“No; most of my boxes are in the kitchen, the pantry, the bake-house, and the stable. I have two on the upper floor.” He watched Smiricti finish off his second cup of wine and went to refill the cup, but was stopped as the Counselor held up his hand.
“You are most generous, Comes, but I have a way to go, and cannot linger much longer.” He made a moue of regret. “The demands of the Council are with me, day and night, and the rain will not spare me.”
“Are you afoot or do you have a carriage—”
“I’m walking. I have two men-at-arms to walk with me: they’ve gone to the servants’ hall. They have my pluvial with them.” He patted his huch. “That is why I’m dry.” He rose, ducking his head to his host. “I will look forward to your methods for killing rats later today. The rain always brings them out in droves.”
Rakoczy accompanied Smiricti to the door of the room and called for Barnon again. “There are two men-at-arms in—”
“—the servants’ hall. I will tell them their master wishes to leave. Hruther is in your workroom, busy with the task you assigned him.” He left without waiting to be dismissed, offering little more than a nod.
“Insolent fellow,” Smiricti remarked.
“He is unaccustomed to my ways, and that makes him brusque. He has not been treated with much respect until now. There is no harm in him.” Rakoczy escorted the Counselor into the entry hall, taking care not to rush him, and hoping the Counselor might give some sign of what his underlying purpose for his visit was. “When you learn when the Konig will arrive, will you be good enough to let me know? I want to be sure that Mansion Belcrady is ready for his return, with fir garlands hung from the walls.”
“Yes, I will,” said Smiricti, his attention on the half-completed mural by the door while he pulled on his gloves. “They say we may have flooding along the river if the rain persists.”
“That has happened before,” Rakoczy said.
“It is God’s Will,” Smiricti grumbled, then said more genially, “Well, the Konig will be back shortly. We will pray the rain ends and that no flood comes.”
“Are you still planning the civic procession? If the weather remains wet, will you have the procession?” Rakoczy anticipated the answer.
“Of course we will have the procession, but we will wait until the skies clear and Otakar is here; the procession will take place. Even Episcopus Fauvinel has said it is a worthy deed.” A loud thump on the door announced the arrival of Smiricti’s escort; the Counselor nodded to Rakoczy. “I thank you again for receiving me and for your help.” He was startled when Rakoczy opened the door for him. “Too much honor, Comes.”
“Hardly an honor,” Rakoczy said, taking note of the two bedraggled men-at-arms huddled on the steps. “Why should we all wait for Barnon to return and open the door?”
Smiricti reached for his dark-gray pluvial and tugged it on, raising the hood. “May God guard and save you, Comes.”
“May He watch over you, Counselor,” he said, and closed the door. He stood in the entry hall for a short while, his thoughts contending within him. With none of his questions resolved, he went back through the main hall to the stairs and climbed up to the floor above. At the door to his workroom he tapped twice before going in.
Hruther was near the athanor, his heavy dull-red cotehardie showing two large stains on the left sleeve. “I would have come, but it is almost cool, my master,” he said in Imperial Latin. He nodded toward the beehive-shaped oven at the end of the room.
Rakoczy nodded, and spoke in the same tongue. “Before mid-afternoon we can remove the new jewels; I’ll prepare a pouch to present to the Konige tomorrow. I will have more by the end of the month.” He went to the fireplace and put two cut branches on the dying fire. “I have to supply the Council my various ways of killing rats. At least that is what Smiricti has requested.”
“You think he may have had another purpose,” Hruther said quietly; he came down toward the reading-table, a small stand with a tilted top and a lip to hold a book in place. “Do you know what that might be?”
“He seemed inordinately interested in my knowledge of poisons,” said Rakoczy, his voice remote.
“Did he say why he was interested?” Hruther asked.
“He wants to kill rats. I pledged to supply him a list of the methods we use,” Rakoczy said, making his way to the athanor and testing the heat-plate on the door; he pulled his hand back at once, shaking his fingers. “I may be seeing things in the shadows, but I have the sense that he is seeking something more from me than how to kill rats.”
“What did he say that made you think so?” Hruther’s austere features revealed nothing of his thoughts.
“There was no one thing, except that he dwelt on the details of how the poison is given, though I did offer him details.” Rakoczy began to pace, his dark eyes clouded by worry. “I am fretful. It is as if my soul were itching, or it may be little more than that my mind is growing bored and restive with this place.” He turned at the athanor and came back toward Hruther. “My aggravation may be nothing more than a sensation of frustration.”
