"Because the king hates Hus? Why then does he stand for Hus's appointment to rector?" Stepan asked, confused.
"Come now, Stepan. You know the king only cares about the papacy...that things go his way, and the university remains in his back pocket as far as the vote. It is his brother which burns with hatred for Hus."
Stepan nodded; the tangled web was unraveling for him. The politics were becoming clearer. But what of Hus? His heretical teachings must not be allowed to continue!
"Is there any way to stop Hus? To vote him out?" Stepan asked.
Evzen considered that for a moment before he spoke. "The university has banned the controversial works of Wycliffe. It was long overdue, if you ask me."
“What has that to do with anything?"
“As you know, Hus," Evzen said the name with disdain, “has been influenced to a great extent by Wycliffe. It is a significant battle to have won, Stepan. You cut the roots off the tree, the tree cannot survive."
“But that hasn't thus far, and won't, I tell you, stop his rise in popularity! So many of the students and professors have bought into his heresy completely! With Hus in such a prominent role and no one making any effort to stop him from teaching his heretical ideals, I fear...in fact, I know that my father will no longer see reason to support the University."
Evzen shook his head. It was evident to Stepan he did know this to be true.
“And what of your studies here?" Evzen asked, though he already knew the answer to that question, too.
Stepan sighed, turning to face his mentor. “I'm afraid I don't see any benefit in continuing my education under such a leader."
A noise behind Stepan disturbed his reverie and brought him back to the present.
"Why the long face?" Pavel, his chamber mate and best friend, broke into Stepan's thoughts.
Stepan moved from the window. "And how was your last exam?"
"Term is over! It's time to forget about all of this and think about the hunting holiday we've been talking about."
Stepan stepped away from the window, shifting his focus. "Yes, yes, it is. Did we convince Radek to come?"
"I spoke with him on my way here. After he checked his term scores, his attitude about going on holiday made a complete turnaround. You know how he can get so wrapped up in his schoolwork."
Stepan nodded, smiling. Radek was by far the quietest and most serious of their small group.
"He also told me of some recent developments with this whole papal debate." Pavel sat on his bed and removed his shoes.
Stepan raised an eyebrow, urging Pavel to continue, but he was certain it was the same news he had heard. For his own sake, he had kept himself as much in the know as possible about these issues.
"Sigismund has set up a council, the Council of Constance, to put an end to this papal schism and hear from Jan Hus."
Yes, this was news Stepan had heard. Sigismund was the king's brother, and no one wanted an end to the papal debate or an end to Jan Hus more than he did.
Seeing his friend's face darken, Pavel said, "I shouldn't have brought up something so controversial. We should be free from this place and celebrating. Planning our holiday is probably what our conversation should be about."
"Don't worry yourself, friend. These things don't bother me," he lied. "But you are right. Holiday it is. I am all set to leave at first light."
"I haven't seen Zdenek or Luc today, but I'm sure we can find them before nightfall and ensure they are ready to go."
"My father's hunting lodge will be the perfect getaway," Stepan said to himself more than to Pavel. "And he will be all too happy to see us."
"He'll be thrilled to see you for certain," Pavel said, smiling at his friend.
Stepan nodded back, but he was not convinced.
* * *
Karin rose just before dawn after yet another sleepless night. Dressing with haste, she wrapped herself in a shawl against the cool morning air. She was restless. But as she gazed around the room, she knew it was not for lack of comfort in her accommodations. Her room at the royal viscount's hunting lodge was far more than adequate.
The room was every bit as spacious as she had come to expect from the rooms in this chateau with their high ceilings and large living space. Oak wood floors were covered with blue and gold woven rugs. Karin's feet dug into the threads, quite warm. If the chilled air circling around the room had a color, it would no doubt match the pale blue walls. She held the shawl tight and walked the perimeter of the rug around the mahogany furniture. Such a fine sitting area. Such a fine room. The gold and blue themes proved rather soothing. Karin sighed. Why couldn't her mind be still in such a marvelous atmosphere?
