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  As time passed, she found that word had plainly got around: more women came to consult her. And it became more and more difficult to actually manage to do her own housework. Someone would just do it for her. That was not something that she'd ever thought she'd miss. On the plus side it did mean that entertaining became very easy. She'd felt guilty about it, and the small gifts too. But she understood all too well that to refuse would hurt their pride. And when pride is almost all you have, it is very precious.

  She was very sure that Benito would bring Prince Manfred and Eric Hakkonsen to visit their apartment. Once it would have terrified her to have such elevated people in her home. Now, she looked forward to it, with some pleasure. Besides, when you came down to it, they were remarkably human. Perhaps not ordinary—well, definitely not ordinary—but still people, despite their rank.

  * * *

  Benito was trying to deal with the mountain of things that had to be sorted out before he left, when someone knocked tentatively on the door to his office. Benito ground his teeth in fury. He had given very strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed. He refused to even look up from his desk.

  "Who the hell is it this time? Tell them to go away, Spiro!" he shouted to his secretary. He recognized that timid knock.

  Instead, somebody opened his door. "And there I thought you would be pleased to see us again," said Erik.

  The carefully sorted papers and documents went flying. Benito nearly knocked his desk over and landed on his face in the process of vaulting it. Erik grinned from the bear-hug, "You're really not suited to desk work, Benito. You nearly broke your neck there. A fine way to treat it after all the care we took looking after you during the siege."

  Benito attempted—and failed—to throw Erik over his hip, grinning so widely that his ears were in danger.

  "You've gotten fat and sloppy since I've been away," said Erik, also beaming. "We need to practice again."

  "Excellent," said Manfred from where he was blocking the doorway to Benito's secretary's office. "Then he can beat you up for a while. I need a break."

  "What would you prefer?" asked Erik, cracking his knuckles. "Fingers? An arm?"

  Benito had stepped back and stood looking at the Icelander, while still holding on to his upper arms. There were lines on that handsome clean-cut face that had not been there before. But at least Erik was able to smile again, even if there was a sadness in his eyes that Benito suspected would never quite go away. Erik was back his to dry jesting, too.

  He also plainly understood the way that Benito was looking at him. "I won't say that time heals Benito. But you get used to it."

  Not knowing quite what to say, Benito just nodded. There was some things that went beyond saying anyway. Suddenly, only having to part from Maria for four months of each year seemed a very small price to pay for getting her back. He knew that Erik would have settled for that, or made any other bargain, to see his Svanhild again.

  "Let's go and get ourselves a drink," said Manfred gruffly. "Even some of that vile kakotrigi."

  Benito laughed. "It's not that bad. Actually, I am getting to like it."

  Manfred looked into the office. "Want some help getting this lot into the fire? Best thing you can do with papers, honestly."

  Behind Manfred, Benito's secretary flapped his hands as if he were a large panicking goose, trying to take off. Erik beckoned to the man. "Pick this lot up. Sort it out. Make sure that he has any relevant bits that he has to actually read clearly marked. And if you get any wrong you can explain to me just why your life is of any further value."

  Manfred chuckled. "When you finished sorting them out I think my uncle could use your help in Mainz. No wonder Icelanders are known to be such prudent traders. It's the way they keep records. Now let us go and find some wine. We' ve got quite a lot to tell you. And you might as well enjoy your kakotrigi now because I have a feeling that you are going to be joining the Venetian fleet shortly."

  Benito gaped at him. "How in heaven' s name did you know that?"

  Manfred nodded to Erik. "See? It seems that Eneko Lopez got a message through after all."

  Erik scowled at Benito. "You had to say that, didn't you? Now he'll think he's an expert at manipulating the likes of Eneko Lopez."

  Benito snorted with laughter. "There are some people that it just doesn't pay to try and fool. And he is one of them."

  "Now you're making his head even bigger. Let us go and find this wine. I dare say you have some in your quarters. It's more likely to be private than a dockside tavern."

  "Besides, I'll get to make eyes at that pretty wife of his," said Manfred with a grin. "I like to live dangerously."

