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

by Sara R. Turnquist

  “No, I . . . that is, I’m quite all right. I just . . . ” She couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, so she let it trail off, peering up into his face.

  Zdenek’s mouth was drawn, his eyebrows furrowed. His concern after her was certain, but there was something more. Sadness? A hand rose toward her, but it stopped just short of her face. It hung between them for a handful of seconds before it fell to his side.

  “Please, Zdenek, I do not want you to feel as if you owe me anything. Least of all an explanation.” Why would he not just leave? Then she could begin the process of getting over this whole nonsense.

  His eyes searched hers, his gaze intense. He opened his mouth, but no words were forthcoming. In a bold move, he reached over and took her hand in his. “I think I owe you more than you think. You brought a part of me to life I did not know existed. Please do not make me go.”

  She was caught, pinned by his words. But the truth of who they were continued to stab at her heart. It did not matter what she wanted or what he thought about his feelings. “I must.”

  He nodded, releasing her hand and turning to walk away.

  She watched him take the steps that would create distance between them, her heart lurching with each one. After several paces, she could not fight back the tears or her outburst any more.

  “Zdenek, don’t go!”

  He spun, setting his eyes on hers. Only a breath passed before he closed the distance between them. Pulling her into his embrace, he claimed her lips in a moment that forever sealed the fate of her heart.

  * * *

  Stepan urged his horse forward. His first official mission for the sake of the crusade was both important and boring. He and a few others had been charged with escorting a ranking Hussite, Cenek, back to Prague after his stay with Sigismund in Breslau. Apparently, the king decided to curry favor with the man. Cenek’s stay with Sigismund had no shortage of grandeur and fanfare.

  “Do you think the king succeeded?”

  Jerking toward the sound, Stepan noticed that one of the other noblemen had brought his horse alongside Stepan’s. He glanced back at the carriage as if Cenek could hear their conversation. Then Stepan focused his attention forward again. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be discussing such things.”

  “Perhaps,” the man agreed. “But we must find something to talk about. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  Stepan relaxed his shoulders. “I’m not sure I can say that I know much of why the king asked this—” Stepan took a breath, “—heretic to come to the palace when our goal is to see them all eliminated.”

  “No?” A smile spread across the man’s face. “I think the king intends to subvert the movement from the inside.”

  Eyebrows knit together, Stepan considered those words. If fighting could be avoided, it would be best.

  “Don’t you think it is unnatural for the nobility to not support the king? Does it not go against everything in you? After all, he is our lord. I can’t understand why these heretics resist him. The townspeople and peasants . . . they are ignorant, grasping at anything that could mean a better life. But these nobles that support this radical movement . . . ”

  The dark haired man continued, but Stepan became lost in his own thoughts. Pavel’s commitment was rather curious. Why would he go against his birthright, against everything that made their society great, go against the king, and support these Hussites? It wasn’t sane.

  “ . . . perhaps then, if these wayward nobles can be convinced to remove their support from the rebellious peasants and townsfolk, then this whole movement can be weakened.”

  Something eerie touched the edge of Stepan’s awareness. A chill passed over the exposed skin on his neck. Except that the spring air was quite warm. He jerked his head around and spotted a nearby manservant, Cenek’s servant, watching them. And he followed them a little too closely. But as Stepan’s eyes connected with his, he drew back, pulling at his horse’s reins.

  Stepan’s verbose companion continued to talk as if nothing were amiss. “I, for one, think it will all come to nothing. The king is gathering princes and mercenaries from all over the empire. And we will strike when the time is right. None of this will matter. We have God on our side. These blaspheming heretics will be wiped off the face of the earth.”

  Stepan glanced at the talkative young man but did not respond. Something unpleasant settled in his stomach. Was it because of Pavel and Karin? Did he fear for his former friends? His consideration for them stayed his hand once. Would it affect his ability to fight now?

