“I do,” Queen Sophia announced. “I hope your daughter will be joining us at coffee, Count István.”
She will now. He flashed the message to Agmánd, who passed it along to Jirina and Magda.
“Most certainly, Your Majesty.”
István showed the royal couple to their chamber while Agmánd escorted Rudolph. As he studied the room, Josef Karl said, “Please inform your staff that we are visiting as the Duke and Duchess of Lower Austria, along with the Margrave of Styria.”
István let out a mental breath and felt his shoulders relaxing and his back muscles easing.
“I will do so, Your Grace.”
That made things much, much easier, and he could sense that Agmánd’s was relieved as well. He really needed to give the butler a bonus.
As he went to confer with Magda and Mistress Nagy about Erzsébet and coffee hour, István tried to see the house through different eyes. Well, yes, it was rather large compared to the townhouse they’d once owned in Kassa, and slightly larger than the House’s town-palace at the foot of Buda Hill. But it came nowhere near rivaling his lowland relatives’ estates at Eisenstadt or Eszterhaza, or the fortress at Forchtenstein. The house and grounds at Eisenstadt went for kilometers, or so it felt, and the library alone exceeded the value of the entire lodge. But the great room at Nagymatra was almost as large as the one at Archduke Rudolph’s residence in the Vienna Woods, now that István thought about it. And the entire house might be considered larger if one counted the three-meter-deep verandah on three sides as a room, which István did. But the furnishings could not compare with the great lodges like Hlubolka. Nor do you have to pay the taxes on Hlubolka, he reminded himself. As he reached for the nursery door, it flew open and a brown-haired whirlwind threw herself at him, hugging his legs.
“Oof!” She reached his waist—no, a little above it. Erzsébet might one day reach his father’s height, he realized with a start. “Young lady, we have very important company who would like to meet you this afternoon.”
A gap-toothed smile met his words. The smile faded as a woman’s deep voice issued a warning.
“Which will not happen if you do not finish your lesson, Mistress Erzsébet.”
The little girl let go of István’s legs and returned to the nursery. He followed and bowed a little to the woman in brown seated at a table near the fireplace. Mistress Nagy, the House’s senior healer, acknowledged the gesture. He still found her entirely black eyes a touch disturbing, something that she in turn found amusing. She and Archduke Rudolph shared that trait.
“I made no promises, Mistress Nagy, until I could speak with you. May Erzsébet take coffee with their Graces and the Margrave?”
The Healer studied her young student.
“She may, if she finishes her lesson and keeps her shields up at all times. Impulse control is still a weak subject, my lord, as is common with the young and well meaning.”
Those impulses had led István to call in the Healer despite his daughter’s youth. Jirina could not block her all the time, and they feared that she would try to Heal someone, with potentially dire consequences for both Erzsébet and her “patient.” Mistress Nagy had taken one look at the girl and had begun lessons that instant, pushing her harder than István cared to think about. But a Healer’s gift had to be trained, he knew, and he trusted Mistress Nagy with his life.
“If Erzsébet is ready, coffee will be served at four.”
He ruffled his daughter’s hair, and she made a face, then leaned against him. He indulged her shamefully, he thought for the thousandth time, caressing her cheek and playing with a curl. She was so much like her mother.
He returned to his office and Agmánd all but pounced on him.
“Problem?”
«Not yet, my lord, but you should be aware that the Margrave appears rather taken with Tadeas and has asked for her to be assigned to his service during his stay.»
Well, the True-dragon maid was of the age of consent, and she had no spouse or betrothed that he knew of. And István trusted Rudolph to take “no” as an answer, especially while Their Majesties were present.
“I foresee no difficulties—unless the rest of the staff are concerned about the request.”
«Very good, my lord. Shall I add Mistress Erzsébet at coffee?»
“Yes, but please advise Luka that Mistress Nagy may refuse permission.”
«I will do so, my lord. Thank you.»
He bowed and disappeared around the corner.
