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

by Sara R. Turnquist

  They could have been in the far reaches of the camp and still heard him. He hoped the commander was not planning on dispensing sensitive information. Glancing around, he noted that he seemed to be the only one bothered in the least by the man’s volume.

  “As you know, I have been charting Usti for defensive and strategic purposes. I have determined that it is not sufficient for our reasons. Therefore, we have no choice but to move our camp.”

  There were murmurs of dissatisfaction among the group. No one, it seemed, wanted to pack up and move again. But Zdenek knew they would do as they were told.

  Zizka put his arms in the air. It served its purpose and the clamoring died down.

  “A small town south from here, Tabor, will be much more suited to becoming a military center. There is already a gathering of Hussites there and the population continues to increase. The layout of the land is far more appropriate for what we seek.”

  The commander paused and the men commenced talking amongst themselves.

  Zizka allowed them to, his face set, features firm. “I have every hope this will be a permanent placement for our camp.”

  The murmurs became those of excitement.

  Zdenek remained silent. Every few seconds, someone would nudge his arm and make a comment in his direction. But he was too distracted to listen or respond.

  What would happen with him and Eva? Once they arrived at Tabor, would the military then strike out on their own? Would the spark between him and Eva burn out before it had even had a chance? And why all this strangeness between Radek and Eva? The more he thought, the more questions he had.

  * * *

  Evening closed in on the Bornekov’s stately home. Lenka’s carriage pulled through the gate and toward the entrance so she could step out near the massive front door. Peaceful as it was, she relished this time of day and welcomed the close of another busy cycle of the sun. She had been on her feet, it seemed, since before dawn. There were more things that would keep her still into the night.

  Her thoughts remained on this evening’s meeting. It had been her first. Would it be her last? Prudence begged she wait until Petr agreed to accompany her, but she long ago tired of his resistance. No, the time had come for her to find out what it meant to be a Hussite.

  So, she attended one of the talks given by a leader of the local Utraquist movement. It had been rather . . . interesting. The speaker did not display the passion she’d come to expect from the more radical Hussites. Yes, it was true the Utraquists were not as extreme as the Taborites, the group Karin would surely find herself at home with. But would Lenka find agreement with them as well? She doubted it.

  The Taborites wanted to bring an end to everything Lenka knew—not only the Catholic Church, but also the very manner in which her family lived. If they had their way, everyone would be equal. That was not possible. It was too far reaching and too much for Lenka to support.

  Lenka made her way through the cavernous hallways toward the large solar. Petr was there, seated in his favorite chair, reading a missive of some sort. As she entered the room, he glanced up.

  “How was the meeting?” He set the papers to the side.

  “Different.” She took her seat adjacent to his.

  “Different?”

  “Yes. The meeting was quite different from what I’d expected.”

  “Different? How?” Petr ran a hand along the arm of the chair.

  “The speaker spoke only of communion of both kinds. And of peace with the Catholic Church.”

  Petr’s brows rose.

  “Yes. Imagine, Petr, peace.” The words rushed out of her. “A Hussite faction seeking peace.”

  “It does sound incredible.”

  “But true. What if all Hussites could be convinced—?”

  “Let’s not make too much of this one speech by one man.”

  Lenka nodded, lowering her head. Her heart dropped, but her husband was right. She need not be impulsive. Raising her eyes to meet his once more, she found him staring at her. A longing had settled in his gaze. A longing for what she could not say. But it was fleeting. There for a moment and then gone.

  “There has been word from Karin.”

  Lenka’s body came to life. She sat straighter, and her limbs tingled.

  Petr quirked a brow. “Here is yours. I have read mine.” He extended his arm and pushed sealed papers toward her.

  How had she missed them? They lay next to her chair.

  With shaking fingers, she reached over and gathered the parchments. Moments later, she had broken the seal and began poring over the precious words.

  Mother,

  So much has happened, I scarcely know where to begin. Pavel has decided to join the fight for our freedom. I support him in this, but I worry. And so I am torn. Must it be this way? I want to encourage him in fighting for our cause. In fact, I long to believe in our cause enough to sacrifice even my husband. But I fear I do not. Does this make me a hypocrite? That I lack the kind of faith and trust in our Lord’s sovereignty over even this matter? Of course He will take care of Pavel. Of course He will watch over us. He has walked with us through so much. But still my heart worries.

  And that is only the beginning. There is more. My heart is heavy as I share the news I have held closest to my heart. Dearest Mother, I hold you in the strictest confidence as I count you among one of the precious few who know the following. I am with child . . .

  A small sound erupted from Lenka’s throat. Her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to contain it, but not soon enough. As her eyes shot toward her husband, she was met with his dark orbs staring her down, his features chiseled with concern.

  “Something amiss?”

  Lenka did not trust herself to speak, so she shook her head.

  Petr’s furrowed brow told of his doubt in the veracity of her claim.

  She lowered her hand to her lap and swallowed hard, putting on her calmest smile. “It is nothing, dear. Just some unexpected news.”

  Slowly dipping his head once, Petr hesitated before returning to his missive.

