Rakoczy stared at Hruther for a moment, and said, “Then I must go and welcome him as best I can.” There was an ironic note in his words; he turned to Illes and the three escorts. “I will leave you to your tasks. When you have finished them, come to the manse and I will give you your money.”
“Thank you, Comes,” said Zabolcs for all of them.
Hruther held the door for Rakoczy as he left the stable. “The deputies are armed,” he said in the tongue of Visigothic Spain.
“That is hardly surprising; I believe any man of means goes about the city with some form of protection.” Rakoczy lengthened his stride, taking care not to trip on the flagstones; he avoided the bake-house with the small laundry attached to its back, and made straight for the low-walled and much-neglected kitchen garden. “That is not a matter for concern; the deputies are guards for the Counselors.”
“Possibly,” said Hruther, keeping pace with Rakoczy.
“They’re in the main hall, you said?”
“Yes. I apologized that we wouldn’t be able to offer them bread and salt, or wine. Or a chair to sit in.” Hruther reached the kitchen garden and its dilapidated gate. “At least the Counselor can see the state of this mansion he has allowed you to purchase.”
Five steps brought them to the kitchen door; they passed inside and closed the door, then went past the two pantries, through the kitchen, and down the corridor to the main hall.
“Comes Santu-Germaniu,” said the tall, angular, middle-aged man in the elaborately fur-trimmed huch of dark-blue Milanese velvet worn over a long chainse of rose-colored silk; his braccae were dark-brown, as were his low boots. His hair, a steely gray, was cut fashionably short, curling next to his jaw and blending into his trimmed beard in the style of merchants; his soft hat of amber velvet brought out his light-brown eyes and minimized his large ears and hatchet-nose. He offered a mannerly bow, although the deputies with him did not; they remained standing, their hands on their swords and an air of belligerence about them.
Rakoczy returned it. “Counselor Smiricti.”
“I was told you had arrived, and I wanted to bid you welcome to Praha.” He signaled to the two men standing behind him, indicating that he wanted to be private with Rakoczy. “I will be here some while. The Comes and I have much to discuss. If you will keep watch at the door?”
The two deputies turned and left the room, their spurs ringing on the stone floor.
“I regret that the stable has not yet been prepared for horses. My escort and groom can provide grain and buckets of water for your horses from our traveling supplies, but there is no bedding in the stalls, and no hay in the loft. I trust your men will not be too displeased with that,” Rakoczy said with as much geniality as he could summon.
“I feared there would not be anything here for you to use,” said Counselor Smiricti. He gestured to the room. “I had hoped that the Counselors would allocate the funds you provided to set this place in order before your arrival, in accordance with your instructions, but no one could agree on the amount to spend, so nothing was done.” He clicked his tongue. “Since your gold that bought this mansion was in our hands, we should have made an appropriate disposition here, in accordance with your wishes, but, as you see…”
Rakoczy made a small bow. “I understand. Matters of this sort are always difficult, are they not?” He went and righted one of the two overturned benches in front of the fireplace. “At least I can offer you a seat. I am sorry it is only a plank.”
Counselor Smiricti went and sat down. “I was examining that chest,” he said, pointing to the red-lacquer one that stood at the other end of the room, its detached legs lying in front of it. “A handsome piece.”
“I agree,” said Rakoczy. “I have had it for many years.” That those years were reckoned in centuries he did not mention.
“Excellently made.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “It occurred to me that you would need some help in making this house habitable. I felt I should give you what advice I may.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate it.” He managed to keep the irony he felt from his voice,
The Counselor cleared his throat. “You see, the previous owner, Pan Belcrady Jaromir, had many mines, mostly silver mines, and he drove a hard bargain for his silver with Przemysl Vaclav, and then was exiled, two years ago. His estates now are the fiefs of Konig Otakar, and the revenues they produce are owned outright by the Crown.” He coughed. “The manse was cleared out by order of the Konig, and Belcrady’s kin have been ordered not to leave their country estates, or face imprisonment for rebellion. There is some hard blood between the Konig and the Belcradys. I thought you should know this, since this mansion is regarded with misgiving by many, and not without good cause. In order to avoid problems, I will tell you what Guilds to deal with, and whom to approach for servants. That is, if my offer is welcome to you.”