  "And she is the dangerous one," said Erik.

  "I knew that," said Manfred. He punched Benito on the shoulder, in what he probably thought was a gentle manner. "You didn't think I was afraid of the hero of Corfu?"

  "It's my wine, and my wife," said Benito, rubbing his shoulder, and leading them off. Privately, he found it heartwarming that they thought of Maria as his wife. That was more than the church was prepared to do.

  Chapter 15

  "How did you know that they were coming?" asked Benito, looking at the wine goblets and the platter of pickled squid, olives and wedges of frittata.

  "Who cares?" Manfred cheerfully ambled forward and bowed to his hostess, gesturing at the food and bottles. "You should be grateful, you dog. It matters not if she consulted the entrails of a seagull, or received a divine visitation. She has provided wine and food. And, as usual, I'm starving."

  Erik came forward also and bowed and kissed her hand. Maria blushed slightly. In the canals, a friend would have given her a hug and kissed her on both cheeks. She decided that it was time he learned some canal manners. She stepped forward and hugged him. He hesitated a moment and then hugged her back. "Gently," she gasped. "I'm not a bear that you have to squeeze to death."

  It was his turn to blush. Manfred pushed him aside. "I should have gotten Francesca to give you lessons. This is how you do it." He enclosed Maria in an embrace only fractionally less bear-like, but also with a kiss on each cheek. "Better?" he said cheerfully. "Mind you, he's a braver man than I am, is Erik. I was more wary about hugging young Benito's wife. At his age men are very possessive."

  "Well," said Benito, "I would be jealous except that Erik told me that you were starting to become senile and not really responsible for your actions anymore."

  Maria laughed. "Don't worry, Benito. If they become too familiar, I will make them hold Alessia. I have found that she controls most men better than I ever will."

  "And how is the young charmer?" asked Manfred, looking at the rocking crib.

  "She likes to be moving when she goes to sleep," explained Benito.

  "Like her father, she has restless bones," said Maria. "She sleeps best if she is very tired and we are traveling."

  "Of course it could just be that she likes the rocking motion," said Benito, "but that does not allow it to be all my fault." He grinned and assumed a posture of deep dignity. "We fathers have our responsibilities."

  "We have a few of those too," said Manfred. "Currently, in the shape of a group of Mongols from the Ilkhan that we are supposed to do something useful with. We're hoping to put them on a ship heading for the Black Sea. We thought you'd be the best person to deliver them."

  Benito blinked. "What?"

  They explained.

  "So," said Manfred, "we are relying on you to get these Mongols to the lands of the Golden Horde. Hopefully, that will stop Erik muttering incomprehensibilities at our rather useless horseboy."

  "What?" said Benito again.

  "I was trying to learn some of the Mongol tongue," explained Erik. "The horseboy is supposed to be teaching me. In exchange, he avoids doing any work. He's better at that than at teaching, I'm afraid."

  Benito rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. "I think I may be able to deliver your Mongol emissary, and possibly without mobilizing a fleet and subduing Constantinople.
"

  "Don't tell me," said Manfred, grinning. "You have a new plan which avoids ships entirely. You're going to disguise us as Magyars and persuade Emeric of Hungary to send us there with a personal escort."

  "That's not a bad idea," said Benito, "but not quite the one I had in mind."

  "No doubt something worse. Why do we always fall in with these lunatics, Erik?" Manfred helped himself to more wine. "I mean, he's better than that mad bastard up in Telemark. The Turk would have attached all of us by leashes to the feet of well-trained eagles and flown us across. Screaming, because that's what we did mostly when involved with his clever 'solutions'. I suppose we should be grateful. With Benito, at least we just end up as nervous wrecks, shaking a lot."

  Benito had heard about their misadventures with a certain Jarl Cair in Telemark. They sounded a little too magical to him, and far too involved in matters he understood less well than warfare or thievery. Cair was a problem he'd rather not face, by the bits that Erik had left unsaid. Fortunately, he wasn't likely to be his problem. Telemark was a long way from Corfu or Venice. "While it does involve crossing the land of the white eagles, I hadn't yet decided to attach you to any of them. I cannot say that it isn't tempting though, as an idea."

