Eifelheim - Michael Flynn [152]
WHEN TALK turned later to politics, Ockham recounted the infamous progress of the Wittelsbach court through Italy twenty years before, when they had burned the Pope in effigy. “After all,” he said, “what say has a Frenchman in the election of the Roman Kaiser?”
“Sauwohl!” said Einhardt, saluting with his cup.
“I had thought to use this as the topic for the disputation,” said Manfred, gesturing with a haunch of venison for the wine to be poured. “Tell us your arguments, Brother Ockham, if they are not merely that you ate at Ludwig’s table?”
Ockham rested his chin on his palm and curled one finger by his ear. “Mine Herr,” he said after a moment. “Marsiglio wrote that no one could gainsay the prince in his own land. Of course, he meant that ‘Jacques de Cahors’ could not gainsay Ludwig—which pleased Ludwig greatly. And what he really meant was that he was a Ghibelline, and blamed the Pope for every ill in Italy.”
“‘Ghibelline’,” said Einhardt. “Why cannot the Italians pronounce ‘Vibligen’?”
Manfred studied the back of his hand. “And you did not agree …?”
Ockham spoke cautiously. “I argued that, in extremis, and if the prince is become a tyrant, then it is legitimate for another prince—even a pope—to invade his country and overthrow him.”
Einhardt expelled his breath and Thierry stiffened. Even Manfred grew still.
“As the Breisgau lords,” Dietrich interjected quickly, “overthrew von Falkenstein.”
Einhardt grunted. “Outlaws, doch.” The sudden tension eased.
Manfred cast Dietrich an amused glance. He tossed the bone of his venison to the floor and turned again to Ockham. “And how are we to know when the prince is become a tyrant?”
Ockham’s page refilled the Englishman’s krautstrunk and Ockham took a swallow before answering. “You have heard the maxim, ‘What has pleased the prince has the force of law.’ But I glossed that, ‘What pleases the prince reasonably and justly for the sake of the common good has the force of law.’”
Manfred studied his guest carefully and rubbed his cheek. “The prince,” he said, “has always in mind the common good.”
Ockham nodded. “Naturally, a prince who rules with God’s law in his heart will do so; but men are sinners, and princes are men. So, men have certain natural rights directly from God, which the prince may not alienate. The first such: a man has a right to his own life.”
Eugen gestured with his knife. “But he may be murdered by an enemy, or fall to the pest or other injury. What right to life has a man drowning in a river?”
Ockham raised his forefinger. “That a man possesses a natural right to his own life means only that his defense of that life is legitimate, not that his defense will be successful.” He spread his hands. “As for other natural rights, I number the right to freedom against tyranny, and the right to property. That last he may forego, when in so doing he pursues his own happiness.” Ockham cut into a sausage set before him by a page. “As the Spirituals do in imitation of the poverty of the Lord and His Apostles.”
Thierry laughed. “Good. That leaves more for the rest of us.”
Ockham waved a dismissal. “But with Ludwig dead, every man must look to himself, so I am for Avignon to make my peace with Clement. This really is a most excellent sausage.”
Einhardt slapped the table. “You are thin for a monk, but I see you have a monk’s appetite.” Then, turning to Eugen he said, “Tell me how you won that scar,” and, flushing, the young Ritter recounted his deeds at Burg Falkenstein. At the tale’s conclusion, the imperial knight raised a cup to him. “Old strokes, worn with honor!” he cried.
He and Manfred then refought the battle of Mühldorf, where Einhardt had ridden for Ludwig Wittelsbach and Manfred for Friedrich Hapsburg, each of whom had sought the imperial crown.
“Ludwig cut a fine figure,” Einhardt wheezed, “You must’ve remarked it, Ockham. You knew him. Very striking body, tall and slender. How he loved to dance and hunt stags!”
“For which reason,” Manfred countered, “the imperial dignity sat lightly upon him.”
“No gravitas?” Einhardt swallowed a