The trio moved out of the dining hall and toward the nearby solar.
Karin excused herself to collect the letter.
This large solar was every bit as grandiose as any room in the house. Perhaps a little too grand for Marketa’s taste. She would much rather be in one of the smaller rooms for a more intimate gathering. But this was what Alex had suggested.
Sitting on a blue velvet-clad chair, she ran a hand over the fabric. Had she never sat in this chair before? Was it new? Pushing this to the side, she focused on Alex.
He chose the settee nearby.
Marketa opened her mouth to speak but could not focus. She had nothing to do but wait for Karin and the contents of the letter.
“My dear, are you well?”
Eyes widened, she glanced at her husband.
His eyes were on her hands.
Only then did she notice she had been wringing them. Clasping them together, she laid them in her lap. “Yes, perhaps I am a little anxious.”
Alex’s eyes met hers. They were kind, understanding.
Karin stepped into the solar; cutting off whatever Alex might have wanted to say. She moved to sit on a chair near the settee. Then she paused and stepped to a chair closer to Marketa.
Why would Karin be so concerned where she sat? Did she feel the need to sit closer to Marketa? The baroness captured this thought and tucked it away for later; she did not want to shift her focus from the letter.
Licking her lips, she watched as Karin unfolded the paper and began reading the writing Marketa would have recognized anywhere.
“Dearest Karin . . . ” The young woman paused and moved her hands down the paper. Did she skip personal things said between husband and his wife?
“We have started setting up our units. I am commanding a small contingency of men that includes, if you can believe it, Zdenek and Radek. Yes, my friends are alive and well and joined with our cause. They are with us in Plzen and part of my unit. More than that, they will be invaluable as I take on the weighty task of leading these men. Please continue to pray for me in this.
“I feel neither prepared nor equipped for this job, but I know He has called me and He will supply what I need. By the time you receive this letter, we will have marched for northern Bohemia. What lies before us, I cannot say. But I will carry you with me. Always. Give my parents my best. As for you, my darling . . . ” Karin’s voice trailed off, but she continued to read silently.
Marketa could not mistake the moisture welling in Karin’s eyes. She must miss her husband. No one could blame her. Newlywed brides should not be asked to part with their beloved so soon after their nuptials. Pavel and Karin were being brave for sake of the cause. For the Czech people. For their religious freedom. Indeed a worthy cause. But at what cost, Marketa could not say.
Gazing at Karin’s face, she saw that the young woman bore part of that pain even now. And Marketa hoped for both their sakes that this short absence would be the extent of their sacrifice.
Four
Battle
Sounds of the carts and horses moving over softer ground drowned out everything else. Pavel settled into his saddle and steeled himself for the journey ahead. It would be quite the journey to Usti, but they would stop with greater frequency for the sake of the women and children. And, because of the carts, they wouldn’t cover ground as quickly.
He glanced ahead and to his right to where Commander Zizka led the group of misfits. From his proud stature upon his horse, one would never know he led untrained farmers and merchants, with but a handful of noblemen. These were the only trained men among his army. They had simple weapons—farm instruments altered and fitted for battle. A band of misfits indeed.
As Pavel watched, Zizka’s posture altered. He leaned back and pulled on the reins. Pavel searched the horizon ahead. His heart sank into his stomach. An army marched straight for them, fitted into two columns. They appeared at least 2,000 strong.
Zizka turned to the south. Pavel’s gaze followed. There were wooded hills there—good for defense. But they lay too far away. From the grimace on Zizka’s face, he knew it too. The commander’s eye searched the area, and Pavel could almost guess he was searching for some way to fortify their position. It was no use. They sat in the middle of a wide, flat river valley with naught but some empty fishing ponds.
Seconds later, Zizka began barking orders. This was a man of action. He lined the troops with one flank against a nearby dam. Next he arranged the twelve war wagons to cover their flank and rear. Then he focused on the men directly beneath him and issued orders to them.
“Rally the infantry,” he said to one of the men. “Ready the troops. Pavel, assign men to the hand cannons inside the war wagons.”
Pavel rushed off to fulfill the task he’d been given. The harried men were thick as goulash stew. He had to push his way through to get to the war wagons. Along the way, he grabbed what able-bodied men he came across who asserted they could work a hand cannon. Once the positions inside the war wagons were filled, and the soldiers with shields were in place in the gaps between the carts, Pavel stopped to breathe.
He scanned the coming army, and his stomach turned. There were so many of them. Now close enough for him to make out their uniforms, the bright red marked them as Royalists. They had been betrayed. Though they were promised safe retreat, it was not to be. He had to find Commander Zizka.
Locating the commander a second time proved more difficult. Zizka had taken up position on horseback just behind the war wagons. From there, he could look out across the approaching army.
“Commander,” Pavel tried to get his attention. “What are your orders?”
Zizka’s mouth was a thin line. The man grimaced. Yes, even he must know the situation was bleak. He peered down at Pavel. “You have seen the army?”
Pavel nodded, swallowing hard.
“Then you know they outnumber us five to one.”
Pavel nodded again.
“But we have right on our side. We will stand strong.”
