An Embarrassment of Riches (49 page)

“Very likely,” said Hruther. “That is my plan.”

“And this old chest, with the legs off? It will need to be wrapped well in canvas if the lacquer isn’t to be damaged.”

“We brought it here in a canvas shroud: it will leave the same way,” said Hruther.

Illes studied the chests. “You aren’t taking an escort?”

“No. If I need one, I will hire men along the way.”

“Not so much of a chance of spies,” said Illes with a knowing nod.

Hruther nodded a little, then consulted his inventory once more. “There are eleven more crates to be packed and bound for your return to the Comes’ fief. You’ll need to put most of them in the wagons that will be in your charge. Only a few will go on pack-animals.” His thoughts drifted for a long moment, back to the bath-house ten days ago where he had found Tahir dead on the floor and Rakoczy, in stupor, floating in the vat, a wound in his shoulder, his breathing stopped. After bolting the door, Hruther had pulled Rakoczy from the vat, assured himself that Rakoczy was only in a stupor before laying him out next to Tahir, then unbolted the door and summoned Pacar and Kornemon to witness the deaths and to report the murders to the Konige’s Court and the Episcopus— He heard Illes repeat his question.

“Can they be loaded tonight, or will they have to wait until tomorrow morning?”

“All can be loaded tonight.” Recovering himself, he patted the nearest chest, a banded one of medium size. “Only my cases need to wait. There’s no point in loading up a pack-saddle before it’s on the mule.”

“Um,” said Illes. He looked toward the door. “Then I’m off to the horse-market in Sante-Radmille Square. If you want to inspect what I buy?”

“I’ll want to see the two riding horses you buy for me, but otherwise you’re capable of choosing animals that will best suit your travels.” Hruther’s expression lost a little of its asceticism. “The Comes accounted you a fine horseman, and a dependable groom. You know what you will require.”

Illes flushed, turned on his heel, and left the manse. He returned at dusk, leading a string of horses and mules; he put them in the stable, fed and watered them, then returned to the manse for a light supper and the last meal he would share with the household. By the time the trenchers were gone and the beer and wine drunk in honor of the Comes’ memory, Illes was weary; he found Hruther in the Comes’ workroom with a final crate of books.

Hruther greeted him in Hungarian in a desultory manner, then asked, “Is everything ready?”

Iles shrugged. “As much as it can be tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get the rest done. I bought two horses for your remounts,” said Illes.

“Excellent. Tell me more.” Hruther sighed as he closed the lid on the crate of books. “You’ll need to make sure this stays out of the rain.”

“I’ll put it in the lead wagon and remind the driver to be careful.”

“Very good.” He paused. “Which stalls are the remounts in?”

“The eighth and ninth, across from the dun gelding.” He waited to see if there was anything more that Hruther required.

“Rest well—you have a long way to go,” said Hruther.

“At least I know where I am bound,” said Illes, and went off to his room in the stable and his bed.

Clouds thickened during the night, and Praha woke to a sullen, lowering, canvas-like sky and the heavy, still air that promised rain by the end of the day. Sapped of energy, most of Praha moved slowly, but at Mansion Belcrady, industrious loading and packing began before first light; the lanthorns were kept burning well after the east showed the arillate nimbus of sunrise. As the morning advanced, the pace increased, approaching the frenetic as the loading of wagons progessed; now that the end had come, the household was eager to be shut of the place.

Hruther met Illes in the stable shortly after dawn; he inspected the two riding horses Illes had bought and nodded his approval. “I’ll saddle the calmest one for me to ride; with the mules and all their burdens, I don’t want to have to contain any frisks from my mount.” He picked up his saddle with its pad atop it, and carried it to the stand, and then fetched the bridle.

“The dun gelding is the most steady of the horses, but he is not a plodder; he can walk out all day long. He should suit your purposes.” He cocked his head as if listening to the horses. “You’ll want to keep him on a slack rein; I had him from a merchant who goes between Carinthia and Lorringaria. He sold his horses because he is ill and is going to enter Sant-Toluc so the monks may treat him.”

