The Black Chalice (22 page)

Konrad took the weapon, held it for a moment, his eyes hard— neither angry nor admiring, just hard.

“I have lost jousts before, Karelian of Lys. But never to a man worthier than you.”

So it was my lord who knelt before the whole of Germany, just as the sun was setting, to receive the wreath of victory from Ehrenfried’s hands, and who sat after at his elbow, in the place of highest honor. I was drunk with pride, and, for the first time in my life, I ended the evening drunk silly on wine as well.

I was still suffering from it two days later; I suppose that’s why I fell asleep in Duke Gottfried’s pavilion.

It was a pleasant place, raised in the middle of the garden like a small tower. I had no idea it was a place the duke favored for private meetings. Even so, I would not have gone inside except for the girl.

The same girl, the empress’s little whore. She was still halfway across the garden when I saw her, and there were some trees between us. She was coming in my direction, but she had not seen me yet. She was walking idly; she looked bored. I knew what would happen if she spotted me, and I did not want to deal with it. My head still hurt. I was tired, and even thinking about her made me more tired. The door into the pavilion was open, and so I simply went inside, and closed it behind me.

It was dim inside. I remembered the room with the non-existent kitten. If she had seen me come in here, I reflected, I was worse off than before. So I went up the long staircase to the open bower. I was sure it was empty. And it was— for the moment.

It was a lovely, peaceful place, entirely open to the wind and the sun. There was a small marble table and some chairs, and a locked cupboard where I supposed they kept silverware and perhaps a stock of wine. For all its plainness, it felt very regal; the duke’s arms hung on one wall, and were inlaid in the glistening surface of the table.

What in God’s name am I doing here?

Even as the thought occurred to me, I heard steps on the stairs. I had not walked into a stable or a storeroom or even some casual bower set out for the casual use of guests. I had no right to be here uninvited, and I did not want to be found.

The only place to hide was the privy, enclosed behind a heavy arras. So I hid there, peeking out to see who came.

Servants came, and still more servants. They swept and scrubbed the floor. They polished the gleaming marble table until it gleamed even brighter. The privy, I saw with infinite relief, was unused and needed no attention. I waited for them to finish and go away, and when they had done so, I waited longer, just to be safe. It was quiet there; the breezes wafting through were just enough to mellow the day’s heat. I waited too long, and I fell asleep.

I did not hear steps the second time; I heard voices. They were already in the room. I looked out again in dismay, though I had recognized both voices: Duke Gottfried himself, and Karelian of Lys. They were moving towards the marble table, where a great carafe of wine and two gold cups had been laid out for them.

God help me…!

I could not believe my own folly. Oh, I was tired, I was half sick, I utterly
detested
that girl, but how could I have gotten myself into this? And how was I going to get out?

Gottfried settled into a chair, and motioned his guest to sit across from him. I expected a servant to appear at once to serve them, but instead the Golden Duke filled the cups himself, and handed one to Karelian with a smile.

I knew what that meant. They had come here to speak in absolute privacy, and my small folly was turning rapidly into a great one. I cringed back behind the arras, wishing to God I had let the servants catch me. No, dear God, I should have come out on my own, I should have gone to them and apologized: “Please forgive me, I wandered in here by mistake, I am leaving this instant…!” At worst I would have been taken for an ill-bred fool; now, if I were discovered, I might well be taken for a spy.

“Your health, Karel.”

“And yours, my good lord.”

I did not want to listen. I wanted to change myself into a beetle and crawl away.

“That was a magnificent demonstration of prowess,” Gottfried went on. “I’ve always thought well of you, but you continue to impress me. I couldn’t wish for a better man at my right hand.”

“You honor me too much, my lord.”

“I have only begun to honor you.”

Gottfried fell silent for so long I began to wonder if he had forgotten what he came here to say. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, meditative.

“I’m concerned about the future, Karelian— the future of Europe, and the future of Christendom. Our conquests in the east are very fragile; unless something extraordinary is done, we will not hold them.”

I was astonished; I had never expected such a comment from the duke.

