The Lady And The Hussites (The Lady Bornekova Book 2)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  What was he going to do? How could he protect her in the face of raging war if he could not even protect her from a patrol guard?

  A hand on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts with a start. He jerked his head toward the intrusion, arms raised in defense. But it was only Karin reaching for him.

  “Are you well?” came her soft, sleep-drugged voice. Her eyes were wider than he would have expected having been roused from a dead slumber. The pupils were large, seeking to draw in any and all light in the room. It seemed as if he could dive into those green-rimmed orbs.

  “Yes,” he assured her, taking her hand and drawing her into his arms. “I am quite well. Just having a hard time sleeping.” His hand traced the line of her spine, caressing her back through her nightdress.

  “Something bothers you?” She nudged her head until her face settled in the space where his shoulder met his neck.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. How could he tell her without causing worry? So he remained silent.

  “Please tell me.” Her hand resting on his chest grabbed at his nightshirt.

  Letting out the breath he held, he let go his reservations. He did not want to start their marriage keeping things from her. Yes, it would be best to be honest about his concerns. And trust her to handle them.

  “It’s just that I worry,” he said, placing his free hand on hers. He played with her fingers. “What will happen to our people?”

  “You mean the Czech people? Or the Hussites?” Her breath was warm against the skin of his neck. It intoxicated him.

  He paused his ministrations on her hand. “I suppose I mean both.” Then he resumed his movements, rubbing each finger in turn. “What will become of the Czech nation? Will the Hussite movement survive to see another month? And what of us? Do I join the fighting? What about you? I need to protect you. But then . . . ” His voice trailed off. He hadn’t meant to say so much.

  “Then what?” She prompted. “Tell me what’s on your heart.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “I didn’t do so when we were stopped by that patrol.”

  She leaned up on one elbow so she could look at him. “Pavel Krejik! I will not hear you say such things. You did everything you could and you know that. Some things are out of your power.”

  Looking into her eyes, he searched for some relief from the weight of guilt he felt. There was love there for him, not judgment. And it was a balm to his soul.

  “I only ever want to keep you from harm.” He intertwined their fingers. “You are precious to me.”

  She leaned over to press her lips to his. And no more words were necessary.

  * * *

  The darkness was thick. But the lone rider pushed his horse on through the uneven terrain of the Krokonose Mountains. His path was illuminated only by the moon and stars, which created a blanket of glittering dots above him. Nothing, it seemed, lay between him and those twinkling orbs. Surely, he could reach up and touch them if he cared to. But he dare not stop, not even for such lofty goal. No, his mission was much too important. It drove him to press his steed further into the night without rest.

  The plans of Wenceslas’s widow had fallen short, but not all had been lost. No, there had been enough distraction for this individual to gather information, and he would carry this information to the crown. These heretics, these Hussites had to be stopped. They could not be allowed to garner support across any of the borders. This man, who’d trekked the mountains alone, discovered that this was exactly what had happened.

  Why had he volunteered for such an assignment? Someone of his station was far above such tasks. Yet he had yearned for the solitude. The ache in his heart called for his withdrawal from genteel society. And now, he saw that it had served them all well. For he had found what he had suspected to be true. These traitors to the crown were currying favor with Poland and this would be dangerous indeed.

  He dug his heels into the flank of his horse, urging even more speed out of the animal. He would stop and rest the horse in due time. As for now, he would press on. His destination was just beyond the horizon.

  As soon as he delivered the pertinent information, his mission would be complete and burden relieved. Stepan Dvorak and his horse continued, disappearing into the night.

  Two

  Negotiations

  “No!” Jan Zizka declared, slamming his hand on the table. His voice rang out, piercing every corner of the room. His form loomed in front of a long wooden table facing several seated nobles.

  Petr worked to retain a neutral expression. Talks with the Hussites had not been going well. The man in front of them now, Jan Zizka, was a commander and prominent leader of the Hussite movement. He was not satisfied with the compromise they proposed. A chill ran through Petr. Was it the cavernous nature of the room, empty but for the table, chairs, and occupants, or was he truly that concerned about the massive man in front of them?

  “You have to be willing to yield something,” the duke to Petr’s right tried to reason with Zizka. As the highest ranking of the nobles there, the duke’s voice represented them all. “The castle of Vysehrad has always belonged to the royal family. The people of Prague had no right to occupy it during hostilities. What do you want with a castle?”

  Zizka muttered something indiscernible while glaring at the duke.

  “Pardon?” The nobleman rose to his feet.

  Was the tension of the meeting driving a duke to display his emotions? It was more important than ever they keep those in check.

  “As if you would understand,” Zizka repeated in a loud voice. “You leave the fighting to your military men. Always have. You wouldn’t understand the strategic advantage of a fortified castle. I must think this, or else consider you may be daft.”

  The duke’s fists clenched at his side and the muscles in his jaw twitched.

  “Our goal,” Petr spoke, “is to see an end to the fighting. For the sake of our people. All of our people.”

  Zizka’s eye landed on Petr. It made Petr squirm a little in his seat. The man’s gaze, half disguised by a patch, was as strong as his military presence. There was a boldness to his stature Petr could only dream to exude. Petr doubted the man ever entered a physical confrontation that he didn’t come out the victor.

