To the people of the city from Konige Kunigunde, with the blessings of Episcopus Fauvinel, and the approval and duty of the Counselors of Praha on this, the 27th day of May in the 1270th year of Grace:
On the occasion of the reception of the notification to the Konige Kunigunde that her royal grandfather Konig Bela has been called to Heaven and the presence of God, for which the Konige’s Court and the people are now to mourn until the season of the Nativity, when the Konige’s Court will celebrate the ascendency of her maternal uncle, Istvan of Transylvania, to the throne of Hungary, there will be one hundred Masses said for the repose of Konig Bela’s soul, and one hundred more for the long and glorious reign of Istvan of Hungary. All residents of Praha will show mourning by placing a black crucifix on their doors and in distributing alms to the poor in the name of Konige Kunigunde. All officials of the Council and the Konige’s Court are to dress in red or black through the period of mourning; any lapse in such demonstrations of respect will require a fine be paid to the Counselors and the Episcopus of three golden Vaclavs for each offense.
No weddings are to occur until thirty days of deep mourning have passed. No music but the chants of monks will be allowed within the city for sixty days. No entertainments such as bear-baiting and cock-fighting will be allowed inside Praha’s walls for sixty days. No dancing or other wanton games are to be permitted for sixty days. All failures to abide by these dictates will be met with fines, and, if repeated, public whipping.
There will be, in honor of the Konige Kunigunde’s grief, a cessation of all executions for a month; all those condemned to be hanged in chains will be kept in prison until the thirty days have passed, at which time their sentences shall be carried out. The sole exceptions to this degree are the three Bulgarians captured by Antal of Szousa and condemned for the murder of Rakoczy Ferancsi, Comes Santu-Germaniu, and the Konige’s juggler, Tahir. These vile assassins have claimed that they were employed by Antal of Szousa, but admitted, under the boot, that they lied when they accused Szousa, which Confession will grant them absolution of their sins and the glories of Paradise.
The Mid-Summer Festival will not be held, nor will any tournaments, until the principal six months of mourning have passed, at which time there will be a civic procession to mark the end of the Konige’s grieving. The end of mourning will also be recognized with dignified demonstrations of thanksgiving and renewed fealty to Konig Otakar, his Konige, and their daughters.
Witnessed and signed in the presence of Episcopus Fauvinel
for Konige Kunigunde
and
the Counselors of Praha
6
Cases and chests stood in the entry hall of Mansion Belcrady, ready to be loaded into wagons for the authorized departure the following day of Rakoczy’s Hungarian household for Santu-Germaniu. Despite the warm afternoon, the sky was glary with high, thin clouds that made the light inside the manse more muted than was usual on a June day. Activity in the household was on-going but muffled, a reminder that they were mourning not only the death of the Comes but the coming end of the servants’ employment; each of the household members had been given generous service payment and the pledge that the Counselors would see that they found new work, but unease hung over them all. As if to punctuate that restiveness, there was an occasional clash of pots and pans as Pacar loaded up the kitchen supplies; the scrape of rakes marked where the rushes were being taken up.
Hruther was occupied among the packed chests with checking off the items on his inventory that were to go to Santu-Germaniu; a second, smaller list was for the things he would need himself. He was dressed in a dark-gray huch of linen over a chainse of black-cotton, with black-velvet bands on his cuffs indicating his mourning state.
“How many more horses do you want me to purchase?” Illes of Kotan asked as he came in through the door; he, too, was in dark clothes with black bands on his cuffs. “I am off to the market shortly; I plan to return before sundown.”
“How much money do you have?” Hruther asked. “How many horses do you plan to buy?”
“I have twenty-five gold Angels and twenty silver Apostles, and a few copper Agnethes,” he answered, fingering the pouch that hung from his belt. “I had planned to buy four or five horses and perhaps a pair of mules, since you are taking three of them. They should be sufficient for our journey home. I might be able to buy another two horses without needing any more money than I have now.” He gave Hruther a speculative look.
