His heart hardened as he considered anew the ramifications of the Hussite revolutionaries courting Poland, even offering the Bohemian crown to King Wladyslaw II. How would he respond? What would it mean for their country? Would Poland become involved?
Even so, Cenek did not wait for a response. He proved himself to be as two-faced toward the Hussites as he had been toward Sigismund. For some simple words of fine promises of peace, Cenek had handed the Hradcany back to the Royalists. And the Hussites were again left to defend Prague without the benefit of either fortified castle.
“Perhaps I should not tell her,” Lenka said, breaking into his thoughts.
He looked up and saw her gazing out the window.
“If she doesn’t know, perhaps that is better. And if she does, there is no need to remind her.”
Lenka met his eyes. They stared at one another across the space.
“Karin will want to know how you are doing, how we are faring, and how the trial ended.”
Long eyelashes fell over Lenka’s green orbs. Karin’s were so like her mother’s.
“What will you tell her?” He held his breath.
“I haven’t found the words.” Lenka’s voice was not much more than a whisper.
Petr closed the distance between them with slow, careful steps. Then he stood beside the desk looking down at his wife. “Would you tell her we are well? That though there are trials we cannot win, we will stand together?”
Lenka gazed up at him, her eyes glassy.
“And that her father is sorry for any hurt he has caused her mother?”
A tear escaped. Petr reached forward and wiped it away with his fingertips. Reaching for Lenka’s hands, he drew her to stand.
“Will you tell her that for me?”
She nodded. “Yes. If that is your wish, my lord.”
“Most sincerely.” He pulled her into his embrace.
* * *
Radek yawned and stretched. Mounting his horse for another long day of riding was the last thing he wanted to do. The way Commander Zizka pushed them yesterday had been almost inhuman. But thinking about the men on foot made Radek ache all the more. They were committed to this cause. And for a committed man, it must seem like nothing.
Yet for Radek, his body was sore. Groaning, he rolled over, yearning for just a few more minutes of peaceful rest. Movement nearby caught his attention. Zdenek. Up and ready to go. Had he been so easily converted? Because of that girl?
“Almost time to go.” Zdenek eyed his friend. Since when did Zdenek become an early riser?
Answering with a grunt, Radek turned away.
“Come now.” Zdenek knelt by Radek’s side. “We have much ground to cover.”
“I can only imagine,” Radek grumbled. But he sat up all the same. It was no use being difficult. His predicament wasn’t Zdenek’s fault.
Zdenek returned to his horse, tying his bedroll to the back of the saddle.
Radek forced himself to stand and do the same. When he pivoted to face Zdenek, he noticed his friend had been watching. It gave him pause.
“Forgive me, I only worry that something may be amiss.” Zdenek’s eyes were on Radek, sincere, concerned.
Radek ran a hand through his hair and looked into the distance. “It’s just that I . . . I don’t know that I fit in here.”
“What do you mean? Of course you do. Just as much as I—”
“No, I don’t.” His voice was firm.
It silenced Zdenek.
They stared at each other as if squaring off.
“I don’t know what I’m saying.” Radek shifted his gaze to sweep over the camp. “I can’t explain it.”
There was no more time for further thoughts, however, as the men around them began to move as one. Those with horses took to their saddles, and the rest gathered their things and struck out behind them.
“We can talk more later,” Zdenek said as he grabbed for the pommel of his saddle.
Radek nodded, watching his friend mount. Then he did the same.
They rode in silence. Perhaps because of the noise of the group’s movement, perhaps because neither knew what to say. Radek certainly didn’t. So he watched the scenery of his beloved homeland as it passed by. For the most part, though, he thought of the choices he had made—the ones he’d had control of and the ones he hadn’t. And how he ended up here.
As they neared the Sazava River, their contingency came to a halt. He and Zdenek exchanged a look as they maneuvered their horses closer to the front. Close enough, at least, to see what lay before them.
Once Radek was clear of most of the horsemen in front of him, he saw why they had come to such a drastic stop. There, between the Hussites and the river, stood no less than four hundred cavalrymen and a large number of infantry.
His shoulders tightened, his muscles readying for battle. All the while, his stomach lurched. Could he fight another battle for a cause he did not believe in?
Radek sought out Zdenek amongst the pressing group. Where was he? While Radek might not be able to rally to the Hussite cause, he would be able to fight for his friend.
The Taborite cavalrymen began shifting around him and one of the captains motioned to him. “You’re with me.”
What could he do but obey? Moving toward the back of the group, this smaller contingency of men, some on horseback, some on foot, moved with careful steps in a wide arc to the northwest. Radek saw that the plan was to flank the Royalist army while Zizka and the rest of the Taborites detained them fighting.
While they moved around, Radek heard the first clashes of weapons. And he hoped his friend would be safe. The small group had little trouble making their way to their destination. They now stood between the Royalist army and the small town behind them.
Radek readied himself to attack the enemy cavalry from behind, but he was given other orders.
“All right, men, burn it.” The leader met their surprised gazes.
But the other men moved to do so at once.
Radek remained as he was. Burn it? This was a town full of houses. Where people lived. Women. Children. How could they?
