Borne in Blood (Saint-Germain #20)

Borne in Blood (Saint-Germain #20) Page 17

"If I take two mules, I should be able to make the journey as handily as possible at this time of year," said Otto Gutesohnes as he paced around Ragoczy's study, ending up in front of the chair in which Ragoczy was seated, his fur hat in his hand, his muffler loosened and hanging around his neck. "The snows are not yet so deep that the roads are lost. Most of the damage done to the main roads last winter has been repaired, which will make for an easier passage."

"Take the two largest mules," said Ragoczy, "and if the passes are blocked, return here. I do not want you to endanger your life, and the mules, for my convenience: it is not convenient to lose dispatches, animals, and men." He cocked his head toward the windows. "It will rain in a day or two and that rain will soon be sleet, and then it will be snow."

"That means there will be ice at dawn, whether or not the skies are clear. If I leave an hour after sunrise tomorrow, I should have the best of light and warmth for my journey. Unless the wind rises, I should be able to travel ten leagues tomorrow, assuming the skies stay clear. I am not being overly optimistic; those mules are hardy beasts." He slapped at the front of his double-breasted travel-coat with its claw-hammer, knee-length tails. "I have enough warm clothes to keep me from freezing, no matter what the weather may do, and I will put full-body sheepskin saddle-pads on the mules. They will be able to stay warm."

"And once you arrive there, you will remain in Amsterdam until the end of winter if the weather requires it. Take no unnecessary risks," said Ragoczy firmly. "It will avail me little if you deliver the material entrusted to you and then are lost with news and books dispatched from van der Boom. Err on the side of circumspection, I beg you."

"As best I can," said Gutesohnes, for whom the thought of a month in Amsterdam was most appealing. "But if I start back and encounter hard weather on the way, do you want me to wait on the road at a posting inn or try to continue on?"

"I want you to remain alive, and if staying at a posting inn will accomplish that, then do it. You need not worry about making a lengthy stay-I will provide you with gold enough for such a necessity and a vial of my sovereign remedy, so that you need not succumb to illness, should you take a fever from other travelers." He had been making this concoction from moldy bread for centuries and found it truly effective against fever and infection.

"I do not plan to become ill, but then, few men do. Yet travelers often bring diseases with them; I have seen it in my journeys. Very well, I will take your vial, and any other preparation you advise. If you have an ointment for sores on the mules' legs, that would be useful, too. You know what cold can do to mules and horses." He shoved his big, square hands deep in his pockets. "It is fitting that you and I agree so that no disappointment is possible."

"An admirable goal," said Ragoczy with sardonic amusement.

"You make mock of me, Comte, but I am serious," said Gutesohnes, still inwardly amazed at how liberal Ragoczy was in allowing his staff to express their opinions. "I know you have expectations, and I know it is my work to fulfill them, therefore the greater my understanding of what you want, the likelier you are to be satisfied when I have completed my mission."

"I realize that, and I meant nothing to your discredit: I was thinking of some men I have known in the past." He did not mention that his past stretched back nearly four millennia, and that not all the men he recalled were as punctilious as Gutesohnes. "Some of them were not inclined to fret about disappointments."

"More fools they," said Gutesohnes. "I know that most men in my position would rather be prepared for ... for any eventuality." His slight pause and too-easy smile made his remark seem glib.

Ragoczy wondered what Gutesohnes had actually been planning to say, but decided not to pursue the matter for now. "There are two small chests for van der Boom; they contain books and a pair of manuscripts with my translations into German and French. He is expecting them for the publishing program, and although I have made fair copies of all, having to deliver them a second time would delay publication by several months; your circumspection will be welcome for the sake of the works you carry." He saw anxiety in Gutesohnes' eyes, and went on in a more urbane manner. "If you want to remain in Amsterdam through the New Year, no matter what the weather, by all means do so; you will deserve time to recuperate from your travels. But while you are there, I urge you to inquire regularly about road conditions so that you may plan your return. I estimate now that, unless you are delayed by a storm, you should be in Amsterdam two or three days before Christmas. You may stay at my house there-I will give you an authorization that you may present to Kuyskill. Make the most of your opportunity, so that you will not leave with regret. As long as you are prepared to deal with bad weather, I believe you should have an uneventful journey. There are posting inns in Amsterdam which should have the most recent information on the weather, and the roads. Be wary of heavy rains; they can be more dangerous than snow."