“You do not usually like imprisonment,” Hruther observed. “Why should this be any different because the accommodations are amiable?”
“Imprisonment?” Rakoczy stopped moving and stared at him.
“Why yes,” said Hruther calmly. “I’ve been mulling this over for a few months. Praha may be more pleasant than a lightless cell in Kara Khorum, or a barred hut in Tolosa, but you are still confined and constrained: you may not return to Santu-Germaniu without bringing war and rapine to your vassals; you may not leave this city without abandoning your people and your land to the vengeance of Konig Bela. You are bound here as if by chains; half the Konige’s Court might as well be your jailers, so closely are you watched. So it is a prison.”
Rakoczy considered this, and nodded. “I had not thought of my exile in that light.” He folded his arms. “I have let myself become more captive by seeing faces in the shadows.”
“Which may well be there,” Hruther interjected.
“So they might,” Rakoczy agreed. “No doubt there are some of those faces here in this household.”
“Only two of the staff can read, and only one can write,” Hruther reminded him.
“So if they spy, they spy for Konige Kunigunde, and give their information to other spies,” said Rakoczy with a fatalistic nod. “Unless there is someone from Konig Bela here at Court to whom they report, or a priest who keeps Episcopus Fauvinel clandestinely informed.” He clapped his hands in exasperation. “Only one of the Konige’s ladies-in-waiting reads—Imbolya of Heves. I was told that Erzebet of Arad could read and write.” He looked toward the hearth. “Perhaps she had discovered something in her reading that was secret and that was why she was killed.”
“Or one of the women was jealous of her and wanted her out of the way,” Hruther suggested.
“That, too, is possible,” Rakoczy allowed, his brows lifted to a sardonic angle. He went to the Persian chair that stood near the fireplace and sank into it. “Am I being foolish, do you think, or am I wise to be frightened.”
Hruther was startled. “You rarely admit to fright.”
“That does not mean I do not feel fear.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “But I cannot tell if being afraid in this place is sensible or mad.”
“It may be both, given the way the Konige’s Court functions,” said Hruther, “as staying in Lo-Yang for as long as we did was mad and sensible.” Their days in the old Chinese capital had been pleasant until the northern part of the Kingdom was threatened by the forces of Jenghiz Khan, when all foreigners had come under suspicion.
“But there, at least, we had been well-regarded for some years; here we have been mistrusted from the start.”
“All the more reason for you to feel so discomfited,” said Hruther. “If nothing else, you have powerful impositions upon you, restricting the possibilities you can address without hazard.” He paus
ed. “I assume you know that Barnon understands Hungarian.”
“Oh, yes,” said Rakoczy wearily. “I suppose that is why Counselor Smiricti recommended him to me. But I believe he watches me for the Council.”
“Very likely,” said Hruther, then added, “You’ve been unusually circumspect since we came here.” He saw Rakoczy lift his brows. “You have offered very few medicaments to anyone beyond the treatments to make the wells safe in summer, so you will not draw any more attention to yourself than what Konig Bela requires of you. Your reluctance to provide the Konige and her Court with little more than songs and face-creams is so unlike you that if any of these courtiers knew you better, they would regard you askance for your refusal to treat the injured and ill.”
“I would do so, but it would not be safe for me or those I treated: my jewels for the Konige are questionable enough.” He slapped the arms of the chair. “They’re ensorceled, all of them.”
“The people follow their rulers, who are guided by the Church—what can you expect?”
“Precisely what is here,” he said, his temper sharpening his words. “If it were possible to travel, even to Austria or Poland, I might be able to do more to help those who are suffering, give them remedies and comfort. But Konig Bela would not approve it, and he would not permit me to come any nearer to Hungary. I miss being able to study. I would like to have my books on medicinal plants with me, but they would be thought dangerous. Counselor Smiricti showed me that when he asked about poisoning rats.”
“And they would have to be read and endorsed by the Episcopus,” Hruther pointed out.
