“Just what are you trying to do to him?” Catharine said.
“I’m not trying to do anything to him.”
“What is he to you? The scapegoat for your wrath? You can’t do this to him. I’m not going to let you do it.”
“Oh?” he said. He sprawled in his chair. “How do you propose to stop me?”
“I don’t know,” she said calmly. “But I will.”
He looked off. She turned toward the door and saw the servants standing there, staring. She signed to them to go. He had not seen them. He was holding a knife in one hand, and his knuckles were white. He turned his eyes back to her. His eyes were black as coal. She stiffened to accept his rage.
“Catharine,” he said, “you cannot make me do anything I don’t want to do, and you cannot stop me from doing anything, anything at all.”
His voice was soft. His eyes were intent and unblinking. She was suddenly afraid to move.
“This is between Denis and me,” he said. “I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t intend to.”
“You’re a grown man,” she said. “Denis is just a boy.”
He stood up and she winced, lifting her arms before her. He looked down at her. Her heart thundered in her side.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said. “You’re acting as if I were going to hit you.”
She lowered her hands to her lap. He came around the table and sat on the edge of the table by her chair. She stared up at him. Her back hurt from the tension in her spine. She did not dare to move and ease it.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said. “Believe me. But you are not going to interfere between me and Denis. You have no right to try.”
“No right?” she whispered. “No right?”
“Stop being the little champion of the downtrodden, eh?” He bent stiffly and kissed her frozen cheek. He went off, leaving her there alone. Her cheek where he had kissed it burned like fire. She sat, hardly thinking, staring straight ahead. Finally she rose and walked slowly out of the great hall, past the crossed halberds and the badge with its small silver deer.
She went to Denis’ room and knocked. Denis opened the door.
“Catharine,” he said. “Catharine. You look ill.”
“No.”
“Are you frightened? Did you fight with János?”
She gave a nervous little laugh. “No. Not at all.”
“I’d hate to have you fight over me. Would you like some wine?”
“No. I think I’ll lie down for a while.”
“János is in your room,” Denis said. “I’ll go down and tell him you want to be alone.”
“No, don’t. He isn’t angry with me, Denis. I’m not in any danger. Thank you.”
She smiled at him, and he caught her hand. “Catharine,” he said. “If you . . . ever need anything . . .”
She slipped her fingers from his grasp. “Thank you, Denis.” She went down the corridor to her room.
Rakóssy’s room. The door was open. She saw him at the window, looking out. He turned and saw her, without surprise, and moved away from the window.
“How are your ribs?” she said.
“All right.”
“Take off your shirt and let me look at them.”
He took off his shirt and started to sit on the bed. He looked at her and the corner of his mouth drew down. He went to the big armchair and sat down in it. She came over and unwound the bandage.
“Breathe,” she said.
He breathed and his chest swelled. “Fine,” he said.
“Bend over.”
He bent.
“Does it hurt?”
“Only a little. The horse wasn’t shod. I must have just cracked them.”
“I’ll bring you some wine.”
She warmed wine over the fire and brought it in cups. She stood behind him, looking down at his hair. He said, “Do you suppose that monk’s going to get anywhere?”
“I don’t know. He has poor Charles in a cleft stick, of course.”
“Damn your nephew. Just when I need him, he gets mixed up in some bloody heresy.”
She laughed. “Just when you need him. Did anyone ever tell you that you’re terribly arrogant?”
“Did anybody ever tell you that the Turks are dangerous?”
“Well, there’s not much I can say to that.”
“Now that Christianity’s in a proper mess, they’ll probably attack us. They have to, soon, or they’ll lose the whole game.”
“You’re talking to yourself. Some of my relatives think that this new Sultan will be peaceful.”
“There is no such creature as a peaceful Sultan.”
“That’s dogmatic of you.”
“They have to be nasty even to get to the throne. Turks aren’t like you nice settled people west of here. They’re like Magyars. We’re all half barbarian still. Your damned nephew had better get here when the fighting starts, or he’s going to lose this nice human moat between the Turks and his territory, and then he’ll learn how Turks are.”
“Charles is only twenty-five. He’s very—”
“Mohammed the Great was twenty-one when he took Constantinople. The trouble with Turks is that they’re single-minded. The trouble with Christians is that they’re incapable of making up their minds.”
“Why are you so single-minded about Malencz, and taking Vrath, if it all depends on whether or not my damned nephew comes to help us?”
“If Charles doesn’t come, we’ll all need all we can — where did you get the idea that I’m going to take Vrath away from Malencz?”
“Denis told me.”
“Denis told you?”
“Denis is cleverer than you think, my dear.”
He said nothing. He sat staring. She put her hand on his hair. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” She combed his hair through her fingers, stroking him. His hair was so black there was no trace of brown or even blue in it, curling over her fingers. She watched his face. The cheekbones looked much broader from this angle. She saw him blink. His hands lay on the arms of the chair, relaxed, the fingers curving easily at nothing. He was enjoying the touch of her hands with the selfish pleasure of an animal, forgetting her presence, aware only of her hand giving him pleasure. She took her hand away. He looked up at her.
