As Ranulph came up the path, travel-dusty and weary, lights twinkled out in the Abbey and the Abbey Farm.
“The Emperor has lost,” said the troubadour. “There was a battle at Legnano, and the German knights scattered the Italian cavalry at the first onset, but when they met the infantry massed about the Carocchio they broke. The Emperor was wounded and fled. Without Henry of Saxony the battle was lost before it began. They say that there will be a treaty at Venice. The Communes have won.”
“Come here, my son,” said Tomaso, turning back into the tower. “We have found an armory of new and deadly weapons. You have heard of Archiater’s apples? We can make them. Shall we give the Plantagenets to eat of the Tree of Knowledge?”
Ranulph’s eyes darkened and narrowed. His quick mind leaped forward to the consequences of such a revelation.
“No,” he answered. “Too much evil ambition lives among Normans. It might be safe with the King—and maybe with Richard, for he loves chivalry and knightly honor—but John loves nothing but his own will. Let us have peace in Christendom while we can.”
“Shall we burn the parchment then?” asked Brother Basil.
“Nay—keep it in cipher. Let a few trusted men know the key.”
“We will trust our lads,” Brother Basil said. “Let us ask them.”
Alan and Padraig, Wilfrid, Guy, and David, came up the path. Brother Basil explained the discovery. They had already heard the news of the Lombard victory from Giovanni, who had ridden with the troubadour and stopped at the Abbey Farm.
“What shall we do with these mysteries?” Tomaso asked, holding out one of the deadly little grenades. “You must remember that some one else may find out the secret without our help. It is true that the man who did would risk being burned for a wizard in some places; still, there is little that men will not dare in the search for knowledge.”