“I am prepared to stand beside you and fight, Commander.” Pavel gazed out across the crowd of people surrounding him. His eyes caught on the families. “But I think also of the women, the children.”
Zizka closed his eye. Pavel could almost sense the war within him. Having someone voice it made it that much harder.
“Commander,” Pavel said, his voice low and quiet. “As brave as our men are, I do not think we can win. We are too few and too unprepared.”
Zizka nodded. Then, turning to his aide beside him, he said, “We must put up the white flag.”
Pavel closed his eyes. He did not relish the fact that they were about to surrender, but it was the right thing. For the sake of the precious lives they guarded. Lord, please guide our way. Keep us from harm.
Not long after, Pavel saw, off to his right, the aide raise a white cloth on a long pole.
He breathed out a sigh. It was done. The rest was in God’s hands.
And he prayed right up until the moment the enemy attacked.
* * *
Countess Bornekova paced in her bedchambers. Petr had gone after their legal adviser and left her in the massive manor. There were rumors that the fighting continued despite Petr and the other nobles’ efforts toward peacemaking. And it continued to worry her.
They had received a letter from Karin after all this time. She was well and situated at the Krejik estate. Pavel had joined the Hussite efforts. This greatly concerned Lenka. Not only for his safety but also for Karin’s well-being.
Pavel meant everything to her katka, and Lenka feared a bout of melancholia that might never end should something happen to him. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do to comfort her daughter from such a distance. Even were she by Karin’s side, what could be done? What words could assuage her lonely heart?
A knock at the door drew her from her musings. Looking toward the barrier between herself and the harsh world beyond, she wondered whether or not to allow the intruder to enter her solitude.
Sighing, she remembered her responsibilities that went far beyond her frayed emotions.
“Come,” she called, stilling her movements. She folded her hands and raised her invisible mask, the one that would give nothing of her heart away.
The door opened to admit the butler.
“My lady,” he said, his voice lowered in apology as he stepped into her private sanctuary. “Forgive the intrusion. A messenger has come and insists he deliver his message to the lord or lady of the house.”
She nodded, doing everything in her power not to betray her heightening concern. What could be so important to require such a stipulation? Had something happened to Petr? To Karin?
Instead of falling apart, she gathered her skirts and followed Jiri into the hall and down the grand staircase to the solar where the messenger awaited her.
The man stood where he must have been left, just inside the door of the solar. When Lenka entered, his eyes were on the far wall. But he glanced toward the door and the room’s new occupant as she came into the space.
He bowed to Lenka. “Countess Bornekova.”
She was not in the mood for these formalities, but she must endure them all the same. As he returned to his full height, looming several inches over her, she was ready for him to reveal his purpose.
“I understand you have a message for me?” She tried to sound bored, though everything in her cried in angst, anxious for the knowledge he possessed.
“Yes, my lady.” He eyed the butler.
“That will be all, Jiri.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
As Jiri stepped from the room, the messenger’s shoulders relaxed, but he maintained a proper distance.
“I have a message from the Viscount Vlastik Dvorak and his son, Stepan Dvorak. They make formal request of the payment of the contracted dowry of 5000 Guldens in silver.”
Lenka couldn’t speak. Payment of the dowry? Shouldn’t she have expected this? If they were demanding the Bornekovs remove themselves from the summerhouse, the dowry payment was the natural next step. Petr said they had only put forth in the contract what they could afford to lose. She hoped that was still the case.
* * *
Zdenek maneuvered until he got a clear shot with his crossbow. His efforts were met with success. As the battle waged, the Hussites saw the Royalist soldiers fall prey to their strong fortifications and careful aim. The war wagons proved every bit as valuable as Zizka hoped. They were the only reason there still was a Hussite camp. Of this, Zdenek was certain. Not only were the Hussites still there, they were inflicting a lot of damage into the attacking force with minimal casualties on their end.
Reloading his crossbow, Zdenek prepared to fire again. But he heard a cry coming from the opposite side of camp.
“Cavalry coming from the marsh! We need men to shore up that side of camp!”
Zdenek glanced around. His eyes locked with Radek’s next to him.
“I’ll cover this, you go.” Radek jerked his head in the direction of the voice.
Nodding, Zdenek placed a hand on Radek’s shoulder and moved across the camp. It surprised him how quickly he jumped into action once the battle was upon them. He had wondered if, after what had happened in Prague, he would hesitate in the midst of fighting. But once he knew what had to be done, his body took over and gave him what he needed to sustain him. It was as if he could do anything.
His foot caught on something and he almost tripped. Regaining his footing, he looked down to see what had gotten in his way. It was the pole with the white cloth. Without a second thought, he stepped over it and moved on.
Who were these soldiers that a white flag meant nothing to them? Had they no decency? But God had smiled upon the Hussites. Against all odds, the battle was turning in their favor. Now, if they could hold off this cavalry, they would win.
Zdenek jogged the rest of the way to the far end of the camp.
“What are our orders?” he asked the man standing next to him when he stopped. They all gazed across the swampland.
“A scout returned and said the cavalry’s horses became mired in the muck. So the soldiers are coming on foot,” the man said. He was a young man, much younger than Zdenek. The flail in his hand began to shake. Was the man trembling? Had he ever seen death?