  “Like it or not,” the duke challenged Zizka, “we have the endorsement of the Hussites to negotiate on their behalf. And this is our decision. This is not a discussion, but a chance to inform you of what we intend to do.”

  Petr didn’t think it possible, but Zizka’s eye hardened even more. His own hands clenched into fists. Was he preparing to charge the group of them like an enraged bull? He relaxed ever so slightly, perhaps thinking better of it.

  “You will regret this. Sigismund,” he spat the word out, “will not keep his word. He is not the rightful heir, and we will not stand for a kingdom in which he is on the throne.”

  Before any of them could respond, Zizka spun and exited the room.

  No one moved until the clomping of his boots on the floors had dissipated into the distance. Even then, all they could do was exchange harried looks.

  * * *

  Karin gazed out the window of the study. A dusting of snow covered the earth. How she missed the beautiful gardens of the chateau! Despite how she had hated being sent to Hradek Kralove at the time, she reflected quite fondly on times spent there. With Pavel. After all, had it not been for her time there, they may never have crossed paths. She breathed a prayer of thanks for the Lord’s provision. Yes, He knew the plans He had for her, even when her world had seemed as if it was falling apart.

  Movement in the doorway off to her right caught her attention. Karin turned toward the intrusion.

  “My apologies,” Pavel’s mother, the Baroness Marketa, said as she paused at the threshold to the room. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

  “You aren’t disturbing me.” Turning her whole body to face her mother-in-law, Karin put a smile on her face. Her interactions with the b
aroness had been few, and regardless of her efforts, they had been filled with politeness. Nothing amiss about that. But would they ever move past these pleasantries to something deeper?

  Marketa stepped into the room, returning Karin’s smile. “I came in search of a favorite book.”

  Karin nodded. They were in the library after all. Moving her already tightly crossed arms up and down, Karin looked toward the floor. What was there to say?

  “My dear, are you cold?” Marketa asked, brows furrowed. “I will have the fire started . . .” The older woman stepped toward the door once more. Would she summon a servant?

  “No, I assure you I am well.” Karin put a hand out to stop her.

  Marketa paused and eyed Karin. Did the baroness not believe her?

  “That is, I am a little cold, but only because I am standing by the window.”

  “I see.” Marketa shifted, appearing rather uncomfortable in the space. She didn’t go after her book, nor did she engage Karin.

  After some moments of awkward silence, Marketa stepped forward and nodded in the direction of the wall behind Karin. “In the summer, I have a magnificent garden just below that window.”

  “Oh?” Karin shifted her gaze out the window again but kept her body facing Marketa.

  The baroness took a few more steps forward, close enough to point downward and to the left. “Just there.”

  “Ah, yes,” Karin said, as she glimpsed the outline of what must be the garden’s spot on the property. “I am eager to see it.”

  Marketa nodded. “I enjoy nothing more than working the garden.”

  “You work it yourself?” Karin’s eyes were on Marketa then. She couldn’t have been more shocked if the baroness said she grew stones out of her soil. Karin tried to picture the woman in front of her, all prim and proper, with her hands deep in the dirt, skirts soiled from kneeling in the earth. It wasn’t possible.

  “Yes. I find it quite soothing.” Marketa, eyes fixed on the land below, seemed oblivious to Karin’s reaction.

  Karin refocused on the spot where the garden lay covered in snow. It was unimaginable now that life would spring forth from the earth in a few months. But perhaps she could bond with her mother-in-law in that garden. She so wanted to have something in common with this woman.

  Marketa opened her mouth, but a sound in the hallway drew their attention.

  A figure passed by and then paused, backtracking a few steps. Did someone wish to speak with her? With Marketa? As the passerby came closer to the opening, Karin made out the face of her husband.

  “The two women I adore most in all of Bohemia,” Pavel said, smiling, as he walked into the room.

  Karin’s mouth turned up and she glanced at Marketa. This was something they had in common.

  “I am not intruding I hope.” His gaze flickered from one woman to the other.

  “No,” Karin assured him. “Your mother was showing me where her garden will be.”

  “I am sure you will love it.” Pavel beamed. He knew her well. Crossing in front of his mother, Pavel approached Karin and pressed a kiss to the side of her face.

  “I fear Karin has long since desired my absence.” Marketa stepped to the shelves by the door.

  “I would not say . . . ” Karin’s brows furrowed.

  “It is all right, dear.” The baroness reached for a book on a shelf above her head. “I have what I came for.” She glanced from Pavel to Karin. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

  Karin nodded.

  And then, with the graceful air with which the woman moved about any space, she quit the room.

  Karin sighed, letting all the air out of her lungs. Had she been holding her breath?

  “Are you well?” Pavel’s eyes sparkled as they narrowed but slightly. Was he so concerned?

  “Oh, yes,” Karin placed her hands on his arms, turning toward him. “I only wish your mother and I could leave these simple pleasantries behind. How do I develop a more meaningful relationship with her?”

