'Of course.' That was his own plan. Better to let Doneto verbalize it, though. Part of that development of trust thing.
Doneto said, 'Go tell tales. I'm sure the others have had offers from that devil Renfrow, too. And service to the Emperor would be attractive to a certain sort.'
'Renfrow?' Else asked.
'Ferris Renfrow is the man trying to enlist you. He's one of Johannes's favorites. Baseborn but one of the most powerful men in the Grail Empire despite that.'
Else joined Pinkus Ghort, Just Plain Joe, and Bo Biogna. They were working on a cheese and a salami and did not have much mouth to spare. Biogna did ask, 'You feeling better now, Piper?”
'Some. I don't think they drugged me this time. I'm hungry. Give me some of that cheese.' In the nature of things, the salami would be mostly pork. 'And give me one of those sausages you're trying to hide, Pinkus.' That would be pork, too. But it would be juicy and tasty and about the only thing he would miss when this captivity came to an end.
Scowling, Ghort asked, 'What was all that with the Principatй?'
'I was holding him up. The Imperials want to recruit me for a campaign to establish the Emperor's rights in cities that are supposed to belong to him. Bo. Joe. Did you guys tell them something to make me look good? They seem to think they can trust me with my own battalion.'
'Shit.' Ghort did not sound happy. 'And I was thinking about giving you another sausage.'
'What?'
'I'm jealous. They didn't offer me nothing that good. And I did every bit as good a job as you did.”
'Better. I've only got three of my guys still in one piece. And the only one of them worth two dead flies is a mule.'
'But a real special mule,' Bo Biogna said.
'Hey!' Joe growled. 'Don't go making fun.'
Ghort said, 'Calm down, Joe. We all know that Pig Iron is the best man.'
Else asked, 'So what did they want from you, Pinkus?' He wondered if Ghort would tell the same story twice.
'Mainly, to stick with the Principatй and report back what the Church is up to. Same thing they probably asked everybody to do.'
'They didn't ask me,' Joe said. 'They never asked me much of anything, neither time.'
'Me, neither,' Biogna grumbled. 'Story of my life. I'd a done it. Double pay. An' I got no use for neither side, so let me get fuckin' rich sellin' them both out to each other.'
Else told him, “They probably realized that, Bo. You were probably too eager.'
'Yeah. I ain't so bright sometimes.'
During the day all of the captives enjoyed a few minutes with the inquisitors. Six of the first twelve men to go did not return. Imperial people came for their possessions. As always, those refused to talk.
'Something's going on,' Ghort declared, compelled to state the obvious.
Else grunted. 'And they haven't pulled in you, me, Bo, Joe, or the Principatй yet.'
'Don't forget Pig Iron.'
'I haven't. But they have. You notice, they never question him.'
'We ought to complain.'
'You go first.'
Just Plain Joe was the next soldier taken. He wad back ten minutes later, grinning from ear to ear. 'I done it, Pipe. I guv 'em nine kinds a hell on account of they don't respect Pig Iron the way they do the rest of the troops.'
'Good for you, Joe,' Ghort said. 'I'm gonna do that myself. Pipe, I figure we're about to get out of here. That's the only way all this makes sense. The guys not coming back are the ones going over to Johannes.'
Only Bronte Doneto himself remained to be called again when Else was taken for the last time.
Else twitched and shrugged, uncomfortable and itchy in badly fitted formal clothing. He wore it in order to escort Bronte Doneto to an audience with the Grail Emperor.
Pinkus Ghort kept reminding him, 'I told you so.'
Principate Doneto was not pleased. Ghort and Else were his only supporting cast. He felt he deserved an entourage. He was a Prince of the Church. He was a cousin of the Patriarch. He had Patriarchs among his ancestors, despite Church policies concerning clerical celibacy.
'We should've brought Pig Iron,' Ghort said. 'We could've dressed him as ugly as us, no problem.'
Else scratched and fidgeted. 'Pig Iron would've been more comfortable than I am. And wouldn't feel half as ridiculous.'
Doneto grinned, but that flash of polished teeth vanished immediately. The Prince of the Church took over. The Principatй scowled, impatient with this familiar humor.
The Counts of Plemenza had been wealthy. Recollections of that wealth remained, though the Truncella themselves were out of the Dimmel Palace and lived on only in circumstances so reduced that they could afford staffs of fewer than forty servants.
The antechamber where the three waited boasted silk-upholstered furniture, oil portraits of past Truncella greats, busts that appeared to have survived from antiquity, and a tapestry from the last century portraying a confrontation between Chaldarean crusaders and Praman warriors.
Noting Else's interest, the Principatй reported, 'That would be the Battle of the Well of Remembrance. I had an ancestor die in that battle.'
'Ah!' A closer examination of the banners portrayed helped.
Sha-lug remembered it as the Battle of the Four Armies, an abomination in which Praman fought Praman, with the Arnhanders aiding the weaker side. At the time the Kaifate of Qasr al-Zed and the Kaifate of al-Minphet were struggling for control of the eastern approaches to the Wells of Ihrian. The Lucidians had help from the Crusader states. The Sha-lug were supported by swarms of Ishoti tribal auxiliaries out of Peqaa.
The battle did not take place near the Well of Remembrance. The westerners named it for the Well because both sides were hurrying to grab it before the other could get there. An unplanned encounter battle took place on the eastern edge of the Plain of Judgement. Thanks to the insanely fanatic Ishoti the situation devolved into chaos. Each side brought more and more swords up to support those already engaged. The epic slaughter swept back and forth until the mercurial Ishoti suddenly lost their taste for blood and ran away.
The battle, by whatever name, was the bloodiest of the long contest for control of the Holy Lands. And the least decisive. It changed nothing.
A year later the Sha-lug and crusaders joined forces to evict the Lucidians from those few territories they had captured after the Battle of the Four Armies.
In the Holy Lands alliances were as fluid as imagination, treachery, and shortsightedness could write them.
Pinkus Ghort said, 'Pipe's folks were still pagan when that cluster fuck went down.'
A majordomo type materialized. 'His Imperial Majesty will see you now.' He bowed slightly to the Principatй.
'Show time.' Ghort began to adjust his clothing. He and Else followed the Principatй, two steps behind, flanked out to either side.
The audience hall was unimpressive. It was a room fifteen feet by twenty-something. The only furniture was one heavy wooden chair. That was occupied by a dark, ugly little man. He was dressed as though he planned to ride to the hunt once he got this unpleasant chore out of the way. This was Hansel, Johannes Blackboots, the Grail Emperor, Elector of Kretien, and terror of Sublime V's cohorts.
The Emperor wore black boots. Of course.
Else pegged him immediately as a man determined to live up to the reputation awarded him by rumor. He liked being the Ferocious Little Hans.
At least twenty people crowded the room, mostly men with shields and spears. They lined the walls. A handful of unarmed people surrounded the Emperor. Three of those appeared to be Johannes's children. Two were attractive young women. The third was a thin, pallid boy. The men posed nearest Johannes would be his closest
