Come Twilight (58 page)

Read Come Twilight Online

Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Tags: #Fiction

“I will try to,” Germanno agreed. “If the Moorish authorities will accept the sale, then all will be well. If they refuse, then—” He lifted his hands to show he would be unable to do more.

“Bribe them well enough and there will be no opposition,” said Idelfonzuz, dismissing Germanno’s reservations with a slight shrug. “You can afford a bribe, can you not?”

“I can afford a bribe,” said Germanno, thinking that he would have to build an athanor, and quickly, to make the gold and jewels he would need for this transaction. It had been centuries since he had been in Moorish-held territory, but he was certain the expectations for bribe had not decreased from his last time there.

“Then you may rest assured I will grant you occupancy of your house in Toledom for as long as you may wish to live there. You may have any other that suits you as well—except this one and the Obispus’.” He showed his teeth in a kind of smile. “Send your servant along to me in the morning and my clerks will tend to the matter at once; we will settle our work this evening. By morning, you will have all the permission you need to purchase the house; I will see to it.”

“Liege is most gracious,” said Germanno.

“I am nothing of the sort,” countered Idelfonzuz. “I am demanding because I am at a crisis and I must find a way to win through or lose much of what I have gained. I have sworn an oath to God that I cannot break without sending my soul to perdition. I will reclaim Spain for Christ or I will perish and become a martyr with Santoz Ennati. Anything else is unthinkable.”

Germanno blinked. “Santoz Ennati?” he repeated.

“You may not be familiar with him: he is not much talked of outside of Aragon and Barzelunya. It is a most exemplary story: he was a Visigoth warrior who became a hermit and fought demons, killing a number of them with his axe—some say he killed five, some say he killed twelve, one for each Apostle—before they killed him, and hacked him to pieces. He saved his monastery and fellow-hermits by his act, and gained Heaven.” He touched a small pendant decorated with seed-pearls that hung from a chain around his neck. “I have some of his hair in this, to give me his protection and guidance.”

“What color is it?” Germanno asked, inwardly resisting the urge to laugh: it was a great irony, he thought, to have Ennati enrolled among his martyrs.

“I have just a little of it,” said Idelfonzuz as he opened the little reliquary with his thumbnail; a lock of copper-colored hair lay coiled in the pendant-box. “It is said he was a great champion, driving back Moors and demons with equal valor until he withdrew from the world. Then the demons mustered and came to drag him to Hell. His valiant battle earned him his place at the Right Hand of God.” He snapped the little reliquary closed.

“A most . . . edifying legend,” said Germanno, and went on, “Not that I question you, Liege, but I know that over time the reports of such heroism can change, and the truth may be lost in the telling of the story.”

“No doubt that is true,” said Idelfonzuz stiffly.

Aware that he had over-stepped, Germanno said, “But that does not deny the underlying truth.” He recalled Ennati’s fear of being taken by Chimena’s followers, and wondered if he would be offended or amused at the turn his story had taken, could he know of it.

“It may be so,” Idelfonzuz said, relenting a bit.

“Where was the monastery or hermitage?” Germanno asked, trying to discover how Ennati’s tale had been handed down.

“It was near the road between Zaraguza and Usxa; it was long ago, three centuries at least. The monastery served as a hostel to travelers, and there were hermits’ cells in the hills and the forest around the monastery. Having been a warrior, Ennati knew how to fight the demons.” Idelfonzuz stopped his recitation. “It is as I have told you.”

Germanno ducked his head in a show of deference. “A brave man, whatever his situation.”

“An inspired man, filled with zeal in God’s cause, as I would hope all my men will be,” said Idelfonzuz, and changed the subject. “I want you to prepare for your journey, for delays will only impede my cause. You must be ready to go to Sevallis as soon as the sale is agreed upon. You will have at most a week to make ready. I want you to go there and secure the place. You are to appoint a care-taker—I will tell you whom to select—and then you will return here to aid me in my campaign in the east.” He stared at Germanno. “If you betray me, I will order you killed. Running would avail you nothing. Do not think you cannot be found, for my arm is long.”

“I will return from Sevallis if I am permitted to do so,” said Germanno, a bit wearily. “It is not my wish to be hunted by anyone, Liege.”