That night, after supper, Duchess Sophia excused herself for her private evening devotionals. The men adjourned to the smoking room, a dark, paneled chamber that served as library and secondary trophy room. Agmánd and a footman set out nuts and liqueurs and then left. The door shut, and Josef Karl leaned back into his chair, studying the deer heads on the opposite wall. A cheerful fire threw yellow light from the fireplace.
“There are matters we need to discuss, Count István,” the king began without preamble. “I prefer to get them out of the way so my lady and I can enjoy a quiet hunt for the rest of our stay.”
István’s mouth went dry and he swallowed hard. “Certainly, Your Grace.”
“Galicia.”
“Your Grace?”
Josef Karl exhaled a plume of cigar smoke. “You are familiar with the Potoki family and their House.”
“Yes, Your Grace, although not with the current leadership. My understanding is that they opted to relinquish the majority of their holdings in Galicia and remain in the new Poland.”
Rudolph spoke. “They have, and it appears that Prince Potoki’s son may become the next Guardian for the Power near Krakow.”
“You think.” Josef Karl gave his cousin a firm look.
“As I said, my lord, it appears. The Powers in that area remain—hmm . . .” He looked to István.
“Unsettled Your Grace, my lord?”
“Thank you. Unsettled is an apt phrase.”
Rudolph drew a little smoke from his own cigar, rolling it in his mouth before sending a long plume into the shadows of the ceiling. István had a sudden sense of where the discussion might be heading.
Josef Karl nodded. “For reasons I will not burden you with, István, we need Poland and the Polish magnates to remain favorable to the Commonwealth. If not favorable, at least neutral, not favoring Russia or France.” He raised one eyebrow.
“I believe that no Pole who wished to survive more than a few hours would express the least bit of desire to work with the Russians, Your Grace, given Lenin’s continued demands for the return of Polish lands to the Soviet Union.”
A smile and nod acknowledged István’s observation. “That is true. And the Powers fear the Soviets.”
István rocked back into the depths of his chair, stunned by the news.
“Ukrainia.”
“Yesssss,” Rudolph hissed, his eyes starting to shift. The Matra stirred, uncomfortable, and István reached without thought, starting to raise a shield between Rudolph and the Power.
“Stop.” The cold command froze both men. “That is past and done. Stand down and leave him alone.”
István could feel himself bristling, though he knew that Josef Karl was speaking to someone, or rather something, else. Rudolph sagged back into his chair, eyes closed. István released the energies he’d gathered and the Matra withdrew.
“We need the Potokis to remain in contact with the Commonwealth,” Josef Karl repeated. “And Prince Potoki’s sister has expressed interest in marriage. The first candidate proved unsuitable.”
“Dare I ask why, Your Grace?”
A bit of cold crept into the rose-gold eyes. “He was, shall we say, a touch too eager to wait for the formalities of marriage.”
He tried to take advantage of the situation and seduce her, and her brother did not approve. How delightful.
“And my current situation is acceptable to the young lady and her family?” István tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“It ap
pears to be. My lady wife knows more, because the prince’s aunt approached her looking for information about you.” Before István could respond, Josef Karl said quietly, “It has been five years, István.”
The weight behind the words hurt István, and he bowed his head. He did not want to . . . but the House . . . and now his Majesty . . . So be it. He would do his duty. István looked up again and met Josef Karl’s eyes.
“I will court the prince’s sister. But if she refuses my suit, that will be the end of it. I will not marry her if she is unwilling—that I insist upon.”
“And I will not—could not—force you into a marriage of that kind.” Josef Karl leaned back in his chair as well, tapping the ash off his cigar and picking up a glass of brandy. “I could have, once, but no longer. It is for the best, I think.”
Rudolph shifted in his chair, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles. He lifted his glass, watching the liquor in the firelight. “I believe it is, sir.” The glass twisted as he rotated his fingers, throwing bits of light as István watched.
“That is simply because you do not want me ordering you to sell that monster of a motor car you inherited from Uncle Antonio.” Josef Karl pointed with his cigar. “You are going to break your neck one of these days.”
