“Does he speak Magyar?”
“I don’t know. I suppose he does. Naturally it’s very useful to him to work through agents instead of in person.”
“Why?”
“Oh, well, it’s an advantage when he’s trying to handle me, especially if he works through an agent and through Malencz, it keeps me from . . . My position isn’t as strong if it isn’t openly recognized. Officially, he treats with Malencz, so he’s above me, he keeps me unofficial.”
Suddenly he threw back his head and laughed. “Christ, he has the most incredible style.”
“Do you like him?”
“I suppose so.”
“Does he like you?”
Rakóssy snorted. “All is not sweet honorable competition between us, little brother. It doesn’t make any difference. We’re going to Vienna very shortly, and you can study the effects of policy better there than here. I’ve got one more raid to work out, but you don’t have to come with me this time.”
He got up and left the hall. Denis sat a moment, thinking. He thought perhaps he should ask to be allowed to go along on the raid, but he was unsure, and finally he went to the library to read and forgot all about it.
Rakóssy carried out his raid a few days later. In the first days of autumn they left for Vienna. The ride was swift and uneventful. They reached Vienna at noon of a bright, windy day and rode buffeted through the crowded city up to the west gate of the Hapsburg palace. The knights muttered and pointed and laughed. Denis rode close to his brother, embarrassed.
“You’d think they’d never seen civilization,” he said.
“They haven’t.” Rakóssy turned to watch a coach pass, drawn by six big bays. The curtains were drawn, but a woman’s hand lay on the sill of the window, glittering with rings.
At the gate a sentry ordered them to halt. Rakóssy rode forward a little.
“János Rakóssy,” he said. Denis did not hear what the sentry answered. Rakóssy gestured. The sentry stepped back and saluted him. The gates opened. They rode through them and into a road leading through a park.
“This is magnificent,” Denis said.
The park was brilliant with flowers and fountains. Two young men cantered by them on white horses.
“The Hapsburgs are rich,” Rakóssy said.
“Is the Emperor here?”
“The Emperor is fighting in Italy. He’d rather not be here, probably.”
“Why? This is lovely.”
“The heresy, for one thing. Or haven’t you heard about the heresy?”
“Which one?”
“Some monk’s trying to reform the Church all by himself.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of him. Everyone at the universities is very excited about it. They seem to think he will.”
“The Emperor’s having more trouble with him than with the French king, apparently. I wish they’d catch him and hang him.”
“Why?”
Rakóssy did not answer. They drew up before a courtyard and Rakóssy dismounted. He called to a group of pages and they ran up to hold his and Denis’ horses. The pages all wore beautiful livery and behaved very courteously. Denis dismounted. He heard his brother’s voice in the midst of the pages and realized that he was speaking German.
“Arpád.”
Arpád jogged up.
“This boy will show you where to go. All of you. Denis, stay.”
The Magyar knights rode off. Rakóssy crooked a finger at a page in blue and rose. He spoke to him for a moment and started off into the palace. He looked as if he knew where he was going. Denis followed him closely. He had to trot to catch up. Rakóssy went through a door, turned left, and without any hesitation started up a flight of stairs. They passed a gaggle of girls in glowing pale satin and lace, girls with their hair heaped up on their heads in sleek coils. Rakóssy strode through a curtained archway and into a great corridor. Denis trailed him, his head stuffed with the smell of perfume and the sight of young enchanting faces.
Harquebusiers stood at intervals along the corridor, and pennants fluttered in the breeze that swept in through the tall windows. The corridor was full of sunlight. The ceiling was ornately carved. He thought he heard the murmur of a thousand voices from the closed rooms, behind the hangings, as if the whole palace sang with light and beauty. He wanted ten eyes to look and a dozen ears to hear.
Rakóssy marched down the corridor as it he owned it. He spoke a single word to a harquebusier and led Denis through a closed door.