“A wise decision,” said Idelfonzuz. “You may yet prove as useful as any of my knights.” He clapped his hands suddenly, and a moment later two slaves came, their heads lowered in abasement. “Bring Fre Genisioz to me. Tell him to fetch parchment and his implements and his ink. I have need of him now.” He clapped his hands again and the slaves departed. Looking directly at Germanno, he went on, “Writing is not work for a man, and we must declare our purpose in writing.”

So that you can make all my property forfeit to you, should I fail in this task, Germanno thought, even as he made another reverence to this broad-shouldered, bristly man who was half a head shorter than Germanno. “That is not necessary, Liege. If you have them fetch ink and pens and quills and parchment, I am willing to serve as your clerk,” he offered.

“No; no reason to do that,” said Idelfonzuz as if the notion was slightly distasteful. “No man of position should do clerks’ tasks.”

“As you wish, Liege,” said Germanno, adding to himself that Idelfonzuz did not trust Germanno sufficiently to allow him to write a binding agreement between them; this, he supposed, was because the King of Aragon and Navarre could read very little and was wary of the written word.

Suddenly Idelfonzuz gave a broad, affable smile. “You must be chilled. Come stand with me; let the fire warm you.”

Although he was not cold, Germanno obeyed promptly. “It is a treat to have so large a fire.” He found the heat pleasant, and remarked to Idelfonzuz, “A morning in the saddle on such a day as this can leach the warmth from a man’s bones.”

“That it can,” Idelfonzuz agreed. “And it is prudent to take warmth where it can be found.”

“Amen to that, Liege,” said Germanno as he made a show of appreciating the warmth. “You are good to let me share your hearth this way.”

Idelfonzuz laughed aloud. “You are a man of some wit, Comide Ragoczy—wherever Ragoczy may be.”

“It is a place far away, in mountains called the Carpathians, east of the Frankish lands, and south of them. The Magyars claim them now,” said Germanno seriously. “My family lived there for more generations that I can easily count,” or, he added to himself, than you believe. “I left when my father was killed and have been making my way about the world ever since.”

“Your father’s loss must have weighed heavily upon you,” said Idelfonzuz. “It is a cruel thing to lose a war and a father.”

“That loss was hard, and the killing of our High Priest.” It was the blood of this High Priest, who was also their god, that had made Germanno what he was. “The deaths of those two was almost more than I could endure.”

“Then you understand my battle, how I must embrace the cause of Christians in Spain, and the campaign of Adelfonzuz, my father-in-law, who wed me to his daughter Urraca for the purpose of ensuring his fight against the Moors would not falter with his death.” He glanced over at Germanno. “I mean nothing that would offend you when I say I would not like to wander the world as an exile.”

“I do not blame you,” said Germanno levelly. “It is not always an easy life.”

“That must be so, the more for me, if I do not defend the Christian faith along with the sacred soil of Spain.” Idelfonzuz gave Germanno a quick smile. “You have a deftness that must have served you well in your travels.”

“Liege, you are kind to a stranger,” said Germanno, and stepped away from the fireplace. “I am honored that you are willing to entrust a mission to me. Let me know when I am to sign the deed for the grand house in Sevallis and I will do it willingly.” He made a reverence again. “It pleases me to serve you in this.”

“So long as you do not linger in Sevallis, all will be well; you are not to be there over half a year, at most, and for a shorter time if you are able to arrange it,” said Idelfonzuz curtly. “You have too much to offer for me to want you to remain where my enemies might learn of your skills and employ them against me. Not that I doubt your many protestations of loyalty.” He pointed to Germano. “You have a place, and that is by my side. Secure the palace in Sevallis and come back. That is the whole of what I require of you at this time.”

This insistence caught Germanno’s attention. He bowed in the manner of the Chinese. “I will do what you require of me, Liege, not only for the good name of my House but to show you that you may well depend upon me in this.”

This assurance served to awaken Idelfonzuz’s suspicions. “You have no reason to make such pledges to me.”

“No; that is why you may believe them,” said Germanno.

Fre Genisioz arrived at that moment, and hovered in the arched doorway, his short-sighted eyes peering into the room hesitantly as he clutched his writing supplies to his chest, against his pectoral crucifix. Finally he coughed to make himself noticed, and ducked his head as Idelfonzuz hailed him.

“Come forward, good monk. I have a task for you to perform.” He pointed to the low table on the far wall, and frowned when Fre Genisioz did not move at once in response to his order.

