The Lady Bornekova

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Her complexion had always been fair, but she frowned at her almost sickly pallor, which betrayed her many days out of the sun.

  "I think I will sit on the south balcony until the noon meal. I am in need of sun and fresh air."

  "There is a fine setting of chairs from which you'll have a wonderful view," Mary commented. Had she decided it was pointless to argue?

  Still, Karin understood—this would be a seated venture, not a stroll about the grounds.

  It was an unnecessary worry. As eager as Karin was to roam free about the grounds and forest beyond, her body urged her to take small steps in her return to such activity. And it was difficult to find reasons not to listen.

  Mary stepped out to call for another servant. Did she not think she alone could help Karin to the balcony? It was another unnecessary worry. A young manservant returned with Mary seconds later.

  The journey through the hall, down the stairs, and to the south balcony was long, arduous, but uneventful. Karin received perhaps too much help. But any resistance would be met with protests and more headaches. It was certain that Mary's overprotectiveness was more about appearances than any true concern for her mistress. Not that she didn't care. Karin believed Mary did.

  Karin was all too happy when they settled her in a comfortable outdoor settee and, though Mary fussed over her a little bit too much, the manservant took his leave. Mary left soon after and Karin was alone. She would have perhaps an hour before someone would fetch her for the noon meal.

  Taking in the view, she breathed in the fresh air deeply. The balcony overlooked the forest's edge on the back of the property. This would be but her first journey to this balcony. Her senses drank in the view, the sounds, the smells, and she said a prayer of thanks for the beauty she beheld and for the breeze which seemed to lift her spirits beyond the treetops. And so she spent much of her time alone in silent prayer — for so many things and for the things she could not put into words.

  It seemed mere moments had passed before she heard the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats in the distance. She pulled herself to stand by the railing and watch as the hunting party returned. The young men raced toward the chateau. Perhaps it was a practice they enjoyed regularly. As they came close enough for her to make them out, she noted that Zdenek was in the lead, followed not far by Pavel and Stepan. Radek, who was falling behind, noticed her watching and raised a hand, shouting a greeting. It served its intended purpose. The other young men were distracted, looking toward the house, as if trying to make out what drew Radek’s attention. They recovered in short order but not in time to prevent Radek from slipping by.

  Was it just her imagination, or was Pavel the slowest to recover? He, too, raised a hand toward her, smiling.

  She lifted her hand to wave and felt the need to avert her gaze to disguise the warmth on her face — silly, as he would not be able to see something so subtle from such a distance. Horses and riders flew past the balcony and to the stables, Radek the victor.

  What was this strange feeling which came over her when Pavel's eyes met hers? This unexpected fluttering in her stomach? She didn’t know what to think, except that she was eager to continue their conversation from the previous evening.

  Father and the Viscount passed the balcony. They waved up to her.

  She returned the gesture.

  Her father seemed rather pleased that she was up and about. Their horses, too, carried them on toward the stables.

  Not long after, Mary appeared with another maidservant.

  "There are no stairs, Mary. I think I can manage with less assistance. I would regret keeping you from your work," she said to the maidservant.

  "Yes, my lady," the girl said before turning and making her way back into the house, going about her own business, tasks which Karin was certain kept her quite occupied throughout the day.

  Mary offered her arm.

  Karin took it, grumbling to herself. She felt like an invalid, being escorted by her maidservant. At least that was better than having to lean on two young women.

  No sooner had they reached the door into the chateau than Radek, beaming widely at Karin, met them.

  "Dobry den," he said in greeting. "I hope you are faring well today."

  "Dobry den, Radek," she replied. "I am... as well as can be expected."

  He only then seemed to notice Mary. "May I?" He offered his arm.

  "Of course," Karin said, thankful for a less embarrassing entrance to the great hall. "Thank you, Mary. I won't detain you any longer."

  Mary moved away from her mistress and down the hall. As she disappeared around the corner, Karin let out a breath and gave Radek a smile.

  He acknowledged her gratitude with a grin. Radek motioned toward the hallway.

  Karin nodded and they moved farther into the chateau.

  "That was a fine trick you played," Karin said, grinning.

  Radek chuckled. "Who, me?"

  "Yes, you! Do not think me fooled by your diversion."

  Radek feigned shock but only for a moment. "Of course not, my lady. It was, you should know, the first time I have won."

  "Then I am happy to have been of service."

  They neared the great hall, and their conversation became more mundane: the weather, the horses. Their banter ended as they approached Radek's fellow racing friends at the end of the hall just beyond the dining space. The young men greeted Karin in turn, commenting on her renewed health.

  Something passed in Pavel's eyes. Karin couldn't quite discern it. A displeasure of sorts? Was it because Radek escorted her? But it was there only a moment, and then it was gone, fading so fast she didn't have much time to think on it.

  Father and the Viscount's voices echoed through the hall as they came up the corner stairs, drawing her attention.

  "It is good to see you out again today." The Viscount’s gaze landed on Karin as they neared the group. "We are fortunate to be graced by such beauty.”

