Antichrist_A Novel of the Emperor Frederic II by Cecelia Holland

Antichrist_A Novel of the Emperor Frederic II by Cecelia Holland

Author:Cecelia Holland [Holland, Cecelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
Goodreads: 7057763
Publisher: Atheneum
Published: 1970-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


“Tommaso, let me in.”

Behind the servant at the door Tommaso whirled and stared. “My God. Leone, let him in. Hurry.”

The servant stepped back, still scowling, and Frederick barged through the door. Tommaso knelt briefly. “Sire. What are you—”

Leone gasped and fell to his knees. Frederick nudged him with his toe. “You’ve got a suspicious doorman. I’m glad you decided to come by—he wasn’t going to let me in.”

“Leone, go to the kitchens.” With a glance outside, Tommaso himself shut the door. “You came alone? No wonder— We have to be suspicious; Acre is full of burglars. Sire, what the devil are you doing all the way out here?”

“What’s wrong? Can’t I go for a walk?” Frederick went on through the antechamber into the next room. The lamps weren’t lit yet and it was nearly dark. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You should have sent for me.” Tommaso pulled a bellrope. “I wouldn’t advise walking around Acre, Sire—”

“Nobody knows who I am. It was fun. I came through the bazaar.” He stripped off his cloak, enjoying Tommaso’s flustered efforts to pull himself together. “Everything’s gone wrong today.”

“Nobody knew you. Trailing a Saracen and talking with a Sicilian accent, nobody knew you.” Servants rushed in, and he turned to order them around, to light lamps, to bring something to drink. Frederick sat down and studied the mosaic on the floor. “What went wrong today?”

“Oh—two Franciscans and the Patriarch showed up at noon before we’d done anything at all about the command situation and spent the afternoon telling me I don’t belong here.” The restless, uneasy depression came back to him. I feel wrong. “In very clear terms.”

“Why didn’t you kick them out?”

“The Patriarch and a pair of envoys from the Pope?”

“You’re already excommunicated—he can’t do anything more to you.” Tommaso headed for a chair, remembered he hadn’t been given permission to sit, and looked over. Frederick nodded.

“You’re always telling me I have to be nice to them.”

“Not that nice. What have you decided about the command? Anything?”

“Oh. Hermann and I mulled it over this morning. I think I’ll arrange it so that the orders all come from the Grand Master or you or a council of all the commanders. Where is al-Kamil?”

“At Nablus. With an immense army. But he isn’t doing anything. I’d wager he’ll make a foray sometime soon, just to test you. Whom are you sending to him?”

“One of Piero’s bright young men. Just to conduct messages.”

“Ummm.” Tommaso rubbed his finger along his cheek. “Do you like Acre?”

“I like the bazaar. This one up the street with all the arches over it.” He kicked his shoes off. “The rest of the city makes me nervous. Is it always this closed up and empty?”

“It’s not empty, make no mistake. There are tens of thousands of people in Acre, and every last one of them is looking out for himself—that’s all.”

“Maybe it’s just the way the buildings are.” The high walls, without windows, the towers and the guarded gates. Beyond one wall



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