"That I will," promised Gutesohnes. "I dislike mucking through mud more than I dislike wading through snow."

Ragoczy smiled faintly. "Neither makes for easy travel."

"I suppose not," said Gutesohnes, then added a request he feared might be refused out of hand. "May I take a small keg of brandy with me-to keep off the chill at the end of the day?"

"Certainly," said Ragoczy. "I will ask Balduin to select one from the cellar." He rose from his chair and went to the bell-pull. "Is there anything else you want?"

"Grain-mash for the mules, with oil." He nodded emphatically. "In cold weather, they'll need it."

"So they will. You may have as much as you think is wise to carry." He considered for more than a minute while Gutesohnes resumed his pacing. "I will see you have a wheel of cheese and a bag of raisins as well."

"The cheese will be most welcome, but I am not especially fond of raisins," Gutesohnes said.

"The mules are," Ragoczy said.

"That they are," said Gutesohnes, surprised that Ragoczy knew such things. "Very well."

"And a sack of nuts, for you," said Ragoczy. "In case you should hunger and not be able to reach an inn or a tavern for a meal."

Gutesohnes bowed a bit. "Danke, Comte."

"I know what it is to travel hungry, and I prefer to avoid it," said Ragoczy. "You will want one or two summer sausages, as well." He tugged the bell-pull twice, alerting Balduin to come, but not just yet.

"Very generous, Comte," said Gutesohnes.

"More practical than generous," said Ragoczy. "If you need help packing your case, tell Rogier, and he will assist you. He has a genius for such things." In the seventeen hundred years Rogier had been with him, the manservant had honed his packing skills beyond anything Ragoczy had seen before or since. "You may find his help instructive whether he assists you or not."

"I am able to fend for myself," said Gutesohnes, stung by the implication that he did not have such basic skills.

"Very well," said Ragoczy. "But I have found his help invaluable over the years." He let it go at that, trusting that good sense would prevail over stubborn pride.

"I will keep that in mind," said Gutesohnes, aware that he ought to accept the Comte's offer as a matter of respect.

Ragoczy went back to his chair. "You'll want a brace of pistols, too, I think."

"With the highwaymen about, it would be best," said Gutesohnes.

"Pistols it shall be. Inform Balduin of all your needs, and he will have them ready for you tonight. He should appear shortly. I will have the cases and chests for van der Boom loaded and closed in an hour; they will be taken to the stable to be put on the pack-saddle at first light. There will also be letters of instruction to you and to van der Boom ready to go into your dispatch-case."

"I will carry it on my person for all my travels. No one shall take it from me while I live," Gutesohnes assured him.

"It need not come to that," said Ragoczy. "But keep them with you unless your situation merits making a trade. I would rather have you alive to travel another time than thrown into a ditch as food for foxes."

"Put it that way and I understand you."

"Excellent," Ragoczy approved as a rap sounded on the door. "Balduin, you may enter."

The steward came into the study, a canvas apron tied around his waist over his knee-pants and high stockings; he had hung up his jacket and instead had a knitted jacket over his white-linen shirt. "What may I do for you, Comte?"

"You may gather together the items Gutesohnes shall specify. Then you may devote an hour to readying such necessities as he may require when he departs shortly after the next dawn. He will want sufficient amounts for a month on the road." He rose. "I am going to prepare the things he is to carry for me."

"If that is what you want," said Balduin with a nod to Gutesohnes to indicate his willingness to help.

