Chapter 19 of 20·6 min read·Nine days, from Friedel’s arrival through Wierach’s reply
The Answer He Could Sign
Friedel’s horse was bleeding at the girth when he reached Ammerau, and the gate captain wanted to know whether the blood belonged in the entry book.
“It belongs to the horse,” Friedel said. “Write that I came.”
His escort had dwindled to six men by the time they reached the city. Two had stayed behind to argue with an imperial road keeper, who had questioned their right to pass. Friedel had left them with instructions to follow when they were done arguing. He had not brought Lambert, the crown, or any reason for Wierach’s men to seize his party without making the act plain.
The captain studied Friedel’s electoral ring, then opened the gate.
Adelais watched from the chapter house window as the young count dismounted in the square. He was pale with travel and angry at being looked at. He glanced once toward the windows, saw her, and turned to the archbishop’s steward.
She had wanted to reach him. Now he was here, and she had to decide what she could safely ask of him.
Hartwig received Friedel in the chapter hall. The archbishop wore his ceremonial vestments and had put the signed accounts on the table beside the register. He had arranged the room so that no one could mistake this for a private visit.
Friedel stood before the table with his gloves in one hand. “I came to hear the account from the people named in it.”
“Then you shall,” Hartwig said.
Adelais entered with Ortwin. Lambert stayed in the guest rooms with his nurse. The crown remained sealed in the cathedral treasury, its custody recorded in the chapter book. She had wanted the boy beside her when she spoke to Friedel. The thought of bringing him into a room where every glance would be weighed had settled that question.
Friedel noticed his absence. “The prince is well?”
“He is tired,” Adelais said. “He has had enough rooms full of strangers.”
Friedel nodded. He looked relieved to have a matter he could answer plainly. “I understand that.”
Hartwig invited Adelais to sit. She remained standing until Friedel took his place, then sat opposite him. The chapter clerk opened the register to the entry recording her arrival, the crown’s intact seal, and the archbishop’s protection. Friedel read it without hurry.
“Your account says the road keeper showed you an order,” he said.
“He showed us the road order and barred our way. He did not enter the city or lay hands on us.”
“And you turned back.”
“I did.”
Next
Will Friedel obey Wierach’s summons to Selbrun, where the Arch-Steward can pressure him directly, or make his challenge to the imperial command impossible to withdraw?
“Because Lambert was with me. Because the crown was with me. The order gave the men at the road more than enough cause to call a forced seizure lawful.”
Friedel tapped the page with one finger. “You could have made them choose in front of witnesses.”
“I could have made a three-year-old watch soldiers fight over him.”
The finger stopped moving. Friedel looked toward the shuttered windows. In the square, his men were arguing with a stable boy over the cost of feed.
“Wierach says Ludolf ordered you returned,” he said. “The seal is genuine.”
“The seal is genuine,” Adelais agreed. “The command behind it is what we have not seen.”
Friedel’s attention returned to her. “You believe the Emperor did not give it.”
“I have not heard him give it. Nor has Wierach named a witness who did.”
“You are his wife.”
“I am the person he has stopped receiving.”
It was the closest she could come to saying what that absence meant without claiming knowledge she did not possess. She watched Friedel take it in. His pride wanted a clean answer. His caution told him that clean answers were what people gave when they wanted something.
He pushed the register away. “If I ask Wierach for a witness, he will say I am taking your side.”
“If you accept his order without one, you will be taking his side.”
“That is convenient for you.”
“Yes.” Adelais put both hands on the table. “I want you to stand against him. I want you to choose Lambert. I would be grateful if you did. But I cannot make the absence of a witness into proof of what you should vote.”
Ortwin shifted beside her, just enough to show he had expected her to press harder.
Friedel looked at her for a long moment. “The law gives me no answer about the boy’s place.”
“It gives you arguments. A son inherits his father’s place. The elder line’s son has been raised as the Emperor’s heir. Both claims are real. Neither makes a sealed order into the Emperor’s spoken will.”
Hartwig lowered his eyes to the register. He had heard the arguments often enough to know where each one could be made to serve.
Friedel’s jaw tightened. “And if the Emperor commanded it?”
“Then I will hear him.”
The answer seemed to disappoint him. He had come prepared to be maneuvered. Adelais could see it in the way he picked up his gloves, then put them down again.
She wanted his vote. She wanted the roads opened. She wanted the authority to move without asking permission from the men who had closed them. Yet if she used Lambert as proof of the Emperor’s command, she would be claiming the same kind of certainty she accused Wierach of inventing.
Friedel drew the unsigned leaf toward himself. “What do you ask me to put in writing?”
“Ask Wierach to name the witness. Ask him to produce the Emperor before the electors, or to produce the witness before you. Record that you will not treat the road order as Ludolf’s personal command until then.”
“That still leaves you here.”
“It leaves us here under Hartwig’s protection. That is safer than the road.”
“And if Wierach refuses?”
“Then every elector will know he refused.”
Friedel looked at the archbishop. “Will you enter it in the register?”
“If you sign it,” Hartwig said. “The chapter can attest to what you ask. It cannot attest to the answer before it comes.”
The clerk set out a fresh sheet. Friedel dictated slowly, stopping twice to change a word. He removed a phrase that implied Wierach had forged the order, then added that the privy seal had been examined and found genuine. The distinction mattered. He wanted his challenge to survive the first man who tried to call it a lie.
When the clerk had finished, Friedel read the page through. His signature looked smaller than the rest of the writing. He pressed his ring into the wax and held it there until the clerk lifted the sheet.
The sound of the seal breaking free was slight. Friedel flinched as if it had been louder.
“Send copies to the other electors,” he said. “And one to Wierach.”
Adelais rose. She had expected him to demand a promise about her vote, or an assurance that she would not leave Ammerau if the road opened. He asked for neither.
“Thank you,” she said.
Friedel gathered his gloves. “I have asked for an answer. I have not promised you one.”
“I know.”
He looked as if he wanted to add something, but the chapter clerk was already preparing the copies. Friedel left the hall without another word. In the square, his men had found the stable boy’s price unreasonable and were paying it anyway.
The signed demand went out that afternoon. Adelais remained in Ammerau with Lambert and the crown. She no longer had to find a road to Friedel. The road had brought him to her, and he had carried the question back toward Selbrun in ink.
Nine days later, a courier from the capital arrived with an answer under the privy seal.
Hartwig asked the chapter clerk to verify the seal. The clerk did, then read the first lines aloud. Wierach acknowledged Friedel’s request and said the Arch-Steward had no witness to provide. He maintained that the Emperor’s command had been conveyed through lawful authority and required obedience.
The next sheet was addressed to Friedel personally. By imperial command, he was to return to Selbrun within three days and present himself before Wierach.
Friedel had not yet returned to Ammerau. His steward stood in the hall holding the sealed order, his other hand on the latch, while the clerk read the deadline again. The seal hung from the parchment, still unbroken.