Chapter 33
Justin and Luitgard arrived at the seven hills at midday and the height of the heat. The only clue Luitgard had where Dragonfather might be was the angel. She could not remember where it was but Justin suggested that Merek's involvement with the Church and the angel itself indicated the Basilica was the closest they would get to a clue.
The area of town that held St. Peter's was called The Borgo. They quickly learned just how many saw it as a destination for pilgrimage and how many inn keepers took advantage of that fact. After enduring a heated argument in the piazza in which two inn keeper's began to beat each other up to win their business, a third quietly offered them lodgings without fuss. As he led them away, the first two were in the process of trying to throw each other by their tunics. Luitgard had trouble looking away.
"Though the city seems busy, there have not been as many customers since the Pope left Rome," the inn keeper said as they walked up to a well-kept building coated in plaster. There were too large men armed with swords standing on either side of the entrance. Luitgard avoided eye contact as they walked inside.
"It has made those of us who depend upon the travellers very competitive," the inn keeper added as he closed the door behind them.
The main room was remarkable only because it was so clean. The plastered walls were clear of any dirt or damage beyond minor imperfections. The stone floor had been recently swept. Even the sunlight that lit the room through two narrow windows seemed more welcoming than it had outside. Though there was a small table and two chairs beneath the windows, the room was otherwise unfurnished. Across from the front door, stairs led to the second level and−Luitgard assumed−to the rooms. A hallway led down the side of the building but she had no idea where it went.
"Do fights like that break out often?" Luitgard asked as she returned her focus to their conversation.
He nodded. "Almost daily," he said with a sparkle in his eye. He leaned closer to her and whispered, "Though you are lucky that is as far as it has gotten this time. Some have been known to steal clients through violent means."
"Are we in danger in your inn?" Justin asked. There was no apology in his tone and no patience for the playful banter that the inn keeper seemed to want.
The inn keeper waved a dismissive hand. "That is what I pay those men for," he said as he nodded in the direction of the entrance. "With my competitors, you might as well be trying to camp in disabitato, a lawless and diseased part of the city. You would only go there if you want to die. Having the extra precautions may increase the costs of business but it also increases my business." He smiled. "For a little extra, I can provide a midday meal."
Justin did not argue and pulled out a gold coin. The man took it, examined it, and nodded in thanks. "You came through Florence," he noted.
"Yes, we did," Justin said. "Is there something extraordinary about that?"
The man shook his head. "Not in Rome. Not in The Borgo," he replied as he pocketed the coin. "You may settle your things upstairs then join me in the garden for your meal." He nodded good-bye before walking down the hallway.
They climbed the stairs to their room. It was much cleaner than the inn where they had stayed in Florence. The wooden floors had been swept, the bed was larger and neatly made, the chamber pot was hidden within a cupboard, and there was even a large chest in which another blanket had been placed.
Luitgard pushed open the shutters to let in the air. The sound of shouting below made her lean over the edge of the sill and look down. One of the fighting inn keepers, a short and rotund man, was yelling in the face of one of the hired men.
"I demand Cornelius come out here and face me!" he screamed so loud that his face was turning a dark reddish-purple. "He has stolen what was rightfully mine!"
The man to whom he had been yelling either had had enough or simply felt it was time to do his job. Using the hilt of his sword, he hit the inn keeper hard in the gut. The man crumpled to his knees where he coughed and choked into the ground.
"Bastard," the inn keeper seethed when he had regained enough breath.
The hired man did not speak but brought a well-placed kick up into the man's ribs. The inn keeper fell to his side and continued to wheeze.
Justin put his hands on Luitgard's shoulders. "Don't watch this," he said. "It will only torture your dreams, which I think torture you enough as it is."
She looked at him over her shoulder. "How did you know about my dreams?" she asked.
"You are a fitful sleeper," he said. "Putting too much on yourself, I suspect."
She looked back through the window and watched as the injured inn keeper stumbled away into the heart of the crowds of the piazza.
"Perhaps I am not being hard enough on myself," she said.
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "When will you realize that you are not deserving of all this punishment?"
She wiped her cheek. "I wish I could say I felt that way," she said. "But until we find Dragonfather, I will never be able to forgive myself."
There was a pause. "For what has happened to your home?" he asked.
