fine-boned face; but then he too smiled and nodded, and turned back to his brethren. Tannhauser motioned to Bors.
"Let's conclude our affairs with the captain and seek out Brother Starkey later."
As Tannhauser stepped up the main gangplank, Bors put a hand of warning on his arm. Three men came down the walkway, the sun at their backs. Two wore Dominican robes, and odd companions they made because one, in size, would have made two of the other. Behind them camea Spaniard in his twenties, lean as a whip and dressed in a fine black doublet. His eyes and mouth were depraved and he had the look of a murderer. At his waist hung both dagger and sword. The larger of the monks walked with the bearing of a prince and the humility of a pauper. His path was arrayed against Tannhauser's and as he passed from the glare of the light, Tannhauser saw his face and felt his gut clench.
Tannhauser said, "Ludovico Ludovici."
"The Inquisitor?" said Bors.
The world in which Tannhauser lived might well have seemed wide to the mass of common men, but because of that very selectivity it was smaller than the map on which he moved. The map of villainy was smaller still. He felt his skin stretch taut around his skull.
He said, "Ludovico sent Petrus Grubenius to the stake."
Bors took his shoulders and tried to maneuver him out of Ludovico's path. "The past is past. Let's look to our business."
"I was a brute and Petrus made me a man. He was my teacher. He was my friend."
"And it's a fool who cherishes an enemy he can't fight."
Tannhauser yielded to Bors's strength and took a step back; but he didn't take his eyes from Ludovico's face and he saw that the Inquisitor now studied him as he approached. The shorter monk, a sallow cove with disdainful features and sweating under two heavy satchels, made to walk past them as if skirting a noxious midden, but at the last moment Ludovico stopped and turned and regarded Tannhauser with courtesy. He indicated his waxy confrere.
"May I present Father Gonzaga, the legate of our Holy Office in Messina."
Gonzaga, perplexed by Ludovico's tarriance, managed a nod.
"This is-Anacleto."
The soulless young Spaniard stared at Tannhauser without warmth.
"I am Fra Ludovico. But in that respect you seem to have the advantage."
Ludovico's voice rolled over him, calm and deep as a windless sea. Yet beneath its surface lurked monsters. Tannhauser gestured to Bors. "Bors of Carlisle." Then he gave a short bow. "Captain Mattias Tannhauser."
Ludovico's attention was engaged. "Your reputation goes before you."
"Every cock is king on his own dunghill," Tannhauser replied.
The bluntness of the remark took Ludovico by surprise and his sensual mouth broke into a smile, as if discovering how to do so for the first time. An affronted gasp escaped Gonzaga's throat. Anacleto watched Tannhauser as a cat watches a bird in a barnyard. Bors watched Anacleto, and fidgeted with fingers that would rather have held a knife.
"You're a philosopher," said Ludovico. "And a keen one."
Despite the old hatred rekindled within, Tannhauser found himself warming to the monk. A sign that Ludovico was more dangerous than he could imagine. Tannhauser shook his head. "Your Grace flatters me. I'm a fortunate man but a simple one."
This time Ludovico laughed out loud. "And I am a humble priest."
"Then we meet upon the square," Tannhauser replied.
By now Gonzaga's astonishment was aimed at his master.
Ludovico said, "Tell me from whence you know me, Captain Tannhauser. If we'd met before today I would surely remember."
"I saw you only once, and at a distance, and many years ago. In Mondovi."
Ludovico looked up into the distance, as if conjuring a scene from a memory detailed and vast, and he nodded. "Apart from myself, you were the tallest man in the piazza." His gaze came back around and the shadow of an obscure sorrow crossed his face, and Tannhauser knew that they both could recall the same pillar of flame and the feral acclamation of the
"Let's conclude our affairs with the captain and seek out Brother Starkey later."
As Tannhauser stepped up the main gangplank, Bors put a hand of warning on his arm. Three men came down the walkway, the sun at their backs. Two wore Dominican robes, and odd companions they made because one, in size, would have made two of the other. Behind them camea Spaniard in his twenties, lean as a whip and dressed in a fine black doublet. His eyes and mouth were depraved and he had the look of a murderer. At his waist hung both dagger and sword. The larger of the monks walked with the bearing of a prince and the humility of a pauper. His path was arrayed against Tannhauser's and as he passed from the glare of the light, Tannhauser saw his face and felt his gut clench.
Tannhauser said, "Ludovico Ludovici."
"The Inquisitor?" said Bors.
The world in which Tannhauser lived might well have seemed wide to the mass of common men, but because of that very selectivity it was smaller than the map on which he moved. The map of villainy was smaller still. He felt his skin stretch taut around his skull.
He said, "Ludovico sent Petrus Grubenius to the stake."
Bors took his shoulders and tried to maneuver him out of Ludovico's path. "The past is past. Let's look to our business."
"I was a brute and Petrus made me a man. He was my teacher. He was my friend."
"And it's a fool who cherishes an enemy he can't fight."
Tannhauser yielded to Bors's strength and took a step back; but he didn't take his eyes from Ludovico's face and he saw that the Inquisitor now studied him as he approached. The shorter monk, a sallow cove with disdainful features and sweating under two heavy satchels, made to walk past them as if skirting a noxious midden, but at the last moment Ludovico stopped and turned and regarded Tannhauser with courtesy. He indicated his waxy confrere.
"May I present Father Gonzaga, the legate of our Holy Office in Messina."
Gonzaga, perplexed by Ludovico's tarriance, managed a nod.
"This is-Anacleto."
The soulless young Spaniard stared at Tannhauser without warmth.
"I am Fra Ludovico. But in that respect you seem to have the advantage."
Ludovico's voice rolled over him, calm and deep as a windless sea. Yet beneath its surface lurked monsters. Tannhauser gestured to Bors. "Bors of Carlisle." Then he gave a short bow. "Captain Mattias Tannhauser."
Ludovico's attention was engaged. "Your reputation goes before you."
"Every cock is king on his own dunghill," Tannhauser replied.
The bluntness of the remark took Ludovico by surprise and his sensual mouth broke into a smile, as if discovering how to do so for the first time. An affronted gasp escaped Gonzaga's throat. Anacleto watched Tannhauser as a cat watches a bird in a barnyard. Bors watched Anacleto, and fidgeted with fingers that would rather have held a knife.
"You're a philosopher," said Ludovico. "And a keen one."
Despite the old hatred rekindled within, Tannhauser found himself warming to the monk. A sign that Ludovico was more dangerous than he could imagine. Tannhauser shook his head. "Your Grace flatters me. I'm a fortunate man but a simple one."
This time Ludovico laughed out loud. "And I am a humble priest."
"Then we meet upon the square," Tannhauser replied.
By now Gonzaga's astonishment was aimed at his master.
Ludovico said, "Tell me from whence you know me, Captain Tannhauser. If we'd met before today I would surely remember."
"I saw you only once, and at a distance, and many years ago. In Mondovi."
Ludovico looked up into the distance, as if conjuring a scene from a memory detailed and vast, and he nodded. "Apart from myself, you were the tallest man in the piazza." His gaze came back around and the shadow of an obscure sorrow crossed his face, and Tannhauser knew that they both could recall the same pillar of flame and the feral acclamation of the
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