This was an office or an antechamber. Courtiers stood along the walls, talking. Their clothes were stiff with gold braid, and jewels flashed at their ears and wrists. Denis sniffed their heavy perfume. He saw the courtiers watching him and his brother out of the corners of their languid painted eyes. He felt uncomfortably dressed. Rakóssy, in his black cloak and high Hungarian boots, looked calmly out of place. He stood by the desk, one hand resting on the quillon of his sword.
The man seated behind the desk looked up and said something in German. Rakóssy said, “Baron János Rakóssy von Ungarn.”
“Ein Moment.”
Rakóssy glanced at the courtiers. Some of them knew him and bowed, their lace fluttering. He saw that Denis was red with embarrassment. The man behind the desk was talking to a pensioner. The pensioner argued and Mansfeld, the secretary, only talked, but the pensioner lost and stalked away with a curse.
“Now, my lord.” Mansfeld turned back, smiling. “His Excellency is not free today. However, if you would care to wait, I will see that he knows of your arrival and perhaps tomorrow he will see you. Your chambers have, naturally, been arranged, and I will assign several pages to you and your escort. I assume that you will prefer your own men as sentries. That has been anticipated.”
“My lady de Buñez — is she at court?”
“I believe so, but, as you know, my good lord, I am not officially in charge of her affairs. If you will wait a moment . . .” The secretary rang a little bell. A page came forward. The secretary sent him to the chambers of Lady de Buñez.
A second page came in and put a note on the desk. He bowed and backed off a few steps to stand with his hands behind his back. The secretary said, “If you would care to see the Duke of Brunswick, my lord, he has requested that you . . .” Mansfeld read the note while he talked. He stood up. “His Excellency requests your presence at dinner. The page will escort you to your chambers and thence to his Excellency’s. If I may be of further service, please do not hesitate to inform me. Good day.”
The page turned smartly and led them out. Denis said, “Where are we going?”
“To change clothes and then to dine with the Archduke. The ways of courts, little brother, are sometimes devious.”
The passed through corridors filled with sunshine. The page opened a huge door, stepped aside, and said, “Your baggage has been brought up, my lord. I will await you outside.”
Rakóssy nodded. He went through a smaller door. Denis followed. Rakóssy said, “Anything we wear is going to make us look like poor relations.” He snapped his fingers and another page appeared. Rakóssy said something in German and the page bowed smartly and trotted out. Rakóssy sat down on the bed and looked over at Denis, who was staring around the room.
“They live well,” Rakóssy said. The page returned with a pile of clothes, laid them tenderly on the bed, and knelt to take off Rakóssy’s boots. Rakóssy stripped off his doublet and shirt and rummaged through the pile of clothes. Denis dressed by himself, while the page danced around Rakóssy, shining spurs and buttoning buttons and lacing laces. Denis almost laughed, but sat down instead. Rakóssy ended up looking exactly as before, only a bit cleaner. They went back to the corridor and started after the Archduke’s page. Two Magyars with halberds passed them and took up stations by the doors.
The page led them through the glowing palace, opened a big oak door, entered, and said, “His lordship the Baron Rakóssy. Sir Denis Rakóssy.”
“How does he know my name?”
“T
he ways of courts.”
They advanced into a wide room with a tiled floor. Six people sat at a massive table under the windows. These people stood. A tall, handsome young man came around the table, smiling.
“Baron Rakóssy. A pleasure.”
Rakóssy bowed over the Archduke’s hand. “My brother speaks no German, your Excellency. If you will permit me.”
“By all means.”
“Denis. Archduke Ferdinand.” He bowed toward the Archduke. “He speaks French, I believe.”
“Your Excellency,” Denis said.
“Ah. Sir Denis. It is a pleasure. May I present the Archduchess, your countrywoman. Sir Erich Markwald and his lady, Carlotta. Father Peter Munch. Your lord brother’s betrothed, the lady Catharine de Buñez.”