  Once Lenka assured herself that he indeed had become occupied, she returned to the letter.

  . . . I know this should be happy news, but it is nothing of the sort. Pavel expressed a desire to wait until there was peace once again in our lands. And I agreed. How could this have happened? Was I so careless? Now I fear to burden him further would be unforgivable. He has returned home, wounded. It is too much! To think I almost lost him. A flail struck his arm. It could have been his heart! But I cannot share these things with him either. Oh, Mother, how am I to keep up this mask? This charade? Is there hope for me?

  I know God will watch over us, over me, over Pavel. But I fear I have too many doubts. My heart is a dark cloud. And I pray for sun.

  My prayers are with you and Father as well. May this letter find you in good health and in good spirits. Keep me in your heart and in your prayers. And hold my confidence, I beg of you.

  Until I see you again,

  Your katka,

  Karin

  Lenka swallowed the tears welling within her. Stealing a glance at her husband, she assured herself that he was indeed engrossed in his papers. Laying the precious letter in her lap, Lenka let her eyes close and she took her daughter’s requests to the only place she could.

  * * *

  Stepan moved through the halls of the large house he was becoming accustomed to. His footfalls echoed as he strode past the elaborately decorated rooms, and he moved with purpose toward his destination. There was one thing on his mind. He needed to speak with his father.

  There was some amount of speed in his step but also determination. Would his father be pleased with his decision? Would that affect his plans?

  It was no secret that Stepan longed for his father’s approval. Or that he had gone to great lengths to secure it. Or that he had fallen short. Time after time. Was his father so difficult to please or was Stepan destined to forever disappoint?

  If only he
could know what it was his father expected of him. Then, perhaps, he could fulfill his purpose and release this burden. That, however, did not seem likely. He would ever be guessing and striving then.

  Perhaps this time, he thought . . . yes, his father would be pleased this time.

  Stepan found himself standing at the end of a great hall in front of a large mahogany door. He raised his fist and banged on the hard surface.

  “Come,” came his father’s gruff voice from the other side of the sturdy wood frame.

  He pushed the heavy door out of his way and entered the viscount’s private solar. The man sat in a comfortable chair taking in some wine and staring out the window. His gaze diverted to Stepan as he entered.

  Muttering something indistinguishable, Vlastik raised his tankard for the servant to refill.

  Stepan attempted to hide his disappointment at his father’s easy dismissal, but waited until his father’s cup was filled and the viscount had taken a long swig. Only then did Vlastik turn his attention back to his son.

  “My lord,” Stepan offered him a slight bow. “I have come to inform you that I intend to take my leave of—.”

  “Oh?” Vlastik’s eyebrows rose.

  “It is my hope to join with Pope Martin’s Crusade against the Hussites, Wycliffites, and all other heretics in Bohemia.”

  The viscount lowered his tankard. “I see.” There was no mistaking the smile that touched his features.

  Stepan’s heart pounded. “Yes, Father, I will ride out at first light and join with the other crusaders gathering forces to enter the Czech lands.”

  Vlastik sat his cup down and stood, maneuvering over to Stepan. He met his son’s gaze and gave him a hearty clap on the back. “I know you will make me proud, son.”

  “I will, Father.”

  Vlastik bobbed his head and moved back to his chair. “Sit.” He waved an arm toward a nearby chair. “Share a drink with me. Our revenge over the Bornekovs is almost complete!”

  Stepan worked to hide his confusion. He was about to risk his life in a cause he thought his father cared about, and yet Vlastik seemed more concerned about some legal battle with Karin’s parents. It left a bitter taste in Stepan’s mouth.

  But he couldn’t say any of that. So, he tried to speak simply when he found his voice, forcing his tone to remain even. “Yes, Father. I regret I cannot stay for that drink. I have many preparations to oversee.”

  “Of course you do. Fare thee well, my son.” Vlastik raised his cup in the air and drained the remainder of the liquid.

  “Yes, Father.” Stepan bowed again before turning and taking his leave.

  * * *

  Karin stirred in her sleep. Something was not right. Her body was . . . something was not right. Then she felt it. Something in her stomach. It felt strange, yet wonderfully delightful at the same time. She opened her eyes and laid a hand over the almost indiscernible swell of her abdomen.

  But as she moved her hand over her midsection, she felt nothing. Whatever it was had stopped. Snuggling back into the softness of the bed, she closed her eyes.

  And there it was again. A whispery movement deep in her abdomen. Shifting onto her back, she placed both hands over her stomach and waited. A few minutes later, she was rewarded with the same sensation. If she had to describe it, she would say angel wings fluttered inside her. But she knew what it was. It was her baby. It was life.

  The baby moved again, and she let out a small cry. She moved a hand to cover her mouth. With Pavel so near, she did not wish to wake him. But part of her wanted to. It was time to tell him, wasn’t it?

  Pavel shifted beside her. Whether from her movements or from the sound she had made, she did not know, but something had caused him to stir. In a state between sleep and wakefulness, he reached for her. Intertwining their fingers, she grasped his hand and tugged him closer. Her movements were as if by instinct. She was no longer thinking them through. Would she tell him?

