Chapter Four: In the Holy Court

They arrived in Rome the next evening, just as the sun was setting on the horizon. William joined his father at the main hatch, trying not to fidget with his sleeves. True to his father's suggestion, he'd worn one of his casual-formal outfits. He was somewhat relieved to see that Constantine was dressed in a similar fashion.

Together, they waited as the engines died and the doors drifted open in a whisper of well-oiled steel. The ramp extended with a soft thump and William followed as Constantine strode down it, trying to maintain the proper distance for a subordinate, while at the same time trying to emulate his father's graceful, confident walk, as befitted a representative of the Royal Family of the Empire.

It was harder than it looked, especially when he had to fight the urge to stare.

He was in the heart of the Vatican. He'd heard it was different, that the buildings were heavier, older. Thicker walls and altered infrastructures. Arches and columns and statues, where Methuselah builders preferred sleeker lines. He'd even seen the pictures, but they didn't compare to reality.

High above, a cross taller than the airship was long hung suspended from between two high stone towers. Under it, giving the appearance of balancing the cross on the point, was a magnificent bell tower. And under that, towering over him, loomed the Vatican Palace. It was every bit as large as the Star Palace, but made of deep brown stone and white-washed walls, rather than the sleek silver, blue, and green that Seth favored. Statues, three and four times as tall as a human, were interspersed around the edges of the structure in different poses. He'd been told they were depictions of saints but the sheer number of them...there must be at least five saints for every Methuselah hero. And if his father was to be believed, he couldn't see all of them.

William dragged his attention back to the group waiting at the end of the ramp. Three inquisitors, and two other priests. The leader of the inquisitors stood at the front of the group, a tall, broad-shouldered man that William recognized. Brother Petros Orcini, Special Guard to His Holiness and Chief Inquisitor under Cardinal Francesco di Medici.

Constantine stopped a few feet in front of him. "Chief Inquisitor Petros. I trust the evening finds you well." His tone was friendly, his posture relaxed as he offered a short dip of the head in respect.

Petros nodded. "I am well enough. I trust your trip was uneventful and you have your things in order."

"Of course, of course. Everything is in our quarters on board, as per regulations. Speaking of which..." Constantine gestured William forward. "I'd like to introduce my son, who is serving as my Junior Ambassador this trip. William Constantine. He hasn't gone through his Awakening, so he hasn't yet received his formal titles, but it was decided that he should accompany me."

"I see. To be frank, I was wondering why your plans changed."

"Ah, well, that is the prerogative of our Empress, as it is His Holiness, or their Graces." Constantine smiled. "Her Majesty, Augusta Veradica, decided it was time for him to get some experience, so he'll be prepared when he becomes an adult."

"Indeed." Petros turned his electric blue gaze to William. "You say he has not Awakened. Am I to assume then that he has no pills, that he experiences neither the Thirst nor any vampiric powers such as haste?"

Vampire. William tensed, only to stop as his father's hand tapped his arm. How Constantine had known without even looking at him, William could only guess, but he relaxed anyway.

"That's correct. Of course, you are welcome to check for yourself."

"We will. In the meantime, I will show you to your quarters. Follow me." Petros turned on his heel and marched towards the door of the Vatican. Constantine followed, William on his heels, flanked by the other two inquisitors. The priests, on the other hand, ascended the ramp. William watched them pass, then put them from his mind, intent on following his father.

Fifteen minutes later, Petros led them to a heavy wooden door, deep in the Vatican. The door looked like several they'd already passed, and they'd gone through so many twists and turns, halls and courtyards that William would have been completely lost if he hadn't spent most of his life navigating the Star Palace. Even so, he wasn't sure where he was. It didn't help that all the halls were the same golden-brown and variegated gray stone, very different from the smoothly tiled mosaics of the Empire. Or that the decorations and courtyards all seemed to be similar to each other. Ornate fountains, or gardens that resembled little mazes of hedges and bushes and flowers. Crosses and pictures of men and women in the garb of priests, bishops, and cardinals.

Petros stopped in front of the heavy wooden door and pulled it open. "These will be your quarters. You will remain here until I come to escort you to your meeting. Your luggage will be brought to you as soon as the inspection has finished."

Constantine smiled. "Yes, of course. Thank you." He stepped inside the room and William followed. The door shut behind them.

William looked around. The room was...small, the size of Constantine's smallest office, filled with a low couch and two chairs. Three doors branched off, leading to two bedrooms and a washroom. The decorations were plain, the furniture sparse. "This room..."

"This is normal. Well, except for the spare room. I was afraid one of us would be sleeping in a rolling bed again." Constantine shed his outer jacket.

"But..." William bit his lip. "A room like this...isn't it disrespectful? We are Imperial Envoys, and members of the Royal Family." His own rooms at home were far larger than these. In fact, he rather thought there were rooms in the servants' quarters that were larger.