“The dun gelding it shall be,” said Hruther. “Do you have a spare set of reins and a pair of extra lead-ropes?”

“Yes.” Illes retrieved them from the back of the wagon that stood in the stable door and handed them to Hruther.

“I have the Comes’ saddle and bridle with me, and his saddle pads to present to his heir,” Hruther said calmly. “You have his bones to carry back to his native earth, so that he may lie with his fathers.”

“Yes,” said Illes a second time. “As the great knights were brought back from the Holy Land.” He crossed himself.

“Yes. Like that.” For a short while Hruther thought back to the night that Tahir had done his utmost to drown Rakoczy, and all that he had done in haste and secret to ensure Rakoczy’s protection as well as his escape from exile: the speed at which Hruther had arranged for disposal of the bodies, the search he had made alone through the night for a body that could be used to supply bones to be carried to Santu-Germaniu; it had been well toward the end of night when he had found a monk with four deep wounds in his side, newly perished. He had brought the dead monk back to Mansion Belcrady and to the large cauldron behind the storage sheds that Rakoczy had filled with water, where the monk’s carcase would be boiled in his stead. For the following nine days, Rakoczy had remained in the shed, enervated but recovering, until Hruther had conspicuously packed the bare bones in a casket like a reliquary and entrusted it to Illes, and then, one day ago, he had surreptitiously brought an iron-banded chest lined in his native earth to Rakoczy and locked him in it before ordering three of the servants to carry it to the entry hall, where it now waited to be loaded onto one of the mules’ pack saddles.

“Hruther?” Illes inquired.

Aware that he had been distracted too long, Hruther shook himself. “I have much to do; I don’t want to forget any task. How many wagons are packed?”

“Four are filled; the rest will be ready before mid-day.”

Hruther glanced down at one of the mansion’s cats. “We should provide food for them so that they won’t wander off, but will hunt here. The Comes’ heir will not want to live in a place filled with rats.”

“I suppose that’s a good plan,” said Illes. “I’ll get the pack-saddles.” He started for the tackroom, but paused. “Will I ever see you again after today?”

“If God wills, I trust so,” said Hruther.

“If God wills,” Illes repeated, crossing himself, then brought out the first of the pack-saddles and its pad. “Which of the mules shall I—”

“That one,” Hruther said, pointing to the one with the broadest back. He picked up the nearest brush and went to work on the coat of the dun gelding he would be riding. “Do you think I can be away by mid-morning?”

“If the rain holds off, yes,” said Illes, brushing down the broad-backed mule. “Rain will slow loading the pack-saddles.”

“Do you suppose it will? so soon after dawn?” Hruther asked as two of the household servants brought another large wooden crate to put in the wagon in front of the stable door.

“It’s likely. There’s no thunder yet, and the rain won’t start until the thunder awakens the clouds.” He picked up the harness for the wagon and gave it to one of his assistants. “The piebald mule and the liver one.” He pointed them out to the under-grooms.

“Do you have the Konige’s safe-conduct with you?” Hruther inquired.

Illes touched the wallet that hung from his belt. “I will keep it with me until we reach Santu-Germaniu, as you told me.”

“Very good,” said Hruther, and went on grooming the gelding, taking time to pick out his hooves and to comb the tangles from his mane and tail. As he secured the saddle-girth, he said, “Will you bring the mules and the remounts around to the front of the manse so they can be loaded? I’ll lead this horse.” He patted the gelding’s neck.

“I’ll be there shortly.” Illes put his brushes away. “As soon as this team is harnessed.”

“I’ll have the chests and crates in position for you.”

“As you like,” said Illes, ducking his head respectfully as he stood aside to let Hruther lead his gelding down the aisle between the stalls, past the wagon awaiting loading, and out into the dim sunlight.

Illes was as good as his word: by mid-morning the mules were loaded, the remounts were tethered to their lead-line, and a few of the household staff had gathered to wish Hruther farewell and safe travels. Pacar was the only one of the household who appeared to be sad about the coming separation.