“An exile’s manse for an exile,” Rakoczy mused aloud, a trace of amusement in his midnight eyes. He nodded to Counselor Smiricti. “Thank you for this information. It will help me to make my arrangements to set it in order. In that regard, your advice would be very much appreciated; I am grateful for your offer.”
“I feel it is fitting that I do what I can to make up for this unpromising beginning. Let me know what you require and I will tell you where to obtain it, and at what cost,” said Counselor Smiricti, and gave Rakoczy his full attention as the Comes began to list all he would need to put the manse and the mansion in order.
* * *
Text of an order from the Carters’ Guild of Praha confirming the transportation of deliveries to be made to Mansion Belcrady.
To the Comes Santu-Germaniu, Rakoczy Feransci, the following items are to be brought to Mansion Belcrady:
Delivered today, April 29th, 1269th Year of Grace:
Three wagon-loads of cut stone from the Italian quarry, as presented by the Masons’ Guild
Six wagon-loads of lumber from Styria, as cut by the Woodsmen’s Guild
Two wagon-loads of straw and two of hay from the farm-market of Roztoky
Delivered tomorrow, April 30th
On a flat-bedded cart, three sheets of iron, from the Blacksmiths’ Guild
On a flat-bedded cart, four completed new doors from the Carpenters’ Guild
Three wagon-loads of household furnishing as ordered from the Furniture-Makers’ Guild
Delivered on May 4th
Fourteen beds and eleven chests, also from the Furniture-Makers’ Guild
Two wagon-loads of fencing lumber, as cut by the Woodsmens’ Guild
Two large bathing tubs of caulked wood
I have been paid thirty-five gold Vaclavs and ten silver Episcopuses for these deliveries, which is a full and complete payment for the services required. Payments to all other Guilds must be arranged with them, and no claim for undischarged debt to them may be applied to the monies paid to the Carters’ Guild.
Jaroslav of Praha, Guildmaster (his mark)
by the hand of Josko, clerk and Premonstratensian monk
2
Four youngsters in the Konige’s colors stood on the threshold to Rakoczy’s manse, at once pugnacious and shy. They ranged from about nine to no more than twelve; their stiffly embroidered cotehardies did not fit particularly well, and they all four were uncomfortable in their grandeur, for though it was early, the day was warm. Two of the younger pages fretted at their posts while the oldest—a gangly lad with wary eyes and the first hint of a mustache on his upper lip—announced in a high voice that broke once during his recitation, “To Comes Santu-Germaniu: this day after High Mass, the Konige’s lady-in-waiting and messenger to the Konige, Rozsa of Borsod, will visit this mansion on behalf of the Konige.”
Hruther, arrayed in a dignified bleihaut of dove-gray linen over a bleached-cotton chainse and tan-linen trews, studied the four pages, and was startled by the sudden memory of his son, dead twelve centuries ago. “Thank you for your message. The Comes Santu-Germaniu will be honored to
receive the Konige’s messenger, Rozsa of Borsod.”
The tallest of the four bowed for them all; he was slightly younger than his companion who spoke first. “You will make ready to receive her and her escort of four men-at-arms.”
“We will welcome her and her escort most gladly,” said Hruther. “We thank you for this notice, and for the distinguishment the Konige shows to the Comes.”
After an awkward moment, the four youths stepped back and made for the gate in the wall. As they went through to the outside, two armed men fell in with them, making their way toward the narrow street that led up the ridge toward Vaclav Castle.
Closing the main door, Hruther stepped back into the entry hall; three workmen were finishing the repairs to the shutters, and two women were laying down new rushes intermixed with rosemary needles; the manse was nearly ready for invited guests. Hruther nodded to the workers and went into the main hall, now fully restored, with a new table capable of seating twenty dominating the room, wanting only padded benches to be complete. Climbing the stairs next to the fireplace, he continued along the gallery and the central corridor to the door to the nearer of two north-facing rooms. Here he rapped on the door, and being bidden to enter, he lifted the latch and stepped into what had become his master’s workroom and library.
