The Long Sword by Christian Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

declared to collect the tithes to pay the King of France’s ransom and to allow the Pope to recruit mercenaries for his war with the Duke of Milan. But now the Duke of Milan’s daughter will be Queen of France, yes? Now the foolish but brave King John is dead no ransom is required. Talleyrand wanted the crusade as a tool of temporal power in Italy – now he is dead.’
    ‘I know all of this,’ Father Pierre said simply. ‘I am a Christian, not a fool.’
    ‘Then you should believe, as I do, that this is God’s will!’ di Heredia said. ‘And that God can plot more thoroughly and more subtly than the Cardinal Talleyrand or the Pope of the King of France.’
    Father Pierre wrinkled his nose in distaste at di Heredia’s easy blasphemy.
    Di Heredia snorted. ‘King John is dead, and he has been replaced by your candidate, the King of Cyprus. Talleyrand is dead – who better to replace him than you? Now keep Genoa from going to war with Venice, and by Saint George and Saint Maurice, the crusade is a reality. And all the mercenaries that Talleyrand raised for war in Italy will be ours for the faith.’ He smiled like the cunning fox he was: the Pope’s version of John Hawkwood. ‘We will have to restrain the French faction. They will lose much by Talleyrand’s death.’ He leaned forward. ‘The aristocrats will not want you because you cannot be bought, and you are not one of them. There will be consequences.’ He tapped his teeth. ‘The Bishop of Cambrai has lost a great deal with Talleyrand’s death.’
    Fra Peter turned to look at his brother-knight. ‘Tell us?’
    ‘Robert, the Bishop of Cambrai, went straight to the Pope on word of the death of Talleyrand.’ He made a face. ‘I would wager a donkey against a warhorse he asked for command of the crusade, to take the soldiers for himself and his family.’
    Well might you wince, monsieur. That was Avignon. That was our crusade.
    No one even mentioned the Turks.
     
    Juan was attacked. It began to seem as if we were being targeted.
    Anne told me that the Bishop of Cambrai was intending to have a magnificent audience with the Pope. ‘He thinks he will command the crusade,’ she whispered to me.
    ‘Who the hell is he?’ I asked. I suspect I nuzzled her neck or tried to move on to other matters.
    ‘The Count of Geneva’s son, the Count of Savoy’s nephew …’ She shrugged, which made her nipples move against my chest, and we moved on from church politics to other matters.
    Another day of carrying messages for Father Pierre, and Anne told me we were to have an audience with the Pope. She laughed as she shrugged out of her shift. ‘Do other girls talk about leaves and flowers and poetry?’ she asked. ‘I feel I have gone from being your light of love to your spy.’
    Of course I assured her of my ardour.
    She shrugged. ‘You’ll leave me soon enough,’ she said. ‘Your Father Pierre has an audience with the Pope. May I tell you something serious? Your Father Pierre … people love him. But no one in Avignon can imagine how he has come to win the Pope’s ear.’ She leaned over me. ‘Would you – could you – arrange for him to bless me?’
    The path of love and lechery is never a straight one.
     
    The next afternoon, I took a pair of scrolls to the Carmelite house, and another across the city to one of the Roman cardinals. I knew I was followed, and I was growing very careful. When I returned to the Hospital, I had time with Father Pierre. We prayed together, and he showed me a meditation that I still use with my beads, and then he asked me if I wished to confess.
    I am a poor liar. It is one of my best virtues, I think. I confessed Anne, and begged him to shrive her.
    He shrugged. ‘I would bless her soul for her own sake, but for yours I will demand that you not sin with her again,’ he said. He didn’t smile, but there was a smile in his voice. ‘The sins of the young,’ he said softly.
     
    On the eleventh of June, we were summoned to