Rakóssy climbed into the wagon. “And effective. I hope.” He sat down on a cannon barrel and rolled a keg over to him. He anchored the keg between his knees and pried up the bung with his dagger. He shook out a handful of black powder.
“What’s that?”
“Gunpowder. The Turks used it against Belgrade.” He crushed the powder between his fingers.
“Is this why you borrowed money from the Fuggers?”
“The money was only part of it. I am marrying these. Plus a promise to support the Archduke for the Hungarian Crown and support the Emperor against the heretics.”
“How do you propose to get them to a battlefield?”
“Battlefield, hell. These are going on the walls of Hart and—”
“And?”
“Hart.”
“And Vrath?”
“Little brother, whatever gave you the idea that I would lend these to Malencz?”
“I wasn’t thinking that you would lend them.” Denis said. “Mustafa will be surprised. Are you getting troops, too?”
“The Emperor needs the troops to fight the Pope with, now that he’s taken care of the French.” Rakóssy stared at nothing. “He will . . .”
A coach clattered up and jerked to a stop. Rakóssy straightened, Denis turned to look where he was looking, and saw the shade fall back across the window. Rakóssy watched the coach roll off.
“Who was that?”
“Who?”
“In the coach.”
“I don’t know. Probably a spy.” He rolled the keg back to the corner of the wagon and counted the kegs. “He’s given me enough powder to take Constantinople.”
“Is Catharine coming with us?”
“Is Catharine coming with us where?”
“You’re terribly thick today, János. To Hungary.”
“Do I look like a man who would desert his wife?”
Denis smiled up at him. “Yes.”
“She’s coming.” He jumped down from the wagon and drew the canvas over the kegs of powder. “I do like her, you know.”
“I do too.”
“She’s very entertaining. I don’t particularly like my women so civilized.” He nodded to the Magyar guard by the wagons, and they fell in closely around them. “We can eat in our rooms,” he said to Denis. “I’m seeing Brunswick this afternoon.”
“What about?” Denis said, walking.
Rakóssy shrugged. “Brunswick is something of a fighting man. I may need his influence.”
Rakóssy walked through the gardens, keeping by habit to the shadows of the hedges. The moonlight was dull and hardly lit the most open lawns. He found his way without hesitation, even after almost eight months. He crossed the narrow path that led to the fountains, slipped through the hedge, and stopped dead, still in the deep black shadow of the hedge. He studied the pavilion. It was dark, a tiny house of painted wood, drowned in climbing roses. He sat down on his heels, his back almost against the hedge, and waited.
The sickle moon rose higher. A Turkish moon. That was probably a bad omen. The light played tricks with his eyes. He heard footsteps in the grass and tensed. The hedge rustled. Carlotta, wrapped in a dark cloak, pushed through the hedge and almost ran across the lawn to the door of the pavilion. She knocked. After a moment, she opened the door.
Rakóssy walked softly across the lawn and came up behind her. She did not hear him. She tried to see into the dark pavilion, whispered a curse, and took a candle from her cloak. Rakóssy put out his hand and took it from her.
She gasped and whirled, her hands rising.
“János. You frightened me.”
“Did I?”
He laid his fingers along the edge of her jaw. She smiled. Her lips were trembling. Her eyes shone. He bent toward her and she closed her eyes and held up her mouth to be kissed.
* * *
Denis, in borrowed finery, saw Catharine at the court and went to her. She sat in the light of a huge chandelier, talking to an elderly dowager. As Denis came over, she smiled and made room for him beside her.
“Have you seen my brother?” Denis said.
“I dread the thought.” She smiled again. “Lady Margaret, may I present Sir Denis Rakóssy. The Countess of Zweibrucken, Denis.”
“You must be his brother,” the Countess said. “My, you two are as different as could be, aren’t you? You must pardon me, my French is a trifle rusty. Your rogue of a brother has caused quite a stir here.”