“What news, old friend?” Rakoczy asked in the Persian of a thousand years ago as he removed a flask from the athanor that sat at the far end of the room on a footing of bricks, and carefully set it down in a small stone bowl. “Sapphires this time: the Konige likes sapphires. They will be cool enough to touch by mid-day. I’ll add them to the rest.”
“You may be glad to have them,” said Hruther in the same Persian. “One of the Konige’s ladies is coming here after Mass.”
“I thought I heard the bell,” said Rakoczy, his attention still fixed on the flask.
Hruther chuckled. “Four pages, from Vaclav Castle—they came to give us time to prepare for the visit, and to make sure you would be here. Not that you have been granted leave to go about the city unguarded.”
“Do we know which of her ladies will arrive?” It was slightly more than a month since he had first presented himself at the Konige’s Court, and since then he had had no direct contact with anyone from Vaclav Castle. This, he knew, was a sign of change, and given the elaborate notification, it seemed to imply the Konige’s favor and interest.
“Rozsa of Borsod.” Hruther kept his demeanor exquisitely neutral.
“The wife of Otakar’s favorite, Notay Tibor of Kaposvar? I believe I saw her at Bela’s Court, five years ago,” Rakoczy remarked, curious as to why Konige Kunigunde would send one of her highest-ranking ladies as her messenger unless the visit was official. “She was a pert bride, as I recall, very young to be married.”
“I believe so, from what we have been told by the Counselors,” said Hruther. “She may be bringing you a request of some sort, my master. Why else would the Konige’s messenger be coming here?” This was not quite a warning. “Do you think that the Konige has an assignment for you?”
Both men knew that a request was likely, and they exchanged knowing nods. “I already have a pouch of diamonds and rubies for the Konige. It may be best to entrust them to Rozsa of Borsod, as a show of respect, both to Kunigunde and to her. Whatever else the Konige may want of me, the jewels should please her, and satisfy Bela.”
“Not the rubies,” Hruther warned him. “Remember, she’s pregnant.”
Rakoczy frowned, then said, “Rubies and blood. Some would say they would bring about a miscarriage. So nothing red or otherwise hot.”
“The sapphires will be cool enough,” said Hruther.
“Yes. And a pair of rubies will be a gift for Rozsa of Borsod.” He looked toward the window. “Thank you, old friend. I should have remembered.”
“Why? The lore is Bohemian, not of your homeland.”
“Still,” said Rakoczy, his dark eyes becoming troubled.
“How should Rozsa of Borsod be received?” Hruther asked, intending to redirect Rakoczy’s concerns. “Given that the manse is still largely unfinished? We can’t yet have the kind of grand display she may expect. You don’t want her to offer a disappointed report to Kunigunde.”
“We will receive her as formally as we can, and with apologies for the manse not being fully ready. Make sure the servants are in clean clothes; that should help. Have wine and bread and salt set out for a proper welcome, and ask Pacar to make up a plate of pickles and sausages and sweetmeats for our guest. We must not be lacking in attention to one of the Konige’s ladies-in-waiting. Have flowers strewn at the door. Also, see that her escort have beer and bread, and cheese if we have any to spare.” He stared at the open window, and the serene blue sky beyond. “I suppose I ought to change my clothes,” he said, looking down at his stained leather apron that covered an old-fashioned black-cotton dalmatica. “This is hardly fitting for Rozsa of Borsod.”
“The Antioch silk huch and the embroidered braccae?” Hruther suggested. “They’re fairly grand, but not over-much.”
“With the red-silk chainse; yes,” Rakoczy agreed. “I will finish up here and go along to my apartments.”
“I’ll go down to the kitchen and then will meet you in your quarters, unless you have more for me to do?” He started toward the door, glad that they had a strategy for the visit. “High Mass should begin in a short while.”