“I thank you all for your good service, and for your care of my master and Mansion Belcrady,” Hruther said, gathering up the reins and the leads. “May God send you good fortune, good employment, many children, and good health. And may God guide and guard Konig Otakar, Konige Kunigunde, and Episcopus Fauvinel.”

Since Minek had been killed the same night as the Comes was drowned, Kornemon served as warder, opening the gate and waiting until the mules and remounts were through to close and bar it again. No one paused in their activities to wave or offer any other farewell; there was still much work to do before Illes and the wagons left and the keys to Mansion Belcrady were given into the care of the Counselors of Praha to hold in trust for Rakoczy’s heir.

Passing through the south gate, Hruther could see the bodies of the three Bulgarians hanging in chains beside a forger, a pair of tergiversistic monks, and a blasphemer; the weather intensified the stench from the decaying flesh; crows flapped around the corpses, and high overhead kites shrieked.

Hruther took the river road, carefully avoiding the places where the bank had sunk. He maintained his horse, the remounts, and the mules at a steady, fast walk over the level ground, slowing only slightly as the land began to rise, so that by the time, late in the afternoon, that the first thunder grumbled overhead, he was almost six leagues from Praha, the city long lost to sight behind him. Half a league farther on, lightning ripped the clouds, thunder thudding after it. “Time to find shelter,” Hruther told his gelding, and began to watch for tracks leading away from the river; he chose a path that was narrow and old, leading off toward a spinny of larch and oak, and what appeared to be ancient, tumbled walls with an abandoned almshouse beside it.

He dismounted and led the horses and mules into the long, narrow almshouse, taking care to be sure it had not become a den for foxes or bears before stepping inside. The place was musty but not too dilapidated; it would do for the first night. Hruther unsaddled his dun gelding, securing his reins to a half-fallen beam. He found two more substantial beams where he could tie the mules and the remounts, all at the same end of the almshouse; then he unloaded the pack-saddle on the largest mule, setting the single large chest down away from the door and the tethered animals, leaving space for the other chests and crates and easy reloading. Taking great care, he next unloaded the iron-banded chest, putting it next to the large one. He unlocked the banded chest and held out his hand. “My master,” he said in Imperial Latin.

From his cramped, folded position within the chest, Rakoczy looked up at him, an expression of relief in his dark eyes. “Old friend.” Slowly he straightened up, stretching carefully, his back and shoulders stiff from almost two days in the chest. “Where are we?”

“South of Praha; I reckon it about six leagues, or perhaps a little more.” He helped Rakoczy to rise, brushing away the small clods of earth that clung to his gambeson and high boots. “A fair distance.”

“Good. We’re beyond prying eyes,” Rakoczy approved, stretching carefully, favoring his left shoulder where the wounds of the misericordia were concealed by a thick bandage; then he brushed the grime from his face.

“I hope you haven’t had too difficult a time in the chest,” said Hruther, still steadying Rakoczy so that he could move without falling.

“I’ve spent years in an oubliette; two days in a box was nothing.” He hitched his right shoulder. “Well, not nothing, but far from trying.”

“You must have been bored,” said Hruther, suiting his tone to Rakoczy’s. “There was so little to do.”

“No, I was not; I used the time to think—I needed to think.” He inhaled gradually and let the breath out slowly. “And Illes? where is he?”

“As far as I know, he left some time after we did. He is bound for Santu-Germaniu with six wagons, a pony cart of food, and an escort of ten men-at-arms. He carries a safe-conduct from the Konige.”

“Will he stop at Pressburg to report to Istvan, do you think?” Rakoczy was becoming more alert as he spoke.

“He plans to.” He took another case—a small one of leather and iron—from the third mule’s pack-saddle. “Jewels and gold.”

“All of it?” Rakoczy asked.

“All that wasn’t paid to the Counselors and the household,” said Hruther. “We may yet have to bribe our way out of Bohemia.”

“It is not impossible,” said Rakoczy, and looked at the largest chest. “What have you there?”