin was wolf again. “He is becoming careless.”
“I know,” Maeniel said. “The other day when I was dining with the king, someone remarked I had a lot of dogs about the camp.”
“Yes,” Antonius replied. “The other day Joseph told me it was too much trouble to change just to go out in the dark to take a leak. Besides, it was cold. Fur was much better.” He rolled his eyes. “What did you tell the person who made the remark?”
“Not to trouble my dogs. They were dangerous,” Maeniel said. “War dogs. Trained to kill. Like our horses, battle trained.”
Antonius chuckled.
Matrona entered the tent. Antonius gave a start, though he and Maeniel had been awaiting her arrival. She was wearing a long gown of heavy raw silk. It was red and embroidered with violets and acanthus picked out in gold and thistles in silver.
“You are,” Antonius said, “simply, awesomely, staggeringly beautiful.”
“Thank you, and I’m delighted you think so. I’ve been looking for a diversion. That fool—” She flicked a glance at Gavin. “—isn’t worth bothering with at present. The king is busy, and the Saxon is still wandering in the high forest. What do you say to some company tonight?”
“My lady, I would be honored and deeply gratified by your presence in my bed.”
Matrona extended her hand.
Antonius kissed it.
“Let’s hope so,” she said.
“I think I can guarantee it,” he answered. “I’ve been celibate for some time.”
Matrona gave a purring noise like a large cat.
“Oh, yes,” Antonius said.
Then she turned to Maeniel. “It is as you thought. Nivardd and Robert. When I left they were sleeping the sleep of the just. They think they are being clever and, as humans go, they are.
“The pair of them have at least some backbone and are trying to raise the countryside against Charles.
“They move around, collect some men, stage a raid. Then the gang breaks up, and Nivardd and Robert go off on their own, so they will not easily be captured. Between one thing and another, they could cause Charles a lot of trouble.”
Maeniel looked at Antonius.
“He hasn’t sent out any foraging parties, and he hangs deserters and flogs those that stray. I believe he may be thinking along the same lines we are.”
Maeniel nodded.
“Let’s go fetch them.”
Antonius rose, his mantle fell away, and under it he was seen to be armed.
“Need me?” Matrona asked.
“Not necessarily,” Maeniel said. He gave a low growl and Gavin awoke. He gave a huge yawn and then lifted his muzzle toward the sky.
“Don’t,” Maeniel said.
Gavin paused, then shook himself so hard his ears flapped.
“I need you as a man,” Maeniel said.
There was again that strange flicker and, naked, Gavin began crawling out from under the table.
“He’s handsome,” Antonius said.
“He stinks of women, drink, drugs, the perspiration that goes along with drink, sex, and some really disgusting things only a human would eat. Plus the last four or five women he tumbled, not to mention two or three convenience stations he visited. What about Gavin is handsome?” asked Matrona. “Do you like men?”
“Let’s say I believe I may be like Mother in that respect. I have been known not to turn it down,” Antonius said.
Gavin was handsome, Maeniel thought. He had red hair and the pale, fair skin most redheads had. He was sinewy rather than massive but gracefully built, with a slender, very muscular body, a clean-cut face, and magnificent eyes.
Gavin was sitting on a bench, tying his loincloth and pulling on his britches. He paused and looked up at Antonius. “What’s it like?” he asked. “I’ve never tried it.”
Antonius smiled slowly. He knew most human taboos had no meaning whatsoever among these people. “It can be enjoyable. Come to me sometime and I’ll show you. But right now you must accept my regrets. I have a somewhat better offer.”
Gavin glared at Matrona. “No doubt,” he said, and began lacing up his riding pants.
Matrona laughed. “I’ll go as wolf.”
A few hours later, Maeniel shepherded Nivardd and Robert into his tent and sat them down at the table. This was awkward because both men were bound, hands behind their backs, ropes looped around their necks. Antonius sat down at one end of the table, and Matrona entered wearing the same scarlet gown.
Their guests didn’t come quietly.
Nivardd had fought, doing his best to make Maeniel kill him, but Antonius had caught him with a pacifier, lead wrapped in flexible leather. He had a bloody bandage around his head, over a big bruise and a cut on one side of his forehead.
Robert had run then, but Matrona caught him. She landed all one hundred and sixty pounds of her in the middle of his back. He took a tumble down a steep hillside, slammed into a tree trunk, and broke two ribs. He still tried to fight, but Maeniel was there by then and subdued him.
“I brought you here because I wanted to talk to you,” Maeniel told the pair.
Robert gave a snort of pure derision, then found he had a mouthful of blood. His nose was broken also. He turned to spit and saw the canvas floor of the tent was covered by a carpet, a silk carpet. He was too well brought up to spit on a silk carpet.
Matrona rose and offered him a clean linen cloth. He spat and then she tilted his head back and applied a cool, wet cloth to his nose. Her fingers stroked his cheek.
“Be still,” she said. “No one means you any harm. We are not men and therefore not cruel. Had my lord Maeniel wanted you dead, we would have run you down this afternoon.”