  * * *

  Karin watched the morning unfold before her. She drew her shawl more tightly around herself. After last night, she needed time and space to think. So, as her husband slept, she crept out of their bedroom and found a place in the gardens. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon when she took a seat on the bench among the baroness’s tender buds and blooms. A veritable blanket of color was displayed before her.

  And now, as the sky opened to greet the sun’s approach, it, too, became the most breathtaking display of color and wonder. Her breath caught. She could see this every day and never stop marveling at God’s creativity. In fact, she had seen many a sunrise and basked in its beauty. But not of late. No, since becoming a married woman, the early morning hours found her at peace in the arms of her husband. And since the baby, she had not seen such early hours in quite some time. So she relished this day.

  Her eyes slid closed and she whispered a prayer of gratitude to her Maker, the same Creator who had unrolled the scene before her. If only He could still her troubled heart as easily as He stilled the waters during the great storm in her favorite story of Jesus.

  But was He truly capable? Even yet, did He care to? Perhaps a God who was busy making magic in the sky and working out all of life in the heavens and the earth couldn’t care about her aching heart. This is what her mind told her. Her heart knew better. Yet, it seemed too difficult to just trust Him.

  “Good morning.”

  The voice behind her caused her to startle. Spinning around, she found herself looking into the eyes of her mother-in-law.

  Breath heaving, Karin placed a hand over her heart in an attempt to still it. “Good morning, Baroness. I did not know you were . . . that is, I did not expect anyone to be . . . ” Karin took a deep breath. “You surprised me.”

  A smile spread across the woman’s face. “I can see that, my dear. I came seeking the same thing you have.” She winked as she swept an arm over the garden.

  Karin’s gaze followed her gesture. She let out a breath as her lips widened into a smile. “Yes. The gardens are quite peaceful. A good place to think.”

  Her mother-in-law nodded and came around to sit next to Karin. There was laughter in her eyes, and her expression warmed and soothed Karin.

  “Must I insist again that you call me Marketa?”

  Karin let out a quick breath and nodded. “My apologies. It is difficult for me.”

  “I understand.” Marketa let her gaze drift over the horizon. Perhaps she, too, was taking in the glorious play of colors across the sky. Then she refocused on Karin. “Still, I must insist.”

  “As you wish.” Karin relaxed, the woman’s presence easing her anxious thoughts. “Marketa.”

  The baroness nodded. She leaned over to touch a bloom nearby. “The garden will be in its full glory in a matter of days now.”

  Karin nodded and stretched the last bits of sleep from her arms. “I think so. I am quite eager for it.”

  “So, tell me, Karin—and you can be honest—did you come out here for the sunrise? Or for the garden?”

  “Can it not be both?”

  Marketa’s eyes met Karin’s and held them. She was silent for a moment. “I suppose. It is difficult to imagine my garden can rival such a vision. One of God’s paintings.” Marketa’s gaze rested on the rising sun.

  Karin’s eyes shifted in that direction as well. “Do you think we are instilled with the desire to create beaut
y? Because God creates such beautiful things?”

  “I know we are.” Marketa’s words were sure. “I believe every good thing in me comes from Him. Everything I create and give birth to is a piece of my soul crying out to Him.”

  Why did she have to use those words? Karin became silent. What about the child within her? Truly it was from God. Weren’t all babies? But the timing seemed all wrong. It was difficult to see this baby as a blessing when there was such turmoil. When she couldn’t even bring herself to admit its existence to Pavel.

  Feeling eyes on her, she glanced at her mother-in-law. Marketa watched her with warmth in her features—a warmth that put Karin at ease. How did she do that? Karin sighed. There was nothing to fear here.

  Then the smile on Marketa’s face dropped. And her mouth became drawn. Was something amiss? And then she spoke. “I know what you are hiding from my son.”

  It was not an accusation. Marketa’s words were kind and gentle.

  The warmth drained from Karin’s face. What could she know? How could she know?