“A crow among peacocks,” Catharine said.
“A barbarian. But you are educated, Sir Denis.” The Countess called a page and sent him for sweet wine and cakes. “Surely you’ve studied in Italy.”
“At Padua. And at Louvain.”
“Oh, didn’t you love Italy? Did you go to Rome? You must have. The Count and I saw the most lovely collection of Roman and Greek statuary there. At the palace of one of the Cardinals. What is his name? Anyway, it was marvelous.”
“At the Medici Palace?” Catharine said.
“The very name.”
“He isn’t Cardinal anymore,” Denis said. “He’s the Pope.”
“Not for long,” the Countess said.
“Let’s not talk politics,” Catharine said.
“Oh, definitely not.” The Countess took a bite of a cake. “Ugh. Nuts. I hate them. Those Italians are so charming, Catharine. Marry an Italian, if you ever get the chance.”
“Oh, no. I’ve heard the most naughty stories about Italians.” Catharine disposed of the Countess’ rejected cake. “Besides, I intend to make the first the last.”
“We all start out thinking that. Where is your brother, Sir Denis?”
“I don’t know.”
“Catharine, your sister isn’t here, either. I’m not so old that I don’t know what that means.”
“Erich has been announcing loudly that he locked her in their suite.”
“She’s in the east wing, isn’t she?” the Countess said. “My dear child, anyone could sneak out of there. Nobody but a blind man could have trouble getting out. I know, because I’ve sneaked out of there myself, in my youth. Several times.” She nodded to Denis. “Several. My first husband and I met in the gardens below. He was trying to get in and I was trying to get out. I dare say I could do it now. As for you, Catharine, you’re a fool. A talented, educated lady marrying a man who can’t keep his hands off another man’s wife.”
“I rather think it’s the other way around,” Catharine said. “Carlotta finds him irresistible.”
“Who wouldn’t?” The Countess swallowed a cake. “If I were twenty years young—”
“I’m rather glad you aren’t.”
The Countess laughed. She took another cake. “These are fruit. They’re very good.”
The court was putting on its nocturnal display. The sight of courtiers was beginning to bore Denis, and the conversations made him nervous. He fussed with his rings. He noticed several people watching him.
Catharine said, “Sir Denis, would you escort me to his Excellency?”
“Of course.”
“Lady Margaret, will you excuse me?” Catharine rose. “I do so adore talking to you, but I’ve just recalled that the Archduke asked me to join him to hear his new lutenist, and I see they’re gathering up there now.”
“Catharine, I know I bore you silly, but you’re such a pleasure to have around and you’re so sweet about it, I can’t help it. Here, young man, you may kiss my hand.”
Catharine smiled. Denis bowed over the Countess’ fingers and gave Catharine his arm.
“Am I really so unlike my brother?” he said.
“Night and day.”
After a while, maneuvering her through a dancing figure, he said, “He isn’t worth you, Catharine.”
“I’m beginning to find this song everyone sings a bit wearisome,” she said. “Oh, Denis, don’t look so abashed. You dance beautifully.”
“Thank you.”
The music stopped, and they went to find wine and cakes.
Several young courtiers came over and they talked. Catharine listened to Denis discuss Italian philosophy. One of the young men made a joke, and the little gathering burst into laughter. A courtier named de Guzman plucked a scented handkerchief from his sleeve and made an elaborate display with it, pretending to wipe his eyes.
“Miguel,” Catharine said, “I do believe that you’ve been at my lady Cordobés’ scent pots again. Here.” She captured the kerchief and sniffed. “I believe I may faint. One of you must surely catch me and wave your hands.”
“Oh, Catharine,” de Guzman said. “You must. We could have the whole court on its ear. Swoon here, my dear lady.” He knelt with a flourish and indicated his knee. “I shall sweep you away, with all your skirts arustle.”
“I shall scream and deliver a long speech,” a young Italian said.