Denis spoke compliments and greetings. He glanced at his brother. The Archduchess was speaking to Rakóssy, and Rakóssy nodded, smiling. They were all seated, Rakóssy next to the woman he would marry and to whom, as yet, he had not spoken. The conversation slipped back into German. Denis was thankful to be quiet.
These people disturbed him. They all seemed too young, except for the priest. Catharine de Buñez looked older than he had expected. She had beautiful hair, the rich gold of Spanish blondes. Her eyes were gray, large and wide-spaced. All her features were large. She saw Denis staring at her and smiled. She turned to Rakóssy, who was listening to the Archduke tell a funny story.
“János,” she said in Magyar, “your brother seems fascinated. Hadn’t you told him?”
“I don’t think he actually believed me.” Rakóssy crooked a finger at a page and told him to pour wine for him and for the lady Catharine. “You remember it. The language.”
“If I’m to live there, I may as well be able to complain so that the people can understand me. Did you have a good journey?”
“Excellent.” Rakóssy lifted his wine. He looked at the lady Carlotta. “A good, quick trip. I don’t think it will be as easy going back.”
“Probably not, considering the baggage you will be packing. Don’t stare at Carlotta, my dear. Erich suspects you already.”
Carlotta was in conversation with the priest, a very old man who nodded all the time. She darted glances at Rakóssy, lowered her eyes, smiled, and moved her small hand in a light gesture.
“Your sister’s beautiful,” Rakóssy said. “Any man would stare.”
“János, this is unkind,” Denis said.
Rakóssy drank wine. “Be quiet, little brother.”
“Sir Denis,” Catharine said, “haven’t you gotten used to your brother yet? János, stop staring at her.”
“Giving orders already? You aren’t in possession of me yet.”
Catharine looked at Denis, smiled, and tipped over the wine goblet before her. The wine splashed over the table and drenched Rakóssy. He stood up, throwing the chair over backward.
“My dear, how could I have been so careless,” Catharine said idly. “Now you will have to retire and change. A pity. Michael.”
A page came over, the same page in blue and rose that Rakóssy had spoken to in the courtyard. The Archduke was on his feet. “My aunt must be beside herself with joy,” he said. “My lord, please accept my apologies. By all means, change your dress and return as soon as possible.”
Rakóssy turned toward Catharine, bowed, and said, “You infernal bitch.”
{“}Catharine raised her eyebrows. “Come back soon, beloved.”
Rakóssy wheeled and bowed to Carlotta. “It is a pleasure to return to the realm of the magnificent Carlotta.”
Erich lurched to his feet. Rakóssy strode out, followed by the page. Erich flung his crumpled linen to the table. “If it please your Excellency, my wife is ill. May we have permission to retire?”
“As you will, Sir Erich.”
Erich and Carlotta left. Catharine leaned back. She began to laugh. Denis sat bolt upright. He heard the Archduke and duchess laughing.
“Do you think me unworthy, Denis?” Catharine said. “We may speak French, if you wish.”
“Well, Catharine,” the Archduchess said. “What do you think of your wild stallion of a Magyar now?”
“I think he’s marvelous.”
“My aunt,” the Archduke said to Denis, “thinks that she can tame anything.”
“I don’t want to tame him, my lord. He is magnificent.”
Denis said, “He’s vicious and heartless. He did that just to hurt you.”
“Yes,” the Archduchess said, “and he never seems to recall that I speak Magyar as well. I heard what he called you. I think you should repudiate him.”
“I will never give him up, my lady. I love him.”
“Love. That’s no reason to marry any man. You marry to be made happy. This man will make your life a hell, Catharine. My lord, is there no way to—”
“Make a man love a woman?” The Archduke drew his perfumed napkin through his fingers. “No, Catharine, you may call off this marriage if you wish, without any fear of my breaking our agreement. That is settled, and between him and me.”
Her face was perfectly calm. “I want him, my lord, and I mean to have him. I think I’m a match for him. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course.”