"Meet me in this room in an hour and all should be ready." Ragoczy went to the door and let himself out of the study before Balduin could hold the door for him. He climbed the steps to his laboratory on the top floor, his energetic step alerting Rogier to his arrival.

"My master," he said in Imperial Latin as Ragoczy came through the door.

"I believe most of Gutesohnes' questions have been answered," said Ragoczy. "I need to prepare a small case for him."

"The sovereign remedy, bandages, astringent lotion of witch hazel, anodyne solutions of camomile and of powdered rose-hips for skin and internal doses, an ointment of olive-oil and angelica root for chapping and hives, a lotion of camphor against coughs, clarified wool-fat with willow-bark for abrasions, tincture of willow-bark and pansy for sore joints and heads, a poultice for drawing infections, a tisane of feverfew, and a tincture of milk-thistle to relieve the guts and muscles." He held out a large leather wallet suitable for being worn on a belt. "I have also put in a list of uses and cautions."

"Thank you, old friend," Ragoczy said in the same tongue, putting his hand on the wallet. "I should have known you would anticipate the needs of the journey."

"This is a reasonable precaution, especially in winter." Rogier gestured his accord as he went on, "The two cases of manuscripts and books are packed but I haven't yet closed them and locked them."

"You have left me with nothing to do but carry the lot downstairs," said Ragoczy, amusement flickering in the depths of his dark eyes.

"The lessons of experience," said Rogier.

"Indeed," said Ragoczy, his attractive, irregular features revealing only irony, not the dismay that much of his experience had produced.

"Have you decided which of the horses-"

"He prefers mules," said Ragoczy.

"Sensible fellow," Rogier observed.

"I think Vertrauen and Fest," said Ragoczy thoughtfully. "They are the largest of the mules and old enough to know what they are about; just the thing for a journey in bad weather. Vertrauen was sired by one of those large, shaggy, Belgian donkeys, and deserves his name." He had a brief recollection of Caesar, the donkey who had traveled with him after the Black Death struck, almost five hundred years ago; Caesar had been of that breed, a reliable and stalwart companion for almost thirteen years, and had ended his days in the stable at Olivia's Senza Pari.

Rogier considered. "Either Fest or Dorner. Dorner is less contrarious than Fest."

"Perhaps I should let Gutesohnes decide which of those two he prefers," said Ragoczy. "Is the athanor cool yet?"

"In an hour or so it will be." Rogier did not smile, but an amused light came into his eyes. "The molds are all Spanish and English, as I recall."

"Mostly guineas," said Ragoczy. "There are over a hundred of them, and twenty reales dorado. See that Gutesohnes has twenty-five guineas and five reales, if you would."

"That's a substantial sum," said Rogier, aware that it was more than twice the annual salary of the members of the household staff.

"He may have unexpected expenses," said Ragoczy. "He may need money for persuasion. He may have to buy another mule."

"He may make himself the target of highwaymen, as well. A solitary traveler with money is favored prey for those jackals."

"That is a danger, assuming it is discovered that he carries such a sum. As a messenger, the expectations are that he would not have so much with him," Ragoczy remarked. "Which is why most of the gold will be concealed. I will prepare him a purse with silver and copper and brass-he will not need to be obvious in the amount he carries."

"That is prudent, but where do you plan to hide so much gold?" He looked at the wallet. "Not in there, certainly."

"No, not more than three gold coins behind the ointment jar. There is a small pocket that will have room enough for three guineas. There are other places that can be used, such as the pockets in the lining of his fox-fur coat." Ragoczy gave a little sigh. "A pity he has no need for one of those double-walled water-barrels we used when we went to Delhi; he could carry a fortune without being detected."