He stood up and went to the door. He took off his boots with the bootjack there. Coming back toward her, he batted the door shut with his hand. She stood facing him, afraid.
“What did you do that for?” she said.
His eyes snapped and glittered. “Well, why not?”
He turned her around and took the pins out of her hair. He let her hair fall free. She clasped her hands before her. He ran his hands through her hair.
“János,” she said, and her voice surprised her.
He stood behind her and put his arms around her. He kissed her throat. “Yes?”
“Please, János. Not tonight.” Her voice still had that funny sound to it.
“Oh, Christ, Catharine, I’ve been celibate for almost a month, waiting for your virgin temper to melt before my ardor. Pity me.” He turned her around and kissed her.
“Pity me,” she said. “Please.”
“ ‘Belle of Shiraz,’ ” he said, “you’d better grant me love’s demand, or I shall go mad.”
She caught the laces of her bodice before he could undo them completely. He kissed her mouth and bent her back until she thought she would fall and flung out her arms, and he picked her up with a sweep that made her dizzy. She felt the roughness of the bedcover against her back and realized that he had lifted her out of her gown. She shoved at him. He let her go and she squirmed into the middle of the bed.
“You are just too good at this,” she said. “What kind of life have you had, anyway?”
“Oh, you should have seen what I went through with your sister.”
“János!”
“And Mari. It’s been hell without you, Catharine.” He flopped down beside her
and grinned. “Think of all the scheming women who have victimized me, used me.” He put his head down on her thigh. “Catharine, if I go mad you shall be unhappy for the rest of your life, and I shall go mad if you don’t take pity on me.”
He reached for the laces on her busk. She slapped his hand. He flipped over and lay with his head in her lap, smiling up at her.
You are supposed to write me poetry and to sing under my window and to tell me that I’m beautiful,” she said.
“You’re beautiful, and I’ve already told you the only poem I know,” he said. “Aside from a filthy rhyme my mother taught me once.”
“I am not beautiful.”
“Cinched up in that armor, you aren’t, no.” He put his arm around her waist. “Catherine, if you only knew how I’ve been abused at the hands of women—”
“Like my sister?”
“Like a lamb to the slaughter. Poor, innocent, pitiful lamb.” He rolled upright and kissed her. She liked being kissed, and he made no move to take off her busk.
“You’re not going to prevent me,” he said, “so you might as well enjoy it.” He moved slightly. She put her arms around his neck.
“Please, János. Just let me get used—”
“Just a second.” He reared back. She saw the flash of his dagger in his hand and yelped. He tossed the dagger onto the floor and engulfed her. The busk with its slashed laces he flung after the dagger.
“Your body is beautiful,” he said. His hands were rough on her skin. He drew her gently down until they were lying side by side. She kept her eyes shut. The light made her eyelids red.
“Put out the candles,” she said.
Her petticoats followed the busk. “No.”
“Please, János.”
He turned her so that a shadow fell across her face and her eyelids darkened. She clung to him. “I’m frightened.”
“You’re beautiful.” He drew the covers over her. She wanted the touch of his hand. “You make Carlotta look like a—”
“How dare you!” She sat up and her eyes flew open. He was naked. He laughed at her and put his hands on her waist and drew her down against him.
“I’ve never seen a man—”
“Take a long look. I’m the only one you’ll ever see.”
“You incredible—”
“I mean stripped. Put your head down.” He kissed her eyes. She locked her arms around his neck. Don’t think. Don’t think about it at all.
“This is going to hurt,” he said.
“I don’t care — oh, please — János. Please.” She gulped. Her eyes were shut tight. She clutched his shoulders. “Please, oh, János. János. János.”
Rakóssy woke up. Catharine was curled up around his right arm, her fingers wrapped around his wrist. Her hair lay tangled across the pillows. He looked toward the window. It was just dawn. He had a while yet before he had to get up. He felt lazy and empty. He rolled over and nipped her ear.
She leapt awake with a yell and sat up. She blushed. She folded her arms quickly across her breasts and stared at him.
“You weren’t so modest last night,” he said. “Lie down.”
“I was so modest. In the beginning.”
“It wasn’t the beginning I was thinking of.”
“I don’t know how—”
“I do.” He pulled her down. “You’re blushing all the way down to your nipples. Listen to me. There is nothing to be afraid of. You are my wife. It’s legal and holy. In fact, we’re supposed to do it. How do you think people get born?”
“Have you ever gotten any babies?”
“The Gypsies come through too often.” He smoothed her hair down.
“I hurt.”
“You don’t have to get out of bed all day. Lie still. I won’t do anything.”
“Don’t you want to?”
He snorted. “Women. I will never understand you. If we—”
“Don’t you dare use that word.”
“What word?”
“The word you used last night.”
“Anyhow, you’d hurt too much.”
She relaxed. He brushed her hair from her temples. She could see the working of the muscles in his arm and shoulder. She studied the taut framework of his collar-bones. He was very strong. She pulled at the hair on his chest.
