The Toyseller (Part 2)
Leopold pushed the head of the wooden bird down over and over again, marveling each time at how its tail of real feathers swished up into the air. He shook his head: “Now, the man who can make this has real skills,” he said. “Unlike a graf.”
Bernard chuckled and turned a toy wagon over in his hands. The men were taking a hiatus from the Council chambers for a pretzel and beer in the Weihnachtsmarkt, and Bernard had seized on the opportunity to pick out a few Christmas gifts for his grandchildren. “Don’t sell yourself short,” the Councillor said. “You can make a room of full-grown men turn bright purple with the words, ‘We’re not going to war again.’”
“I meant those words,” Leopold said. Bernard sighed.
“I believe you. I even agree with you, for what it’s worth. Which isn’t much.“
“What do you think Sigismund will do?”
“If it comes time to go against the Hussites again, and you won’t send men, you mean?” Leopold nodded, putting down the bird and picking up an angel with wooden wings so thin he feared snapping them in his scarred fingers. “I think he’ll take your domain and give it to Paulus. I do think he’ll stop short of throwing you in prison for treason. You’re too well connected in Luxembourg for that—But he’ll take as much away from you—and from us—as he can without angering your maternal aunt the Queen Mother.”
“Sounds about right. He can’t touch my patrimony at least. And I’ll sell it off before I’ll let Kiefersheim starve—you can trust me on that, Bernard. Besides, Paulus isn’t a monster….” The Councillor gave him a sideways look sharp as an elbow.
“That depends on whom you ask, your Grace.” He turned away for a moment and paid for the wagon and bird, and then started walking back through the market. Leopold followed. “Which reminds me—why are you lingering here in Kiefersheim with us? You should be in Regensburg, making the rounds, being seen, courting….”
“This is where my father grew up. It’s where I grew up. It’s where I feel most at home. Regensburg…is so cold. It’s all politicians and merchants.”
“But it’s also your titular seat. Spending more time there would remind Paulus who’s in charge of your domain. And…it wouldn’t hurt for you to spend a little more time at balls dancing with beautiful girls, your Grace. Beautiful girls with titles and lands, that is.” He raised an eyebrow at Leopold, and the graf chuckled.
“You weren’t even there,” he said. “I guess the burgermeister really is deluded enough to be jealous on behalf of his daughter.”
“I’m just saying, I can’t see how any of this is helping your cause, my Liege, at a moment at which your cause could most certainly use some help.”
The men were about to step through the door to the Council Chambers when a castle page caught them, breathless. “A message for you, my Lord.”
Leopold looked at the wax seal and frowned; Bernard saw it as well—it was Paulus’s. The graf broke the seal and unfolded the letter. His face was impassive, but when he folded it again and looked up at Bernard, his eyes were dark. “Looks like God was listening to you, old friend,” Leopold said. “I’m going to Regensburg.”
The Rookery 