Elizabeth of Vindobona (The Colplatschki Chronicles Book 3)

by Alma Boykin

  “My Lady?”

  She smiled at Lazlo. “His highness and the Poloki troops are returning to Lvarna now, lest they be caught in the winter storms and snows. Their share of the Vindobona loot has already been sent north.”

  Kornholt sighed with relief, a sentiment Elizabeth heartily seconded. She’d dreaded trying to figure out how to let the Poloki into Esterburg without giving them any credit or glory, or more likely, having Imre claim credit he did not deserve. He wasn’t a bad man, and he was a very good heavy cavalry commander, but working with him was like trying to eat a thorny cherry with the spines still on it. Not impossible, but it required more delicacy than she felt capable of.

  She wrote a formal letter of thanks, sending her blessings and gratitude to the Poloki and praising their contribution to the late campaign, and complimenting Imre’s wisdom and nobility at putting his men’s health and welfare above his own desire for renown. After the courier departed, she leaned her head back, resting it against the top of the chair. “We have the citadel, we have a diplomatic challenge averted, we have more Turkowi gold and treasure, but where is High Priest Mukara?”

  No one had an answer for her. She expected none. Elizabeth returned to work, drafting reports and a question for the imperial council. Now that they had Esterburg, what should they do with it? The Tivolian border sat north of the fortress, and it should be returned to the duke, but Tivolia no longer had a ruling duke. “Thank you, Godown, that this is not my problem,” she whispered as she sealed the letter. Another courier would go out at dawn, riding for Vindobona.

  Count Albinez appeared in the doorway of the tent. “My lady colonel?”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “The volunteers have finished searching, and can find no signs of traps or tricks. And my men have secured the gold.”

  That solved one problem right there. “Excellent work. Once we finish securing the fortress, I want you and your men to escort the gold and the Emperor’s share back to Vindobona.” He was the farthest from home, and his men deserved to leave first. They’d ridden with her from the western border.

  That night she spoke with each commander and their senior officers in turn, asking them to let her know how many men they could leave, at least until his majesty sent word what was to be done with the fortress. She also thanked them again for their efforts. “We are well underway with the inventory of the valuables inside the citadel, and we will be setting out shares as soon as we can,” she assured them. “But do not, at risk of your souls, steal anything of Selkow until it can be inspected and blessed. Especially ritual implements, the knives and incense burners. Those may very well have shed and held the blood of Godown’s followers,” she reminded the men.

  A small pile of brass bowls, bone-handled knives, platters with verses about Selkow on them, and other items appeared overnight outside the command tent. She asked no questions, simply praying over the items and then having them added to one of the warming fires. It helped that, according to what Elizabeth could find out, Selkow did not want her priests using ornate or elaborate things at her rituals. Treasures and gold were to go to those who worshipped and fought for the goddess, not to fill her temples with “useless” decorations. As much as she personally approved of charity, Elizabeth preferred Godown’s ruling on the matter, according to His Holy Writ.

  One item proved very problematic. She read the note Captain of Hundreds Nekara had left with it and felt torn between bursting into tears of rage or vomiting as a wave of disgust and horror flowed over her. The only decorations or markings on the simple aromatic yellowwood box consisted of delicate and tasteful brass fittings at the corners and hinges. If it had been almost anything other than what it was, Elizabeth would have claimed the casket to keep her head-covers and some delicate shawls in. Instead she folded her arms and stared at the thing, wishing it and its contents would vanish. She turned to Lazlo and the other men. “Who has read the message or knows what is inside this box?”

  Only four raised their hands, including Lazlo. “The rest of you are dismissed for the moment. Go, please, and we’ll join you in a little while.” After they left, Elizabeth rubbed her face with her hand. “There is nothing in my training or reading about dealing with this. Since we do not have a priest with us at the moment, I believe that the best thing to do is destroy the message, and send the ossuary to Major Delaney’s family with a letter explaining that his remains had been found and are being returned for proper burial in consecrated ground. And none of us will speak of what we read or heard, ever again. Any objections?”

