The Seal and the Voice

The courier reached Ammerau on the ninth day, with a lathered horse and a packet wrapped in oiled cloth beneath his coat. He had been told to deliver it to Archbishop Hartwig himself. The cathedral porter kept him in the outer hall until the chapter’s morning business was finished.

Hartwig opened the packet before the dean, three canons, and the chapter clerk. The privy seal hung intact from its cords. He turned it once in his hands, checked the face against the impression kept in the cathedral’s register, and passed it to the clerk.

“Genuine,” the clerk said.

The order required Adelais, her son, and the imperial crown to be returned to Selbrun. It invoked Ludolf’s authority and named Wierach as the officer charged with carrying out the command. It did not say that Ludolf had spoken the words in person. It did not name a witness.

The dean tapped the table with one finger. “The seal is the Emperor’s. If every lord can refuse a sealed order because he did not hear it spoken, there is no government left.”

“Every lord already refuses orders he dislikes,” said another canon. “The question is what we do when the order takes a child from our protection.”

Hartwig let them argue. He had rebuilt half the cathedral by persuading men that his judgment would outlast their caution. The loan from Oelhaf’s house still sat in the chapter’s accounts. A quarrel with Selbrun could close credit, delay the roof work, and leave the canons explaining to worshippers why stone had taken precedence over the Emperor.

He did not need to be reminded of that. He needed to hear whether anyone had a better answer.

The dean said the seal carried the Emperor’s authority precisely because the Emperor could not sit over every order. Another canon answered that the Arch-Steward’s custody of the seal did not make every act his own the Emperor’s. Both men cited custom. Neither could point to a rule that settled this case.

Hartwig looked down at the command. “We asked for proof that Ludolf ordered their return. This gives us proof that the order was issued under his seal.”

“That may be all the proof the law can require,” said the dean.

“And if the Emperor did not give it?”

The dean glanced toward the closed door. “Then we have accused the Arch-Steward without evidence.”

Hartwig set the command on the table. “We have not accused him. We have a question he can answer.”

Adelais waited in the adjoining room with Lambert and Ortwin. Hartwig had asked her to attend because the order named her. She entered when the clerk called. Lambert was carried by his nurse, his cheek pressed into her shoulder. The boy’s fingers had knotted in the edge of her shawl.