She rose and swept a deep curtsy. She was very tall, Denis saw. He stood.
“May I escort you, my lady?”
“Thank you, Sir Denis, but this, I believe, is a piece of work best attended to alone. Thank you.”
In the corridor, she paused. A page hurried by, swearing under his breath. She turned and went down the hall. It took her almost fifteen minutes to reach the apartments where Rakóssy was staying.
A Magyar knight with a halberd stood by the door. She faced him and said, “Open that door.”
“Am I supposed to?”
“Open it, knave.”
He opened it. She took a deep breath and went in, shutting the door behind her. Another Magyar stood by Rakóssy’s bedroom door.
This one ignored her and she opened the door herself. Rakóssy was standing by the window, staring out, naked to the waist. His dirty shirt was flung over a chair.
“You are angry with me, János.”
“Angry? I’m in a killing rage.”
She sat down. “You don’t seem to realize that I have some pride, too.”
“You haven’t got me yet. You shouldn’t be here without a duenna.”
“My dear, I trust you.”
He snorted. “You love to make me look ridiculous.”
She stood up. “It is fun. The Black Baron Rakóssy, flawed. A satirical play.”
He said nothing. He leaned against the window frame.
“Erich was furious. He left right after you did — with Carlotta. I think he will go straight back to Schloss Markwald. Do you want to fight another duel over her?”
“God knows I’ll never fight a duel over you.”
“Erich is a famous duelist. Much better than poor Sebastian.”
“He’s a fool.”
“Come back to dinner.”
“No.”
“You act like a spoiled boy who has been denied something he should never have wanted.” She looked around. “Where is Michael?”
“I sent him away.”
She went to the windows. The gardens lay below, drawn straight and neat with roses and hedges of thorn. Two gardeners were working almost directly below this window.
He put his hand on her waist. “Catharine,” he said.
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry, my dear.”
“I’m not.”
“We should go back.”
“Are you angry?”
“No. Are you?”
“Not any more. I’ve always liked you, Catharine. I just can’t get used to the idea of marrying you.”
“Do you think you would enjoy being married to my sister?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“She told me that she would never go to Hungary. She said you made it sound frig
htful.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“After she married Erich. She told me that I was lucky to be getting you, but that she could never live too far away from a court, without a lot of servants, and in the middle of a war.”
“But you’re looking forward to it.”
“Frankly, yes. I’m awfully tired of this court, János. Hungary sounds much nicer.”
“You may not like it. Or being married to me.”
“We’re being married the day after tomorrow. And it will be, ‘fore God, the quietest, most secret wedding ever performed in the Hapsburg palace.”
“Nothing could please me more.”
“Now will you come down to dinner? Put a shirt on. You look like a wild barbarian out of the hills.”
“I am.” He looked down at her. “If only you looked like your sister.”
“That,” she said, “is a compliment.”
“You have a mole on your cheek. You didn’t have it last winter.”
“Last winter, moles were not in fashion. I covered it with cream. Of course, last winter, you were not aware that you would be marrying me and you didn’t look very hard. Come along.”
He followed her out.
In the corridor, she said, “My nephew says that I may decline to marry you and your alliance will still stand.”
He looked at her. “Why tell me that?’
“I’ve been trying not to.”
They walked the length of that corridor and turned into another. Rakóssy said, “Thank you.”
“What?”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
He opened the door for her. She swept past him, and he heard her murmur to the Archduke. He went into the room, drawing the heavy door closed behind him.
“Cannon,” Rakóssy said. “Thirty-five cannon.” He hauled the canvas back over the dismantled guns and walked on.
“They’re ugly,” Denis said. “What do we need cannon for?”
‘The Turks.”
“We’ve been able to fight them off before without cannon.”
“You don’t like them?” Rakóssy threw back the canvas on a fourth wagon and looked in.
“They’re obscene.”
Rakóssy Page 6