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry.” She put her hand against his chest. “What do the Gypsies do, steal babies?”
“I don’t know. They don’t steal ones that are born, but they can keep the girls from having them, or something.”
“That’s sinful.”
“You tore hell out of my back with those nails of yours.”
“I’m sorry.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re a good lover.”
“Good.”
She lay still for a moment. He thought she had gone to sleep. She said, “When will you attack Vrath?”
“Malencz is going to attack me in the spring.”
“Why don’t you attack him?”
“Attack Vrath, with one hundred and eight men?”
“I thought Malencz couldn’t fight.”
“He couldn’t fight his way out of his own nightgown. Anybody can hold Vrath.”
“What is it like?”
“It’s out on the plain, in a horseshoe bend of the river up there. They call it Vrath’s River by the castle. The back wall sits right up against the river. There are three double gates, two with bridges over the river right at the gates, and the other, Main Gate, opens out onto the little plain in front of the castle. The walls are fifteen or sixteen feet thick and the battlements are reinforced with iron braces. The whole thing is practically new. It was built in Sigismund’s reign. Hart was almost the first fortress built by Magyars in this part of the country; it’s almost three hundred years older than Vrath.”
“Is Vrath bigger?”
“About six times bigger.”
“Constantinople fell in two months.”
“They didn’t use their guns well enough, if they used them at all, and they had a hell of a lot of wall to defend. We’ll be all right in Vrath.” He looked out the window. “I have to go. I’ll call Mari.”
He got out of bed and dressed himself and went down to the courtyard. The sky was overcast and the wind sliced through him. It was going to snow. He fidgeted while his men finished eating and drove them out into the courtyard to work.
They shot off the heaviest cannon. Denis was there with Arpád and Alexander. The smoke and soot engulfed them all and they choked and coughed until the tears ran down their cheeks.
“Charge too heavy,” Rakóssy said. “Where did it hit?”
“About ten feet this side of the village,” Denis said. “Shall I go down and clear the villagers out?”
Rakóssy looked over the wall. The villagers were huddled together in the square. Their village was half rebuilt, and in the mess of new houses and debris the little cluster of people looked forlorn and terrified.
“I’ll go,” Alexander said.
“Tell them I still love them,” Rakóssy said. “We won’t shoot it off anymore.”
Denis was looking out down the slope. He turned and lay down to crawl half under the cannon. He fussed around for a moment and crept out again, his clothes streaked with grime and black dust.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back.”
Rakóssy watched him climb down to the courtyard and go into the castle. Arpád said, “What’s got into him?”
“Who knows?” Rakóssy took a swab and cleaned out the cannon.
Denis came back with a little book in red leather binding. He had two pieces of chalk in one hand and two big pieces of paper in the other. He put the book, the paper and the chalk down, lay on his stomach, and pushed under the cannon again.
“What are you doing?” Rakóssy said. “This isn’t a toy.”
“Don’t be cross.”
&n
bsp; Arpád snorted.
Denis dragged himself out and sat up. “It would be better, wouldn’t it, if you could raise the muzzle or lower it as you wished.”
Rakóssy looked out at the slope. “Yes. How?”
“If you could fit a screw into the carriage here, you could turn the screw and adjust the height of the muzzle.” Denis picked up the little book and flipped it open. “See?”
Rakóssy took the book. Besides the inscrutable characters there were small drawings. One was of a screw, in the drawing, raising and lowering some kind of boom.
“What’s this book?”
“It’s by a Greek from Syracuse named Archimedes.”
Rakóssy sat down. He turned the pages. “Maybe it’s got other ideas in it.”
“If we rebuild the carriage entirely we can fit screws in to move the muzzle sideways without moving the carriage.”
Rakóssy looked over the cannon’s breech at Denis. “Prove it.”
Denis’ face was flushed. “Give me a carpenter, some wood, and I will. I’ll try it out on one of the lightest guns first.”
Rakóssy tossed him the book. He turned his head. “Sandor.”
In the courtyard the carpenter lifted his head.
“Do anything my brother tells you to do.” He turned back to Denis. “There’s wood in the stable.”
Denis nodded. “All right.”
He went down to the courtyard. Rakóssy spat.
“Is he crazy?” Arpád said.
“Ask me tomorrow.” Rakóssy got up. He went along the wall to watch the assembling of another gun.
All day long he fiddled with the cannon. He put horse troughs from the stable beside each, to hold the roundshot, and rigged up screens to protect the gun crews, if the Turks should use arrows. He fired one of the lighter guns with the screen around it, and the screen, of light wood, caught fire. He had all the screens adjusted accordingly.
Just before dark, Denis came over to him and said, “Look at this.” He put down a little model of a cannon. The front of the carriage was wider than on the real guns, and three outsized screws thrust out of it.
“See?” Denis said. He held the model down with one hand and turned the screw on the left side. The muzzle of the toy cannon moved. Denis said, “Turn the screw on the other side to your left. That’s it.”
The muzzle of the toy moved all the way to one side. They wound the screws back and the muzzle moved across the scale again.
Rakóssy Page 11