  A smile tugged at Pavel’s perfect mouth as he pulled her closer. “It will happen. These things cannot be forced. My mother is kind, but she keeps to herself. Give it time.”

  Karin nodded, letting her hands slide up his arms to join behind his neck. She lifted onto her toes, preparing to draw his face to her own, but something gave her pause.

  His eyes were inviting, yet something was amiss. Something in him held back, distracted.

  “What is it?” She attempted to keep her voice light but feared it betrayed her as it shook.

  “There is something I need to speak with you about.” His smile fell. Something deeper overtook his features. There was a seriousness in his eyes.

  Swallowing against her trepidation, she released her hold and let her hands rest on his upper arms.

  “Would you prefer to sit?” he asked.

  She blinked. Did he need to speak at length? If so, she would prefer to be farther away from the cold of the outside seeping in through the window. “Please.”

  Taking her hand, he led her into the hall and down to their bedchambers. The barely contained storm within her raged. Did they need this level of privacy? For what purpose?

  The room was warm with gold and red tones. Mahogany furniture covered with fine red linens created a seating area near the fireplace. Pavel drew her to one of the large chairs. And, moving his chair nearer, he sat closer than he needed to. Not that she minded. His presence soothed her even as the hair on the back of her neck pinched at her skin.

  Resisting the urge to smooth her hands over her dress, she kept her eyes focused on her husband. He was her rock. And whatever he had to share, they would face it together. Was it the warring of their people that made her so nervous? If not for this fighting, would her heart be tripping over itself?

  As she met his eyes, she found him looking deeply into hers. She almost twisted away. But Pavel took her hands. Though his eyes were almost too intense, she felt warmed from within by his touch. His gaze softened and she relaxed. How could she not adore him when he looked at her like this—as if she was the only thing in his world that mattered?

  “What is it?” Her voice was but a whisper.

  “You are just so . . . ” his voice caught. He drew in a ragged breath. “You take my breath away, still.”

  Karin’s face warmed. She wanted to turn away in modest denial of his compliment but found she could not pull back. As they always did, his eyes drew her further in, called her to a deeper connection with him. Was there anything deeper than what they already shared? Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his.

  Would she ever tire of this feeling? Of the tingling heat that rushed through her? She hungered for more, but he drew back, breaking their contact.

  “Karin, I fear I must say this now or I will be lost to you.”

  Her eyes opened just enough to look at him.

  There was sadness in his gaze again. She drew farther away, giving him space to gather his thoughts.

  “Tell me,” came her soft words, after a few moments had passed in silence.

  “Commander Zizka has gone to Plzen.” His eyes cleared from the darkened haze caused by their kiss. They were once more the same striking blue she knew and loved. “I have received word that he intends to march to Southern Bohemia and face down an army gathered by the Catholics.”

  Karin’s eyes widened. If this came to fruition, this would be the first time the Hussites would take the offensive. As it was, they had only acted in defense of life and freedom.

  “And my presence has been requested.”

  His words slammed into her. Struck by this thing out of her control, she was stunned into silence. He could not go—it would be too dangerous. But how could she open her mouth and insist he do as she bid? That was not who she was and that was not the man she married.

  “Karin?” He rubbed her arms.

  She waved a hand in front of herself as if that would wave off his concern. “What do you think you should do?” It took all she had in h
er to force out those words and remain calm.

  “I think I should go. We believe in the cause. And we want to see the Hussite movement prosper, do we not?”

  Karin chose her words carefully. “Yes.” She allowed the silence to return. But in her spirit, she knew she must speak more. “I understand that I know nothing of military tactic, but is it wise to be on the attack?”

  Pavel’s lips made a thin line. Had she upset him? Still, she did nothing to take the words back.

  At length, he spoke. “Commander Zizka has become a prominent leader among the Hussite forces.” He slid a hand down to hers and rubbed it with his thumb. “At some point, we have to accept that we are at war. We must look to our leaders to make the best decisions. This is a point of trust.”

  Nodding, Karin attempted to swallow past the lump in her throat, but her mouth was dry all of a sudden. She wanted, once again, to look away, but could not. Wanting for a deep breath that eluded her, she found words for him. “Then you must do what God is calling you to do.”

  Drawing her into his embrace, Pavel held her firmly. “I prayed you would understand, my love. You have no idea how I struggled. I did not wish to bring you hardship. I had all but decided to stay.”

  Karin frowned against his shoulder, closing her eyes against tears threatening to fall. How she wished he would stay! But that was not who he was. In the midst of her uncertainty, she clung to him and prayed God would watch over him.

  * * *

  What was that sound? Zdenek maneuvered his long fingers to clasp the hilt of his sword. He had been admittedly more jumpy since the attack on Prague. It was the first time he had been dragged into a real fight with swords drawing blood and bringing death. Had it affected Radek? It changed Zdenek. There would never be a moment’s peace as long as these ghosts haunted him. The faces of the men in battle were before his eyes when he closed them at night. Would he ever shake them?

  Jerking toward the disturbance, he was relieved it was only Radek shifting in his sleep. Lying back down, he rested his sword where it stayed—regardless of whether he was asleep or awake—next to him.