Genevieve interviewed a hundred people that were present at the time the Pope got attacked. Most claimed to be in the crowd that lined the street and were reluctant to admit anything more, but they did not mind when she gave them a chance to cast the blame on others. No doubt they claimed their unruly neighbors were right there in the thick of the rioters, whether that was true or not.

She got the ringleaders of the mob to interrogate, and only added a few names when the Council released the names of who they planned to interview. From her notes, she found the name Antonio came up three times, and the name Berlio came up seven times. Somehow, she suspected, and that was probably in the back of her mind and probably the reason she came. Signore Lupen’s son Antonio and Berlio, alias Baldy were in the middle of it.

It took two weeks at that point to figure out where they were staying. She had three maids with her, women that later in the Middle Ages would be called ladies in waiting, but they were all young humans so of little value in detective work. Likewise, Old Captain Hector, now in his mid to late fifties and who probably should have retired, was not a great help. His ten soldiers made good guards but they did not have the run of a city that they knew nothing about.

Genevieve checked. A small group of fairies lived around Saint Peter’s and visited Rome’s churches and open spaces where the flowers grew. There were gnomes of a sort that could be found scattered around, even as they might be found around any human city, town, village, or habitation, but they mostly worked invisible and only occasionally had fun getting the dogs in the evening into a barking and howling contest. The elves, light and dark, and the dwarfs in between all abandoned the city ages ago. The sprites still swam in the water of the Tiber, and the sky sprites still floated overhead, but between them, only the sprites in the sky might be able to see a couple of men on the ground if they knew what to look for.

Eventually, Genevieve figure she had no other choice. She visited Charles’ garrison of Swabians and wondered how she could explain it to them. She got surprised when she stepped into the office of the officer on duty. An old sergeant immediately recognized her and came to offer his most sincere bow.

“Genevieve, Countess, how may we serve you?”

Genevieve looked at the officer behind the desk but spoke to the sergeant. “Do I know you?”

“Not likely,” the man said. “I am Gottard from Breisach, and I was the miller’s son. I remember growing up and watching you grow up. I knew your stepmother and both stepsisters, Gisela and Ursula, and I remember how sorry I was and how angry I got sometimes at the way they treated you, if I may say so.”

Genevieve’s face brightened. “A friend from home,” she exclaimed, and hugged the man.

“There are seven of us from Breisach, but the others are too young to remember,” he said.

“And what news from home, because I have heard nothing in years?”

“Ah,” he drew out the sound like he had to think. “I came here some five years ago but let me see. Your stepmother passed away a few years before I came. I am sorry if you did not know. They said her heart stopped. But both of your stepsisters married. Ursula married a freeman, the son of a knight down in your stepmother’s old home ground around Hapsburg. When I met him that one time, he did not seem to me to be the brightest light, but I heard they have three children, so I assume they are not unhappy. Your younger stepsister, Gisela, married a good man and has taken the house and the title for herself, since your stepmother passed away. They have two sons, and the farm now has some animals and is much improved. Gisela is tolerable as a countess, much better than your cruel stepmother, if you will forgive me saying so.”

“Forgiven,” Genevieve said, but by then the officer in charge had enough.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” He stood and looked mean and put his hands hard on the desk. “This is a military barracks where women don’t belong. Gottard, this is not a social club.”

“Me?” Genevieve looked coy. “I am the Margravine of Provence, and I have just come from speaking with Charles. I am going to need you and your men to arrest some men when I find where they are.”

The officer sat down and swallowed. “What men? Where?” he asked in a completely different tone.

“They are the men who planned the attack on the Pope, and I am sure you will want to get them locked away.” Genevieve turned to the Sergeant. “Do you remember Signore Lupen’s son, Antonio, and his worker Berlio, the bald one?”

“Yes,” Gottard said. He hardly had to think about it. “But it has been years since I saw them. I am sure they have aged since then, even as I have. They might be hard to recognize.”

“We have all aged,” Genevieve said. “And hard to recognize was just as I was thinking, but you recognized me quick enough.”

“That was easy,” he said. “You are as beautiful as ever. And may I ask how are your maids, Nelly and Margo?”

Genevieve smiled at the sudden memory of Gottard as a young man trying to get Nelly’s attention. She remembered having to tell the young man that they were elves and not available to court, whether he believed her or not. She said they could only be appreciated from afar. “They have not aged one bit, as far as that goes,” she said. “Elves, you know.” She called out in her way, and Margo and Nelly appeared in the midst of them. The officer kindly only screamed a little.

“I believe you,” Gottard said as he got a good look at the two elves in the room with him.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Genevieve said, as two guards came rushing into the room wondering what was the matter. Margo and Nelly put on their old glamours of humanity once they got their bearings and realized where they were, and Nelly smiled for Gottard, whom she recognized. “I have to find a couple of men, Baldy and Antonio. The thing is, I assume they have aged so I am not sure what they look like now,” she told them.

Margo responded. “It would help to know where we are.”

“Rome,” Genevieve answered. “We are in Rome.”

“Going to be hard to pick out two people among so many even if we know what they look like,” Nelly said and smiled again for Gottard.

Genevieve stepped between them. “Don’t get any ideas.” She turned on Nelly. “Don’t go there. That will make me very cross, and that is not why you are here.”

“Yes lady,” Nelly dropped her eyes and Genevieve turned on Gottard.

“I was just thinking they have not aged one bit,” he said.

“Be sure that is all you are thinking,” Genevieve responded.

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MONDAY

Genevieve searches for that elusive happily ever after, but first she has to find the masterminds of the assassins. Until then Happy Reading.

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