  Lt. Nicholson bristled, “His family needs to know just how impure and evil these monsters are. They can’t just bury the bones and go on without having them exorcized and anointed.”

  Count Kossuth glared at him. “Lieutenant, everyone within the Empire knows what Selkow’s followers are capable of. I’ve dealt with similar… discoveries, my lady Colonel,” he told Elizabeth. “The family does not need to know what happened to their father, husband. His soul is with Godown, where nothing can harm him. You have the right of it, my lady Colonel.”

  No one else had any objection, and so it was done. Elizabeth shooed them out and prayed over the box, asking for mercy on any who had been wronged and thanking Godown that Maj. Delaney’s family would not know what had happened to him. She also sent a little blessing to Nekara, for not taking Delaney’s bones back to be desecrated further. His had been a hard enough death.

  But the ossuary proved to be the worst item the imperial soldiers found. “High Priest Mukara wanted Vindobona more than Esterburg, so why leave his junior priests here, when they already had the fortress and the river, and could come back at their leisure,” Count Kornholt theorized. It made perfect sense to Elizabeth, although the very idea of sharing an idea with High Priest Mukara made her skin crawl.

  Three weeks after her messenger reached Vindobona, Matthew Starland arrived at Esterburg with a detachment of soldiers and several priests. “Greetings, and I am so glad to be out of that wind,” he said. “Do you want the personal news or the Imperial news first?”

  “Imperial,” she decided.

  “Until a family member can be found to take up the ducal throne in Tivolia, his majesty Emperor Rudolph Babenburg has graciously agreed to take on Tivolia as a protectorate within the Empire. With High Priest Mukara’s death, the Rajtan let it be known that the Turkowi will remain in their current lands for the time being.”

  Elizabeth nodded, unsurprised and somewhat pleased, although she knew the declaration would irritate Laurence of Frankonia beyond measure and probably cause consternation among the Freistaadter and in the Bergenlands. Then she caught what else Matthew had said. “Mukara’s dead?”

  Starland’s smile spread from ear to ear. “Very, exceedingly, utterly, deceased. At the Rajtan’s command, since Selkow tolerates no failures, especially not failures that cost her so many worshippers and such repute.”

  Elizabeth, who never danced, found herself swept into Lazlo’s arms, twirling around the room as the others cheered. “Your pardon, my lady,” he whispered with a wink before releasing her.

  “As I was saying,” Matthew coughed, once things quieted down. “There are some changes, now that this area is part of the empire for the foreseeable future. His majesty is creating a new county of Esterburg, to border on the Kossuth and Starland lands to the north.” Once the hubbub died again, he forestalled the next questions with, “No, my lords, I do not know who will be lifted to the title. The men with me are to hold the fortress and surrounding area until spring, if not longer. There are settlers interested in coming here, and there may be heirs from Tivolia who come forward with claims.”

  And please, Godown, may he not give it to me! Ugh, I’d go mad trying to deal with the fortress and the lands around it. I hate managing property. She highly doubted Rudolph would do any such thing, but he was the emperor, and had the right. He also knew of her aversion, thanks to his brother. Just give me a little more room in Donatello Ho
use and Donatello Bend and I’ll be perfectly happy. Or she could buy such from Archduke Lewis.

  “Elizabeth von Sarmas, are you interested in your personal news?”

  She shook out of her woolgathering. “Oh, yes, sorry, my lord.”

  “You and Colonel Lazlo Destefani, along with your troops, are relieved and are free to return to your homes. Except His Majesty, and Duke Starland, desire your presence in Vindobona.” Matthew winked. “And my honored father says that as a penalty for your insubordination and lack of concern for his plans for his dependents’ futures, you are to stay there until you and Colonel Destefani finish the campaign report. The full report,” he emphasized. “And Col. Destefani?”

  Lazlo seemed very wary as he said, “Yes, my lord?”

  “Kemal sends his congratulations and asked me to remind you that he’s still older, wiser, and better looking.”

