Come Twilight (63 page)

“That is to be expected,” said Germanno, who had been through many such taxations in the last three thousand years. “War is a costly business.”

“Many of the soldiers do not want to fight there. That is why they want new men for the army.” Antoninus flung up his hands in dismay. “These are sturdy men, but they dread those mountains east of Usxa.”

A cold grue ran down Germanno’s spine as his memories flooded in. “Why that place more than any other?” he made himself ask. “Is it the Aragonese?”

“No; or if they do, that is the least of it.” Now Antoninus was in his element; he launched into the juiciest part of his news. “They say that a huge cache of human bones has been found in the mountains between the Caliph’s forces and the soldiers of Aragon and Barzelunya. They say night-demons killed them and are killing still. In the place that is called Holy Blood.”

The Comide closed his eyes as if to absorb a blow. “Holy Blood,” he repeated. “Tell me more of this.”

“It is just rumor, of course,” said Antoninus hastily. “But the soldiers are troubled. There are more and more tales of these discoveries, each more incredible than the last. It is said there were two high canyons, very remote, where these skeletons were found. Some were very old and others still had enough clothes on them that it was plain they were Christians or Moors.” He paused dramatically and went on, relishing his story. “A few of the bodies found were only recently dead, and their flesh still showed the marks of the demons. The few people who live in that region say that it is the work of a demon-woman and her demon-children. The people have sacrificed to them forever.”

“And how do you come to know this?” Germanno asked, feeling very weary. He waited for the answer with reluctant curiosity.

“I told you. The soldiers are talking. I make a point of going to the same eating places the soldiers go, and I listen to what is said. That is why Idelfonzuz values me.” He put his hand to his chest in pride. “I go about the market and I listen. I go to the eating places and I listen. I go to the houses where women and boys and pipes are offered and I listen.”

“For which you are well-rewarded,” said Germanno, regaining his inner composure.

“And for which rewards I am thankful,” said Antoninus, ducking his head in a show of submission. “But I must tell you, Idelfonzuz will have to act swiftly if he is to take advantage of this disruption in the Caliph’s army. You must transfer this great house to me and leave very shortly. No more than two weeks, or the advantage will be lost.” He glanced a Al Catraz again, a greedy smile on his lips; the great house was half-hidden behind the splendid hulk of the fountains so that its graceful domes and spires seemed to float on the spray.

“What of the night-demons? Would they not be as dangerous to Idelfonzuz’s army as the Caliph’s?” Germanno asked, recalling Chimena’s anger the last time he had seen her, more than three hundred fifty years ago; had it diminished, he wondered, or had it grown over time?

Antoninus stared at Germanno incredulously. “Idelfonzuz and his men are
Christians,
” he said as if this explained everything. “God Himself defends them against all evil.” He made the sign of the cross. “Christ gives them victory.”

“Ah,” said Germanno, and crossed himself.

“So you must make haste,” said Antoninus, trying to recapture the momentum of his information. “The army will soon be raised and you must inform Idelfonzuz where to strike, and when, so that the new troops will not reinforce the Caliph’s soldiers.”

Germanno considered this. “The army will not be called in a day, nor a week, especially not if the older troops are reluctant to fight.” He tilted his head back, watching the display of stars.

“But Idelfonzuz needs to know of this now.
Now!
” Antoninus insisted. “You cannot delay.”

“That would leave you to pay the taxes,” said Germanno sardonically. “But if what you say is right, I agree I must depart earlier than I had planned.” He regarded Antoninus for a brief while, trying to weigh the report against what he knew already. “Do not worry; I will keep the title to this place, and leave money enough for the tribunal. Oh, you will occupy it, but it will remain mine.”

“And you will leave soon?” Antoninus grinned expectantly.

“Come to me in two days and I will tell you what I have arranged.” He started back toward the great house. “And, Antoninus, come to the main door, as a proper merchant.”

“Of course. All right,” said Antoninus, bobbing his head in deference.

“In two days,” Germanno reminded him, and then the marble expanse of the main fountain rose between them and the Comide was again alone in the night with only his thoughts for company.