  "And where are you going to find enough eagles to carry something that size, especially in armor?" asked Erik, jabbing a thumb at Manfred.

  "He means Illyria," said Maria. "The land of the white eagles."

  "I see he hasn't gotten any less crazy since we met him," said Erik. "It would probably be easier to disguise us as Magyar. From what I've heard, it would take a fairly large land army to fight its way across the Balkans. And the terrain is hell. Straight up-and-down, apparently. Rough on anything except the locals. Bad for a big slow-moving field army."

  Benito smiled. "There used to be a road, a Roman road across. As it happens I have been in . . . ah, negotiations with Iskander Beg. The Lord of the Mountains, as they call him."

  "What he means is that he went and did more crazy things, and got himself accepted into one of their tribes," said Maria tartly. "I was very angry with him, and he's been trying to persuade me ever since that there are great advantages to us being close friends with our ancient enemy."

  "Well, there are some advantages, if they have stopped trying to kill you," said Erik.

  Benito laughed. "I wouldn't go that far. Illyrian ideas of hospitality are enough to kill most people. But I do think it would be possible to have them take your party of Mongols off your hands and escort them across the mountains. That would solve one of the tactical issues that's really been bothering me. Forcing our way through the Bosphorus is going to be tricky enough. If we find that the Byzantines have been reinforced while we're in the Black Sea, things could become very awkward indeed—especially if we've suffered losses."

  "Planning your campaign already?" asked Erik.

  "He's collecting maps," said Maria. "Some of them smell."

  "And none of them are too accurate," said Benito grumpily. "Or at least no two of them seem to agree with each other exactly. I'm hoping that they'll have better quality maps and more information in Venice. There has to have been more to this than one message from the Ilkhan."

  Manfred nodded. "I think you'll find that is true. Petro Dorma and the Council of Ten maintain a pretty effective and widespread network of spies and assassins. So does the Holy Roman Empire. You know it often only takes one keystone piece of information to make it all fit together. From what you say, they've been conferring. It may even be that this confirms information that hasn't come back. Jagiellon uses some means which are denied to the rest of us to maintaining his security. And working in his territories is a high-risk profession."

  "Petro is not exactly a rash individual," said Erik. "I think you can guarantee that he knows more than just the information we sent from the Ilkhan."

  "I hope so," said Benito. "What we have now is not much to plan a campaign upon."

  "Why don't you come down and discuss them with Falkenberg and Von Gherens? You wouldn't find much better advice," said Manfred. "Just so long as you bring the wine with you. They're too expensive for me to provide for at the dockside tavern. For men of God, the knights drink far too much."

  "I've noticed that you only complain now that you're paying," said Erik. "And they drink far less than you do. We also need to discuss the possibility of sending Mongols across the Balkan mountains with the tarkhan himself. He's not the easiest of men to read or get along with."

  Manfred grunted an agreement. "The Mongols keep to themselves. A couple of the warriors speak a little Frankish. So does the tarkhan. But he doesn't talk to anyone."

  "I suppose keeping to himself is part of what an envoy has to do," said Erik.

  "Huh," said Manfred. "Old Eberhart can and will talk to anyone, usually at such length that they will pay him to go away. And my uncle says that he is one of the most effective diplomatic envoys in the Empire."

  "Still, talkative or not, we could use the Mongols not coming south." Benito paused. "Actually, what we really want is information from the Black Sea. Or better still . . . An alliance with the Golden Horde and we would have successfully isolated Alexis and flanked Emeric, and threatened Jagiellon. By a stroke of diplomacy we would have won more than the Knights of the Holy Trinity have in the last fifty years."

  "Remind me not to get you to explain that to Falkenberg!" said Manfred, laughing. "Still, the idea is not without some temptation. I wonder if we can send old Eberhart with the Ilkhan's Mongols to the Golden Horde?"