  He opened his eyes and he maneuvered closer to her in the darkness.

  “Are you well?” came his concerned voice.

  “Yes,” her voice broke through tears.

  His hand was immediately on her face.

  “Why the tears, my love?”

  “I’m just . . . so happy. I love you so much!” She moved her face to press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

  He drew her face to his and kissed her lips.

  What started out as a simple kiss, reaffirming their love, soon became more urgent, more wanting.

  She needed, even wanted to tell him about the baby. They would share this happiness together. But as she pulled away to speak to him, his voice filled the space between them.

  “Is it safe?”

  Her heart sank. She knew what he meant—was it safe for them to be together and not risk a baby. And all their conversations about waiting came rushing back. All his words about not wanting to bring a baby into this war pressed into her mind. And she lost her resolve.

  Her eyes slid shut and fresh moisture slid down her face. She was thankful he would not be able to see it in the dark.

  “Yes, it’s safe.”

  He pulled her to himself with his strong arm and snuggled her, pressing his face to her hair, her neck, and finally, his lips to her face. And she lost herself in the comfort his love brought her.

  Seven

  Plans

  Eva was all too ready when they slowed the horses and carts at their final campsite in Tabor. It had not been a long journey from Usti to Tabor, but any trip in their rickety wagon felt ten times longer.

  Hopping out of the driver’s seat, Eva rubbed her lower back. Her bones continued to vibrate as if she were still rocking in the wooden vehicle. There must be a better way! Eva could feel every one of her twenty-eight years.

  Patricie flung her upper body this way and that to stretch her joints. She made quite the spectacle. But it was a necessity. And Eva did not blame her. But she did laugh.

  When Patricie shot her a sharp look, she quieted. Only because she knew her sister was not in the mood to be teased.

  “Time to set up camp,” Eva announced, giving Patricie a meaningful look while putting on her bravest smile. Getting right to work was not what Eva wanted either.

  Patricie groaned.

  Eva longed for their comfortable beds back in Hradek Kralove just as much Patricie did. They never knew how enjoyable those beds were or how good they had it until they were camping under the stars with this extra-large extended family of sorts.

  The hard mats on the ground were a far cry from the hay-stuffed beds in their simple, yet fairly well off house. And ever since she and Patricie had assisted with the women and children after that first battle, they had become the designated camp go-to’s, it seemed. They had not the time to meet so many needs.

  But, she supposed, they were blessed to be a blessing. It put life into their otherwise dull days. And distracted them from their loss.

  Although Eva was quite certain Patricie would rather her day be boring than to have so many hands reaching out. Eva did not mind so much. She did long for more respite from it all. And more time with Zdenek.

  Where had that come from? After the way things went during their previous interaction, she was not sure she would, or should, see more of him. It was clear his friend did not think much of her.

  And why should he? She was a merchant’s daughter. Not of the proper station to be receiving such attentions from Zdenek, who had noble blood in his veins. Yes, she and Zdenek might ignore that fact when they were together because of the ease with which they conversed and the enjoyment they seemed to have with each other, but it remained a hard fact all the same. It was not likely his parents would ever accept her as a suitable choice as his bride.

  Eva let out a heavy sigh as she continued to pull things from the wagon. She feared her heart might already be too involved. Perhaps it was best if she did not see him again.

  “Are you dreaming of that tall man?” Patricie teased from the
back of the cart.

  Eva glanced in her direction. “Not for much longer. I promise.”

  Her tone must have given Patricie second thoughts about teasing her further as there were no other remarks.

  Just as well. Eva sifted through their cooking wares to find the large pot. She would need to go to the stream and fetch water for dinner preparations.

  And though she tried to fight them, tears moistened her eyes. Reaching up to brush them away, she let out a frustrated grunt. This just would not do.

  A hand settled on her shoulder.

  She jerked in that direction.

  Patricie stared back at her. Sympathy marked her features. “He didn’t deserve you anyway.”

  Eva grinned despite her tears and embraced her sister.

  As they pulled apart, Patricie reached out for the pot. “I will fetch the water.”

  This was a surprise. Patricie did not mind hard work, but she hated making trips to the stream and carrying the large pot of water back, bearing such a load. Perhaps Patricie was giving her time to herself.

  Eva handed over the pot.

  Watching her sister walk toward the stream did not serve its intended purpose. She did not feel any better being alone. If possible, the emotions welled all the more. Feeling foolish, she questioned herself. How could she have let her heart get so attached? And so quickly? Hadn’t she known all along this was the situation?

  Facing the cart, she leaned forward, placing a hand on the side to steady herself while she wiped at her tears.

  A hand fell on her shoulder again. Had Patricie heard her sniffles and returned to check on her?

  “You don’t have to baby me, Patricie. We need that water . . . ” she said as she turned.

  And found herself face to face with Zdenek. Her pulse quickened and she tried to take a step back, but with the cart behind her, there was nowhere to retreat.

  “Eva, are you unwell?” His eyes were filled with concern.

  She gazed at the ground, fighting fresh tears. Why did her heart have to twist in her chest even now?