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

by Sara R. Turnquist

  “Shall we?” the advisor said, motioning toward the door.

  Petr nodded, falling in step with the man.

  They stepped into the modest building. Within, it opened to a large room. A handful of men were already gathered in the space, but Vlastik was not among them.

  Their conversation died when the door closed. The men looked toward Petr as he approached. The best-dressed man in the group was soon introduced as the judge, and the rest were members of the court—the bailiff and the judge’s record keeper. Another finely dressed man introduced himself as a representative for Vlastik. His words came out as if honey dripped from his tongue.

  Petr’s eyes narrowed. It seemed rather suspicious that the man representing Vlastik would find time to speak with the judge before he and his aide could arrive.

  “If there are no objections, I think we should get started.” The judge took his place behind a large table.

  Petr’s mouth opened, and then closed as the bailiff and record keeper took their places. Finally, he found his voice. “Shall we not wait for the viscount?”

  Vlastik’s representative exchanged a knowing look with the judge and stifled a laugh. “Earl Bornekov, you did know the viscount would not be appearing before the court, did you not?”

  Petr stared at the man.

  His aide put a hand on his arm. Should he step back and be silent? He could not contain himself. “No, I did not.”

  The opposing lawyer’s eyes became wider. “You cannot have thought a man of his position would risk journeying into Bohemia during a time such as this.”

  Warmth crept into Petr’s face. Why shouldn’t he? Was this some kind of game to Vlastik? And then he knew. It was. Vlastik had played him. He sat in his grand house somewhere in a foreign land—Germany probably—laughing about this whole affair.

  Vlastik’s legal representative would report back, and they would have even more sport over the matter.

  Petr wanted to storm out. He wanted to show this man how little he cared for their game. But this matter was not a game to him. No more than this conflict was to the Hussites.

  But, just like Vlastik, Sigismund seemed to think it was a game. He had tried to play the Hussites against each other when he invited Cenek to Breslau and courted favor with him.

  What Sigismund hadn’t known was that Cenek would be just as two-faced. Cenek had returned to a unified Prague and called for councilors, magistrates, university masters, delegates, and Hussite priests from all around Prague and Bohemia to meet and come to one accord. Then he had taken back the Hradcany. Now the tables were turned.

  Petr raised his eyes to the judge. He would bring an end to Vlastik’s game too. He would show the man that he was not to be trifled with.

  * * *

  Radek walked through the village on his way back to camp. So, this is Tabor. Commander Zizka had spoken so well of this place. He talked of the people’s commitment to the movement and of their devotion. So far, it didn’t measure up.

  “Dobry den, brother,” a man passing by nodded to Radek.

  Brother? Who was this person, and why did he address Radek so informally? This was only one of many things he did not understand about this town and these Hussites. They had been warned that the Taborites were Hussites through and through. Extremists. Although what that would mean, he had not known.

  Radek approached camp to find a massive gathering of the farmers-turned-soldiers surrounding Commander Zizka and a man he did not recognize. From his ornate attire, Radek would guess him to be a priest.

  “Welcome to Tabor,” the man said to the group.

  As Radek joined the crowd, he scanned for Zdenek. Where was he? The crowd pressed in, and he became doubtful he would find his friend.

  Just then, however, he caught sight of Zdenek’s dark blond hair out of the corner of his eye. He stood farther to the right with her—Eva. Radek frowned. When would Zdenek understand his cavorting with that girl was inappropriate?

  Zdenek slipped a hand around Eva’s waist.

  Radek fumed. Folding his arms across his chest, he shifted his attention to the priest. He would have to deal with Zdenek later.

  “In Tabor, we live in a community of grace and giving, just as the Lord Jesus Christ commanded. We, working as one, give to anyone who has need. So, we ask that you, too, bring all your belongings to the center of the village so that they can be distributed.”

  Had he heard correctly? Everyone was to give up his or her possessions? And just who decided who deserved what? Was it this rather finely dressed priest? He did not like this. Not one bit.

  Zizka spoke up. “We are, of course, not asking you to give up your weapons and your bed mats.” He shot a sideways glance at the priest.

  The man hesitated, giving Zizka a long look. “Of course not.”

  Radek was thankful that all he had in his possession were his sword, clothing, bed mat, and horse—all useful for battle-readiness. Nothing that he would be required to give up.

  But hadn’t Zdenek’s “friend” and her family packed all they owned in a wagon and brought it with them? They would have to sacrifice much. He chanced a glance in her direction. She shifted her weight and peered up at Zdenek. Her features betrayed her uneasiness.

  Radek could not stop the sly smile that broke across his features.

  Eight

  Struggles

  Pavel awoke with a start. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut. Turning toward Karin, he needed to assure himself she was well. But her place in the bed was cold and empty.

  He sat upright and his heart dropped. What happened to her? She was in trouble. He knew it.

  Jerking the covers off, he flung himself out of the bed and raced to the door, not caring that he was in naught but his nightclothes. How long had she been gone? From the light streaming in through the crack in the curtain, he saw that it was well into morning.