  "He is not that bad," said Erik. "A bit prosy, that's all. But he has served you very well on occasions. Bought us a lot of time."

  "He's good at that," granted Manfred. "I'm still in favor of sending him to treat with the Golden Horde, though. It's as good an opportunity as the Empire has had to make contact with them. As usual, Benito makes a good point."

  "It wouldn't work," said Erik. "They are very hierarchy conscious. Well, in a way. They believe any Mongol is the social equivalent of a noble among other people. They would only treat prince to prince. That's always made finding ambassadors very hard. Eberhart was telling me about it. Actually, he was telling both of us about it, but you were asleep."

  "The Empire has at least half a dozen impoverished principalities in it," said Manfred. "A fair number of princes should be willing to take on lucrative and non-energetic employment."

  "Eberhart commented on that also," said Erik dryly. "It's true enough that there is no shortage of princes. However, can you think of any one of them that you would trust to buy a horse for you without them coming home with a three-legged donkey? That is, assuming that they didn't drink away the money before they even got to the horse fair. Most of them are not impoverished for no reason."

  Manfred grinned. "Prince Heinrich of Swabia. The perfect choice. He could be guaranteed to come home from the horse fair with a fine pair of dead ducks and a price on his head. As a diplomatic envoy, he would make a very fine hat stand."

  "Curiously, the very example that Eberhart mentioned," said Erik.

  "I do see the point," admitted Manfred. "Still, in terms of value to the Empire, and the fact that the Mongols have a very strict code of honor about the treatment of diplomats, you'd think my uncle could have found someone."

  Erik shrugged. "The problem is also one of finding the right opportunity to talk actual business. According to Eberhart, they're experts at talking for a very long time and not saying anything."

  "If he thinks that they're good at that, then heaven help any ordinary prince," said Manfred. "So will you see what you can do about our Mongols for us?"

  Benito nodded. "It might be best if I went in person," he said nonchalantly.

  "Not all the way to the Black Sea!" Maria said sternly. "Petro Dorma himself has sent orders for you to go to Venice."

  Benito pulled a wry face. "True enough. On the other hand, we could get such a lot out of somebody from our side going along to have a good look. It's mo
stly going to be sea battles, this campaign. Except of course for Constantinople. I've a mind to use stealth there, if at all possible."

  "It shouldn't be," said Erik.

  Manfred took a deep pull at his wine glass. "We're talking about Emperor Alexis here," he said. "Anybody else would take preemptive measures. Among other things, Alexis believes that he's a military genius. He's also still deeply in debt, and likely to stay there. It might be easier just to buy our passage to and fro."

  Benito shook his head. "Not if we are in a bidding war with Jagiellon. Then Alexis could afford to trade the two of us off against each other. By reputation, Alexis does not stay bought."

  "So Eberhart said," said Erik. "You really have to give up sleeping when he talks, Manfred."

  "I think I was half awake for that part," said Manfred. "So tell me, Benito, are there any delightful young ladies with acrobatic skills you'd like to introduce me to here?"

  "There had better not be," said Maria.

  Benito laughed. "I've gotten respectable these days." He paused briefly. "From this I gather that Francesca went through with her plans to go to Alexandria?"

  "Unfortunately," said Erik. "I thought that I had persuaded him out of that sort of behavior. It appears that I hadn't, and that it was just Francesca's influence."

  "I wouldn't have called it influence, myself," Manfred said. "More like affluence."

  Everyone laughed, Erik while blushing. Benito found that quite funny. After all, Svanhild had been even more "affluent" than Francesca. "I am sure," he said, "that all the ladies of our beautiful isle, some of whom may easily be both acrobatic and even possibly well endowed, will be delighted to make your acquaintance, now that Francesca's gone."

  "Quite a few of them were interested even when she was around," said Maria, with a secretive little smile. "They are going to be a bit more aggressive about it this time, I think."

  Erik groaned. "I hope we can get these Mongols heading off across Illyria as soon as possible. Then I can get him back on the ship and out to sea where the worst I have to worry about is predatory mermaids."