"As you did then; you arrived in that city with a fortune in jewels, all hidden in the walls of your water-barrels; fortunately water is heavy, so the weight was not worthy of attention," said Rogier. "That would not avail Gutesohnes now. Still, whatever the case, if you are convinced he needs to have that money, then he shall have it, and welcome." For a second or two he said nothing, then added, "You can always make more."

"So I can," said Ragoczy.

"Unless the thieves hear that you have a fortune hidden in this chateau, and then there could be trouble. The local farmers would not come to your aid if the chateau were attacked, foreigner that you are." Rogier went to the nearest window and tapped on the glass to indicate the shutter beyond. "These can only fend off so much."

"I would like to think they would not be necessary," said Ragoczy, sounding suddenly tired. "But you have the right of it. I suppose I should bring in more weapons from the storehouse for the staff."

"You did provide Madame von Scharffensee an armed guard as well as Ulf Hochvall to drive her, and they are only going to Yvoire." Rogier gave Ragoczy a sharp look. "You know there is danger as well as I do."

"They will only be gone one night," said Ragoczy, worried in spite of his sensible precautions. "With winter coming, this may be the last time until March that she can go to purchase needlework supplies and order clothing from the seamstress."

"She is not the only person from these outlying places who is doing the same," said Rogier.

"Which may or may not be to her advantage," said Ragoczy.

"At least the weather is reasonably clear," said Rogier. "In a week, it may no longer be the case. The nights are getting much colder."

"It is likely that there will be more and heavier rain soon, as well," Ragoczy added.

"So Madame von Scharffensee will be back tomorrow-in the afternoon, I would guess."

"Hochvall said that they would be here by about three if the weather remains clear; if it rains, they will be later." Ragoczy glanced toward the windows. "I hope I have not waited too long to send Gutesohnes to van der Boom. Last year at this time there was snow on the ground, and more coming every day. I thought two days ago that the weather would hold for a week, but I no longer expect ..."

"You think the weather change will bring winter in full strength," Rogier said, nodding. "It could be, and after the last two hard winters, another week may render the roads unviable once the rains begin in earnest. Most of them aren't fully repaired yet."

"I hope that Gutesohnes will be beyond the highest passes by then. At ten leagues a day, he should reach Dole or even Dijon."

"He is going on the French route?" Rogier was mildly surprised.

"He will be out of the mountains sooner; that should speed him along. There is no compelling reason to take the German roads. Three years ago it would have been reckless to go through France, but no longer." He drew a folded map from his inner coat-pocket and opened it, pointing out the journey as he explained, "Here at Langres he will take the Meuse road to Sedan, where he will take the toll-road to Liege. From there, he may choose one of three roads to take him to Amsterdam."

"One of three," said Rogier. "And one will surely be open and in good repair."

"So I assume," said Ragoczy.

"There may be other difficulties."

"You mean bridges destroyed or flooded out, or roads undermined by water or cold, or devastated villages? Most of those sorts of things have been identified, and their dangers are known. You saw for yourself during our journey to Amsterdam how much is needed to be done, and what progress has been made. We passed through areas that were hotly disputed during Napoleon's brief return to power, and saw how much destruction was wrought because of him."

"That wasn't what I meant: there are more highwaymen in France than in Germany," Rogier warned.

"There are more defeated soldiers in France," said Ragoczy. "We can hope that they will not bother a messenger traveling alone."

Rogier needed several seconds to speak, and when he did, he directed his faded-blue eyes at the map, not Ragoczy. "You have fewer remounts at the posting inn along the French route."

"I believe Gutesohnes will not want to ride coach-horses to Amsterdam; the mules should be able to cover the distance if they are allowed a day to rest when they need it." Ragoczy shrugged. "Do you remember those Ju'an-Ju'an ponies? I would like to have a string of them now."

"Incredibly tough, and with remarkable endurance." Rogier waited a bit, and when he realized that Ragoczy would not say anything more, he changed the subject and spoke in French. "I should shave you tonight."

Ragoczy rubbed his chin, testing the stubble. "Yes, I suppose you should. What hour would suit you?"

