Free Morgarten (Book 2 of the Forest Knights) by J. K. Swift Page A

land.
No infidel hands have touched it, I assure you.”
    The Archbishop took a half step back. “I would
rather—”
    Leopold thrust out the looking glass and pressed it
against the Archbishop’s chest.
    “I insist,” he said.
    The Archbishop’s hands shook as he held the glass up
to his eye. For all his resistance to the idea of the instrument,
he seemed quite familiar with its use.
    “Did you really think you could keep your whore and
her five children a secret?”
    The Archbishop said nothing. He kept the glass
pressed against his eye.
    What part of the scene below holds your attention
so? Is it the sight of my soldiers standing in your secret
mistress’s courtyard? The woman herself, kneeling, in tears? Or is
it her children being loaded into a carriage by armed Habsburg men?
These clerics can be so hard to read at times.
    “How old was the whore when she bore your first
bastard? Eleven? Twelve, perhaps? Surely not thirteen. What a hag
she must have been.”
    The Archbishop whirled on Leopold. He threw the
looking glass to the ground and the lenses shattered.
    “She is no whore,” he said. A vein throbbed at his
temple and his skin flushed with rage.
    Leopold took a step back and held up his hands. “No?
Well, perhaps I am wrong. Maybe we should ask the Pope to be the
judge of what she is or is not.”
    The Archbishop’s face paled instantly. But to his
credit, his voice was steady and in control when he spoke.
    “What is it that you want, Leopold?”
    “Two thousand infantry, a thousand knights, and five
hundred gold. To provide for the upkeep of your men while in my
care.”
    “Their upkeep would not cost half that,” the
Archbishop said.
    Leopold shrugged. “I treat my men better than you, I
suppose. And one more thing. I should think a public holy blessing
would not be too much to ask.”
    “What of the woman?”
    “She may remain in Salzburg, in that lovely house
you had built for her. But the children will come to live in
Habsburg for a time, as my wards. Their mother being a poor widow
and all.”
    The Archbishop turned away and stared down once more
at the city. In a few short moments his body had experienced a full
gamut of emotions. They had taken their toll, and now he just
looked like a tired old man. Even his flowing red robes could not
hide that fact. Leopold put his hands on the wall and, like the
Archbishop, gazed out over the city.
    The sun was at full light. Soon the city would come
alive.
    “What a beautiful day. I do so love mornings,”
Leopold said.

Chapter 8
     
     
    Altdorf’s small, stone church, situated on top of a
hillock at the eastern edge of town, was a squat, gray structure
seemingly as old as the hills themselves. Thomas stepped into the
shadow of the cross erected on its roof and walked around to the
back of the building.
    Most people hated cemeteries, but Thomas had always
found them comforting. As a child, whenever he felt the need to be
alone, he would leave the stench of the city behind and run to the
cemetery outside Acre’s gates. Later, as a young man in Cypress, he
would spend hours walking amongst the graves, trying to read their
inscriptions. Of course he felt closer to God when he set foot on
holy ground, but, he doubted that was the only reason for the
attraction. He suspected it had more to do with escaping the world
of men, even if it was for only a short time.
    Today, however, his steps were heavy, and not just
because of his injuries. He avoided looking too closely at the
crosses until he was surrounded by them. When he did finally look
up, wondering where he would find Pirmin’s grave, he saw a young
boy and a dog. The boy sat on the ground next to a mound of dirt,
blacker than the other ones nearby, and much larger. He looked up
at the same time Thomas saw him. He jumped to his feet, gave his
backside a quick brush with his hand, and ran away toward the far
gate.
    Thomas paid the boy no mind, for his full attention
was captured by the dog. It was