It wasn’t Rudolph’s neck that got broken in Vienna. István must have made a noise, or something leaked past his shields, because Rudolph turned his head a bit and winked, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
“As if no one in any of our families have ever come to grief on horseback, my lord?”
A brown eyebrow rose in challenge, and István snorted. He had once been a neck and knee rider himself, and still rode when possible. “I believe my grandfather came to the title a bit early thanks to a horse, my lords.”
“Yours, and ah, oh, help me, Rudolph.”
“Starhemberg’s uncle comes to mind, and there’s always been a little question about Lady Trautenfels’s husband’s untimely demise, where they found the thorns under the saddle blanket.” Rudolph sipped his drink. “And you really do need to get a car, István, and join the twentieth century. I can recommend a few models.”
István shook his head and smiled. “No thank you, my lord. I’d be safer buying a horse from a Gypsy, sight unseen. And I do not believe that they make a car that can drive through three meters of snow.”
Josef Karl smiled as well as Rudolph struggled, starting to speak and then catching himself.
“Damn, you’re right. I can’t think of one. You have me.”
The king lifted his glass to István, who bowed in his seat before answering the toast. The clock chimed eleven.
“I believe you wanted to get an early start?” Josef Karl half-asked, looking at István.
“Yes, my lord. Since we are stalking rather than having game drivers, we need to leave the lodge by five.”
Rudolph looked at the clock, then back at István, a look of growing dismay in his eyes. “Five. In the morning. Six hours from now.”
“Yes, my lord.” István bit his tongue to keep from laughing at Rudolph’s expression. Not a morning person, I take it, he snickered well behind his shields.
“Certainly. I bid you good night, then.” As the others bowed, Josef Karl strode out of the room.
Rudolph gave István another unhappy glance, tossed back the rest of his plum brandy, and slunk out, head hanging, shoulders drooping, a picture of absolute dejection. István enjoyed the sight a little too much, perhaps, but just once it was a treat to see the great Archduke Rudolph taken down a peg.
Despite his theatrics that night, Rudolph appeared alert and ready when István came into the breakfast room at half past four the next morning. Queen Sophia was also there, helping herself to the breads and cold meats set out for the hunters. István had a bit of coffee first, savoring the flavor as he always did. They could barely afford coffee now, but the royal visit provided a good excuse for a treat.
“I do so hope to get a good deer,” Sophia announced. “I’m tired of Countess von und zu Gutenberg gloating about that stag she bagged last fall.”
István looked a question at Rudolph, who held up both hands, fingers spread, as he chewed, and then closed and opened his hands again. István felt his eyebrows rising into his hairline. Twenty points? Rudolph nodded. Oh my. I’d be bragging too.
Sophia resumed. “And I am not going to sit and have the deer chased at me this year, I trust you understand.”
“Your Grace, we have not had that kind of hunt since 1800,” István assured her. “We stalk, or use blinds. As thick as the deer are at the moment, stalking should be just as easy, St. Hubert be willing. There are also bear, and wolves, Your Grace, so please be ready for surprises.”
Her blue eyes went wide for a moment. “Bear and wolves? I’ve heard stories about the Matra being as wild as the Carpathians in Transylvania, but I never believed them.”
“They are true, Your Grace.” István cut open a roll and tucked meat inside, while Catherine prepared more breads for the guests. “They tend to avoid hunters, but anything is possible.”
He thought back to the year before the war, when he and Hans had been attacked by a pain-maddened bear.
“I’ve climbed trees before,” Rudolph sighed.
A new voice chimed in, “And here you do not have to worry about a leopard waiting in your chosen tree, either.”
“No, Your Grace. If I meet a leopard here, I believe I have far greater things to be concerned about. Like what herbs mine host’s chef put into the sauce and salads.”
Josef Karl shook his head a little before tucking away bread, meat, and coffee. István excused himself and checked in with Hans. When he returned, the guests had all finished and were collecting guns and hunting bags.
