Communion Blood A Novel of Saint-Germain

1 "Actually," Ferenc Ragoczy, Abbe of Sanct' Parasceva and Count Saint-Germain, went on as he strolled down the length of the old-fashioned atrium at Senza Pari on the outskirts of Roma, "Olivia would probably have issued stern orders rather than have pleaded with me." The pain of speaking her name had faded but was not yet gone, and it showed in a slight tightening of his attractive, irregular features, and the momentary hesitation in his speech. "Of course I had to come, for her, as well as you. And she would have not accepted any delay; storms would have been no excuse." His ankle-length Hungarian dolman and mente of black silk made him an emphatic shadow in the rich Roman winter sunshi≠ the white chaconne at his neck identified him as an Abbe, his sole indication of his position; instead of a crucifix, he wore a pectoral of his eclipse device on a heavy silver chain. Beside him, Niklos Aulirios was able to chuckle. "Yes, that would be more like her." His handsome face grew somber. "I could not make such demands, nor would I." "No. You have too high a regard for her memory to do that," Ragoczy said. "But I apologize for taking so long to get to Roma. Had the messenger reached me sooner, I would have been here in November. The weather slowed my journey, unfortunately. I had hoped to be here before the Nativity, but Evangelista Giovan's Feast will have to do. At least it is only late December and we have a few days to make a response to the claim before the end of the year; the magistrates will expect that." They stopped by the fountain. It was larger than Ragoczy remembered, with a fine marble faun holding up his pipes, from which the water flowed. "This is new." They had been speaking Greek but now changed to Italian. "It was installed just before she died," said Niklos, his brown eyes growing distant. "There was a fashion in statues and fountains, and she commissioned this. She was going to have more statues made, but" "Yes," Ragoczy said thoughtfully. "But." He had feared seeing Roma again would exacerbate the grief he had felt since Olivia's death; he was relieved when that did not happen, although he had a kind of indefinable soreness within him that twinged from time to time, reminding him of his loss. "The man who has made the claim must sense that there is some reason that her estate may be attacked in this way," Niklos went on, determined to keep their conversation on the business at hand. His neat justaucorps was the color of wild honey, and his breeches, of the same cloth, were not quite as full as fashion required, but this conservatism in his dress was considered appropriately modest for a man in his ambiguous position. His jabot was edged in lace, but the ruffles at his wrists were moderate and unembellished. "I cannot think he would make the attempt if he had not some hope of gaining the prize he seeks." "Possibly; or he may believe he can prevail against a servant, if you will pardon my saying so," Ragoczy observed. "He may be counting on the habits of the court, to favor heirs, legitimate or not, over servants, thinking that he will not have to do much to gain his ends." Niklos shrugged. "Perhaps," he allowed. The two walked on to the nearest door that led into the house, entering the dining room where the steward, Alfredo Cervetti, was preparing an inventory of the silver. "The court has required it. We must inventory everything at her estates." "It would be expected in a case of this sort," said Ragoczy. He glanYarbro, Chelsea Quinn is the author of 'Communion Blood A Novel of Saint-Germain' with ISBN 9780312867942 and ISBN 0312867948.