  Marketa’s eyes pinned Karin.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Karin managed a light-hearted laugh. There was no more to say. She had to get out of there, had to escape. Before she said something she would regret. “If you will excuse me, I think the chill in the air has become too much.”

  Gathering her skirts, she rose and moved toward the house. Perhaps she could draw attention away from whatever Marketa thought she knew. She couldn’t know the truth. Could she?

  Stepping into the house, Karin released her skirts and smoothed a hand over them.

  “Karin.”

  The sound of her name caused her to startle once again. She spun to see that Marketa had followed her in. Her hand flew to her chest, heaving great breaths from her fright.

  “Karin,” Marketa said, lowering her voice. “May we speak in private?”

  As much as Karin wanted to refuse, she dare not. So she took a deep breath and nodded.

  The baroness stepped around her, leading Karin down the hall and into her private cabinet. Once Karin was inside the room, the baroness shut the door and maneuvered toward the seating area.

  Turning to face Karin, she beckoned her daughter-in-law to join her.

  Karin’s steps were slow as she closed the space between them. Her nerves were a jumbled mess as she took her seat. Her hands shook and she clasped them together to still them.

  Marketa sat as well, facing Karin. Her features remained neutral, unreadable.

  Karin swallowed hard. Why wouldn’t she say something? Licking her lips, Karin searched for an excuse. “Baroness . . . Marketa, I am sorry if I have given you the impression that I . . . ”

  Marketa waved off her comment. “I know about the child.”

  Karin couldn’t have been more surprised than if the baroness had slapped her. The shock left her tongue-tied. But Marketa simply waited for Karin to find her wits.

  “How?” was all Karin could say.

  “Come now,” Marketa said in that same calm, gentle voice. “Mothers know these things.”

  Karin still struggled to breathe. Would she faint for lack of ability to collect air into her lungs?

  “Please breathe, dear.” Marketa leaned over and placed a hand on Karin’s. “You have nothing to fear.”

  That did little to put Karin at ease. If Marketa knew, who else might?

  “For heaven’s sake, Karin, you’re turning blue. Now start breathing or I’ll have to call for the salts.”

  Karin nodded, forcing a breath into her lungs so deeply it hurt and then pushing the breath out harder than she thought possible. Again and again she did so until she felt more stable and less light-headed.

  “Now then. That’s better.” Marketa patted Karin’s small, pale hand before withdrawing her own.

  They sat in silence. Karin did not know what to say or where to begin.

  “What do you intend to do about it?” Marketa spoke into the silence.

  “I . . . I do not know.” Karin fought to stay grounded. Her head spun.

  “Might I ask why you feel the need to keep this information from Pavel? If I know my son, and I think I do, he would be happy about the prospect of a baby. He loves you so. Unless . . . ” Her gaze fell for a moment. “Are you not happy?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” Karin assured her.

  Marketa let out a breath. Had she feared Karin might attempt something drastic?

  “It is true I have mixed feelings. We had not . . . planned on having a child so soon.”

  “These things are not something that falls on a schedule.” Marketa offered Karin a knowing smile.

  “And Pavel, he . . . you see, he . . . ” Karin struggled with what to share with her mother-in-law. How much could she trust the woman?

  Marketa already knew Karin’s secret, and whether Karin trusted her or not, her mother-in-law had the ability to betray her. So, she might as well bare all in hopes she was truly the ally she appeared to be.

  “The truth is that Pavel voiced he does not wish to bring a child into this war. He wants to wait until things are more stable.”

  “Is not that a nice thought!” exclaimed Marketa. “What a dream to be able to plan when your children come. What a plan to think they will come into a perfect world free from strife.”

  Karin let out a breath and a laugh despite herself. “And so, I have not wanted to put more of a burden on him than he already carries. Especially as he is so determined to fight. I don’t wish to distract him.”

  “My dear, his attentions are already divided. Whenever he is away from you, his heart is torn. I have seen it.”

  Karin allowed that truth to sink in.