“If you see a pair of good riding horses, you may purchase them. I would like to have a pair of remounts at the least.” Hruther made a mark on his inventory, then regarded Illes directly. “How much grain will you need for the journey to Santu-Germaniu? Is there enough in the stable for your journey and mine, or will you need to buy more?”
“I will know when I know how many horses we will have,” said Illes, his tone level. He looked up at the new windows. “Seems a shame to go, with the manse finally finished.”
“Yes. But the Comes’ heir needs to be provided with his bona fides, and to do that, I’ll have to find him first. Until the heir is found, no one can live here; it is protected by the Konige and the Counsel.”
“Do you know where he is?” Illes asked. “I know it isn’t my place to ask,” he added hastily.
“I know where to begin my search.” Hruther looked away from Illes, his demeanor reserved. “I will find him, and in time he will come to claim this fief; I will see to it. Tell Balint that when you arrive in Santu-Germaniu. I will send word to inform Konig Istvan when I have located the heir, and I will notify Santu-Germaniu, of course.”
“Of course,” Illes echoed. He filled in the awkwardness of the sudden silence by making a show of examining the nine chests set out nearest the door. “These are the ones that will go with you? loaded on the mules?”
“Yes.” Hruther glanced up from his inventory. “Those chests and four sacks of grain.”
“Three mules and four horses…” Illes studied the chests. “This big one—you’ll have to use the strongest mule to carry it.”
“Very likely,” said Hruther. “That is my plan.”
“And this old chest, with the legs off? It will need to be wrapped well in canvas if the lacquer isn’t to be damaged.”
“We brought it here in a canvas shroud: it will leave the same way,” said Hruther.
Illes studied the chests. “You aren’t taking an escort?”
“No. If I need one, I will hire men along the way.”
“Not so much of a chance of spies,” said Illes with a knowing nod.
Hruther nodded a little, then consulted his inventory once more. “There are eleven more crates to be packed and bound for your return to the Comes’ fief. You’ll need to put most of them in the wagons that will be in your charge. Only a few will go on pack-animals.” His thoughts drifted for a long moment, back to the bath-house ten days ago where he had found Tahir dead on the floor and Rakoczy, in stupor, floating in the vat, a wound in his shoulder, his breathing stopped. After bolting the door, Hruther had pulled Rakoczy from the vat, assured himself that Rakoczy was only in a stupor before laying him out next to Tahir, then unbolted the door and summoned Pacar and Kornemon to witness the deaths and to report the murders to the Konige’s Court and the Episcopus— He heard Illes repeat his question.
“Can they be loaded tonight, or will they have to wait until tomorrow morning?”
“All can be loaded tonight.” Recovering himself, he patted the nearest chest, a banded one of medium size. “Only my cases need to wait. There’s no point in loading up a pack-saddle before it’s on the mule.”
“Um,” said Illes. He looked toward the door. “Then I’m off to the horse-market in Sante-Radmille Square. If you want to inspect what I buy?”
“I’ll want to see the two riding horses you buy for me, but otherwise you’re capable of choosing animals that will best suit your travels.” Hruther’s expression lost a little of its asceticism. “The Comes accounted
you a fine horseman, and a dependable groom. You know what you will require.”
Illes flushed, turned on his heel, and left the manse. He returned at dusk, leading a string of horses and mules; he put them in the stable, fed and watered them, then returned to the manse for a light supper and the last meal he would share with the household. By the time the trenchers were gone and the beer and wine drunk in honor of the Comes’ memory, Illes was weary; he found Hruther in the Comes’ workroom with a final crate of books.
Hruther greeted him in Hungarian in a desultory manner, then asked, “Is everything ready?”
Iles shrugged. “As much as it can be tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get the rest done. I bought two horses for your remounts,” said Illes.
“Excellent. Tell me more.” Hruther sighed as he closed the lid on the crate of books. “You’ll need to make sure this stays out of the rain.”
“I’ll put it in the lead wagon and remind the driver to be careful.”
“Very good.” He paused. “Which stalls are the remounts in?”