“True enough, and for what purpose I have studied these things would be called into question; it is awkward to have it known that I have knowledge of poisons. To be seen as someone who treats the sick with methods not approved by the Episcopus, who determines what is acceptable treatment for every malady, is dangerous enough, but since I use poisons as well, what treatment of mine could be trusted? The Episcopus would condemn my sovereign remedy because it is made from moldy bread, since mold is a sign of corruption and therefore cannot heal—which makes it worse if the medicament succeeds, for it compromises the Church in doing so.” He shoved himself out of the chair and began once more to pace. “So I must keep from bringing more scrutiny on myself or face the consequences of it.”
“You’ve been careful,” said Hruther, alarm brightening his faded-blue eyes. “You have kept to the restrictions placed upon you.”
“In most things,” Rakoczy said heavily. “But not all. There is Rozsa of Borsod to consider.”
“She isn’t here any longer,” Hruther said, trying to discern the cause for his worry.
“But she has not been completely discreet; think of what Csenge of Somogy said when she accosted me at the Konige’s autumn festival; I told you about that. If Rozsa should start to … to reveal what she and I have done while at the Bohemian Court, I will be accused of seducing a noblewoman at the least.”
“You can’t spend all your waking thoughts on what others might do, not when there are more immediate difficulties weighing on you,” Hruther warned him. “All of us do as we decide we must, and those decisions are our own, no matter what the Church says. If Rozsa denounces you, then you and I will need to find a way to leave here, and quickly, before we are taken as prisoners. It may be hard for your Santu-Germaniu fief if you do, but once you are accused of diabolism, Konig Bela would have no compunction in breaking his pact with you.”
“He may not have such compunction in any case,” said Rakoczy sardonically, then lapsed into melancholy again. “So what am I to do to disengage myself from this coil that will not be exacted from the people of Santu-Germaniu?”
Hruther considered the question. “It may not be possible for you to influence that. You are exiled, and Konig Bela is closer to your fief than you are.”
“So I am jumping at shadows I have made for myself. No wonder I think I am trapped, in a cage with bars of my own making.”
“Probably some of the shadows are yours alone,” Hruther agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t watched and there are no spies.”
The tension went out of Rakoczy’s demeanor. “You are right, old friend. We have enemies in plenty.” He listened to the moaning of the wind in the chimney, and watched the smoke rise from the fire. “The trouble is determining who they are.”
* * *
Text of a note from Frater Holeb, scholar to the Konig Otakar, at Vaclav Castle in Praha, to Rakoczy Ferancsi, Comes Santu-Germaniu, at Mansion Belcrady in Praha, written on vellum and carried by Royal messenger.
To the most noble Rakoczy Ferancsi, Comes Santu-Germaniu, the greetings of the scholar to the Court of Przemysl Otakar II, Frater Holeb on this, the 17th day of October in the 1269th Year of Salvation.
Esteemed Comes,
Now that the Konig has brought his officers and his Court once again to Praha, I have been charged by the dear Royal to visit with all foreigners living in the city, to consult them on any knowledge they may have that will aid the Konig in his current campaigns and expand his knowledge of lands beyond his borders. To that end, I ask that you will receive me within the month to impart to me such information as you possess that bears on the present wars and on the places in the world where you have been. It is a service that will do much to advance you at the Konige’s Court and in the Konig’s good opinion.
I am told by some at the Konige’s Court that you are much-traveled, which interests me not only on the Konig’s behalf, but in regard to my own studies. It is not easy to get good information at this time, and most of what is reported is as much fable as it is truth. If you would be good enough to answer questions that do not derive from the Konig’s needs but my curiosity, I would be truly appreciative. If this is not possible, then I ask that you will provide me introductions to those who can give me truthful intelligence on the issues I study.
The Konige has given her permission for us to talk, and even the Episcopus has approved the arrangement, subject to his review of my record of our discussion. I have assured both dear Royals and the Episcopus that I will well and truly make note of all you say, and will bear witness to your truthfulness, so I ask you to bear in mind that more than my attention will attend upon your answers, and any mendacity on your part will bear the weight of a lie in Confession.
The civic procession is in two days, and I understand you are assisting the Counselors in their preparations, a most estimable act for a foreigner. I will present myself to you at the conclusion of the procession before the banquet and entertainments. At that time we can determine a time to meet, and the subjects we will address.