Some nights she slept for stretches of minutes from exhaustion, but her sleep was disrupted by the lightest sound and quite impossible to recapture once interrupted. She thought about her life, her childhood, her mother. Never could she have imagined finding herself in such isolation from all she knew — her parents’ idea of imprisonment. And to what end she still was not sure. It was true she had disappointed them, she supposed. Leaving the warmth of the rug, her feet bore the cold of the wooden floors as she gazed out the window. Was her sin truly so great it required such measures as this? Karin expected her mother to speak for her or at least to speak with her, to give her some further explanation, but there was none. Her mother had been more silent than ever. What was happening? What would happen? Night after night, the questions remained.
Shaking her head to clear her uneasy thoughts, she wrapped the shawl taut around herself and then slipped out into the early morning. One of the activities she found solace in was her walks, which she took daily. On one of these walks, she found a place that was within fair walking distance of the chateau but secluded enough for her to sit, think, and pray. Her special place was near a blue stream — a place where the water tripped over stones as it made its way through the forest. The flowers were bright and the grass green and soft. Pieces of the chateau were still visible to her, yet her safe place was hidden well enough in the tree line where she felt isolated from the goings-on of the hunting palace and the people within.
Dawn broke over the horizon. Karin paused to breathe in the new day and whisper a prayer of thanks. Her body swooned a little bit from exhaustion, but she opened her eyes and kept going. She was weaker today than ever before, but so it had the day before and the day before that. Such is the way it goes with exhaustion. How she wished she could find deep, replenishing sleep. She had been unable to shut down her mind. Perhaps she was not trusting God as she should? Trying to find a way on her own strength? Fighting for her own answers instead of leaning on Him to hold the next puzzle piece of her life? Something for my journal today, she decided.
Karin's favorite spot lay mere steps away. Once there she could rest. Rest. Oh, if only it would come. Her mind raced and her legs ached. She winced and lowered her head. As a young, vibrant woman, she should not be worn out by a two-mile walk as if she were her mother's mother. Something was not balanced in her body. Just thinking about it made her head swim a little.
The field in front of her gave way to the stream. Karin moved to the left over to her tree — a steady oak, weathered by storms and long years. Its strong roots fed from the waters of the stream. Somewhere in its life, something affected its growth and caused it to angle to one side. The curved spot on the trunk made the perfect place for Karin to lean back and rest. She settled herself down next to the tree and captured a moment of peace. Breathing in, she let the stress of the days and the negative thoughts of the morning exhale from her body. Perhaps another breath would revitalize her being. Taking the fresh air into her lungs, she imagined it fed her body as much as it fed her soul.
After several breaths, she pulled out her journal papers to study and write about the thoughts that plagued her on her walk. She let the sounds of the stream and the morning birdsong soothe her as she dove into her work. These papers were so precious to her — so much so, she had kept them close to her an
d away from prying eyes for weeks. They were with her wherever she went, tucked neatly inside her dress at all times. And now they were all that were left to her.
After some study time, words poured from her pen and into her journal until her lids grew heavy. Her sight blurred. She slumped forward, working to salvage her energy. Oh, Lord. If only she could stay awake a bit longer. Her pen could not rid her of the thoughts that tortured her so.
She knew the time to spend in thought and prayer these last few days had been a gift. Karin began to find her way through the maze of turmoil and back to her faith. With that in mind, she closed her eyes and offered silent words of gratitude. It was the first blissful sleep she'd had in weeks.
* * *
Earl Petr Bornekov gazed out of the window. The clouds opened up, and rain began to pour onto the thirsty earth. He did not celebrate the refreshing of the earth; he was concerned after his daughter. It was just past midday, and she had not been present at either of the meals served yet that day.
Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to see Mary standing timidly just inside the doorway. Her face was downcast. He knew she did not bear good news.
