Night Blooming by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Read Free Book Online Page B

swimming, and that added to his discomfort, for even that tenuous connection to the earth was gone now. When the horse’s front hooves struck the first rise of the bank on the far side, a little of his misery abated.
    The peasants were busy struggling to haul the ferry out of the river and up the bank. They shouted to one another and gave terse commands; Otfrid ordered Rorthger to bring the mules to help, which Rorthger did at once, moving them into position with the ease of long experience, setting the draw-lines across the mules’ chests and starting them pulling. The sledge lurched forward, then slid up the bank, coming to a stop ten strides from the river, the peasants leaping off to unload the sledge.
    “Come on, then!” Otfrid called out to Rakoczy and the men still in the river.
    Rakoczy sighed as his horse clambered up the bank to stand next to the sledge. He did his best to conceal his discomfort, but he also took the time to press as much water out of his clothes as he could.
    “Don’t worry, Magnatus,” said Fratre Angelomus. “On such a day as this, you’ll soon be dry.”
    “That will please me very well.” Rakoczy watched while the peasants put his crates and chests back on the mules’ pack-saddles under Rorthger’s supervision.
    “You dislike swimming?” Fratre Angelomus inquired with false concern.
    “I am not comfortable in running water,” Rakoczy allowed, knowing that the monk had watched him in the river.
    “You fear drowning; many do, for they do not put their faith in Christ and His Mercy,” said Fratre Angelomus. “A pity. Karlus himself is a great swimmer. He has a pool, such as the Romans of old enjoyed. He expects his companions to swim with him.”
    “I shall keep that in mind,” said Rakoczy. “Thank you, Fratre, for telling me.” He did not mention that he had heard of this swimming pool some years ago, when the project was first begun.
    “If he calls you to his Court at Aachen, you will have to swim; all his Majori, Potenti, Primori, Illustri, and Magnati are required to swim with him,” Fratre Angelomus said, clearly enjoying himself.
    “And so I shall,” said Rakoczy, and peeled back his glove to get the silver coins he had placed there. He counted out the six of them and held them out to the leader of the peasants. “One for each of you, and an extra for your patron saint. You have served us well.” He wondered where the shrine of Sant’ Wigbod was, for he saw no sign of it at the ford.
    The leader took the coins and uttered a string of garbled phrases, the gist of which seemed to be gratitude for such payment He handed out the coins to his fellows, holding the sixth aloft in what appeared to be a dedication. Then they made their way down the bank, eased the sledge into the water, and worked it across the river, using the ropes far more easily than before. One of the men began to sing a vigorous song, and the others joined in.
    “They sound like howling wolves, and they think such howling will please their patron,” Fratre Angelomus complained, looking over his shoulder at the peasants. “Hardly more than beasts,” he declared, then swung round to confront Rakoczy. “You should not have given them so much.”
    “I provided money for Sant’ Wigbod, so the Church is not deprived; how can you disapprove of that?” Rakoczy said brusquely; the water left him enervated, the sun was adding to his discomfort, and his tongue was sharper than he usually allowed it to be. “Let us move on. The day will wane in a while.”
    Otfrid raised his hand to order them on. “The inn is not far away now. Be glad of that,” he said. “We should all be dry by then.”
    “We will have to wax the saddles,” complained Stracholf. “And all our leather.” He put his hand to his metal-studded leather hauberk, his face set in disapproval.
    Rakoczy knew what was expected of him. “I can give you more of the oil I offered you before,” he said to all the men. “It will restore