Borne in Blood by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Read Free Book Online

château. He spoke in the German-tinged French of the region. “Please use the rear door, and remove your boots before you enter. While you make your way there, I’ll fetch Comte Franciscus.” He nodded toward the stable. “I trust your horse is in the grooms’ hands?”
    “My mule, actually; yes. They manage the mud better than horses,” said Gutesohnes, his French heavily accented with his native German. He backed down the steps and did as the steward had bade him, calling out as he went, “Otto Gutesohnes of Waldenstadt Messenger Service, with a delivery for Comte Franciscus. I am supposed to hand him the item in person.” He cleared his throat. “You’re over a league back from the lake, and the directions I was given were very poor, or I should have arrived an hour ago.”
    “No matter; you are here now.” Closing the door, Balduin went along the corridor to the study, and knocked on the door. “There is a messenger here for the Comte; an Otto Gutesohnes. He has brought something in a case for personal delivery. He didn’t say what it is.”
    “Merci. The Comte is in his laboratory,” answered Rogier from within; he came to the door and opened it, addressing Balduin directly. “I will inform the Comte of this arrival at once. See the messenger is fed and given an opportunity to rest. He must have had a hard ride coming here, with the roads so wet. Tell him the Comte will join him in about twenty minutes.”
    “Very good,” said Balduin, and continued on to the rear door immediately next to the pantry when he called out, “Uchtred, a messenger has arrived.”
    “I heard,” said the chef, coming into the kitchen corridor. “There is a fire in the rear parlor. Let him rest there. I’ll put together a small meal for him, and give him something hot to drink. The Comte will not object.”
    “I will attend to it,” said Balduin, opening the outer door and waiting for Gutesohnes to appear. He noticed the midden was already steaming, an excellent sign in this laggardly April, and May less than a week off.
    Gutesohnes appeared, breathing a little hard, his dispatch-case held tightly to his chest. “If you’ll hold this for me”—he proffered the case—“I’ll take off my boots. And my coat.”
    “Very good,” said Balduin automatically, accepting the dispatch-case.
    “I’ve come from Zurich,” Gutesohnes said as he steadied himself against the door frame with one hand and worked his boot off his foot with the other. “Shall I leave these outside?”
    “For the moment; I’ll have the under-footman clean them.” Balduin’s mouth pursed with distaste at the thought of the chore.
    “Danke,” said Gutesohnes as he set down one boot and went to work on the other.
    “How long ago did you leave Zurich?” Balduin asked, truly curious. “The weather has not been good.”
    “I left eleven days ago; between the mud and that last snowstorm, I was fortunate it didn’t take longer to get here. This is my third stop along Lake Geneva.” He put his second boot down, peeled off his coat, and stepped into the small entry-way. “Where shall I hang this?”
    Balduin indicated pegs on the wall, then swung the door closed. “The sun is warm, but the shadows are still cold.”
    “That they are,” said Gutesohnes with feeling. “And this house must hold the damp.”
    “So if you will follow me?” Balduin said, handing the dispatch-case back to Gutesohnes; he led the way to the rear parlor, opening the door to the cozy chamber for the messenger. “If you will sit, refreshments will be brought to you directly. Do not hesitate to ask for more if you are hungry. The Comte will join you shortly.” He was about to close the door when Gutesohnes stopped him.
    “May I have a basin of warm water to wash my hands?”
    “Certainly,” said Balduin, a bit nonplussed. “At once. Dietbold will bring it.”
    “Thank you,” said Gutesohnes said as he pulled off his heavy gloves and set them on the table in