Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[econ21]

Venice, Christmas 1342


Elberhard lay restlessly in the cold bed chamber of the Venetian palace. The refined surroundings could not mask the stench of the water-logged city. But it was not the smell that was keeping the Kaiser awake. It was an eerie sense of foreboding.

Elberhard turned again, looking at the wall - crumbling and unkempt. The Byzantines had not maintained the city. It had only been a frontier settlement to them - too much on the frontline for any highborns to wish to settle there … yet. Elberhard smiled at the thought that he had frustrated any ambitions the Byzantines had of incorporating Venice fully into their Empire.

Then he stopped short. He heard foot steps outside the door … light, female foot steps. He waited for the door to be forced open and was just preparing to say “Not tonight, love, I’m @#$%^&!!!ed”. But the encroachment did not happen. There was just silence.

Elberhard listened. Some sixth sense told him that a woman was still outside his bedroom. Could it be his wife? But such diffidence was certainly not like her…

Elberhard’s skin prickled as the door slowly creaked open. With uncharacteristic reluctance, even fear, he turned over to face the door way. The light was dim, but he could see the door opening.

“Linyeve…” he ventured.

A shadow formed in the entrance, shrouded by the gloom. There was a pause.

“Who’s there?” Elberhard said hesitantly.

The figure started to move towards him, slow and graceful. Rising out of the darkness, he saw a raven haired woman with a haughty bearing. His mind was befuddled and he struggled to put a name to the face. Then it came, accompanied by a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Theodora...?”

The Empress Dowager looked down at the Kaiser with dead eyes.

“You did not save him.”

Elberhard could not speak.

“You let him die.”

The injustice of the charge galvanised Elberhard: “It was a vast conspiracy … I did not know. What could I have done?”

“You know now. And yet you do not act. You let him lie unavenged.”

“The conspiracy was too vast … I could not strike or the Reich would have fallen…”

“You dared not even speak out. You traded justice, even your voice, for what? For the loan of a lumpen city!”

Elberhard looked in horror as Theodora raised her hands and advanced towards him. Her hands were covered in a glistening dark liquid, which oozed drops on to the floor.

*****

Elberhard wiped the liquid off him. It was warm and thinner that he expected. It drenched his night gown. He struggled out of the bed and made for his desk. In the darkness, he fumbled to find a flint and then to light a candle.

He looked down at his night shirt. Thank God - it was not blood. It was merely sweat. The relief swept over the Kaiser and he collapsed down on the chair by his desk. Only then, freed from fear, was he aware of how dry his throat was. The decanter on his desk was empty. @#$%^&!!! it - did he have to do everything for himself?

Angrily, he got up and went towards the bathroom. He noticed that a glow of light coming from underneath the bathroom door. He thought nothing of it until he heard a faint sound coming from within.

Elberhard stopped sharply - his senses all alert. The sound… it was hard to discern. A laboured sound, as if an old man were fighting for breath. Were those words? Was someone muttering?

Elberhard’s nerves were already frayed, but now they were spent. In a flurry of action, he raced to his discarded clothes and grabbed the swordbelt that lay amidst them. Swiftly he drew his blade and advanced purposefully towards the bathroom.

He kicked open the door and the light temporarily blinded him. He shielded his eyes from the light and looked down. As he focused, he saw the floor was covered in a great pool of blood.

Elberhard uttered an animal cry and raised his sword to strike, and then he saw him … crumpled in the corner, soaked in blood, a man. The man was holding his stomach, and his head was skewed awkwardly at an angle, watching Elberhard’s sword arm poised to strike. Blood and mutilation obscured the man’s face.

Elberhard lowered his sword, staring at the helpless figure in horror and pity.

“Who are you? What happened…”

The man started as if to laugh, then choked on his own blood. His glazed eyes fixed on the Kaiser.

“I am you. … You happened…”

Elberhard could make no sense of the words. Then the wounded man appeared to gain new vitality and started to crawl towards him - one arm outstretched, determinedly reaching for Elberhard, the other still cradling his stomach.

Elberhard instinctively stepped back, out of the man’s reach. The man fell forward, both arms then pushing his prone body up off the floor. In horror, Elberhard saw the man’s intestines spilling out.

The man continued crawling forward, then raised his head and called out: ““I am sorry, your Excellency but honour demands that one of us not leave the field alive.”

*****

Elberhard slammed the bathroom door shut and ran to his bed. He jumped under the bedclothes and pulled them over his head. He listened. No sound came from the bathroom. He waited. Slowly, he lowered the sheets. There was no light under the bathroom door. He looked around - where was his sword? He saw his sword belt lying crumpled amidst his day clothes and started to relax, laughing at his own stupidity. This would be a @#$%^&!!! of a story to tell Linyeve tomorrow. He started to drift away.

A strange sensation woke him. A caressing of his face - almost as if he was being shaved. His face was wet … and the smell, as pungent as Venice but less stale. Something was on top of him. He heard panting. His arms pushed away the thing and he opened his eyes.

There, on top of him, sat Ernest, his father Henry’s old watchdog. Elberhard smiled bemusedly at the dog and was about to pat the gentle creature when he realised they were not alone. There was a presence beside them - sitting next to Elberhard’s bed.

Slowly, Elberhard turned. He saw a leg stretched stiffly out and a walking stick. A long black cloak and a man sat on a seat beside his bed. Again, the fog in Elberhard’s mind struggled to recognise the figure in front of him. The man saw he was being observed and stood up awkwardly, covering his face by with the hood of his black cloak. A claw like hand reached for Ernest’s collar. Elberhard noticed pox marks on the hand and then heard the stranger’s voice shatter the air.

“You think it is all over - this cataclysm that has befallen the Reich?” The stranger laughed - a harsh, humourless laugh. “It has not even begun…”

With that, the enigmatic figure turned and limped towards the door, dutifully followed by Ernst.

Elbehard watched as if transfixed, but as the odd couple left the room, he rose vengefully from the bed - heading again for his sword belt. He drew the blade and picked up speed, opening the door in a rush, sword in hand.

Outside a terrified courtier looked down at the blade levelled at his chest.

“I am sorry to disturb you, your Excellency…” said the petrified young man.

He was holding a silver platter with a parchment on it.

“I have an urgent letter, Sire ... from Duke Arnold in Ragusa…”