Matrona’s fingers and voice worked the same magic they had with Otho. Robert quieted. His nose felt better and had stopped bleeding. She stepped away and returned to her seat. Robert was able to breathe and his head returned to a normal angle.
“Why, then?” he asked.
“Because you are giving the deepest loyalty of your very courageous hearts to a man who doesn’t deserve it: Desiderius,” Maeniel said.
“He is my king,” Nivardd said.
“He is my liege lord,” Robert said.
“Do you know the bishop?” Maeniel asked.
“Ebroin, that was his name when he served in the army,” Nivardd said. “Yes, certainly I know him. We were boys together.”
“Robert?” Maeniel asked.
“I did. He taught me my letters. He had a school for all the boys in the town. My mother sent me. It is most needful in business to know how to read and write. He was a good friend of our family. He was of higher rank than we were, but visited with my mother often in happier times.”
“Desiderius hanged him,” Maeniel said.
“No,” Nivardd shouted. “He wouldn’t, couldn’t do such a thing.”
“No,” Robert said, but looked as if he’d taken a blow.
Maeniel drew his dagger, rose, and cut the ropes that bound both men. Then he removed the nooses from around their necks.
“Go.” He pointed at the tent entrance. “Return to Pavia and see if I am lying. All I ask is that you refrain from taking any action against the Frankish king until you do so. Robert, where is your mother?”
Robert paled. “She fled the city, at least that’s what she told me. That she would flee to Turin and stay with friends. Why?”
“There were five on the gallows. One was the bishop, the second was the law speaker Beningus, the other two I didn’t know, but the fifth was a woman.”
“Beningu
s is sacred,” Robert said. “To harm a law speaker is an abomination. They take no money, so as to be always free to advise the people truthfully.”
“Apparently the speaker was not sacred to Desiderius,” Maeniel said. Then he looked at Nivardd and saw the man was weeping open-eyed, tears darkening his gray beard.
“He was one of my closest friends,” Nivardd said brokenly. “I cannot remember when I didn’t know him. If what you say is true, my king is a monster.”
“It’s true,” Maeniel said. “I wish it were not.”
“How can you be there so quickly and back?” Nivardd asked.
“You saw what I did in the church. To one of us, the distance is not so far, once we are over the mountains. I went to Pavia again. This time I was not captured. I can pass through the dwelling places of men like smoke or wind. I was worried about your mother. As far as I could tell, your house was empty. The mice were hungry but could not tell me anything more.”
“Mice aren’t very smart,” Matrona said. “Their powers of observation are limited.”
“Or they’re not telling all they know,” Antonius said.
“We are wracked with grief and you are cracking jokes,” Robert said.
“Those aren’t jokes. I truly was looking for your mother and I took the trouble to bribe the mice with a small sack of feed. I was able to obtain clothing in the town, and took the opportunity to move about in human form,” Maeniel said. “Nivardd was in the church; but you saw us run down the criminals. You both know what we can do. We heard you talking about us yesterday. The sun was not clearer to our eyes than you were to Matrona and myself among the trees.”
“Matrona was there?” asked Robert.
“I was wolf,” she said.
“Come with me to the king,” Maeniel said. “We pay our debts. You were kind and hospitable to my wife, and when it came down to it, tried to help me. I will recommend you to him. I have done him a great service and he will listen.
“If you won’t see Charles, we will return your horses and you may go, but the next time you raid the baggage train . . . The king asked me to put a stop the raids.” Maeniel brought the flat of his hand down hard on the table with a loud crack. “And I will.”
A few hours later they went to see Charles. He was with Bernard and several entrusted with the procurement of supplies when they entered. He dismissed them all except Bernard when Maeniel and the rest entered.
“These,” Maeniel said, “are the men who have been attacking our supply wagons.” He indicated Robert and Nivardd.
Charles nodded. “So, the obvious question is, Why are they not in chains, not hung, and not dead?”
“With your permission, my lord,” Maeniel said. “I would like Antonius to address that question.”
“Indeed,” Charles said. “His majesty is honored. Antonius is always fulsome in his eulogies of my words and deeds. So must the orators, who once addressed the ancient Roman senate, have sounded when they heaped praise on the world conquerors. You make me feel like I am already dead, Antonius.”
“Heaven forfend, your majesty,” Antonius said. “Say rather that I err in extending my weak art in honor of one whose deeds are of such magnificence that they render all ordinary praise superfluous.”
Bernard burst into a roar of laughter. “Nephew, you can’t win. He always bests you.”
Charles smiled. “What is it this time, Antonius?”
“My lord, I believe you have in all but name conquered the Lombard kingdom. We will arrive at Pavia tomorrow and, while Desiderius will hope to stand a siege, he will offer no other resistance.”
Charles nodded.
“Desiderius is clever. He hopes that starvation will hound your troops as well as his city,” Antonius continued.
“Yes, that’s why we were having the present meeting. We are troubled about the matter of supplies.”
“Once,” Antonius said, “there was another great man who led an army against Italia. His name was Hannibal of Carthage, a commander of note.”
“The career of the great Carthaginian has not escaped my notice,” Charles broke in. “Get to the point.”
“The point is he won every battle he fought but the last,” Antonius said.