Germanno, however, realized the cause of this and went to lead the monk to the place the King had indicated. “There is a chair, but it is low,” he said as they approached the table.

“Ah. A Moorish table then,” said Fre Genisioz, trying to smile in thanks and almost succeeding. “You have done me a kindness, foreigner. I will not forget it.” He set his parchment and implements down, then looked in the general direction of Idelfonzuz.

“Sit; sit,” said the King impatiently, waving his hand as if to shoo away a pesky insect. “Make your ink ready.”

“It will not take me long, Liege,” said Fre Genisioz. He set to work, adding water to his ink-cake and beginning to work it with the spatulate end of his pen. When he was satisfied with the texture and density, he chose a crow-quill and began to trim it to the shape he needed, all the while whispering bits of prayers.

“You will write,” said Idelfonzuz loudly, pausing frequently as he spoke so that Fre Genisioz could keep up, “that on this day, the foreigner, Germanno, Comide Ragoczy, resident in Toledom, has sworn to me, as King of Aragon and Naverre and son-in-law of Adelfonzuz of León and Castile, to undertake a mission for me, to be conducted in the city of Sevallis in the Moorish-held part of Spain; to wit: he will procure the grand house known as Al Catraz and set up Antoninus the Greek as his care-taker there. He is also charged with bringing back to me any and all such dispatches or other items as Antoninus may entrust to him. He is further to leave sufficient funds for Antoninus to run the household of Al Catraz for a period of two years at a standard that will give the Moors no cause to rescind the terms of sale. Failure in any particular will constitute an act of treachery and will bear severe penalties. Attempts to flee from Toledom or Sevallis will bring a death sentence and the seizure of all holdings now owned by Germanno, Comide Ragoczy in all Spain currently in Christian hands. This is my will, and to these terms, Germanno, Comide Ragoczy consents without reservation.” He stamped his foot as if to punctuate his dictation. “There must be a place for our names, and a witness, in case anyone brings the agreement terms into question.”

Fre Genisioz scribbled as rapidly as he could and still make a presentable page; he blew on the ink lightly before sanding the sheet. “There, Liege,” he said, and looked up at Idelfonzuz, his expression as ingratiating as that of a kicked hound.

The King clapped again, calling out, “Send two of my courtiers to me. Choose any two of those who have sat down at my table today, so long as they can sign their names.” He laughed as the slaves hurried off, saying to Germanno, “I wish I could be there to watch them scramble. As hungry as they are, they are more eager to serve me, in the hope of gaining my favor.”

“And will they, for doing this?” Germanno asked.

“If it suits me,” Idelfonzuz answered, his head cocked to the side as he strove to read the words Fre Genisioz had written, sounding them out from time to time. “Very good,” he allowed at last. “You have done well, monk.”

Fre Genisioz ducked his head. “For that, give thanks to God.”

Idenflonziz shrugged. “If you want.”

“Tomorrow my servant will come to receive all permission for the sale—is that what you intend, Liege?” Germanno asked in the awkward silence that followed.

“It is,” said Idelfonzuz. “You will bear the parchments with you, and the assurances we will have from the owner, and that will allow you to purchase Al Catraz. It is named for the—”

“Seabirds,” Germanno finished for him. “I recognized the words.”

“Yes. Seabirds,” said Idelfonzuz with a broad smile. “You do know the tongue, then. You have said you do, but that is not always an assurance to be trusted. I am much encouraged to know you have spoken accurately. Others have told me the same thing, and in the end, it has turned out that they had no such understanding; at most they spoke a few rudimentary phrases that might suffice in the marketplace, but would be of no use elsewhere.” He scowled. “And, unlike many I know, I will not ask Jews to undertake such missions for me.”

“But why not?” Germanno asked. “Surely you may put greater trust in Spanish Jews than in one foreign exile.”

“Jews betrayed Christ; the Church teaches us that. If they will turn against the Son of God, how much lesser a thing is it to betray me?” He glared in Germanno’s direction. “Too many of the Castilians have come to trust their Jews, to give them high office and great powers, in the mistaken belief that they will serve their Christian rulers with devotion. But the Jews are not faithful to their Word, and when they go to the Moors, they become like them, given to opulence and luxury, and they forget their vows and purposes, and their Christian rulers come to grief.”

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