  He fought the urge to cry out for her. Stepping into the hall, he heard the distant sounds of servants moving about. Turning his head to the right and then to the left, he tried to plan his next course of action. Where to start?

  Think! He attempted to calm himself. In all likelihood, she had risen early and gone for a turn about the gardens or for something to read in the library. But the sick feeling in his gut told him there was more to her disappearance. That feeling was louder than his ability to quiet it.

  Still, he took a moment to breathe. It would do neither of them any good for him to be thrown into a fit of panic.

  The library. He would look there first. Then the gardens. As he made his way to the library, he glanced into various rooms along the way. They were all dark and empty. At last, he arrived at the library. It, too, was darkened except for the thin stream of light coming in through a drawn curtain. He flung it open and glanced about the room.

  She was not here.

  The back staircase was the fastest route to the gardens. He all but flew down the stairs. For certain, his feet skipped some of the steps on the way.

  Once outside, he didn’t relish the fresh air or the picturesque landscape. He moved with purpose through the gardens.

  No Karin. Where could she be?

  Sitting on the bench in the center of the gardens, he put his head in his hand. He had to calm himself. Perhaps she was conversing in a solar with his mother or some such nonsense. There was no need to get so worked up.

  Standing, he moved back to the house. He strode back in through the main entrance, garnering a rather strange look from the butler. Was he such an odd sight, up and about in his nightshirt? Pavel ignored it.

  But as he moved in the direction of the large solar, he almost ran over his father.

  “Pavel, where have you been?” Alex asked, a worried look on his face. This did not serve to quell the rising anxiety in Pavel.

  “I have been searching for Karin. Is everything all right?”

  Alex’s face was solemn as he placed a hand on Pavel’s shoulder. “I’m afraid Karin has taken ill.”r />
  “Taken ill?” Pavel wanted to move, to go to her, toward something. But he knew not where to go, so he stood where he was as if a feral cat ready to pounce on the next thing that moved. “Where is she? I must see her!”

  “Yes, yes.” Alex flinched at the force of Pavel’s emotions. “I will take you to her.” Alex indicated the main staircase, searching Pavel’s face as he did so.

  Pavel paid his father’s scrutiny little mind. He cared for his father dearly, but right now, the man was an obstacle in the way of getting to Karin.

  As they moved through the house, Pavel was surprised to be taken back upstairs and even more so when they stopped outside his and Karin’s bedchambers. The same room he occupied perhaps fifteen minutes prior.

  He reached for the door latch, but it turned and his mother stepped out. Pavel attempted to get around his mother and into the bedchambers, but Marketa blocked him.

  “Pavel,” she tried to still him.

  He refused to be deterred.

  She placed her hands on his arms, gripping his good arm with a surprising amount of strength. “Pavel.”

  That drew his attention.

  “Pavel,” Marketa started again. “There is something I need to tell you.”

  He gave the door another long look before dragging his full focus to her.

  Her eyes whisked over his face.

  “What is it, Mother? What’s going on with Karin?”

  Marketa exchanged a meaningful look with Alex.

  Pavel’s father nodded.

  Still, Marketa remained quiet, almost as if she was unsure what to say.

  “Mother, I am unnerved by your silence. Is Karin well?” His eyes stung with unshed tears. What was he going to do? If he didn’t have Karin . . . Dear Father, be with me. Don’t let this be it.

  Marketa’s hands on his arms softened. “Karin will be fine. She has taken ill. But she will be fine.”

  Pavel breathed a prayer of gratitude. “Can I . . . see her?”

  “Right now the maidservants are getting her into a fresh nightdress. You’ll be able to see her soon.”

  “I am her husband. Surely, I can be with her while . . . ”

  “I beg you, Pavel. Trust me in this.” Marketa rubbed his good arm.

  He was confused. And still quite concerned. Why was it best he not be in the room while she was changed?

  “The doctor has been called.” Alex took a step toward Pavel.

  “The doctor has been . . . ? But mother said Karin was going to be fine. So the doctor hasn’t seen her?”

  Marketa and Alex exchanged another long look.

  Pavel became all the more frustrated. It was more and more clear that he was being kept in the dark.

  “Call it mother’s intuition,” Marketa said, turning back to Pavel.

  “Mother, if you know something you’re not telling me, I want you to. I need to know what is happening.”

  Pavel’s gaze shifted between his parents. Alex’s eyes were on Marketa. It almost seemed as if he was encouraging Marketa to continue. But Marketa’s expression did not change.

  “Pavel, all I can tell you is that it is a delicate issue. The doctor will know what to do to get her back to full health, but I do not think she is in any danger.”

  Looking into his mother’s eyes, he tried to gauge the truthfulness of her statement. How forthcoming was she? Something still nagged at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was just this unnerving situation.

  He nodded, letting his shoulders drop.

  When he glanced at his father, however, the man was still somewhat unsettled. But should he expect any father to be otherwise?

  The three of them remained in the hall in silence for the next several moments until a maidservant opened the door.