Text of a letter from Germanno, Comide Ragoczy to Atta Olivia Clemens at Oriaga on the Dalmatian Coast, written in the Latin of Imperial Rome.

To my most treasured Olivia, my greetings from Sevallis in Moorish Hispania—as you would no doubt call it—before I once again depart to the north and the Christians, as indeed, I must do in the next ten days, or risk the displeasure of Idelfonzuz of Aragon and Navarre.

This part of Hispania is not what it was when I was here last, and that saddens me, although I do not miss being the slave of the Emir’s son. It is as if something has sapped the life from the place and the people: it may be the long years of strife, it may be the struggles among the Moors themselves, or it may be something I have not been able to recognize, yet whatever the cause, the vigor is gone and in its place is a kind of luxury that leaches purpose from the people and leads to pettiness and cruelty if it is not checked. When last I was here, there was an eagerness to embrace the new, to seek beyond the limits of knowledge, but now, such studies are frowned upon and can lead to ostracism and condemnation. Even the Jews, who have long been a bastion to learning have begun to close their doors to that which is dangerous, or may become dangerous.

And you, Olivia: how is it with you? Is the Dalmation Coast as you remember it, or has it, too, been touched by this strange debilitation? Your estate is remote enough that I hope you remain untouched by the troubles that have risen among the Byzantines, for you have already endured more at their hands than even one of our blood should have to face.

Which brings me to my other purpose for writing to you. Do you remember the young woman Csimenae? She became of our blood some five hundred or so years ago. It would appear that she has continued to add to her tribe, and now both Christians and Muslims know of her and her group and are determined to be rid of them at last. I am torn between a desire to warn her, and the conviction that she has put herself and all of her people in harm’s way, against which my warning will be as nothing. Still, as I am to campaign with Idelfonzuz in her region of the mountains upon my return to the north, I suppose I must try to do what I can to guard her. When I last saw her she made it plain she wants no part of me, but in these circumstances, I hope she will relent sufficiently to hear me out. If not, then at least I will have made the attempt.

Once again you have helped me to clarify my thoughts, and for that I thank you. I will now imagine the acerbic response you would be likely to give me, and my missing you will be complete. I also thank you for your good sense and your unswerving loyalty over the centuries—it is more than a millennium now since you came to my life. Little though I may say so, I value it, and I value you as I value my soul.

To you, and to Niklos Aulirios, my wishes for joy and prosperity in these parlous times.

Sanct’ Germain

(his sigil, the eclipse)

by my own hand on the 9
^th
day of June in the Christian year 1117, at Al Catraz in Sevallis

Ruthor bowed the guest into the central hall of Germanno, Comide Ragoczy’s house in Toledom. He took care not to look Idelfonzuz in the face, for such an affront to a King by a servant was punishable by death. “I will bring my master directly,” he said at his most subservient.

“I am eager to see him. I know you did not arrive in Toledom until sunset last night, but I cannot afford to wait on the ceremony of three days before I speak with him,” he declared, striding down the room as if practicing for conquest on the field. It was late in a hot afternoon, and so he had dressed in a light-weight cote of rust-colored linen with only a minimal damask auburn surcote over it, and still he was sweating; his beard and hair were newly trimmed and he wore only a gold circlet on his brow to show his rank.

“I will hurry,” said Ruthor, and made his way down the gallery toward the study with its observatory in the ceiling. There he found Germanno showing Lailie the books stored there, and the place where writing materials were kept. “My master,” he said, knowing he was interrupting.

“Yes, Ruthor?” Germanno said, turning around; beside him Lailie looked up, a touch of anxiety in her eyes.

“The King is here. He intends to speak with you.” He nodded to Lailie. “Perhaps it would be more sensible if you were to come to him.”

“Ruthor, old friend, you are the master of tact. Certainly it would be . . . more sensible.” He stepped away from the trestle table and said to her, “Do as you like while I am gone. There is nothing you cannot open in this room.”