  The nobles burst into laughter, and Lazlo joined them.

  When they reached Donatello House, after slogging through some of the worst winter weather Elizabeth could remember, she and Lazlo found Mina and the other personal staff there, along with a handful of Archduke Lewis’s servants. They also found a note, from Lewis, informing them that he and Ann were moving into a newer residence and “the pile” was hers, per his brother’s orders. “And your damn trees are safe,” the message concluded. Not trusting Lewis farther than she could throw Snowy the Killer Mule, Elizabeth rushed to the solar to find the pfeach trees alive and well in their pots. Lazlo leaned against the doorframe and laughed at her.

  Irritated, she spun around and stalked up to him, ready to give him a piece of her mind for making fun of her. She opened her mouth but before a sound came out, the baby kicked. She squeaked, grabbing her belly. It kicked again and tears filled her eyes.

  “My lady, what’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She grabbed his hand and put it where she’d felt the motion. The child kicked once more, and his eyes sprang open so wide they looked white against his tan skin. “You’re?”

  She nodded, smiling and crying at the same time. “We’re.” She whispered. They heard someone walking up behind Lazlo and Elizabeth cursed under her breath, wiping her eyes. He bowed very low, took her hand, and kissed it.

  10

  Body and Soul

  Only in those books she was not supposed to have read did everyone live happily ever after, Elizabeth kept reminding herself. Otherwise she’d have thrown herself into a convent, or thrown courtiers into the Donau Novi River. As it was she spent long hours late at night locked in her workroom, tinkering with her Lander antiquities and hiding from the world.

  By some twist of life and fortune, Donatello House had remained undamaged during the bombardment of Vindobona. Most people were not so blessed, and rebuilding began as soon as it was safe to do so. Townsfolk and farmers salvaged materials from destroyed buildings, or from the houses, fences, and other structures that had been outside the walls. The sounds of hammering, sawing, and cursing filled the short winter days. Elizabeth picked her routes carefully, trying to avoid the worst of the construction when she had to go out.

  The selection of food remained limited. The royal farms, including Donatello Bend, supplied some flours and staples for sale to the public, but most of the meat and grain went to replenish the emergency stores and palace stocks. The peasant farms and estates closest to Vindobona had been stripped bare by the defenders or by the Turkowi, and almost the only thing left untouched had been root vegetables. Elizabeth grew very tired of bluebeets and groundnuts, almost as tired as she was of campbread. She nearly kissed Captain Kemal Destefani when he appeared at Donatello House with a late solstice gift. “Two chickens, two pseudo-boar, and berry butter? Thank you! These are perfect, and his grace is so generous.”

  Kemal looked a little uncomfortable as Elizabeth gushed over the gift meat. “Ay, my lady, these are from Ali Destefani, Lazlo’s and my father.”

  “Then I am even more grateful for the gift and the generosity, and am even further in your debt, Captain Destefani. Is there anything I can do for you, other than invite you to come in out of this cold air?”

  Once inside Elizabeth’s office, with hot chokofee inside him, Kemal admitted, “There is something, my lady, but,” and he shifted in his seat, as uncomfortable as a lizard on the lip of a fire pit.

  Lazlo, standing behind Elizabeth’s chair, refused to help ease his older brother’s discomfort. He stayed quiet as Elizabeth inquired, “What do you want?”

  “I want one of your warhorse’s get,” Kemal blurted.

  “If you don’t mind waiting, there should be two colts ready for training next spring, both out of Oberland mares. Neither has been spoken for, so you can pick, or I’ll choose one for you and bring it back to Vindobona for you to collect. Unless you would like it sent on to Starheart?”

  Kemal blinked, caught by surprise. “Ah, my lady, Starheart would be easier, but I don’t want you to go to any trouble, my lady.”

  She just smiled, “It is no trouble. After all,” and she turned so she could see Lazlo, “Colonel Destefani is long overdue a family visit, and he can certainly take the horse with him when he goes home.”

