Manfred whistled tunelessly between his teeth. “Stretch your arms out.” Erik complied. “Bring them round in front of your chest. Can you move easily?”
Erik nodded. “It’s not very comfortable. But I can move.”
Manfred snorted. “It’s never comfortable. And be grateful. I even had to sleep in it.”
Erik looked grimly at Manfred. Sooner or later the boy had to accept the fact that he was in close line of succession to the throne of the Holy Roman Empire, the largest and most powerful realm in Christendom.
“Your uncle wanted to make sure you stayed alive. And that is why I’m supposed to watch over you. No one but the High Abbot at Wurtemburg knows who you are. And that is your best defense. But somebody may just possibly recognize you. Even with that moustache.”
Manfred’s responding grimace was so like that of a boy denied a day’s play that Erik almost laughed. He could sympathize with Manfred’s plight, inwardly if not openly. By Manfred’s description, life in rather ramshackle, relaxed Celtic Carnac had been a far cry from the stilted imperial court at Mainz. But there was no point in letting his charge see that sympathy. Manfred would only try to take advantage of it.
Chapter 21
Maria waited for them in the kitchen of the apartment. It was . . . homelike having them living here. The boys tried to keep quiet, but they were, in the manner of boys, not much good at it. Maria found the noises comforting. She hadn’t been aware of Caesare’s catlike quietness until she’d had the contrast. The occasional clatter and slip from whisper into a laugh or hastily stifled yell was pleasant, almost comforting. Maria had never had a real family, the way most people did. It had been just her and her mother, as she was growing up. Since then, her huge pack of cousins had offered to provide her with a home—well, until she took up with Caesare—but Maria had always declined the offers. She valued her independence too much. But the boys didn’t really impinge on that independence. They just made her home . . . warmer.
Of course, she’d never tell them that. They obviously found the apartment pleasing too. They hadn’t moved out although Caesare was getting up for part of each day now. There was not much wrong with him any more that Maria could see, except he tired quickly. She wanted a word with Marco about that. And she’d better sort Benito out before he got into real trouble. She felt a little awkward at the thought of trying to discipline Benito. He wasn’t more than two years younger than she was, after all. But somebody had to do it. And Marco, for all that he was a good soul and gentle as a dove, wasn’t up to dealing with his little brother.
She grabbed him by the ear when he came in. “Benito. You listen to me.”
“Ow! Leggooo! How do I listen when you’re pulling my ear off?”
Maria snorted. “You listen with the other one, and if I pull this one off maybe things won’t just go straight in one ear and out of the other.”
“I’m listening. I’m listening. Just let go,” said Benito on tiptoes.
She did. “Now if this doesn’t go in, next time I will pull it off. I hear from Giaccomo you’re still hanging out with that Laivetti boy. Mercutio.”
“Yeah,” said Benito, defensively. “He’s a friend of mine, see.” His tone was surly.
Maria didn’t like that tone. “He’s trouble!” she snapped. “If you’re going to stay with Caesare and me—you keep your nose clean. Caesare doesn’t need extra troubles.”
Benito was silent for a few moments. He bit his lip. “It’s not as simple as all that, Maria,” he said quietly.
“And why not?”
Benito shrugged. “You know, when you’re living on the canals . . . um . . . some of the bigger boys they use the little ‘uns like girls. Some of them are real fond of little boys.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed. “This Mercutio . . .”
“No! Mercutio, he’s a ladies’ man. But he looked out for me. Kind of let it be known that he’d deal with anyone who tried anything. Helped me out with food and—and a bit of coin a time or two. Showed me a few things that Claudia and Valentina left me to find out the hard way. And—he made me laugh when I needed a few laughs.” Stubbornly: “I can’t just turn my back on him. I can’t, Maria.”