"Yes?" he said, his voice gruff. He tried not to let his anger get the best of him. Mary had been unable to account for Karin's whereabouts. She was only able to report that Karin had already left the room when Mary rose to get her dressed and that Karin had not returned. Who was at fault if not Mary? Petr tried to ask himself. But he knew Mary was not Karin's keeper.
"There is still no sign of the Lady Karin. The horsemen have returned empty-handed."
The muscles in Petr's jaw worked as he attempted to contain his emotions. Vlastik had sent a couple of horsemen out to look around the grounds for her.
"That will be all," he said dismissively as he fixed his gaze back toward the window. He did not watch, but the rustle of cloth let him know Mary had left the room.
Petr had been standing vigil in the golden parlor — which overlooked the back of the chateau, giving him the best view of the forest line most of the day — hoping Karin would just show up. He would be the first to see if and when she appeared.
How could she have disappeared like this? Was she hurt somewhere? Was she dead — killed by an errant hunter's arrow? Had she run away? Were his overbearing demands of her too much? Had she been taken? If so, for what reason? These were all the questions running through Petr's head throughout the course of the morning. Each led to its own line of questions as well. And so he continued to go in circles, ineffective as it was. What more could he do? The only thing left for him was to go out in this torrential rain and look for her himself. So, that was what he decided to do.
As Petr moved toward the stables, he heard a commotion in the hall behind him. The Royal Viscount came into the parlor where Petr was, several young men trailing behind him.
"Petr, come, see how my son has grown into a man and meet his friends! They have arrived just before this horrid rain," Vlastik said, opening one arm for his friend to come and join them.
"I am only too eager to do so, my friend. But, I fear I cannot." There was worry etched on his face. He had not the presence of mind to disguise his features.
Vlastik's booming jovial voice was gone as he asked, "What troubles you, old friend?"
"Karin has still not returned. She is nowhere to be found in the chateau or the stables. No one has seen her since last night. I am certain she slipped out this morning for one of her walks, and I fear something has happened to her while walking in the forest."
Vlastik's eyes widened. Having forgotten the hour, he had neglected to keep track of whether or not Karin had been found.
"If this is the case, we must go at once." He spun to face the young men behind him. "Mount your horses, men. We must brave the rain for the sake of this young maiden's safe return!"
The young men moved down the hall with great haste toward the stables. Petr started behind.
"We should wait here in case she returns," Vlastik reasoned.
"I can't sit here and do nothing any longer," Petr said. "I must go."
Vlastik nodded. "Then I will go with you." He laid a meaty hand on Petr's shoulder.
"Thank you." Petr put his opposite hand on Vlastik's shoulder.
* * *
Karin laid still, her mind and body at odds. She pawed through darkness to reach consciousness, while her sleep-deprived body refused to awaken. Thunder rumbled, and rain drizzled atop her face. Stirring, she attempted to waken, but everything seemed almost dreamlike — dark, damp, and dreary. Thunder sounded once more, and the sky cracked with a sound clap. Karin shuddered. It was clear that she needed to get to the chateau, but her body wouldn't rouse, and she slipped back into her unconscious bliss.
Voices called out, attempting to pull her toward consciousness.
"Pavel! I found her!"
She sensed someone leaning over her, hands on her wrists.
"Is she okay?"
"Her pulse is weak."
Karin struggled to open her eyes to tell them she was fine, but they were slow to work. After some moments, she forced her eyelids to obey. A pair of bright blue eyes met her green ones. Who did these eyes belong to? Trying to sit up, to push away, she wanted desperately to take in her surroundings, but nothing in her body would work.
"It's okay, it's okay," the voice belonging to the eyes said. "Be still, you are safe."
Another face appeared. "We are friends. I am the Royal Viscount’s son. Are you unwell?"
"No." Perhaps an untruth, but at least she managed one word. She struggled to sit up again.