With all respect and high regard I sign myself
Frater Holeb, Premonstratensian Monk and Konig’s Court Scholar
4
Although the day was clear, the wind was blustery and cold, but that was not enough to keep most of the people of Praha from lining the switch-back route of the civic procession in the hope of seeing the Konig and the city’s display to welcome his return. The atmosphere was celebratory, with pie-sellers and musicians working among the spectators, and the inns and taverns keeping their doors open and their tankards full. Reel-dancers wound though the crowds, the bells on their garters jangling, their tabors pounding out a steady rhythm. In the stands set up for the nobility and clergy, courtiers, priests, and monks jockeyed for the best positions.
The stand built for the Konige’s Court was in the square at the entrance to Vaclav Castle, where the procession would end. Konige Kunigunde, her Court, and the wives, widows, and daughters of the nobles who had come to Praha for the occasion, all in their most elaborate garments and jewels, took their places there immediately after the triumphal Mass at Sant-Lukas the Evangelist while the Konig and his Court lined up with the rest of the procession at the bottom of the hill in front of the Council Court, preparing to make their way along the main streets and squares up to Vaclav Castle.
“Look, dear Royal,” Csenge of Somo
gy exclaimed, trying to rouse the Konige from her listlessness. “You can watch almost all the procession from here. They say there are fifteen decorated wagons in all.”
Milica of Olmutz leaned down toward the Konige, smiling with unctuous satisfaction as she ducked her head to Konige Kunigunde. “Bohemia is the richest kingdom in the world. Gold has brought us more than prosperity, it has made us the envy of all. What other city can match this procession? Not even Constantinople can boast our grandeur, I am certain. And you, dear Royal, are Konige of it all.”
Konige Kunigunde, seated with her almost-five-year-old daughter, pointed down the hill. “There, Kinga. Watch for your father. He’ll be at the end of the procession, with his knights.” She appeared indifferent to the excitement around her.
At the rear of the wagons and companies of Guildsmen and entertainers lining up, Konig Otakar was mounted on a superb bay stallion; he was wearing a golden crown and the new-style armor plated in gold so that he shone like the sun. He was surrounded by his personal guard of twelve German knights, all on spotted horses. They walked slowly in a circle to keep their horses limber and calm. At the head of the procession, the Counselors of Praha fell in behind the beautifully decorated wagon pulled by burnished red horses in which Episcopus Fauvinel rode, surrounded by youths dressed as angels, their wings fluttering in the wind. At the Episcopus’ signal, the procession began to move at a dignified walk. After the Counselors came a consort of musicians playing tabors and buisines and shawms. They were followed by a wagon from the Weavers’ Guild, in which Otakar’s large rampant black lion made of fine mohair cloth glued onto a wooden form received the submission of Austria and Carinthia in the forms of royal heraldic devices laid at the lion’s feet; small German horses with golden coats and flaxen manes and tails were led by the Masters of the Weavers’ Guild in glorious Damascus silks. A troupe of tumblers came next, Tahir among them, and then the wagon of the Goldsmiths’ Guild, adorned with shining spangles of gold leaf and carrying a throne on which sat a woman dressed as the Konige of Sheba, wearing a chaplet of gold and a multitude of rings, bracelets, and necklaces. The wagon was pulled by four chestnut horses led by the Guildmasters, each one wearing a pectoral with the emblem of the Guild. Moorish dancers came next, the slaves of Pan Kolowrat Atenaze, who, rigged out in Antioch silks, rode beside them on a spirited mouse-colored mare. The Saddle-and-Harness-Makers’ Guild’s wagon followed, bedecked with bridles, saddles, and harnesses in worked leather, and held aloft by their most handsome apprentices; the Guildmasters led a team of three black horses in an ornate Kievan harness. More musicians, these from the choir of Sant-Lukas the Evangelist singing songs of praise to God for the Konig’s victories, followed them. The Tapestry-Weavers’ Guild came next, four handsome tapestry banners displaying the arms of Bohemia, Austria, Moravia, and Carinthia moving restlessly in the wind and alarming the four gray horses that pulled the wagon. A company of advocates and notaries followed after, solemn in the dark cotehardies and headdresses of their professions. Another wagon came next, this one from the Blacksmiths’ Guild, filed with displays of armor, cooking pots, horse-shoes, and the tools of smiths: tongs, hammers, and files; the Guildmaster, stripped to the waist and dressed like the god Vulcan, stood over a forge, his hair contained in a wreath of iron laurel leaves. The wagon was pulled by ten apprentices, dressed in what they thought was the fashion in Caesar’s Rome.
Saint-Germain 24: An Embarrassment of Riches: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain Page 16