“Raising money,” he went on, “sending a few more ragtag armies like the one we marched in— that’s not going to do it. Would you agree?”

“Entirely, my lord.”

“And I don’t believe such a magnificent victory was won for nothing. I will never believe it. Do you not think, Karel, God must surely have a plan for the world?”

“That has always been at the heart of Christian teaching.”

“Well, if we look at history, we see there are pivotal moments in the unfolding of God’s plan— moments when everything depended on one person. Moses had to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. Mary had to accept her destiny as the mother of Jesus. Constantine had to turn the empire to God. If any of those persons had failed — if they had refused to do their duty — our history would be very different.

“Wait! I know what you’re going to say— God’s plan can’t possibly be so vulnerable. And you’re right. He
knows
the individuals he chooses for his tasks. He knew Moses, and Mary, and Constantine. He chooses those who will not fail him. Nonetheless, Karel, history turns on their actions. Their choices and their tasks are real.”

There was a brief silence. When the duke spoke again, all the softness was gone from his voice.

“Ehrenfried is not the man to lead the empire now. It troubles me to say so; he was a good man in his day. But he’s lost his edge. He doesn’t see the world as it is.”

“Ehrenfried is the lawfully elected and anointed king, my lord.”

“He’s a fool. Oh, come my friend, we’re quite alone. We both know what he’s become: a prattling dreamer with his head full of scrolls, good for nothing but chess games and prayers. Christendom must be led, in God’s name, not tinkered with!”

“Meaning precisely what, my lord?”

On my knees, barely daring to breathe, I watched Duke Gottfried lean forward across the marble table.

“A new empire, Karel. A different kind of empire, a different kind of world. I spoke a moment ago about turning points in history; this is one of them.” He paused, not to choose his words, I think, but simply to make them more compelling.

“The Holy Roman emperor will be replaced. I will replace him as high king of Germany and leader of Christendom.”

Karelian poured himself more wine.

“You, my good friend and kinsman,” Gottfried went on, “will have first place at my side. Every honor a king can offer to his best-loved vassal— every one of those honors will be yours. Other men will follow me; I know because I’ve already spoken with them. But to you will go the richest fiefs, and the highest rank among my captains. And that, I admit frankly, is quite selfish on my part; you’re the best man in a fight I’ve ever seen.”

“My lord—”

“One word more. I have given this a great deal thought, and a great deal of prayer. Christendom needs leadership now, as it hasn’t for centuries. God gave us Jerusalem as a sign, Karelian, as a portent of his will. This is not the time for strong men to stand idle, and let his kingdom go to wrack and ruin.”

“More than one man in history believed he was doing the will of God, and turned out to be deceived.”

The duke shook his massive golden head.

“God does not deceive men. Such men deceive themselves.”

“Exactly so. And why — saving my respect for your lordship — why should I think you aren’t one of them?”

“You know my line is descended from Clovis,” Gottfried snapped. “From the very first Frankish kings.”

“Your pardon, my lord, but I don’t know it. I know only that you and your father and your grandfather always said so. Many men make similar claims, yet there isn’t a house in Christendom which can trace its lineage back so far except in legend. I will not consent to treason on the authority of a legend.”

Gottfried was on his feet.

“Damn you, Karel—!”

Karelian rose as well, and continued heedlessly. “And even if you were descended from the Merovingian kings, I wouldn’t consider it reason enough to plunge the empire into civil war, and to unleash upon the Reinmark God knows what flood of misery and ruin.”

Very slowly, Karelian reached across his body with his left hand, pulled his sword from its scabbard, and placed it on the table, the hilt turned to Gottfried’s hand. He bowed faintly.

“Judge the matter as you see fit, my lord.”

Gottfried turned away from him with an angry gesture, paced briefly, and settled back into his chair.

“When God sent Noah’s flood, Karelian, he should have left the vale of Dorn under a thousand feet of water. Nothing grows there but trouble. Put your sword away, for Christ’s sake, and sit down.”

The count obeyed. I stared at Gottfried, bewildered by his manner. He did not seem especially angry, and he certainly did not seem surprised. If he had known how Karelian would respond, why had he opened the discussion at all? And what would he do now to a man who knew he was plotting rebellion, and would not join him?