"Here," the blue-eyed man said, sliding an arm under her shoulders to help her sit up at a slight angle to the ground. Those eyes were so captivating; it was hard to pull her eyes away from his. The other man seemed to be checking her for broken limbs.
It was dark. How long had she been asleep? No, not night, only raining. She was returning to herself a little more. Her papers! She reached for them, hoping to crumple them to herself before they could be seen.
"Don't worry, my lady," Vlastik's son said, "We won't leave those."
"No...it's," she tried to explain, but the darkness started to come over her again. "I can't..." The man with the blue eyes firmed his grip on her as she started to slide, and all was dark once again.
* * *
Mary moved about Karin's bedchambers, caught up in her own concerns about her mistress — and her own future employment — when she heard a commotion at the door. She reached the knob just before the door burst open. A small collection of men, one of which carried Karin, rushed inside. Turning, Mary was quick to make herself useful, directing the unfamiliar young man toward the bed. He brushed past her as if she wasn't there, a determined look in his eye.
Petr hurried alongside as the young man laid Karin on the bed. Her eyes opened only to reveal slits of green. Everyone stopped in their tracks, as if afraid to breathe. Mary drew a hand over her mouth. Surely the mistress was alive?
"Who...?" Karin managed to croak out with much effort as she gazed up at the stranger who had borne her body such a distance. She made an effort to continue her question, but he stopped her.
"Pavel," he said, resting a hand on hers, "My name is Pavel."
Seemingly satisfied, she offered him a slight smile before closing her eyes once more.
"Karin!" Petr moved toward her, reaching for her hand as Pavel took a step back, moving out of his way.
Mary cleared her throat, trying to get the attention of the remaining men. "Let us give the lady and his lordship some room to breathe until the doctor gets here."
The men nodded and made their way toward the door and out of the room. It did not escape Mary's notice that Pavel stole one last, long glance at her mistress's lax form.
* * *
Over the next several hours, Karin had more snatches of consciousness. In and out of reality. What was dream, and what was real?
A physician examined her. Mary attempted to give her tea.
Others talked to her or around her. All this fuss over a bit of drowsiness! Karin worked to speak, but words failed. Her limbs refused to obey and lay, as if heavy weights, at her side.
Karin's eventual return to sustained consciousness was slow. She felt as if she were climbing out of a pit; little by little, she inched her way toward the light. Then it occurred to her how strange it all was, how unlike any dream she had ever had. At first the light was but a pinpoint, and her progress was slow. Clawing at this invisible mire which held her in place was more effort than she thought she could muster, but as she got closer to the light, the mire became thinner and more aqueous. It seemed she moved as if swimming, and no longer constrained, it seemed as if the light rushed for her.
Karin's eyes fluttered opened, and she knew her hold on consciousness was firm; the darkness would not come for her again. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude as she drank in the sights, sounds, and sensations around her. As she already knew, she was in her quarters at the hunting lodge. Someone had changed her into a nightdress, and her hair fell loose around her. The nightshift and her hair clung to her as if her vision of swimming had been more than illusion. Her eyes adjusted, and what had seemed like incredible light before was now dim to her sight. Dark drapes had been drawn, and she could just faintly make out the sunlight in the window beyond.
How long had she been caught up in this strange sleep? It seemed like so many hours ago she had been in the meadow, but she did not trust her perception of the passage of time. She strained to listen for sounds beyond the doors to her bedchambers. There were movements in the hall, but how close or how far was difficult for her to distinguish. Testing the mobility of her limbs, she shifted to sit. Her muscles protested her movements, resisting but obeying with some hesitation. And so, with some effort, she was able to work her way into a sitting position.
That was when she heard a noise outside her room. There were footsteps in the hall. And whoever was there came to her door. She could only manage to turn her head in that direction and watch as the knob twisted. Mary entered carrying a tray of tea and fresh damp cloths. Seeing her mistress awake and struggling to sit up in the bed, Mary almost dropped her tray, catching herself in time to save the cup of hot liquid.
The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt) Page 26