“The only one that is absolutely necessary that any commander win,” Bernard said.
“Just so,” Antonius said. “And do you know why he lost?”
“I’ll bite,” Charles said. “Why?”
“Because the brilliant Carthaginian was as noted for his cruelty as his military prowess,” Antonius said. “In the end the cities of Italia feared him like death and they turned to the devil they knew, Rome, rather than face the devil they did not know.”
Charles nodded.
“My lord Maeniel brings these two brave men to you. Not because they fear you, but because the king in Pavia betrayed them both in an important way.”
“I know,” Charles said. “He hanged his bishop Ebroin. I thought this action might lessen his popularity. Ebroin was related to half the Lombard nobility.”
“Was my mother killed?” Robert broke in.
“No,” Charles said. “And don’t look so surprised, Maeniel. I have independent sources of information in Pavia.” He turned to Robert. “Your mother escaped the attentions of Desiderius’s executioner. I don’t know where she went, but she’s not there.
“Nivardd, do you truly wish to enter my service?”
“Yes, but not alone. I would like to bring Robert with me.”
Charles turned to his uncle Bernard.
“I can use both of them,” Bernard said. “Most of the aristocratic whelps you send me are as ignorant as the average clod of dirt kicked up by a plow. I can use two experienced men who can read and write and are not ignorant of military matters. The great landowners will listen to Nivardd and . . .” Bernard hesitated. He wasn’t a man to put things delicately. Robert was not noble.
“Yes,” Nivardd said. “But there are those who will listen to Robert, to whom you and I would be only a pair of lazy nobles trying to feather our own nests.”
Bernard gave a grunt of approval.
“Then it’s settled,” Charles said. “They will both join the scarae.”
“Come on,” Bernard said as he rose. “We will find you a place to stay and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the boys.”
“Maeniel, I wish to see you,” Charles said.
He waited until the others left and only Antonius and Maeniel were present. Charles opened his writing case and handed a small piece of paper to Maeniel. Maeniel walked to the door of the king’s tent and looked at in the light. The paper had been both ruled and creased.
Gerberga, your late brother’s wife, is in Verona. Regeane has gone there.
“Is that Hadrian’s hand?” Charles asked.
“It is,” Antonius answered. “The pigeons.”
“Yes,” Charles said. “They were bred in Geneva. I took the precaution of having two dozen shipped to the pope. A special courier brought me this only this morning.”
“Will you need me for anything else?” Maeniel asked.
“No.”
“I’ll be leaving for Verona then, before dark,” Maeniel said. “Speak to Matrona or, if she isn’t present, Antonius.”
Maeniel hurried away.
“He didn’t ask leave to quit my presence,” Charles noted.
“Would it help if I begged your pardon?” Antonius asked.
“No,” Charles said. “It wouldn’t help at all.”
XII
Lucilla dreamed and in the dream a faceless woman was offering her a cool cup of fresh water. The taste was the sweetest she’d ever enjoyed. When she woke the rain was pouring from the border of the recessed grating into her mouth. Lucilla stood under the grating, mouth open, arms wide in welcome until she had drunk her fill, then she was able to capture more in the jug that once held the drugged wine and in every other container she could improvise from the shards that she’d uncovered in her days of dig
ging.
At dawn the rain ceased, blown away as the weather front that brought the rain passed. Then, stacking her precious containers of water away from the grating, back where during the day it would be dark, she lay down on her bed of grass and drifted into a natural sleep.
When she woke it was afternoon. She lay quietly, eyes closed for a time, thinking. She had hope now and hope can be as cruel a thing as torture if it goes unfulfilled. She struggled with herself not to be too optimistic, knowing that if the bishop and his minions found out she had survived this long, they would certainly send someone to kill her. At length she sat up and checked her water containers. There were four of them. The wooden cup, a broken bowl, a concave shard that had been part of something much larger, and the clay flask that had held the drugged wine.
In the far edge of the cell, a dip held a fairly large puddle. She crawled over and drank from that first. Then she tied her hair up with a strip torn from the hem of the woolen gown, picked up her tools, crawled back in the corner, and began to dig.
When it grew too dark to make any further progress, she crawled back, drank from the puddle again, cut another notch in the tally stick, lay down, and drifted off to sleep.
In the morning the puddle was dry, so she drank from the broken bowl and then from the big shard. Otherwise this day passed the same way, except that it was a little colder. She was able to work longer. By now the blisters on her hands had broken and were oozing blood. She drank it, unwilling to let any source of liquid or nourishment be wasted.
On the eighth day all the water except that contained in the wine jug was gone. She drank sparingly from that because she was beginning to feel real hope. She was digging through clean soil now, and it was damp, soft, and friable. She encountered roots for the first time. And she was sure she was close to the surface of the hillside.
That night Adalgisus came.
The moon was out and full when she heard him whispering just outside the grating.
“Lucilla! Lucilla, are you alive? The man I bribed said you’d be dead and stinking but I don’t smell anything.”
At first Lucilla thought her mind was playing tricks on her, since she had just awakened from sleep. But then the fourth or fifth time he called her name, she knew he was there.
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