“The eighth and ninth, across from the dun gelding.” He waited to see if there was anything more that Hruther required.
“Rest well—you have a long way to go,” said Hruther.
“At least I know where I am bound,” said Illes, and went off to his room in the stable and his bed.
Clouds thickened during the night, and Praha woke to a sullen, lowering, canvas-like sky and the heavy, still air that promised rain by the end of the day. Sapped of energy, most of Praha moved slowly, but at Mansion Belcrady, industrious loading and packing began before first light; the lanthorns were kept burning well after the east showed the arillate nimbus of sunrise. As the morning advanced, the pace increased, approaching the frenetic as the loading of wagons progessed; now that the end had come, the household was eager to be shut of the place.
Hruther met Illes in the stable shortly after dawn; he inspected the two riding horses Illes had bought and nodded his approval. “I’ll saddle the calmest one for me to ride; with the mules and all their burdens, I don’t want to have to contain any frisks from my mount.” He picked up his saddle with its pad atop it, and carried it to the stand, and then fetched the bridle.
“The dun gelding is the most steady of the horses, but he is not a plodder; he can walk out all day long. He should suit your purposes.” He cocked his head as if listening to the horses. “You’ll want to keep him on a slack rein; I had him from a merchant who goes between Carinthia and Lorringaria. He sold his horses because he is ill and is going to enter Sant-Toluc so the monks may treat him.”
“The dun gelding it shall be,” said Hruther. “Do you have a spare set of reins and a pair of extra lead-ropes?”
“Yes.” Illes retrieved them from the back of the wagon that stood in the stable door and handed them to Hruther.
“I have the Comes’ saddle and bridle with me, and his saddle pads to present to his heir,” Hruther said calmly. “You have his bones to carry back to his native earth, so that he may lie with his fathers.”
“Yes,” said Illes a second time. “As the great knights were brought back from the Holy Land.” He crossed himself.
“Yes. Like that.” For a short while Hruther thought back to the night that Tahir had done his utmost to drown Rakoczy, and all that he had done in haste and secret to ensure Rakoczy’s protection as well as his escape from exile: the speed at which Hruther had arranged for disposal of the bodies, the search he had made alone through the night for a body that could be used to supply bones to be carried to Santu-Germaniu; it had been well toward the end of night when he had found a monk with four deep wounds in his side, newly perished. He had brought the dead monk back to Mansion Belcrady and to the large cauldron behind the storage sheds that Rakoczy had filled with water, where the monk’s carcase would be boiled in his stead. For the following nine days, Rakoczy had remained in the shed, enervated but recovering, until Hruther had conspicuously packed the bare bones in a casket like a reliquary and entrusted it to Illes, and then, one day ago, he had surreptitiously brought an iron-banded chest lined in his native earth to Rakoczy and locked him in it before ordering three of the servants to carry it to the entry hall, where it now waited to be loaded onto one of the mules’ pack saddles.
“Hruther?” Illes inquired.
Aware that he had been distracted too long, Hruther shook himself. “I have much to do; I don’t want to forget any task. How many wagons are packed?”
“Four are filled; the rest will be ready before mid-day.”
Hruther glanced down at one of the mansion’s cats. “We should provide food for them so that they won’t wander off, but will hunt here. The Comes’ heir will not want to live in a place filled with rats.”
“I suppose that’s a good plan,” said Illes. “I’ll get the pack-saddles.” He started for the tackroom, but paused. “Will I ever see you again after today?”
“If God wills, I trust so,” said Hruther.
“If God wills,” Illes repeated, crossing himself, then brought out the first of the pack-saddles and its pad. “Which of the mules shall I—”
“That one,” Hruther said, pointing to the one with the broadest back. He picked up the nearest brush and went to work on the coat of the dun gelding he would be riding. “Do you think I can be away by mid-morning?”
“If the rain holds off, yes,” said Illes, brushing down the broad-backed mule. “Rain will slow loading the pack-saddles.”
“Do you suppose it will? so soon after dawn?” Hruther asked as two of the household servants brought another large wooden crate to put in the wagon in front of the stable door.