Rakoczy held up his hand to slow his manservant. “Hruther, the second withdrawing room is the most complete; have it prepared for the visit. It can be made quite comfortable. Have the housemaid bring the silk cushions down from my apartments to set on the chairs.” The second withdrawing room had been chosen to be his study, and although books were stacked on the reading table and the floor, it was more truly ready for occupants than the first, which was in the process of having its woodwork replaced. “A bowl of cinnamon and rose petals should sweeten the air. Also, be sure the shutters are fully open. It will be hot this afternoon.”
“A good thing then that the dung farmer came yesterday,” said Hruther with a faint smile.
Rakoczy nodded. “There’s only the stable midden to contend with, and it is on the leeward side of the house.” He paused, mentally reviewing what more ought to be done. “Tell Pacar to use the brass platter and the Chinese plates, and the glass goblet for wine. A wooden platter will do for her escort.”
“Yes, my master,” said Hruther, and hurried toward the stairs, climbing up them with unusual haste. By the time he entered Rakoczy’s private apartments, he had had the satisfaction of seeing the kitchen in a bustle and two house-servants set to furbishing the withdrawing room according to Rakoczy’s instructions in preparation for the official visit; he had dispatched two other house-servants—the seamstress Magda and the herb-woman Jozefa—to the main gate to greet Rozsa of Borsod as soon as she arrived, and to bring her into the manse. He himself had changed from his simple linen bleihaut to one of polished cotton the color of mulberries over a chainse of pale-gray cotton.
Rakoczy stood in the main room of his quarters, wrapped in a drying sheet, rubbing the water out of his hair with the end of it. “I see you have put camphor in the clothes chests,” he remarked. “Or rather, I smell that you have.”
“In all the chests and garderobes, yes. And added burdock to the latrines, to keep down the smell.”
“I will give you some essence of cloves to hang in a vial. That should help.” He stared at the garderobe that stood next to the open window. “Do the servants think me peculiar to demand weekly baths?”
“They fear you may be a follower of Mohammed, at the very least,” said Hruther, his tone level. “Most of them have Confessed their bathing, and two are doing penance for it.”
“I will have to account for my requirements, I suppose, to avoid unwanted attention,” said Rakoczy, watching Hruther remove his clothes from the chest and the garderobe, hanging them on pegs set in the garderobe’s door.
“I have said it is the cust
om of your House, and you follow it to honor your ancestors. So far they haven’t balked: you are master here. I tell them that if they bathe on Saturday night, while they are fasting, they can go clean in body and soul to Mass on Sunday morning.” Hruther handed a breechclout to Rakoczy, and saw him turn away to drop the drying sheet and don the undergarment. “Do you want me to trim your beard?”
“That would probably be advisable,” said Rakoczy as he fingered his jaw. “It must look a bit ragged.” He had long since become accustomed to lacking a reflection and had learned to rely on Hruther to look after his appearance.
“A bit,” said Hruther. “And I’ll shave the line for you as well.” He handed over the red-silk chainse.
“Let me finish dressing. You can use a cloth around my neck to catch the trimmings.” Rakoczy managed a rueful smile. “We must do our best to ensure that Rozsa of Borsod reports us favorably to Konig Bela.”
“Do you really think she will do that?” asked Hruther as he offered the braccae to Rakoczy.
“She is a Hungarian noblewoman waiting on the granddaughter of Konig Bela. I think it is required of her to tell not only the Konige but her grandfather of how the meeting goes.” He bent over and stepped into the close-fitting braccae, pulling them up and tying them to the braiel of the breechclout. “I think the Byzantine solers, not the estivaux—that would be too foreign.”
“The solers,” said Hruther, taking them from the box of footwear in the garderobe.
“The soles have been refilled—”
“—last week,” said Hruther, sensing Rakoczy’s nervousness. “It will go well, my master.”
Rakoczy gave a deprecating shrug and finished fastening his solers. “I have done this enough in the past that you would think I would no longer be troubled by these little tests, would you not? I suppose it comes from living in this imposed isolation that magnifies my anxiety.” As he rose, Hruther held out the heavy, black-silk huch and tugged the open square sleeves so that they would hang properly while Rakoczy fastened the lacing on the front of the garment.
Saint-Germain 24: An Embarrassment of Riches: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain Page 3