  The corners of her mouth turned upward. "I thank you, my lord. I am better today."

  "We are glad of it," Father added.

  "The Lady Karin is truly a worthy distraction, but I insist we stop clumping about and see what hearty respite the cooks have in store for the hungry hunters," the Viscount said as he led the way into the dining hall.

  As they entered, they took their seats in turn. Karin found her seat beside her father. Pavel sat beside her. And her pulse raced at his closeness. Would she be able to carry on a conversation with her heart beating as it was? She hoped so.

  Looking down the length of the table, Karin wondered after a seat for the Viscountess. Was the Lady of the manor not to join them? Was she unwell? No one else seemed the least bit concerned about her absence.

  Servants brought in pitchers to fill their cups, and the meal commenced. Karin held her questions as to the Viscountess’s whereabouts. Perhaps she could ask her father on another occasion.

  Dinner conversation was light. Karin inquired about the morning hunt, and the men became quiet. However, her father and the Viscount bantered about their adventures. A fox chase was a possibility for the afternoon, but nothing was certain.

  Most of the afternoons had been spent riding, playing horse games, and general relaxation, as good hunting was done in the hours before noon. In fact, as she came to understand, the best hunting took place in the earliest hours. Hunting in the afternoon didn't yield much, so it was not common, except for the planned chasing of a fox or rabbit that would be released.

  The meal continued with a fine selection of meat, dumplings, potatoes, fruit, and cheeses. It was a hearty meal for the weary huntsmen. Smells coming from the dishes enticed Karin to take note of her rather hungry belly. It was all so good and her hunger so great she found herself needing to pace her meal. Focusing on her meal, she was able to avoid the temptation to stare at Pavel. But it didn’t keep her from stealing a glance now and again. Was it her imagination or was he, too, sneaking glimpses of her?

  * * *

  Zel
enka knocked with the lightest touch on the door to the Viscountess's room. Her mistress had begged off from the noon meal with the group again, claiming a headache. So Zelenka, a regular servant to her quarters, was delivering a portion to her.

  "Come in." She heard through the door.

  Without delay and with careful balance, she opened the door, tray in hand, and entered the grand chambers.

  No matter how often Zelenka was called to these bedchambers, she could not overcome her awe of the room. The mahogany of the four-poster bed, the desk, and the tables enthralled her with their intricate carved designs. They rivaled everything else in the chateau. Zelenka marveled at the fine linens in rich golds and browns covering the bed and draping the windows. The walls were covered with fine tapestries — scenes of Prague.

  And against one wall was a vanity. This was where the Viscountess sat, staring into a mirror.

  Zelenka had served this family long enough to guess that the Viscountess did not truly have a headache. When there was a hunting party in the house, she often skipped the noon meals during the week and preferred to have her portion in the privacy of her chambers. What was it that made the Viscountess so averse to the companionship of the others? Did she not enjoy the crowding of the great hall? Was she not one for the noise? Perhaps she simply preferred the solitude.

  The Viscountess was a beautiful woman, especially for her age. Years of beauty treatments have no doubt helped with that. Zelenka had never been privy to any such treatment but the higher-level servants closer to the mistresses of these high-ranking homes were not all as close-lipped as they should be.

  Standing back for a moment, Zelenka marveled at the woman’s appeal. The Viscountess had an olive complexion, which betrayed some signs of aging around her eyes and mouth. Her dark hair was full and lustrous. Not many knew how long it was as the Viscountess preferred it pulled up in some elaborate design. But Zelenka had seen it in the evening when the mistress’s lady’s maid brushed it out. Deep brown eyes peered into the mirror and, something in those eyes betrayed a woman with a deeper side.

  There had to be something of a mystery about her. The Viscount had never, to anyone's knowledge, taken another woman. There must be some power she held over him. Perhaps this was her reason for spending so much time at the hunting chateau. Did she encourage this pastime to keep him distracted? And though she seemed to barely tolerate the hobby she came with him year after year, season after season. Was that it? Whatever it was, the secret was held in those dark eyes.

  The Viscountess glanced toward the door, pulled from her own musings. Did she sense Zelenka staring? The dark eyes indicated a table nearby. Zelena obeyed, setting the tray down and then went through the motions of setting everything out. Though her fingers trembled slightly, she finished in a matter of seconds. Then she took a step back.

  "That will be all." The Viscountess turned back to the hand mirror and whatever thoughts she had been engrossed in.

  Though her mistress wasn't looking, Zelenka still curtsied before taking her leave. And though she wasn’t ever nervous to enter the chambers of her ladyship, she was always relieved to leave.

  * * *

  Father settled Karin on a comfortable settee overlooking the gardens. She nodded her gratitude. Moments later, Mary came with her tea and something warm for her father to drink. He sat only an arm’s length away, but she was still unable to discern what concoction he had requested. As he took hold of his beverage, he dismissed Mary.

  They sipped their drinks in silence. Karin’s gaze was transfixed on the view she decided was her favorite of the whole chateau.