“It’s likely. There’s no thunder yet, and the rain won’t start until the thunder awakens the clouds.” He picked up the harness for the wagon and gave it to one of his assistants. “The piebald mule and the liver one.” He pointed them out to the under-grooms.
“Do you have the Konige’s safe-conduct with you?” Hruther inquired.
Illes touched the wallet that hung from his belt. “I will keep it with me until we reach Santu-Germaniu, as you told me.”
“Very good,” said Hruther, and went on grooming the gelding, taking time to pick out his hooves and to comb the tangles from his mane and tail. As he secured the saddle-girth, he said, “Will you bring the mules and the remounts around to the front of the manse so they can be loaded? I’ll lead this horse.” He patted the gelding’s neck.
“I’ll be there shortly.” Illes put his brushes away. “As soon as this team is harnessed.”
“I’ll have the chests and crates in position for you.”
“As you like,” said Illes, ducking his head respectfully as he stood aside to let Hruther lead his gelding down the aisle between the stalls, past the wagon awaiting loading, and out into the dim sunlight.
Illes was as good as his word: by mid-morning the mules were loaded, the remounts were tethered to their lead-line, and a few of the household staff had gathered to wish Hruther farewell and safe travels. Pacar was the only one of the household who appeared to be sad about the coming separation.
“I thank you all for your good service, and for your care of my master and Mansion Belcrady,” Hruther said, gathering up the reins and the leads. “May God send you good fortune, good employment, many children, and good health. And may God guide and guard Konig Otakar, Konige Kunigunde, and Episcopus Fauvinel.”
Since Minek had been killed the same night as the Comes was drowned, Kornemon served as warder, opening the gate and waiting until the mules and remounts were through to close and bar it again. No one paused in their activities to wave or offer any other farewell; there was still much work to do before Illes and the wagons left and the keys to Mansion Belcrady were given into the care of the Counselors of Praha to hold in trust for Rakoczy’s heir.
Passing through the south gate, Hruther could see the bodies of the three Bulgarians hanging in chains beside a forger, a pair of tergiversistic monks, and a blasphemer; th
e weather intensified the stench from the decaying flesh; crows flapped around the corpses, and high overhead kites shrieked.
Hruther took the river road, carefully avoiding the places where the bank had sunk. He maintained his horse, the remounts, and the mules at a steady, fast walk over the level ground, slowing only slightly as the land began to rise, so that by the time, late in the afternoon, that the first thunder grumbled overhead, he was almost six leagues from Praha, the city long lost to sight behind him. Half a league farther on, lightning ripped the clouds, thunder thudding after it. “Time to find shelter,” Hruther told his gelding, and began to watch for tracks leading away from the river; he chose a path that was narrow and old, leading off toward a spinny of larch and oak, and what appeared to be ancient, tumbled walls with an abandoned almshouse beside it.
He dismounted and led the horses and mules into the long, narrow almshouse, taking care to be sure it had not become a den for foxes or bears before stepping inside. The place was musty but not too dilapidated; it would do for the first night. Hruther unsaddled his dun gelding, securing his reins to a half-fallen beam. He found two more substantial beams where he could tie the mules and the remounts, all at the same end of the almshouse; then he unloaded the pack-saddle on the largest mule, setting the single large chest down away from the door and the tethered animals, leaving space for the other chests and crates and easy reloading. Taking great care, he next unloaded the iron-banded chest, putting it next to the large one. He unlocked the banded chest and held out his hand. “My master,” he said in Imperial Latin.
From his cramped, folded position within the chest, Rakoczy looked up at him, an expression of relief in his dark eyes. “Old friend.” Slowly he straightened up, stretching carefully, his back and shoulders stiff from almost two days in the chest. “Where are we?”
“South of Praha; I reckon it about six leagues, or perhaps a little more.” He helped Rakoczy to rise, brushing away the small clods of earth that clung to his gambeson and high boots. “A fair distance.”
Saint-Germain 24: An Embarrassment of Riches: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain Page 36
