This Rough Magic

'Oh. Like that, is it?' said Benito. 'I got the impression that she'd given him the push.'

Maria sighed. 'It was a bit of a bit of a misunderstanding. Tell him to come and see me and I'll explain.'

Benito swallowed the last of his wine. 'In that case, I'd better see if I can find him. Today's been my day for not finding people easily. Thank you for the wine.'

Umberto smiled. 'It is our pleasure. Come again.'

Benito gave a wary look at Maria. 'I will . . . If I may?'

Maria snorted. 'If you stay out of trouble. Which probably means 'no' in your case.'

Benito grinned. 'I'll do my best. But I think you've just landed me in it with Erik. Anyway, ciao. Good-bye, Alessia.' He waved to the baby.

* * *

Benito walked out and set off in search of Erik, full of mixed feelings. Yes, it hurt seeing Maria, listening to her acerbic tongue. But still, he found himself curiously at peace. He had always regarded babies as good things for other people, something to be personally avoided at all costs. But his heart had gone out to Maria's child. He must think of ways to help her. To help Maria . . . and Umberto for that matter.

* * *

The search for Erik was like the rest of his day—a roundabout. Erik was not in his quarters. He was not with the knights who were assembling under Von Gherens's tongue lash. Von Gherens told Benito to try Manfred and Francesca's rooms. It was where, had Benito thought about it, he should have gone in the first place.

He knocked with some trepidation on the door. Manfred, Benito had noticed, was cavalier about the privacy of others, but protective of his own.

The door opened. Manfred grinned down at him. 'Ah, Benito. So have you run to earth all the taverns in this place, and maybe some exotic dancers?'

Benito shook his head. 'I can't run anything to earth in this place. Besides, I'm trying to stay out of trouble.'

Manfred laughed and opened the door wider. 'That'll be a shock to the world! A first time, I should think. Come in and have a drink. Francesca won't. She enjoyed the captain-general's liquor so much that she won't touch ordinary armor-polish like mine. And Erik is so crossed in love that I'm keeping him off the drink.'

'Um. Is Erik here?'

Manfred nodded. 'He is, indeed. In his personal cloud of gloom worrying about the Atlantic convoy and not this siege. Why? Are you in need of some drill?'

Benito hesitated, then realized that not telling Erik—immediately—would put him in worse trouble than anything. 'I need to talk to him,' he said firmly.

'Talk to me, then,' said Erik from the corner.

'I thought . . . a private word.'

Erik sighed. 'I haven't any advice to give you, Benito.'

Erik plainly wasn't going to make this easy. 'Well, I wasn't really looking for advice. I just heard about a girl called Svanhild—'

Erik crossed the room in a single lunge, picking Benito up by the shirt front. With one hand. 'I have enough of this from Manfred. You leave her name out of it. You leave her out of it! Do you hear me?' He put Benito down with a thump against the wall, glaring at him.

'She's looking for you,' said Benito, in a kind of undignified squeak. He had the satisfaction of seeing Erik totally rocked on his heels.

'What? Where?' demanded the Icelander. The look of hope in Erik's eyes took away the satisfaction.

Benito took a careful step away. 'Erik . . . it's bad news. She's here on Corfu. But she's outside the walls.'

Erik sat down. His blue-gray eyes bored into Benito.

But it was Manfred who spoke. 'Where do you get this from, Benito? This no subject for your practical jokes.' His voice, bantering earlier, was now deadly serious.

Benito held up his hands. 'No joke, I swear, I got it straight from Maria and Umberto, who specifically told me to tell you. It's true. Someone called Svanhild from Vinland, who was on the Atlantic convoy, stopped here so that she could wait and see Erik. Specifically. Maria said she had two brothers with her and a number of other Vinlanders. Only they stayed in a villa outside town. Nobody warned them about the siege.'

Erik's eyes were still boring into him. It was at times like this that Benito understood exactly why the Holy Roman Emperors relied on Clann Harald for their closest bodyguards. Erik Hakkonsen practically shrieked: Deadly!

'Maria, you know . . .' Benito half-babbled. 'Er . . . Katerina's bridesmaid—at the wedding!—was on the ship with her. Svanhild, that is. She asked me—Maria, that is—to tell Erik, I swear it. And her husband Umberto confirmed it.'

Erik got up, took a deep breath, and gave himself a little shake. 'Benito, I owe you an apology.'

Benito shrugged and grinned. And paid back the scores of an entire week of training. 'It's nothing. No one expects logic of a man in love.'

Then he lost his smile. 'I'm sorry that I had to tell you she's out there. You can see fires up and down the length of the Island.'

Erik swallowed. 'Has she got her bodyguard, her brothers and their hearthmen, still with her?'