His commanding officer glared at him and grabbed a torch held by one of the infantrymen. “Did you hear me?” He thrust the torch toward Radek.
“Yes, sir.” Radek took it and moved to the first house, but he heard the screams of the townsfolk as they fled their homes and was, again, helpless to do anything.
The captain came from behind, grabbed the torch, and shoved it through the now vacant home’s open window.
Radek stared after the flames as they lit and licked at the air, expanding as they breathed. When he shifted his eyes, he met the intense gaze of the captain.
“This is what we have to do to keep the Royalists from regrouping. I hope you will not disobey orders again, soldier.” There was a roughness to the man’s voice, but Radek thought he heard the slightest hint of sympathy as well.
In the next moment, the captain rallied his troops to attack the Royalist army from the flank. But as they gathered to do so, they could only watch as the Royalist soldiers retreated. Zizka had them on the run. And as the commander pursued them, Radek and the others joined in.
The pursuit led them to a walled monastery where the Royalist army took refuge. Radek, still numbed from the actions of his comrades-in-arms, watched as his fellow soldiers made a valiant effort to storm the structure. Still, something inside of him cried out that this, too, was wrong.
After several moments, it ended. Just as quickly as it had started, it was over. Zizka and his captains worked to pull the Hussites back.
Radek knew why. These Royalist soldiers had not succeeded in their task to stop Zizka, they had only been a distraction. His goal, his priority, was Prague. And go to Prague they would.
Truly, this skirmish had done much more than that. It had scarred Radek deeper than he cared to admit. What had he gotten himself into?
* * *
Marketa stepped into the bedchambers of her son
and daughter-in-law. It had been days since she had been here. The last time was the day . . . it had been days.
Karin sat on the chaise lounge near the window. Wrapped in a blanket, she gazed out the nearby window. But the curtains were almost completely drawn, open not much more than a hand’s width. Just enough to bring adequate light into the room.
Karin didn’t even glance in her direction as Marketa came into the room. Did she not notice someone had intruded on her space? Did she assume it was her maidservant? Or was she somewhere else entirely? Yes, Marketa knew that look. She knew that pain all too well.
The baroness cleared her throat, not wanting to further intrude on Karin without her knowledge. Karin continued to stare out the sliver of window she had visual access to. It was not until Karin reached for the tea on her side table that she glanced in Marketa’s direction.
Karin raised an eyebrow upon seeing her mother-in-law but made no other acknowledgement of the woman’s presence. She went back to gazing out the window.
Marketa let silence fall in the room again. She closed her eyes and prayed. How was she to reach out to her daughter-in-law? To best love her? To best help her through this? Had there been anyone there for her? Her husband. She’d had Alex. And here Karin suffered in silence, without her husband’s knowing support.
The baroness had watched these last few days as Pavel reached out to Karin only to be pushed away. Yes, Pavel suffered too. Did he harbor feelings of rejection? This thing drove a wedge between them. It was still early, but Marketa saw it.
Even now, Pavel should be here with her. But she had, yet again, pushed him away. Had he gone to the family chapel? Or out riding? These were the things he did to clear his mind, to re-center. But he should know the truth. Forced to deal without all of the information, he’d had to resort to what he did know. He’d been given half-truths and asked to accept it as the whole story. Yes, Marketa felt for her son.
And she blamed herself. She had only tried to respect Karin’s wishes when she remained silent that day when Pavel questioned her. But she had been wrong. He deserved to know.
Marketa swayed, light-headed. Her knee joints were stiff. She had been standing in the silence with her thoughts for quite some time. If she didn’t bend her knees or sit soon, she would faint.
She moved farther into the room and chose a chair not far from Karin. Easing into the seat, she felt the blood flow through her legs again. And her head stopped swimming.
She gazed out the window with Karin, but there was precious little she could see from the thin sliver of opening afforded from her angle.
“Beautiful day,” she commented. Would that spark some reaction?
Karin nodded numbly.
“The garden has come into its full bloom.”
Karin made a noise that sounded akin to a grunt.
“You can’t stay like this, Karin.” Marketa softened her voice.
No response.
“Please talk to me.” Should she go to her daughter-in-law? Touch her? Marketa stared at the back of Karin’s head, her hair, long since in need of brushing, falling down her back in a tangled mass.
Silence fell over the room once more. There was nothing left. The time had come. Marketa peered heavenward and said a prayer for strength and guidance. Then she drew in a deep breath before breaking the stillness.
“Karin, I know this pain you are going through. I know it’s—”
“How could you?” Karin’s eyes were on her. There was that spark.
Marketa blinked.
Karin shook her head and fixed her gaze out the window again.
“I know,” Marketa began again, her voice firmer, more set. “Because I had three babies I never got to hold.”
Karin twisted toward Marketa, but her eyes were no longer burning coals. They were glassy. And soft. “Truly?”
Marketa felt moisture on her face as she nodded. “Pavel is a promised child. A blessing. The doctor said he was my last chance, and I never prayed so hard for anything in my life.”
Karin’s eyes stayed on Marketa’s. Was she trying to wrap her mind around the truth of it?