  “And it is a noble thought to not place a burden on him, but perhaps this knowledge will not be a burden, but a source of hope, something more to fight for.”

  That had not occurred to Karin. Something stirred within her, somewhat of a tingling sensation. Perhaps her own source of hope . . . hope that she was safe to share this news with Pavel after all. And that made her excited. The excitement spread to her face and the corners of her mouth widened.

  “Does that mean what I think?” Marketa asked, eyebrow quirked.

  Karin nodded, closing her eyes briefly. She allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to tell him—to see the joy in his eyes. The sensations in her body began to build. Including a twinge. It was a strange twinge. Something in her abdomen. Was the baby just as excited as she? Placing her hands on her midsection, she wished she could share even this moment with Pavel.

  The twinge became something more. It caused her to catch her breath. It was more . . . painful. The world around her started to blur. Pain overwhelmed her. In the next moment, her mother-in-law stood beside her.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” Karin said with a confidence she wasn’t sure she felt. “It’s just the baby moving.”

  Marketa frowned, appearing doubtful. “I still think we should get you to bed.”

  “I need to speak with Pavel,” Karin argued.

  “There will be plenty of time for that.” Marketa took Karin’s arm, helping her to her feet. “For now, we need to get your feet up.”

  As Karin stood, her head began to swim and there was an intense heat underneath her. Pain ripped through her. She almost lost her balance.

  Marketa attempted to steady her. It took a moment, but they were able to keep themselves on their feet.

  Karin looked at her mother-in-law. “Thank you. Perhaps I am unwell. Maybe I should lay down.”

  Marketa nodded. “I think we best get you back into this chair. I don’t know if I can get you to your room myself.”

  As much as she wanted to argue, Karin relented. And with Marketa’s help, she eased back into her seat. She tried to breathe through the increasingly painful twinges.

  Marketa gasped.

  Looking in her direction, Karin saw Marketa becoming pale, one hand on her chest, one on her mouth
. She stared at the floor near Karin’s feet.

  “What is . . .?” Karin tried to talk, but it was difficult. So, she gripped the armrests and pulled herself forward enough to see what had upset Marketa. There, at Karin’s feet, the floor was dark with red. Karin was confused. What could have caused such a mess?

  Fighting through a thick cloud to try to make sense of it, she saw that the hems of her skirts were stained as well. But the pain and the darkness swirling closer and closer prevented her from making a clear connection. Was she going to faint?

  “Don’t . . . tell . . . Pav . . . ” was all she could manage before the darkness overtook her.

  * * *

  The time had come. There had been much ado about how they would proceed in the legal realms of their dispute. But an agreement had been reached. And Petr traveled to Kutna Hora. A small court convened here.

  Vlastik preferred to be heard by the king’s court. But Petr had no hopes that would be a fair trial. The likelihood of the king’s council being paid off was high. Not that it wouldn’t happen here. Still, Petr had better odds in this smaller court of the people. However, Vlastik had still insisted on a town controlled by Royalists.

  So, here he was, prepared to defend himself with his legal advisor by his side. Looking at the man as they rode into the quaint village, he noted the confidence on the man’s face. By all appearances, the man had already won. Petr wished he could take comfort in that.

  He scanned the area. The town bustled with activity. Red markings of the Royalist garb were rather abundant and it unnerved him. It seemed as if he should hide for some reason. Flashes of the patrol coming to his home—and his fear for Karin—filled his mind.

  Shaking his head, he attempted to clear the images. This was not the place or time. He had a task to complete that would require all his concentration. In a matter of minutes, he would be facing down his old friend.

  Moving through the town, he sought out a building that could hold the magistrate and court proceedings. His advisor seemed to know where they were going. And so Petr had no choice but to follow.

  After some moments, they stopped at a rather nondescript structure. He never would have picked it out to be anything more than a merchant’s home. But his lawyer dismounted, so he followed suit. All the while, he searched for his friend-turned-enemy and worked to push down the sense of foreboding welling up in him.