“La. And tush. And sweet my lords. You would have my betrothed at your throats.” She parodied a swordsman’s flourish with a long cake. “And he would slash you, thus, and rip you, thus, and give you the coup, thus — and what would my lady Cordobés do?”
“Catharine, protect me from your vicious lover.” De Guzman snatched back the handkerchief and pressed it to his brow. “Now I may faint.”
“Yes, do.” Catharine sat down. She smiled up at them. “Just think, my boys, in a few days I shall be free of all of this.”
They gasped and fluttered. “Say nay, dear Catharine,” a young Fleming said. “Stay with us, who love you.”
“But I’m going with Denis, who loves me. Don’t you, Denis?”
“With all my heart,” he said, smiling.
“And with my toad-prince, who when I love him will turn miraculously into a handsome young man. Will you miss me, my lords?”
“We shall all die without you. We shall languish. We shall all ride out with the Emperor to die on the point of some dastard Frenchman’s rapier, all for love of you.”
“Nonsense. You will go back to your Ficino and your pretty ladies with their scent pots to pilfer, and never think of me more.”
“Ficino?” De Guzman postured. “I? I assure you, dear Catharine, I am no sort of Ficino breed. Besides, I am too busy reading these lovely heresies.”
“This monk,” Denis said. “Tell me more about him.”
“He’s a fanatic from Wittenberg,” the Fleming said. “A few years ago he tacked up a list of grievances against the Pope on the chapel door there. We haven’t been rid of him since. I think he’s mad. The German princes, the dogs, have all gone over to his side and are backing him because he gives them whatever they want.”
“What kind of philosophy does he follow? My brother wishes they’d hang him. We had a fellow at Louvain when I was there who did a lot of talking about . . .”
Catharine sat among them, listening with only part of her mind. Her mouth felt tight from smiling so much. She thought of Rakóssy and Carlotta together somewhere, and of Erich, hunting for them. Erich had killed eight men in duels.
He did not love her. Perhaps he never would. Probably. She was a fool to think that he would ever love her, simply because they were such good friends. He was a man of powerful lusts, a vicious, black-hearted man.
And I am plain, and sensible, and fond of talking to old ladies and boys, and I do like it here, and Hungary sounds so cold and dark.
“Catharine,” de Guzman said. He took her hand and bowed over it. “Beautiful lady, are you happy?”
She smiled brilliantly at him.
“Are you tired, Catharine?” Denis said.
“No. I’m quite all right.” She rose. “Don’t you know that nobody goes to bed before dawn here? Only pensioners and people wanting favors go to bed early, so that they can be up early and go stand in lines.” She turned. “Miguelito, please do bring me a glass . . .”
Rakóssy was coming toward her. The young courtiers saw him and parted, quieting, to let him through. They greeted him uneasily and said nothing after they had greeted him.
“Good evening,” he said, looking generally around at them.
“We didn’t expect you tonight,” Catharine said.
“You look sleepy,” he said. “Let me take you to your apartments.”
“Thank you. Yes.” She smiled at the young men, put her hand on Rakóssy’s arm, and let him lead her out, across the hall, and through the doors.
“What do you want to say, János?”
“We were caught.”
“You and Carlotta.”
“Yes.”
“Has he challenged you?”
“He challenged me.”
She shut her eyes. “When do you fight?”
“We fought. I killed him.”
She sighed. Her legs were weak. “Thank God.”
He opened a door, looked to see if the room was empty, and drew her inside. She sat down in the only chair.
“Were you worried about me?” he said.
“He might have killed you.”
He sat down on the floor in front of her and folded his arms on his knees. “I apologize. It was not what you would call the best moment.”
“You apologize for the moment, but not for the act?”
The left corner of his mouth drew down. His eyes were unblinking on hers. “For the act, never.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have to pay for it more dearly. How is Carlotta?”
“Inept.”
“I didn’t mean that. You are horrible.”
“She is. Do you still want to marry me?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked down.