Marketa wanted to run, wanted to hide. She longed to retreat into her pain, not bare it and stay here, an open, vulnerable wound.
“Why does it hurt so?” Karin’s voice broke.
“Because it was a life. Because it was yours.”
Karin nodded. “Does the pain ever go away?”
“No,” Marketa said as she sighed. She wished she could tell Karin something different. But she needed the truth. “Because you have a tender heart that loves deeply.”
Fresh tears trailed Karin’s cheeks.
“But the pain will not always be so sharp. In time, it will ache. And then, it will dull.”
Karin leaned her head on the back of the chaise and closed her eyes. “Will I ever feel whole again?”
“Of course you will. God is the One Who makes you complete. And He can heal this wound. If you let Him.”
“It’s so hard to trust Him when He’s allowed such pain into my life.”
Marketa considered that. “But none of that means He doesn’t have a plan in your pain. I’m certain that’s what trust is about.”
Karin nodded.
“And He has given you the same blessing He gave me all those years ago—Pavel. Remember, he lost a child too. But he doesn’t know. Don’t you think he deserves to? Deserves to mourn? To comfort you and to be comforted?”
Karin’s tears were flowing. “I . . . I can’t. I don’t know how. Can you . . . ?”
Marketa shook her head. “I would take that burden from you in a heartbeat if I thought it would make things easier. It will not. It will only make things harder between you.”
Karin shut her eyes but nodded.
“I will do something for you.”
Karin’s eyes flew open. A question in them for her mother-in-law.
“I will pray with you.”
Karin sniffled as more tears came. She covered her face with her hands.
Marketa got to her feet, moved to the lounger, sat on the edge, and pulled Karin into her embrace. She held her precious daughter-in-law while she cried, wiping Karin’s tears. And then together they prayed.
* * *
The evening settled over Prague. What a day it had been! And so glorious the reception they had received! Zdenek smiled to himself as he remembered the faces of the people as they welcomed Commander Zizka’s Taborite army. Their last hope. It was a grand feeling.
And the feast that had been prepared! Zdenek had not seen food and drink like that in many months. Most of the peasants among them had never been treated thusly. And it became obvious they were quite overwhelmed by the gifts bestowed upon them.
Zdenek had not seen Radek for much of the evening. He disappeared soon after the meal commenced. But now Zdenek wandered, looking for his friend. Prepared to resign his search, he spotted Radek a block away outside of a monastery, arms folded.
The building stood strong and tall, rising above the street with its proud stone structure. Yet as he neared Radek, Zdenek became less sure as to why his friend would be staring at this one lone building.
“Radek,” he said, his voice soft, not wanting to startle him.
His friend didn’t seem to register that anyone had spoken.
Zdenek moved closer and spoke louder. “Radek.”
At last turning his head, Radek acknowledged Zdenek. But he soon went back to his watch over the silent building.
Zdenek came up beside him. “Have you a new fascination with architecture?”
A gentle laugh escaped Radek’s throat.
That put Zdenek at ease.
Radek let out a long breath. “Just thinking.” Was there a sadness in his voice?
“Yes?” Zdenek crossed his arms, mimicking Radek’s posture.
Looking at him, Radek said, “I don’t think you would understand.”
“We’ve been through a lot together. I think you might be surpr
ised.”
Radek’s gaze moved back toward the structure. He pursed his lips but remained quiet for several moments before he spoke. “Today I was ordered to participate in burning peoples’ homes.”
Zdenek’s breath caught. He knew Zizka commanded some of the troops to set fire to the town, but he hadn’t truly thought about it that way. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to.
“And I . . . I couldn’t do it.” His face fell.
“You disobeyed orders?” Zdenek managed.
Radek’s eyes flashed as he turned on Zdenek. “Yes! And I’d do it again. Wouldn’t you?”
Zdenek couldn’t answer. Would he? “I . . . I think I would.”
“That’s a problem, Zdenek. If you don’t know you would disobey the wrong order—”
The sound of horseshoes clomping on the ground nearby interrupted their conversation. Turning toward the noise, they spotted a couple of men on horseback and a group of women walking in their direction.
As the men drew nearer, Zdenek saw on their faces that they were surprised to find two Taborite soldiers out in the evening.
“Dobry vecer, sirs,” one of the horsemen said. “What finds you away from the feast this evening?”
“Just out for some fresh air.” Zdenek offered the man one of his winning smiles.
“Commander Zizka is rounding up the men. We will make camp for the night on an island north of the city.”
“But not the women?” Zdenek indicated the group with his hand.
“No, the women will be housed in the monastery.”
“Then we will detain you no longer.” Radek inserted himself between Zdenek and the man before turning to walk back to the celebration hall.
Zdenek nodded toward the soldier on horseback, who was already ushering women into the monastery, and moved to follow Radek.
As he departed, however, he thought he caught a glimpse of familiar dark brown hair. But as he took a second look, he didn’t see anything of the sort. It was probably nothing. Many Czech women had long, dark brown hair. Perhaps just wishful thinking. Besides, Eva was safe, miles away from here.
The Lady And The Hussites (The Lady Bornekova Book 2) Page 14