She nodded. "I abandoned them. I chose one man over an entire people, one that was under my protection and was my responsibility. I was so foolish before we left to think I could have it all; save Dragonfather and return to a peaceful home. It is obvious that was never possible and the lives of the Mintharchs is upon my head." She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. "Saving Dragonfather is the only redemption I have left."
Justin said nothing. Luitgard knew how he felt about the matter. He did not agree with her. He wanted them to leave. Any direction away from Merek would do. She also knew he doubted they would ever find Dragonfather or, if they did, that they could escape with him alive. She accepted his silence. It was far easier to accept than his voice destroying any illusion of his support she could muster.
She pulled away and walked to the bowl of water. She washed the dirt of the road from her face and gave a quick wiping of her skirts, though it made little difference. The un-dyed fabric was a cruel reminder of what she had lost. She forced her grief from her mind as she watched Justin take his turn cleaning his face and hands.
When they were as refreshed as they could be, they headed down for lunch. The downstairs hall led past two closed doors and straight into the garden.
The garden was enclosed by the high walls of adjacent buildings which protected it from the streets and shaded it from the sun. It was not as hot as it had been on the road or in the rest of the city.
Cornelius was sitting at a wooden table that was only a few feet away from a small fountain. He waved them over and gestured at the grapes, wine, and bread that were on the table.
They sat down and Luitgard took a deep breath. She found her body relaxing of its own volition. Her eyes closed and the trickling of the fountain massaged her nerves.
"My wife is almost finished making a delicious fish soup," Cornelius said.
Luitgard opened her eyes and looked over the already provided fare, feeling that it was plenty.
"Are we the only guests?" Justin asked.
The man shrugged. "For today. I am sure there will be plenty more to have tomorrow."
Luitgard admired his optimism after what he had said of the lack of customers. She wished she could remain that hopeful.
Justin was examining the garden, and even the walls of the buildings that reached up around them. What did he think; that Merek was going to jump over them and kill them right there?
"You have a lovely inn," Justin said, his eyes falling upon the fountain.
"We do our best to keep it that way," Cornelius said. "It ensures a better clientele and a more refined life for me."
"And enough money to give a little charity to some peasants every now and again," Justin said.
Luitgard nearly gasped at Justin's insulting tone. Did he want them to be kicked out?
Cornelius simply laughed as he poured himself some wine. "Peasants? Maybe," he s
aid, "But your purse is heavy enough. Why do you think that fight started over you? Those of us who require the payment of others have become very good at judging a man by the sag in his purse. The bulge in your surcoat was obvious"
He poured more wine into another cup and handed it to Luitgard, and then another to Justin. "Perhaps you two think your chances of getting into heaven are better if God thinks you are peasants during your pilgrimage. I don't know. That seems an awful lot of trouble when he lets in half the clergy who are far worse than most of the nobles out there. But you are paying me so it is not mine to judge."
Cornelius' wife came out of the inn carrying several wooden bowls and spoons. She set them down on the table and left before Luitgard could greet her.
"She hates strangers," Cornelius said upon seeing Luitgard's surprise. "She lets the stories of what goes on at the other inns get into her head and is convinced it will happen here. I keep telling her that is why we pay for all of this," he gestured to the garden with a sweep of his arm. "But she's not convinced."
When the woman returned with a pot of fish soup that she ladled into the bowls, Luitgard respected her silence. She could understand the distrust of strangers, especially those who show up within the walls of your sanctuary.
When they finished eating, Luitgard and Justin became overpowered by their exhaustion. They thanked Cornelius and left the garden. Though he had offered them luxurious accommodations for the night and he had been pleasant enough, Luitgard did not like him. Justin had stopped saying much to the man and instead listened with an impassive expression. The memories of their first meeting came back to her.
Justin opened the door to their room and Luitgard was surprised to hear him speaking to someone.
"I did not mean to startle you," he said.
Luitgard walked around him to see Cornelius' wife setting a pot of flowers on the window sill.
"So sorry," she muttered as she tried to hurry from the room.
Luitgard thanked her and let her leave. She walked up to the flowers. They were a brilliant purple with petals that came to a point. Luitgard had never before seen such flowers. And secured in the middle was a thin stone that looked almost like an arrowhead except that it was brilliant white and sparkled in the sunlight.
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