  Now it was Lazlo’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Ah, my lady, I’d not planned on traveling next spring.”

  She really wanted to make both brothers blush, but Elizabeth stopped herself. “Then I will let you gentlemen decide how to get the horse from Donatello Bend to Starheart. If you will excuse me, I have something to see to. Lazlo, why don’t you show Capt. Destefani around and get his opinion on what to do with that big room over the stable? I’d like to use it for fencing and other exercises, but it might not be suitable.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Lazlo agreed. His look warned that he would get even with her. At that moment, she worried more about making it to the garderobe. The baby kicked her bladder again and Elizabeth hurried out of the office before something mortifying happened.

  Lazlo left for Donatello Bend three days later with Lewis and Ann, after making good on his promise of revenge. How he’d snuck into her bedchamber Elizabeth had no idea, and he refused to tell her, but she found his arms around her, and then discovered that he could undo laces by touch surprisingly well. “How did you?” A few moments later, she no longer cared how. After they’d taken their pleasure, she said, “You don’t have to visit your family if you really do not want to.”

  He stroked her arm before resting a hand on her belly so he could feel their baby. “No, I need to. But I do not want to leave you alone when your time comes, love.” He chuckled quietly, “And I need to come up with a way to tell my father of our marriage that won’t leave him either dead of shock or demanding to know what he gets from your bride portion.”

  “Um,” she snuggled closer to him. The room had a draft and he was warm. “Could he use work mules? His grace said that he does not like the Poloki-cross mules. They’re too grey, even though they are sound.”

  “Too gray?”

  “Too gray.”

  They sighed in unison. A few minutes later Lazlo decided. “I think a pair of grey work mules would be more than adequate.”

  Despite his threats, Duke Starland decided that Elizabeth needed to stop working on her campaign report, and “invited” her to come riding. She politely declined the invitation, citing the desire to get everything down while she still remembered it. Aquila, unused to refusals, ignored her protests and invoked rank and seniority. He even offered to bring a suitable horse. “Take Marie’s mare, Ember. She won’t mind, and you need the fresh air. You do not have to write the entire report before winter court ends, you know.” Marie, as it turned out, did not mind lending her new saddle mare at all. As a result, on a cold, overcast early morning Elizabeth walked into the courtyard to find him waiting, along with a light bay and black mare that danced at the end of the lead rope. “Thank you, your grace,” she forced herself to say. “She is a beautiful creature.” And the mare was indeed
a lovely horse, with delicate features and fox ears. Elizabeth still detested mares, and as she mounted the frisky horse she wondered what mischief the beast would get into.

  She joined Duke Starland, Prince Alois, and Princess Aranka as they rode out in the brisk winter air. The mare pranced and posed, drawing appreciative looks from other riders and passers-by. A few delivery wagons creaked along, slowing traffic and blocking parts of the street. A flour merchant’s dray stopped in front of a bakery and Elizabeth slowed the mare, dropping back behind Quill Starland and easing the mare to the side to give the vehicle and the men unloading flour barrels plenty of room. Just as Ember drew even with the horses pulling the wagon, a voice beside Elizabeth called, “Beware!” Icy cold water poured down onto her and she gasped. Ember spooked, running for the cart horses. One of the men tried to grab her bridle and before Elizabeth could stop her, Ember shied again, rearing. She slipped on the damp cobbles, falling backwards. Elizabeth tried to kick free of the stirrups and fall away, but her boot caught and the horse landed on her. The impact knocked the air and water out of Elizabeth and she screamed, or tried to. Someone caught Ember as she scrambled to her feet and another man cut Elizabeth free before the mare could drag her. Elizabeth tried to move and couldn’t. It hurt too much.

  She gasped for air, each breath hurting more. “My,” she reached down, hand on her belly. Something felt horribly wrong. The baby should be kicking but nothing moved. She moved her arms and legs, but her torso felt smashed and her ribs ached.

  “Elizabeth, are you,” Quill began. “Oh, holy Godown.” His face went pale. “Don’t move. You’re bleeding.”