Chapter 74
When Manfred strode into Erik’s chamber, the Icelander was struggling with a letter. Erik had met up with an Icelander pilgrim, and the chance to send a letter home was a rare one. Now he just had to choose his words with some care. There was always a chance the letter might not get home. There were things going on that he didn’t want to tell the world about. Besides, there was Manfred’s identity to be kept secret. He was tempted to write in runic, but that would convince any curious person this was full of secrets worth reading—or destroying if they could not read it.
“We need some air, Erik,” said Manfred loudly.
Something about that tone stopped Erik from saying he had a letter to finish first. He put the letter carefully aside, the quill balanced across the inkpot.
They walked out. Full summer was coming and the smell rising off the canals was as unpleasant as the shimmering water was beautiful. Manfred picked a spot where they could lean against a wall in the shade. “Count Von Stemitz just came back from his visit to the Emperor. Who is now in Innsbruck, by the way.”
Manfred snorted. “Yes—Innsbruck. He never leaves Mainz if he can help it! Which means . . .” Manfred glowered at nothing in particular—or the world in general. “Von Stemitz brought a reply for me from Charles Fredrik.”
Manfred took a deep breath. “And he sent me this also.”
It was a plain heavy gold ring, set with a polished bloodstone.
Erik raised an eyebrow. Plainly there was more to the ring than mere jewelry.
“Charles Fredrik is like the Doge,” said Manfred. “He likes mechanical gadgets.” He pressed the ring on the inside, under the stone, with a knife point. The bezels opened. And Manfred took the bloodstone out. He handed it to Erik. Upside down.
It was an imperial seal.
“He trusts you,” Erik said mildly. The seal could be cut by any competent forger . . . but wouldn’t be. The curse the Church magicians had laid on misuse was as much threat as the weight of the Emperor’s anger. Neither was something even kings would take lightly.
Manfred slammed his meaty fist into his palm. “Damn it! I don’t want this, Erik. I was enjoying Venice. Look what Francesca has got me into!”
“Here.” Erik handed over the seal, carefully. “You’d better put it back into the ring. I suppose he was impressed by your new-found grasp of Venetian intrigue?”
“He’s made me his privy emissary plenipotentiary to deal with the Venetian situation as it unfolds.” The Breton prince ground his teeth. “He says that other rumblings have also reached him. He’s having a tourney in Innsbruck, and will find reason to remain there with considerable force for some months.”
Manfred sighed. “There’s more,” he continued. “My uncle has also discovered that there are a further one thousand, two hundred Knights of the Holy Trinity apparently on their way to Trieste. He wants to know why, and says if need be I must remind them that they hold the charter for their monasteries on imperial sufferance.”
Erik reviewed a map in his mind. “Having the Emperor champing on the other side of the Brenner pass is going to be of no use if the Knights are in Trieste. They can get here a lot faster than he can. But Manfred, whatever is going on—invasion of this place is insanity. They’re water people. Even ten thousand knights would just be drowned.”
Manfred shook his head. “There’s more to it than just straight invasion. But right now . . . well, their second fleet left a few weeks ago and the town is pretty thin of people, Erik. And now I have to find out what is going on. Damn Francesca. Damn Charles Fredrik.”
Erik was amused. He noticed that Manfred was complaining but showing no signs of evading the orders. He was changing as he grew. And Erik had to admit quite a lot of that was due to the time he spent with Francesca. “Why don’t you ask Francesca? Subtly, of course.”
“I’m going to,” said Manfred. “If anything good has come out of this it’s that my uncle has sent me a pouch of jewels . . . that can be spent unobtrusively, which ducats can’t. I was running low on money. I’m going to damn well spend some of his on wine and a specific woman. Oh, he sent instruction for you, too. ‘Take any heads you feel necessary. I’ll sign bits of paper for them later.’ You want to start with that idiot Sachs? Although that would give Charles Fredrik more trouble with the Church than he wants.”