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believe we will have two wagons ready to go by mid-day.” He handed over the boots without comment.
    “Very good,” said Sanct’ Germain, taking the boots. “I will attend to the horses and mules as soon as I return from my errands.” He continued dressing.
    “Will that include Viridia?” Rogerian asked without inflection.
    “I think so,” said Sanct’ Germain after a short silence. “I will present her with her gift, and the deed to occupy this house in my absence. Once I have seen her, there will be no way to keep my plans secret; her slaves barter every scrap of news they come by.” He gave a wry chuckle then added, “Fortunately Viridia does not allow them to watch her at her pleasure, or I would not be safe with her, no matter how accommodating she may be.”
    “Will she say anything of that when you have gone?” There was nothing in his question to reveal his own uncertainties.
    “With tenancy of this house settled on her, she would be foolish beyond imagining to do anything that would compromise me. She might, if there were advantage in it, but it would mean more danger for her than I think she wishes to bring on herself. If she speaks against me, no man after that would trust her enough to lie with her except by force. It is no easy life to be a woman of her station—better than a common prostitute, but not quite a courtesan. She will be very careful how she deals with all she knows; she has no wish to end up branded and in prison, and there are those who would be glad of a reason to condemn her.” Sanct’ Germain shook his head. “She is not inclined to play into the hands of the envious. That would be ultimate folly for her.”
    “Might her slaves decide to sell what they know . . .” Rogerian suggested, leaving the possibilities open.
    “If they were trying to gain advantages for themselves at Viridia’s cost, they would be more likely to carry tales of her other lovers, men with position and power greater than any I could have here. They are far more vulnerable than I am, having place and reputation to lose. I am an oddity among her patrons, a foreigner with little influence in the city, and so I do not offer the advantages the others can.” He fastened the lacings of his boots and straightened up. “I will need my pluvial,” he said; the heavy cloak of heavy waxed linen would be necessary for many weeks to come.
    “Yes, you will,” Rogerian agreed. “It is in the vestibule.”
    “I will take it as I leave,” said Sanct’ Germain as he gathered up his belt and pouch and buckled them into place. “How long are you going to need to pack the wagons?”
    “For the first trip to the villa?” Rogerian asked. “As I have said, we should be ready to depart by mid-day. When I return, I will spend more time readying your goods for travel.”
    “I need not have asked,” said Sanct’ Germain with an apologetic wave of his hand. “I am preoccupied, or I would not have done.”
    For the first time Rogerian frowned; it was unusual for Sanct’ Germain’s attention to be distracted. “My master,” he ventured. “What is troubling you?”
    Sanct’ Germain picked up his long Byzantine dagger. “I dislike being pressed,” he said curtly as he thrust the dagger through his belt. “Still, it is not the first time, nor will it be the last.”
    Rogerian had to be content with this observation; Sanct’ Germain went out of his private rooms leaving his manservant to begin the task of packing his belongings for travel.
    By the time Sanct’ Germain reached Viridia’s house, afternoon was closing in, the storm-clouds looming overhead, the wind whooping down the narrow streets; the people of Toletum had been driven indoors, so few curious eyes watched as Sanct’ Germain was admitted by Viridia’s single slave, a middle-aged woman from the north. “Is your mistress busy?” he asked as he removed his pluvial, letting it drip on the rough paving-stones of the entry. He took the large,