The Crown's Weight

Ortwin had three horses ready before noon and no honest reason to explain them.

He put them down for the farrier. Two had shoes worn thin; the third had a split strap on its bridle. The stable clerk copied each entry into his book, then asked why the Empress’s household needed to inspect three mounts on the same day.

“Because horses go lame together when men stop looking at them,” Ortwin said.

The clerk did not smile. He was young enough to believe a written question could protect him from its answer. Ortwin gave him none and went to the palace chapel.

He had spent the morning asking after the crown. The answers had been careful, which was worse than no answer. The true crown had not been seen at court for months. It lay in the cathedral treasury, where the chapter kept it under three keys and a record of every opening. The cathedral was close enough to reach on foot and public enough to make a quiet theft impossible.

Adelais met him in a side chapel, alone except for Lambert’s nurse waiting outside. She wore no jewels. The plainness made her look more like a widow than an Empress.

“It is there?” she asked.

“Under the cathedral’s three locks.”

“And they will give it to me?”

“They will tell us they cannot.”

She looked at the altar. “Then we will ask them in a way that leaves them something to fear besides you.”

They went after the midday service, with two household guards and no carriage. The chapter treasurer received them in a narrow room behind the cathedral sacristy. He was a small man with ink on the side of his hand and a long memory for the order of things.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, bowing. “The crown is kept for the Emperor’s use. It cannot be removed without his command.”

“Then you may show it to me here,” Adelais said. “The Emperor’s household is preparing for the electors’ audience. I will know what is to be presented.”

The treasurer glanced at Ortwin. “The Arch-Steward keeps the household seals.”

“The cathedral keeps the crown.”

That stopped him. He had not been invited to dispute the boundary between their duties, and he knew it.

Adelais laid her gloved hand on the table. “Open the treasury. I will inspect the crown and return it before vespers.”

“Your Majesty, any opening must be entered in the chapter book.”

“Enter it.”

The treasurer explained the keys. One belonged to him, one to the dean, and one to the cathedral’s senior canon. None could be used without the other two. He did not say that he could refuse. Adelais let him finish and asked when the dean would be available.