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.'
Erik smiled dryly. 'I don't think the Venetians would like it much either. Charles Fredrik is forgetting his writ doesn't run here.'
A bell began to toll, furiously, over at the piazza. 'Sounds like a fire or something. We'd better get back.'
* * *
This was Venice. Word, racing like wildfire along the canals and alleys, beat them back to the embassy. The doorman greeted them with 'Milan and Verona have embargoed Venetian barges coming up the Po and the Adige!'
Manfred took a deep breath. 'It's starting,' he said to Erik.
When Erik got back up to his room he found the quill pen had been moved. Slightly--but enough for him to notice. He hoped they'd enjoyed his letter regarding his wishes of best health for his sisters.
* * *
Francesca pulled a wry face. 'Men always think there is a profit to be made from war.' She looked at the emerald Manfred had given her. 'There is, but for very few. For most, even the whores in an army's tail, war is a drain.'
She sighed. 'Now it seems you want me to become one of those who make a profit out of it.'
Manfred showed he'd learned a great deal--about tact, at least. 'In this particular case, you can bet that the Holy Roman Emperor does not want war.'
Francesca looked speculatively at him. 'And how would you know, Manfred?'
Manfred chuckled. 'I've met Charles Fredrik a couple of times. He's an old woman who likes to stay in Mainz and fiddle with his map collection. He hates changing borders.'
Erik had to admit it was masterfully done. He didn't know if it would fool someone like Francesca. But as they'd learned from Giuliano, the Venetian fencing-master, bravura was sometimes enough. This time it looked like Giuliano was right. But there was also the double feint . . .
Francesca nodded. 'True. The Emperor has small running wars on the northern and eastern borders, but he has a reputation for not bestirring himself. And I'll bet the Empire is richer for it.'
'There is a time for war,' said Erik, mildly.