"While the staff is at supper," Rogier suggested.

"In my chambers, then, while the staff dines."

"I will present myself with basin and razor," said Rogier, and gave Ragoczy a slight, sardonic bow.

"I have managed on my own, you know," said Ragoczy in much the same tone.

"Often and often. But without a reflection, your results are not always-"

"Neat?" Ragoczy suggested, and chuckled. "No, they are not-which increases my gratitude to you, old friend."

Rogier found such praise awkward, so he considered his next question carefully. "Have you answered the Magistrate yet?"

"You mean about granting the court officers permission to search this house? I have not decided yet, one way or the other."

"But you will inform them shortly, won't you?"

"It would seem I must," Ragoczy said, and sighed. "They have heard the gossip, of course, that the highwaymen work for me and their robbery is the source of my wealth. It could make for difficulties if the Magistrate will not believe I have maintained good stores of grain and seed; he may think that I have what was taken from the village, although why I should donate the sacks and then steal them back perplexes me. I have no sense of what reason they might attribute to such actions." He slapped the table with the flat of his hands. "It means I must ask Kleinerhoff to speak for me. He knows the truth of this."

"Do you think he will? speak for you?" Rogier ventured.

"The very question I have been asking myself. He has said that he will support me, but such pledges are easily given and more easily forgotten." Turning away from the table he went to secure the shutters, using the lever-pull so as not to have to raise the window. "The wind is rising."

"So it is," said Rogier, trying not to be put off by the crooning moan it made.

Although he knew that Ragoczy wanted to avert any more talk about the Magistrate's request, at least for the present, still he could not keep from observing, "Kleinerhoff knows how much you have done for Sacre-Sang. He will make a statement to the court, out of obligation if nothing else."

"I trust so," said Ragoczy, going to the next window to pull the shutters closed. "The accusations have not been made formally, and so it will not reflect badly on the head-man to speak for me. Once the complaints are official-" He opened his hands.

"Then why not encourage the search? It isn't as if the Inquisition were asking you for information."

"Something to be thankful for," said Ragoczy drily. "But this is not a time to bog down in accusations and counter-charges. If I can deflect the court's suspicions, so much the better. Whoever leads the outlaws-if such a man exists-I doubt if he is local, for everyone is under scrutiny just now."

"Do you think it is envy that makes these men accuse you?" Rogier asked.

"I think that may be part of it. And I am troubled by such thoughts, for it could turn the people of Sacre-Sang against us." He sighed and went to close another shutter.

"You expect something of the sort to happen," said Rogier.

"I would be foolish not to," said Ragoczy as he worked the lever. "If you would light the lamps?"

"Of course," said Rogier, and set about this mundane task, all the while fretting; he had been through too many scrapes with Ragoczy over the centuries to be sanguine now. "What preparations have you in mind?"

"None as yet. I want to determine what I must do to cause the least disruption here." He closed the last shutter, confining the room to a shadowy twilight relieved only where Rogier had lit the lamps.

"You mean in Sacre-Sang, or in this household?" Rogier challenged.

"Both, if possible," said Ragoczy. "Information travels so rapidly now that the fewer inquiries we endure, the fewer questions will follow us."

"Does that mean you plan to leave Chateau Ragoczy soon?" Rogier kept his voice level.

"In spring; I will escort Hero to Ravensberg and Scharffensee," said Ragoczy as if he had not understood Rogier's intent.

"And then?" Rogier persisted.

"Then we must address the circumstances that confront us." Ragoczy's smile was faint and the light in his dark eyes was ironic. "But do not fret, old friend. We shall not be cast adrift on the world again: not this time." He began to gather together the cases to be entrusted to Gutesohnes. "Come. Help me carry these down to the study. The household will notice if they see me carry all this on my own."

Rogier sighed. "At least you aren't taking needless risks," he said, and went to retrieve the wallet of medicaments to add to the cases as Ragoczy picked them up and started toward the door.