  "I am pleased you are better," Father said, glancing at her.

  "Thank you. I hope I will become stronger every day." She took in a deep, revitalizing breath and met his eyes. There seemed to be something more. Something under the surface. What was it?

  "Good." He turned his focus to the grounds. "My time here has been much extended, and it has become imperative I return home."

  Karin nodded, but he wasn't looking at her; his eyes seemed fixed on something in the distance. Perhaps this was all that troubled him. He had such tidings as these. "I understand. I'm sure Mother is eager for your return."

  It was his turn to nod. "Since your health is much improved, I have begun arrangements to leave tomorrow."

  Tomorrow? Why had he waited so long to tell her of his intentions? "I see. I wish you good weather and safe travels." She stared into her cup, watching the dark liquid as she swirled the cup but slightly.

  Father shifted in his seat.

  Was there more?

  "There is something I need to speak with you about before I leave." His gaze turned on her.

  She looked up.

  His eyes were serious.

  Why all the mystery? The tension? She held his eyes. He had her full attention. "Yes, Father?"

  "I have something to return to you." His words were firm and hard.

  It couldn’t be…

  He reached into his cloak and pulled out a leather-bound book, wrapped with a string.

  The color drained from Karin's face. It was her journal.

  Chapter 4

  New Friendship

  The journal had been rifled through, and some of the pages had been torn out. Karin was relieved to have it back but horrified her father had found...

  "You can imagine my disappointment at what I discovered hidden in these pages." A darkness came over his countenance.

  She lowered her eyes and turned away.

  "I thought we had been through all of this." His voice was harsh. "I thought you understood that pursuing the teachings of a heretic could ruin our family."

  Yes, they had had this discussion — many times. Some of her acquaintances had exposed Karin to the teachings of Jan Hus, a man who opposed some of the practices of the Catholic Church. If the king's brother, Sigismund, was not so adamantly opposed to Hus, her parents may not have had the need to tear her away from her home, friends, and all she knew. She might not find herself in such isolation from any "corrupting influences". But she could not convince her father. This did not mean she would remain silent.

  "I don't understand," she said, her voice finding a strength she didn't feel. "What you call 'heresy', I believe to be truth. How can the truth hurt me?"

  Father’s features hardened. “What Jan Hus speaks of would bring dissention to the church. You know how fragile a thing unity can be. And the church must be unified to bring stability to the monarchy. Even you must realize that the monarchy and the church are intertwined.”

  “But Jan Hus only speaks of—”

  "You are young, Karin," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "And you have much to learn, much you don't understand. This Jan Hus and his teachings will not last to see the next king take the throne. To be found supporting such a heretic could destroy your future and any prospects you have! My duty is to the family. Since you refuse to see it, I will help you." His voice became louder, and he stood, now looming over her.

  "I believed we had rid you of these devious teachings. Finding that you have hidden them from us obliterates any trust I have. You will remain here while your room is searched. And that will be the end of the matter."

  Father moved toward the door.

  Would he not let Karin respond? Speak for herself? Of course not, that was not the way of things. Her heart burned.

  Her father did pause as he reached for the latch and turned back to her, his voice softer. "Please know, Karin, this is for your own good."

  Then he stepped inside.

  She touched her face. Moisture fell across her cheeks. The tears she fought had broken through. Laying her face in her hands, she let the torrent come, uncaring of who might hear. Who was there to hear or even care? She was alone.

  * * *

  Karin’s father was true to his word on both counts. First, her room was searched while she was detained on the overlooking balcony. Mary's knowing smirk did not escape her the next time
they were face to face. Anger swelled in Karin. She had never wanted to strike someone as much as she did in that moment. Prayer stilled her hand. Lord, help me remember You are in control and that vengeance is Yours.

  However, Karin could not help her own smirk when they were unable to unearth anything. Her father had destroyed all her remaining materials when he had found her journal. So, a look of triumph graced her features when she met Mary's gaze after the futile search.

  As promised, Father left the following day. After their conversation, neither he nor Karin were ready to pretend all was well. Their parting was stiff and brief. And though he didn't speak of it again, he communicated his disappointment and let her know she was being watched. So, this was a prison after all.

  Though her father was gone, his watchful eye would linger. She was not free to come and go as she pleased, not even free to pray or believe as she saw fit. Try as she might, though, Mary could not censor Karin's thoughts.

  Karin understood her father’s concerns. Their country was in a tenuous state. Still, she had to be true to what she believed was right. And she had to follow God and obey Him first and foremost. There could be no compromise on this. It wounded her deeply that her father could not, or would not, understand her.

  After her father's carriage disappeared, Karin made her way back into the chateau. Her thoughts drifted to those around her. What did they know? The Viscount and his wife—would her father risk telling them the truth of Karin’s exile? Or would Father value his reputation too much? Karin wagered the latter. Everything hinged on Father's embarrassment with Karin's behavior. He would not dare expose it to someone of such close connection with the royal family, whose influence and friendship he valued so highly.