"True. However, there are some things you have to take into account." Constantine settled into a chair and motioned William to sit opposite him. "First of all, until last week, I was supposed to be making this trip alone. Rome is almost always hosting visiting ambassadors, or cardinals from outside the Vatican, or priests in training, or any number of different officials. Changing accommodations on such short notice can't have been easy."

William nodded, recalling nights spent listening to his parents discuss this or that visiting dignitary, the rooms needed, the adjustments to the schedule, and spaces to be made ready for inhabitants.

Constantine continued. "Second, most rooms and suites in the Vatican are much smaller than we're used to. The Vatican itself is...well, it's thousands of years old. At the time it was built, these rooms would be considered quite good. Furthermore, I can tell you for certain that we've been housed in the Inner Palace. That's actually quite an endorsement. We could have gotten larger quarters in the Outer Complex, but the fact that we're here, housed in the same general building as His Holiness, is very much a statement of confidence. And honestly, it's probably a bit of a balancing act for His Holiness and Cardinal Sforza."

William blinked. "A balancing act?"

"Certainly. Bringing us this far into the Vatican proper is a show of trust. But there are several members of the Senior Cardinals and Archbishops who won't appreciate that. So..."

"So they had us placed in poorer accommodations to compensate?"

"Something like that." Constantine smiled. "At least, I suspect that's the case. Either way, it's still better than the rooms they gave your mother and me on our first visit. At least we both have our own sleeping rooms for privacy."

William considered that. "I...think I understand." He paused. "What did the Inquisitor mean, when he said they would bring our luggage once it's been inspected?"

"It's procedure for the Inquisitorial Squad to check incoming luggage for contraband, weapons, any suspicious drugs. They've always been strict about Vatican security, but they increased the measures and inspections after Rosenkreutz. And, given Cardinal di Medici's prejudices, it goes without saying that Imperial Envoys always have their belongings checked very thoroughly." Constantine shook his head. "Honestly, I swear he hopes I'm going to make a mistake..."

That explained why part of his briefing had included instructions to leave all his weapons on board the ship when they docked at the Vatican. "What happens to the weapons?"

"Petros will keep them, and return them before we leave. Don't worry, he's very conscientious about taking care of them. It's a matter of personal pride for him."

William nodded, accepting that. In truth, it wasn't much different from the rules of the Star Palace. Baibars would have done much the same. He just wasn't used to being on the receiving end of such precautions. "What should we do now?"

Constantine smiled again. "Relax. Rest. Read. They'll bring us something to eat when they bring us our luggage. Take a nap if you like. We'll be on daylight schedule for this part of the trip, so if you want to get some rest now, it would be wise."

There was wisdom in that. William stood, stretching, and looked at the two doors. "Which room is mine?"

"Whichever you like." Constantine shrugged. "They should be fairly similar, and I'm really not picky. Besides, I plan on staying right here." He tipped his head back against the couch and slouched against the cushions, closing his eyes.

William looked through the doors. The rooms were fairly similar. He finally chose the one on the right and moved into it. He sat down on the chair to remove his shoes, then indulged himself by flopping on the bed. It was smaller and harder than his own, but not terribly uncomfortable. The sheets were clean and of decent quality, and the pillows were thick and supportive. He'd thought he would have trouble dozing, especially since sundown had passed, but his eyes slid closed without thought. Before he had time to think of getting up, he was asleep.

He woke to a gentle rapping on his door. He sat up. "Yes?" He blinked as the door opened. He didn't remember closing it, but either he'd been more tired than he'd thought, or his father had shut it after he fell asleep.

Constantine smiled at him. "Sorry to wake you. But our luggage is here. And dinner."

Dinner. His stomach rumbled, making him blush, and his father smile. "I'm coming." He groped for his boots.

Constantine followed his movements. "You don't need them. I've your indoor shoes out of your case already. They're here by the door."

"Oh. Thank you." He felt a slow flush creeping up his face. "I'm meant to be serving you as your Junior, aren't I?"

"Generally. But it's to be expected that you'll need some time to adjust. It's not a problem. Besides..." A sparkle of humor sprang to life in his father's eyes. "As it happens, our guest is an old friend."

"Guest?" He stumbled out of bed, straightening his hair and clothes as he moved to the door. His father stepped out of the way, allowing him to see the man settled in the larger of the two chairs. A grin leaped over his face. "Uncle Will..."

He stopped, suddenly mindful of his new position, and offered a careful bow. "Special Liaison, Father Wordsworth. It is a pleasure to see you this evening. I hope I haven't kept you waiting long."

"Not long at all, I assure you. I was simply catching up with your father. And though I know it's hard to believe, young man, I do remember what it's like to be a growing boy adapting to new situations." There was a teasing tone to the older man's voice. "So why don't we dispense with the formalities for the evening, and you can tell me all about what you've been up to. Did you ever get that computer program working?"

"The data recovery program?" William relaxed and, at a nod from his father, settled on the couch facing the Professor. "Not yet. I'm trying to work it to be compatible with the oldest systems in the Empire, and it's not...there's something I'm having trouble with in the coding. I'm hoping that I can ask Lord Walsh for some advice during our visit to Albion, if we have time."

