Страница 100 из 156
"No, I'm afraid he died in the Vatican, when it was overrun and burned about a month after the Change," Nigel said. "I led a mission to Italy four years ago on King Charles' orders, primarily to remove works of art or store them safely-a gesture, and a frustrating gesture, since there was so much: In any event, there are groups of civilized survivors in Italy, not just the scattering of neo-savages you find in France or Spain. Some small enclaves in the Alps, a clump of towns and villages in Umbria, and a somewhat bigger clump in Sicily around E
The clerics sighed and crossed themselves. "He is with the saints now. There is still some organized presence of the Church there in Italy, then?"
"Yes; at least one cardinal: what was his name, Alleyne? We met him briefly in Magione."
"A German name, Father Dmwoski: Yes, Cardinal Ratzinger; he was in charge, and had regular links with the other parts of Italy and southern Switzerland."
"Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger?" Father Plank said, giving Alleyne a keen look as the younger Loring nodded.
Nigel went on: "There was talk of a general Council once regular sea-travel resumes further afield, to discuss the implications of the Change. Talk of reunion with the Church of England, too. And about eighteen months before we left, we heard that the College had been summoned, though it was expected to take some time-the largest surviving group of Catholics is in South America, of course, and conditions there are chaotic at best and a nightmare at worst. So you gentlemen should have a new pope by now, probably the cardinal we met, though God alone knows when we here will have regular communications with Europe again. I'm sorry we can't give you more details, but we had other priorities."
Both the clerics looked pleased; the abbot nearly rubbed his hands, and Plank went on:
"Cardinal Ratzinger is an extremely sound man, a theologian of note, with a special devotion to our own St. Benedict. Mother Church is in good hands, then. That's very good news indeed, Sir Nigel, and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts."
My oath, though, that was a strange visit, Nigel thought as he inclined his head in polite acknowledgment.
He'd always liked Italy before the Change; friends of his had lived in Tuscany, or Chiantishire as it was sometimes called, although he'd found their playing at peasants in the over-restored farmhouses that had once housed real ones rather tiresome. And after the Change, the empty parts of the peninsula were simply more of the all-too-familiar dangerous wilderness, the ruined cities an old story by then. The living Umbrian towns, though:
It was very strange to see the Switzer pikemen under the walls of the Badia: that gave me a bit of a chill. I half expected Sir John Hawkwood and the White Company to come over the hill next, or at least Sigismondo Malatesta and a troop of condottieri.
"The Church spa
He shook back his shoulders. "And so, back to the immediate problem."
"If you could tell me exactly what forces you have available, then?"
"We can commit twelve hundred troops; all our knight-brethren, four hundred heavy infantry and the best of the town and country militia," Dmwoski said decisively. "That will leave enough over to hold these walls, at a pinch. And I will lead the force we commit, of course. But we ca
Nigel fought down a yawn and shook his head. "Drawing them out of their camp and into the field we can manage," he said. "This will require careful coordination, though. We have to draw them off, but not so far that we're out of supporting range of your force, or we risk being defeated separately."
"Very careful coordination." Dmwoski smiled. "And clear heads. I suggest we begin tomorrow with my staff, after Lauds."
The older monk rose to lead them to their beds. Dmwoski's hand rose to sign the Cross.
"Pax Vobiscum."
Castle Todenangst, Willamette Valley, Oregon
March 6th, 2008/Change Year 9
Rudi Mackenzie looked up at walls and turrets and ba
The fortress-palace had been built on an old butte just south of the road; carved out of it by brute force, and then the remains bound in ferroconcrete, but despite its massiveness there was a curious grace to the great complex. A curtain wall with towers and gates surrounded it; the skyward-thrusting bulk of the keep rose above where the hill had been planed away to make its base; the high walls of the donjon were covered in granite of a pale pearl color, and towers higher yet were spaced around its oval length, with ba
A single tower taller than all the rest shone on the southernmost height, its conical roof gilded, but the circular shaft of the tower sheathed in some smooth black stone whose crystal inclusions glittered almost painfully bright.
A large village stood just on the northern side of the road half a mile short of the turnoff to the castle, unwalled but all looking new-built as well, houses in brick with tile roofs, a gray church with a square steeple, and a hall. He got a whiff of manure and pigsties from it, but the stock was neatly pe
It wasn't the first time he'd heard cheers since they'd entered the Protector's lands, but:
They sound a lot more like they mean it this time, he thought. I guess they like her more here. Or maybe they like her mom and dad more here. None of them look hungry, at least, not in this place.
The men-at-arms looking on from behind the crowd still gave him a bit of a chill, though. He didn't like the way the villagers moved aside when one walked close. And it was odd to have people pointing and murmuring at him, fright on their faces, as if he was some sort of exotic, dangerous wild beast.