As they watched, a group of armor clad men moved slowly in their direction through the swampy land. Their progress slowed. And slowed. They became stuck little by little.
“Come on, men! Let’s finish them!” a voice cried.
The men around Zdenek rushed forward with their flails. Having no armor, the infantrymen moved with greater ease through the swampy area.
Zdenek was unable to move. He could not make himself rush after helpless soldiers, even if they would have struck him down in a heartbeat. Even if he had already killed men in this fight. Somehow, this was different.
As he recoiled, he spotted another soldier off to his left who was frozen to the spot. Making his way to the young man, Zdenek prepared to walk him back to the battle carts. They might be of more use there.
“Soldier, care to join me with a crossbow?” he said as he approached the figure.
The face that spun toward him betrayed features that, though dirt-marred, were delicate and fine. They were the visage of a young woman.
His heart skipped a beat.
It was not just any woman, but the woman from the ball—Eva.
* * *
Dawn streamed into the window. Shining on Karin’s face, it brought her to consciousness. Opening her eyes, she became aware that a maidservant exited the room having already opened the drapes. How had she slept so long? It was customary for Karin to awaken and open the drapes before Nicol came in.
Karin felt a yawn coming and stretched out her limbs. Perhaps it was simply due to a long night of tossing and turning. She couldn’t sleep quite as well without Pavel. There was just no adjusting to it.
“Good morning, my lady.” Nicol stepped into the room, an emerald green gown draped across her arm. “I did not know if I would have to rouse you.”
Karin offered her a smile. “I have managed to find the sunlight.”
Nicol nodded.
The young woman was pleasant indeed. Theirs was not quite the up-and-down relationship she’d had with Mary. Nicol had a gentler personality, not as . . . colorful as Mary’s, but perhaps not as interesting either. No matter, as long as they were more amicable than she had been with Mary and her spying ways at the chateau.
Sitting up in the bed, Karin’s stomach rumbled and turned. Perhaps she should ask Nicol to order her a breakfast tray. She opened her mouth to do just that and then covered her lips with her hand. Perhaps the turning of her stomach was not hunger, but queasiness. Maybe breakfast could wait.
Karin slid out of bed and made her way to where Nicol stood with the gown. Smiling despite the uneasiness, she allowed the girl to help her out of her nightdress and into her clothes. This gown was not one of her favorites, but as she gazed in the mirror, she mused that it complimented her eyes well. The shade was a perfect match. It also stood in stark contrast to her red hair—a nice juxtaposition.
Nicol then steered Karin to the vanity, where the maidservant began the task of taming her red locks. It was not an easy task, and Nicol had not the experience Mary seemed to. So, it took more time.
But today, the longer Karin sat, the queasier she became. Swallowing, she closed her eyes and tried to think on other things. Like Pavel. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he thinking of her? She would be counting down the days until she could see him again if only she knew when that was. And she wished she could write him but had no idea where to send such a missive. His letters had served to encourage and calm her, but there was no way for her to respond.
A knock at the door shattered her thoughts.
“Come,” Karin called.
Another maidservant came with her morning tray.
“Thank you.”
The woman set the tray on a nearby table while Nic
ol put the finishing touches on Karin’s hairstyle. She had decided to braid and pin it up today. It was always nice to have it off of her shoulders, but it took so long to get it just right.
Once she was done, Nicol stepped to the tray and took the lid off. The smells of the food reached Karin’s nose. She rushed to the chamber pot before she lost the entire contents of her stomach.
“My lady!” Nicol rushed over, holding the thick braid to the side and laying a hand on Karin’s back. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” she said, trying to retain some dignity. She sat up and attempted to gather herself. It was difficult with a churning stomach. Placing a hand over her midsection, she hoped the nausea would pass. “I must have eaten something that hasn’t agreed with me.”
“You’ve been having this happen a lot lately,” the young girl commented, standing and walking to the water bowl. She returned with a wet cloth.
Taking it with gratitude, Karin pressed the cloth to the back of her neck. It was true. She had been plagued of late. But was it so often? Karin thought back over the last couple of weeks. There had been these bouts of sickness in the morning. Certainly she couldn’t be getting bad food every night. Then she was struck with a random thought. Why had it not occurred to her before? She counted in her head. Yes . . . yes, that would be about right. Her heart sank.
She and Pavel had discussed this and decided to wait. What were they to do now? It was not possible to put this on him in the midst of war. And so, an occasion that should be celebrated together would be lamented in silence.
Karin was pregnant.
* * *
Gazing into the eyes of the one man in the world she was certain she would never see again, Eva’s knees felt weak. Not only had Zdenek found her, she had been discovered, too. When the battle began, she had feared the worst. Then she noted how outnumbered they were. What could she do? Sit by and watch them be overcome? No, she did what any able-bodied daughter would do—she took her place among the men. After her father ran off into battle, she tucked her hair into a cap and tied on some of his clothes. Patricie had not been pleased, but Eva insisted that it must be so.
The Lady And The Hussites (The Lady Bornekova Book 2) Page 6