She ducked her head, showing her hair was still bound up from traveling; her mantel of Sicilian silk was as fashionable in Toledom as it had been in Sevallis. “You are very kind, Comide.”

He made a little reverence in her direction and then left the study. “Why on earth is Idelfonzuz here? I should have visited him in three days, as required.”

“He said he does not have time to wait,” said Ruthor. “He seems impatient, even for him.”

“That does not reassure me,” said Germanno. “What can have happened to make him behave so?”

“He would not tell me, my master,” said Ruthor, so neutrally that Germanno turned to look at him.

“Then more fool he, old friend,” said Germanno as they turned and entered the gallery that led to the main hall. “If you will go to the kitchens and have something suitable sent up? A jar of wine, as well, I think. Idelfonzuz puts great store in such niceties.”

“And it takes me out of his way,” said Ruthor. “I will tend to this at once,” he said, and slipped away toward the kitchens, leaving Germanno to greet the King on his own.

Entering the main hall, Germanno made a deep reverence to Idelfonzuz, such as he might offer the Emperor in Constantinople. “What honor to me and my house, Liege, that you visit it.”

“Comide Ragoczy,” said Idelfonzuz, flattered by the distinction Germanno had shown him. “How good to have you here in Toledom again.” He smiled briefly, then addressed the reason for his visit. “I am planning my campaign to take control of the disputed regions to the east. You may advise me on what the Moors will do when I move my men into Usxa.”

“You do not need me to tell you they will fight,” said Germanno, a bit nonplussed by this obvious situation.

“That they will. But whom will they fight?” He paused and arched his brows. “My informers tell me that there are demons in the mountains.”

Germanno nodded. “Yes. Antoninus said much the same thing.” He then repeated all that he had been told, adding when he was through, “I must tell you, Liege, that I do not place much confidence in rumors. Most of them turn out to be unfounded, and those that have a grain of truth are—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Idelfonzuz, waving his hand to dismiss the matter. “And Antoninus can turn a pair of mules into a mounted company of horsemen.” He walked away a short distance, then came back. “Still, those mountains have an evil reputation. When I was young, there were tales of rivers running with blood, and travelers and peasants disappearing. Some said it was robbers who killed the unwary, but others said that all the robbers were long-dead, killed by the demons.”

“And what do you believe, Liege?” Germanno asked, watching Idelfonzuz more narrowly than he knew.

“I believe that many are being killed in the mountains, particularly where the forests remain. There are roads that are dangerous, and places where they have fallen away altogether, and in such places a man might come to grief. Where the trees no longer stand, there are fewer disappearances, but the land is hard, and crumbles with rain, so many do not want to live there. Even the shepherds do not graze the flocks on such shifting ground.” He sighed abruptly. “So the danger is in the forests. The Moors have proved this many times, and if they have truly found many skeletons, then it can only be that the killings were deliberate and not the cause of accidents or other misfortunes.”

“You have given this much thought, Liege,” said Germanno, trying to discern what it was that the King wanted from him.

“I, and others.” He folded his arms. “When I was very young, I recall hunting boar and coming upon a grove in which many cups of blood were left. The priest said that this was to honor Christ’s Cup, but I did not think it was. The huntsmen said it was for the demons. I believed him more.” He looked around at the sound of footsteps. “Ah. How pleasant to have something to eat.”

The cook and two servants approached carrying trays on which were set out cheese and a tub of butter and another of honey, new bread and hunks of smoked fowl and ham. A jar of wine stood open beside a silver cup. Taking care not to look directly at Idelfonzuz, they set their trays down on the table beneath the window and then backed out of the main hall, their eyes directed at their feet.

“It is little enough,” said Germanno, thinking that his household had done extremely well on such short notice, “but if it pleases you, Liege, then we are honored by your graciousness.”

“Prettily said,” Idelfonzuz approved as he snapped his fingers for a chair; Germanno brought the best for him. “And nicely done.”

“A man learns things in his travels,” said Germanno, stepping back from the King.

“So,” said Idelfonzuz, taking a wedge of cheese and smearing it with honey, “what do you think is in the mountains? You said you had crossed them.”