  Pavel was on her like a wild dog on a helpless squirrel. “Is the lady ready to receive?”

  The girl looked up at her master with wide eyes and replied in a sheepish voice, “Yes, my lord.”

  The small-framed servant girl stepped out of the way and Pavel raced into the room. It barely registered in Pavel’s mind that the girl carried some sort of linens. A dress, perhaps.

  Once in the room, his eyes sought out his bride. There she lay, paler than he ever thought possible, her red-gold hair the only thing breaking up the white of the bed linens. He all but fell on the bed beside her.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Karin!”

  She did not smile. Tears filled her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice was not much more than a whisper.

  He watched her as tears continued to roll down the sides of her face. She did not bother to wipe them away.

  “Please, talk to me.” He became less sure of himself with each passing second.

  Her small, white hands reached up to him.

  He captured them with his good hand and held them both to his chest.

  “Please,” she pleaded. “Please don’t ask me questions. Please just hold me.”

  He was confused and even more concerned than ever, but he released her hands and maneuvered his body in an attempt to slide under the covers next to her.

  “No!” came her sharp admonishment.

  He jerked back as if he had hurt her.

  “Did I . . . ?”

  “No.” She shook her head, a small movement. “Can you just hold me? Now? As you are?”

  It took him a moment to understand what she was asking. It would be much easier if they were both in the bed. But that was not what she wanted. So, he slid his good arm underneath her back and lifted her upper body toward his.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. It soon became quite moist with her tears. But he held her still, wishing he could stroke her back or the long red-blond tresses that fell over his arm, but she seemed too weak to hold herself up.

  What had happened to her? Whatever it took, he would find out.

  But she had asked him not to question her now and he would respect that. As much as it was killing him inside, he would respect that.

  He relished the feel of her warm, breathing body in his arms. She was alive. His mother had said she was going to be well. And, in the end, that was all that mattered.

  * * *

  Zdenek pushed his horse forward, weary. The battle, if one could call it that, began just before dawn. And it had ended quickly. Zizka took his men to raid the town of Vozice, near Tabor. Their surprise attack served them well. The soldiers in Vozice made a hasty retreat, leaving the royal castle to the Hussite warriors. But not before the Hussites took their share of prisoners.

  As their campsite in Tabor came into view, Zdenek urged his horse to go faster. He longed to catch even a glimpse of Eva and his arms ached to hold her.

  She and her sister had been through much. First to have their father captured, then to be all but forced to hand over their possessions “for the common good.” Despite everything, she had been brave. As they relieved them of their things, she had watched without shedding a single tear. Patricie had been choked up. Perhaps that’s why Eva had been so strong. For her sister.

  Now riding into camp, he searched for his beloved. She rushed out of her makeshift tent. Had she heard the approaching horses?

  Pulling the reins to the right, he directed the horse in her direction. Stopping just short of where she stood, he dismounted, and caring not who watched, he took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to the side of her face, though he longed to taste her lips.

  “You are safe!” Her hand touched his cheek.

  He nodded, taking her in as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks, rather than a few hours.

  Looking over his shoulder, she watched the others as they came into camp. Her eyes darkened.

  Turning, he noted she saw the Royalist prisoners. He shifted his focus back to her. “All is well. These prisoners will mean salvation for your father!”

  Her eyes met his again, now wide and intense. “What?”

  “Co
mmander Zizka intends to make a trade. These prisoners for the Hussites captured at Sudomer.”

  Eva’s lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came forth. Then she closed her mouth. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

  “Can this be true? Could he still be alive?”

  “The commander believes so. There is hope.” Zdenek tipped her chin with his finger before wiping a tear.

  She threw her arms around him. “Thank God!”

  Zdenek was all too happy to bring his arms around her and return her embrace. “Yes, thank God.”

  * * *

  Stepan jerked awake. Shaking his head, he tried to bring himself to some semblance of alertness. He could not keep doing this. What would the other men think of his startled awakenings? He would just have to ensure his sleep be more restful at night.

  Yet he could not deny that when he closed his eyes in the evening the screams of pain and agony filled his mind. And nothing could block them.

  He had been stationed in Kutna Hora for weeks now. And he had since faced the suffering of the Hussites in a way he never imagined. The cries of terror as they were thrown down the shafts, the sickening cracks when they landed, and the cries of pain for those who weren’t silenced altogether. Did it truly bother him this much? Whose side was he on? Why should the suffering of a few heretics distress him?

  Moving toward a well, he drew a bucket of water. Drinking his fill, he then splashed some cool liquid on his face.

  A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped, hand on the hilt of his sword. But as he spun to face his attacker, he found himself eye to eye with one of the other soldiers. What was his name again? Dominik. Yes, he had arrived the same time as Stepan.

  Dominik held his hands in the air. “Sorry, friend. I did not intend to startle you.”

  Stepan nodded, relaxing his arms and removing his hand from his sword. “All is well.”

  “I think we’re all a bit skittish these days. But the emperor will overcome.”