“I have offered you great honor, and the highest place among my followers. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ve already answered you, my lord.”

“God’s blood, you are pretentious!”

“No,” Karelian said. “I’m tired. I’m damnably tired, and I’m disillusioned with men’s ambitions. And most of all, though you may not believe it, I am loyal to you, and unwilling to see you make a tragic and irrevocable mistake.”

There was another long silence. I could hear my own heart pounding, so loudly I feared they might hear it, too.

“And suppose I could prove it’s not a mistake?” Gottfried said at last. “Suppose I could show you it’s both wise and necessary?”

“We don’t know the future, my lord, and short of knowing it, I don’t see how such proof is possible.”

“But if it were?”

“Then….” Karelian made a small, appeasing gesture. “Then I suppose I would look at the matter differently, my lord.”

Gottfried relaxed a little, then, and picked up his wine cup.

“I would as soon lay siege to Jerusalem again, as to that piece of rock you call your honor. I hope you realize there’s not another man in all the world I would argue with like this?”

“I know how much you favor me, my lord. And I’ve always been grateful.”

“You have an odd way of showing it. But never mind. You want proof, so be it. I will give you proof. And it’s not by knowing the future, my friend; it’s by knowing the past.”

Silence. I was aware of the roughness of my own breathing, of the sweat running down my body. At first I had not wanted to listen; now if God had appeared and offered me a miraculous escape, I might well have refused it.

“You’re not a man whose mind needs to be coddled,” Gottfried said. “So I will tell the matter straight. I learned many things in the Holy Land, many things about its history, and about the Church which was born there. Jesus was not a carpenter’s son. That’s a lot of poor people’s nonsense— rather like the Christmas song where Mary rocks her baby to sleep on a Silesian mountaintop. Jesus was a prince, an heir to the house of David, and his goal was not merely a new faith, but a whole new kingdom of Israel.

“That’s one thing I learned. I also learned it was unheard of for a Jewish rabbi not to have a wife. If Jesus had been unmarried when he began to teach, he would have been criticized for it as he was for so many other things, like healing on the sabbath and keeping company with low life. Yet we don’t hear a word about it in the gospels. Or anywhere else. Therefore it’s reasonable to think he was a married man, without any further evidence.

“But there
is
further evidence. There are traditions, legends, secret books, knowledge treasured from generation to generation, from century to century, more carefully and more faithfully than any knowledge has ever been preserved in the history of the world. Not only was he married, but he had children. The marriage feast at Cana was the wedding of Jesus Christ himself. His wife was Mary Magdalene; like Jesus she was descended from the house of David, and David himself was of an even older blood. But that is another story.

“After the Crucifixion, the followers of Jesus scattered all over the world. His mother, with Joseph of Arimathea and Magdalene, came by sea to Gaul. His children came with them; we know there were at least two. And there, in great secrecy, the sacred line was preserved. In very great secrecy, as you may imagine. First from imperial Rome, which feared the prospect of yet another Jewish king challenging the empire. And then in even greater secrecy from the popes, who could hardly go on claiming to be Christ’s heirs if his real heirs were still living in the world.

“This line established itself with great care among the highborn of Gaul. Clovis, the first of the Merovingian kings, was one of its sons.”

Karelian’s breath caught as though he had been struck. He unclenched his hands from his goblet, and placed it carefully back on the table. His face was pale.

“My lord….” He paused, shaking his head. “My lord, forgive me, but do you really expect anyone to believe that?”

Gottfried laughed, wonderfully, like a boy.

“All the time we’ve been having this argument, I’ve been asking myself: Why did I bother? Why did I bring this arrogant, stubborn man here and open my heart to him? Now I see why. Half the men I know would be jumping up and down, pointing their fingers at me and yelling ‘Heretic!’ at the top of their lungs. And the other half would be stammering and slithering and wondering what it might be safe to say. You look me cold in the eye and say: ‘Really my lord, do you expect anyone to believe it?’”