How times have changed, István thought, How times have changed.
István reminded himself at least twice over the next four days that coveting was a sin—and envy was a mortal sin. It did not help. He coveted Rudolph and Sophia’s deer. Rudolph had stumbled onto an eighteen-point buck, literally stumbled onto it. He’d been off the trail, then straightened up from what he’d been doing.
“I swear by St. Hubert’s horn and St. Leopold’s armor, the bastard was resting there, staring at me. Then he jumped up, turned sideways, and froze.”
Rudolph, however, had not frozen.
Queen Sophia at least bagged hers in a more traditional fashion. István had been with her when the buck broke from their left, running across the clearing ahead of them. She’d followed and fired, as if hunting birds instead of a deer, and the big male had disappeared into the woods. They’d found him only a few meters farther on, shot through the heart.
“I led the shot,” she explained to her astonished husband later that afternoon. The buck must have been a king of the woods, and Hans had boggled at the rack. It was not perfect, but the size!
«Blessed St. George, Your Maj— Your Grace! That may be a record for the Matra.»
«I think that takes care of Her Grace’s concern about Countess Gutenberg’s claims,» Rudolph observed in a private sending as they followed the hunt servants back to the lodge.
«I believe that you are correct, my lord.»
István wanted that mount so badly that he could taste the cordite on his tongue. But it was not to be. The woods could not hold two such beasts.
Josef Karl, meanwhile, found two deer and a bear and pronounced himself satisfied.
“The season is just starting, and I will be hunting in the Alps soon.”
Rudolph got another deer, and he and István shared credit for a decent, but not overwhelming, boar.
“I don’t suppose I could go out purely on my own,” Rudolph said as István finished cleaning the pig.
“If you want to go out with Hans, my lord, but not completely on your own, no. I’m sorry, but you don’t know the land well enough, and,” he sent Imre’s accident to Rudolph, followed by his own encounter with the injured bear. “My lord, I do not know if the Matra
would block you if you tried to call for help mind-to-mind.”
A puzzled and curious expression passed over the archduke’s face, followed by serious concern. “Ah, I had not considered that. The Matra reacting in that fashion.”
“I do not know if the Matra would react like other Powers, but assuming that you tried to draw on your usual sources to boost your mind-to-mind range to His Majesty, it might block you—or even lash out. When I tried to reach the House from the Alföld, your associate,” István tipped his head to the south, in the direction of the Pannonian Plains, “warned me off. As you may recall, my lord.”
“Oh, yes, I do remember now.”
István wondered why Rudolph wanted to hunt on his own. It couldn’t be because he wasn’t seeing game. Were the servants bothering him? No, that couldn’t be it. Hans tended to disappear into the background, almost literally given his coloring. István picked up his share of the boar with a grunt and a wince as his back and knees protested. He needed to do more of those back-strengthening exercises Mistress Nagy had given him. Rudolph waited until one of the other men picked up the other half of the boar before following István back toward the lodge.
The thought struck István about half way between the kill and Nagymatra: what if Rudolph did not want to hunt on his own per se, but just to be away from other people for a few hours? In that case, István had a few ideas as to how he could accommodate his guest without risk of injury. Well, he recalled the chaplain sneaking up on him the day of his Testing, without greater-than-usual risk of injury. Wasn’t it that grocer in Prague who had tripped in the WC, fallen, and broken his neck? It had been in all the papers in August. After he gave the meat to the servants, István stopped Rudolph.
“My lord, if you just want a short walk through the woods, that narrow trail leads to a small shrine a kilometer or two up the ridge.” They both looked at the faint path. “The hunters usually visit in the early morning, and the servants only go on their days off, and then in the mornings.”
“Ah. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
He walked up the steps and into the house, already calling for his valet, while István lingered outside, enjoying the late morning sun through the leaves. The light looked thin, and he wondered if it might be a rain warning. If so, perhaps a day of rest would be welcome, even if it did mean entertaining his guests indoors.
Against a Rising Tide Page 3