“Do you want me to?” she said.
“Do I want you to want to marry me?”
“János.”
“Catharine, my mother was Greek. Our children will be only one-quarter Magyar. I would prefer to marry back into the blood. But I will need the influence of the Emperor behind me, given one or two things. If I do not marry you, he can shrug off our alliance at any future moment, and he might, when his brother has the Hungarian Crown. But if I marry you, the chances are better that he won’t.”
“You are frank.”
He shrugged. “I like you. I don’t often explain things.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Will you marry me?”
She felt only dull irritation. She was grimly tired. She felt her eyes burn with tears. She put her hands to her face.
“Don’t cry.” He put his arms around her. “Don’t cry. The fairy tales, remember?”
“I should never have told you those damned fairy tales.”
She sobbed. He held her tight.
“Once my mother and I were out in the mountains,” he said. “We cooked a rabbit and ate it. We didn’t talk much. We sat there by the fire and all of a sudden she burst into tears.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“That women cry at the strangest times.”
“Strangest times?” She wrenched herself away from him. “Good God.”
He sighed. His hand rested on the nape of her neck, his fingers against her hair.
“You can marry Carlotta now,” she said.
“I don’t want to marry Carlotta. She bores me.”
“And you want to marry me.”
He looked at her. “Yes.”
“All right,” she said. “I will.”
He took her by the hand and led her to her rooms. At the door, he kissed her on the forehead. “Go to sleep,” he said. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
She watched him go down the corridor, his sword swinging lightly at his spurred heels.
Rakóssy headed for his rooms. He rounded a corner and saw de Guzman standing here. Behind him were half the young men of Catharine’s circle.
“My lord,” de Guzman said. He and the others came briskly to attention.
Rakóssy stopped raggedly. He was very tired. “Yes.”
“You have insulted the lady Catharine de Buñez. I challenge you in the presence of witnesses.”
Rakóss
y stared at him. “By the seven little Devils.” He went on past de Guzman. De Guzman caught his arm. Rakóssy wheeled. “Take your hand off me.”
De Guzman’s fingers slipped from his sleeve. “Do you accept?”
“God, no. I have better things to do than chase around killing greensick boys.”
He went on down the corridor. At his door, he turned and bowed. “Gentlemen.” His Magyar opened the door for him and he went in. Once in the room, he stopped and stood still, thinking, and finally threw back his head and laughed.
They were married in the morning chapel. The bishop married them, very quickly and quietly. The Archduke had heard about the duel and ordered Rakóssy to leave for Hungary as soon as he could pack up and go. Rakóssy’s knights and Catharine’s relatives and suite attended the ceremony. When the ring was on Catharine’s finger and all the vows said, she was taken to her apartments and Rakóssy went to supervise the loading of the wagons. He sent a coach for her, and she came to the west gate in it, and looked out and saw the wagons with the cannon, and the Magyar knights riding up and down. Rakóssy saw her and rode over. The black mare danced under him.
“Are you ready, Catharine?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll leave the coach outside the city. It would never last to Hungary. You can ride in a wagon if you want. I have a horse for you if you want to ride.”
“All right.”
He swung the mare and cantered up the line. The wagons began to move. She watched through the coach window. He was everywhere, cursing the drivers and the great stubborn oxen, shouting orders. She felt her heart leap. She was going to Hungary. I am going to Hungary.
Denis jogged up. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Denis.”
“You looked beautiful in the chapel.”
They were moving through the city. The sharp voices of the people reached her ears. “Isn’t it marvelous? We’re really going.”
“Yes.”
“Hungary,” she said.
Denis grinned. “It will take us some time, with these wagons.”
“Is it a rough trail?”
“It’s plain almost all the way. But we have to ford two or three good-sized streams, including the Danube. It may be difficult.”
The city boiled around them. “I feel as if I were in a ship, except that the waves are people,” she said.
Rakóssy Page 7