Text of a letter from Madelaine de Montalia at the Grand European Hotel in Constantinople, to Saint-Germain Ragoczy, Comte Franciscus at Chateau Ragoczy near Lake Geneva, Yvoire, Switzerland; carried by commercial courier and delivered two months after being written, during the time Ragoczy was absent from his chateau.

To my very dear Saint-Germain, on this, the 24thof December, 1817, the birthday felicitations of your Madelaine, still in Constantinople, who misses you as intensely as she misses her native earth and the comfort of home,

I am entrusting this to a mercantile courier recommended by your local factor at Eclipse Trading Company, who assures me that it will be carried safely to Genoa and from there to Lake Geneva, all without difficulty or delay beyond those of weather. No doubt the man is being optimistic, but I cannot help but take advantage of this opportunity to write to you, and to inform you of recent developments, and to let you know that you are never gone from my thoughts or my dreams.

These have been a most peculiar few months, more than the last full year has been. My planned journey to Antioch was postponed until this coming spring, and so I have kept myself occupied by visiting the few churches remaining in this city and examining the manuscripts they have among their treasures. In some instances, what I have found is treasure beyond price, and I am grateful for the opportunity to inspect the ancient manuscripts. It has been most instructive, for I have happened upon a significant number of surprising texts, including an ancient collection of gospels that are no longer part of the Bible; a few of them would undoubtedly be considered heretical. I spent the greater part of two months attempting to translate the most ancient of these, and I confess, I could not do them such justice as you would do; still I discovered many things of interest about the earliest Christians that I believe most present adherents to the faith would find unacceptable. Nonetheless, my curiosity is piqued and I am more determined than ever to get to Egypt.

About a month ago, we had a series of earthquakes in this city. They were none of them severe, but a young American staying at the Grand European Hotel, where most western foreigners stay, became agitated by the shaking. I finally made bold to ask why he was troubled, and he told me that he came from Saint Louis, a small city on the Mississippi River, and that shortly before he went to Boston to university, that part of the world was gripped by a series of earthquakes, each more destructive than the last. He said the river flowed backward and geysers of sand-and-steam erupted from sudden cracks in the earth. The worst shaking came in the winter of 1812, and caused much destruction and loss of life. He said that the Indians in the region warned that the ground was restless and that great upheavals happened when the First Ancestor was displeased. Most settlers paid little attention to these stories, thinking them only fables, but now they listen to the legends of the Indians in the hope of avoiding another such calamity. I find my curiosity about America growing, almost to equal my curiosity about Egypt. The advantage of being one of your blood is that I will in all probability have the opportunity to explore both places.

You would probably remind me that I can afford to be patient, and I know that is true in terms of years, but I dislike being made to wait for no good reason but that the presence of a woman is not easily accommodated by Moslems. They are even more restrictive of their women than are Europeans. I fear I will have to lay out a small fortune in bribes if I am to reach Egypt in the next ten months, which is my intention. Hero's father has advised me to ally myself with an approved expedition as a means of gaining access to travel permits. He himself cannot offer such to me, as he is bound for the ruins of Palmyra, and will be away for at least four years. I have some experience of that kind of exploration, and I fully comprehend Hero's reluctance to travel with her father.

I have been granted permission to visit a monastery some ten leagues from this city where truly ancient manuscripts are said to be stored, and, weather permitting, I will leave in three days to go there. I anticipate being away for three to four weeks, and should return here, to this hotel, in a month. I will have a guide with me, a monk who is originally from Bulgaria, called Barlaam, who has sworn to the Metropolitan to guard me for the glory of their faith, and on the condition that I make full reports to him on all I found when I return. He has offered to do what he can to find me passage to Egypt, so I will be as accommodating as I prudently can be.

With congratulations on another year in your vast quantity of them, and my heartfelt love

Always,

Madelaine