"Yes, he would be the one to ask. I know some tricks myself, but I'm afraid my experience with the older systems is limited. I rather prefer my own machines." William Wordsworth smirked and cocked an eyebrow at Constantine, who was working on dishing up three plates and making tea. "You might ask your father. As I recall, he knows some tricks."

"I promised my aunt that I wouldn't. She says he cheats. That he has a full command pass-code, and I shouldn't use his access routes if I want to make a general-purpose program."

"A valid point, I suppose." Wordsworth ignored Constantine's huff of exasperation, and William took his cue from his namesake. "So...what made you decide to join the Ambassador for this trip? I was a bit surprised when I heard the news."

William gave his namesake, godparent, and self-proclaimed 'uncle' a rueful smile. "My aunt decided it was a good time for me to start learning politics in the Outer. I've been to the Open Floor Council meetings a few times, but she says the rules are different, and apparently now's the best time to learn. Especially since..." He paused, uncertain how much he should say.

"Since you've yet to go through the Awakening, so you aren't as restricted in your movements." Wordsworth smiled when he started. "I do keep track of such things."

"Indeed. He asks me once a week if the situation has changed." Constantine handed out tea. William set his aside and jumped up.

"Let me." He moved to the plates, spotting the trays to put the dishes on. He unfolded the tray legs, then moved each plate and silverware to a separate tray. When everything was arranged properly, he turned. His father had taken his place on the couch, so he delivered the first tray there, taking care to put the teacup and his father's favored condiments on the tray before he stepped away. He repeated the procedure for the Professor, then took the final tray for himself. He waited for his father's nod, then seated himself and unfolded his napkin. Then he waited while the Professor said a short Grace, and his father took his first bite, before he began to eat.

"Well done." Constantine nodded. "It isn't necessary here, of course, since we're in our rooms and the Professor is a friend, but..."

"But he does have the etiquette down, and that will impress the Holy Court. It certainly won't hurt tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"I believe Her Grace said that tomorrow night, you're to be invited to dine with His Holiness and their Graces. There should be an acolyte or junior priest doing service, but if you're willing, William might be a better choice."

"Hmm…Not for the Cardinals. Di Medici would refuse on principle anyway. However...if Lady Sforza and His Holiness agree..." Constantine met William's gaze. "How would you feel about serving as squire to myself and perhaps Lady Caterina, as a showcase of your training?"

"I..." William swallowed. "I'd need to reread my protocol notes to make sure I understood the differences, but I...if Lady...if Her Grace agrees, I should be honored." Aunt Seth had taught him about the honor of service and serving even among the highest classes. Not that he'd needed much teaching, with the examples of his parents and their circle of friends.

"There aren't many differences in Court etiquette and the procedures of the Holy Court. The main thing to remember is to take your cue from His Holiness and to look to him before each stage of serving. And there are a few more prayers and blessings involved."

"I'll remember. It's like dining with the Empress."

"It is. But a word of caution. Don't make that comparison in the hearing of the clergy, or Cardinal di Medici." Constantine made a rueful face. "I made that mistake once, my first trip here as the Empire's Ambassador. They're fairly sensitive about such things."

"Yes sir." William nodded. He remembered the tension from the few visits the Pope had made to the Imperial Court. Many Methuselah nobles balked at a human having the same status as the Empress, and his mother had told him during their talks that the opposite was true in the Vatican.

"Enough about that." The Professor finished his meal, poured another glass of wine, and withdrew his pipe. "There will be plenty of time for all of that later. Right now, I'm far more interested in the latest news from your side of the world."

"Indeed. I suppose you've heard of the troubles in Amsterdam?"

"We have. Hugue did mention they were calling in assistance..."

William tuned the words out as he set about replacing the empty plates on the cart and folding up the trays to be cleaned. He'd heard about the Amsterdam issue, and he wasn't interested in listening any further. Besides, his mind was churning with the idea of serving at the Pope's table, even if it was only his father that he'd be offering his services to.

He debated sitting in on his father and the Professor's conversation, then decided against it. If he was going to be eating, or serving, at the Pope's table, he needed to brush up on his dossiers of who was who, and practice his manners. Otherwise, it might be easy to forget and defer to his Father or someone else he was familiar with when he got nervous. He had no intention of shaming his family, or his people, by making a mistake of such magnitude, and accidentally insulting his hosts. Even if he'd been warned that some of them might be deliberately insulting to his father, or to him. He was Methuselah, son of the Crown Prince, and he would not act in any manner that would cast a stain on his kinfolk.

His father and the Professor were still talking when he finally set aside his notes and sought his bed.

Author's Note: Eh...the Professor kind of snuck in there. I had some trouble trying to write this chapter, and then he popped up and sort of took over. But it works, and hopefully, you all enjoyed their interaction. And poor William, put on the spot...