The Lady Bornekova

by Sara R. Turnquist

  As soon as they were in the cabinet and the door was closed, Lenka wrapped her arms around her husband.

  A rush of air escaped him, betraying his surprise at the show of emotion. Still, she felt his warm embrace in response.

  "Petr, I missed you!"

  "Truly?" He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

  Did this display of emotion startle him so? It was true that Lenka was rather reserved. She extricated herself from his arms and took a seat nearby.

  "For the last two weeks, I prepared to come to the chateau each day. And each day I reread your letter, and it would dissuade me... barely." The words fell from her lips.

  "Because of Karin?" Why was his face downcast? It was not so obvious. Still, she could see his disappointment. Perhaps he thought the source of her emotional show just now was because of Karin, not him.

  As much as she regretted it, she could not be untruthful. "I have been so worried, Petr!"

  "There were days I wished you were there and days I knew it was best you were not. I started many letters sending for you, but stopped myself. Karin's illness cannot change what we are doing."

  Lenka's eyes fell away. "I know you are right."

  He sat in a chair near hers, taking her hand in his. "I found more Hussite papers with her."

  Lenka's head jerked up. How could Karin have betrayed them again? Knowing what lengths they went to cleansing her of it? Could she not imagine how important this was to her future?

  "I am sorry I ever doubted you, husband." She shifted her gaze to meet his.

  "I know. I am too." His voice was gentle, sad somehow.

  A knock on the door cut their conversation short.

  Lenka looked toward the door. "Come!"

  Sharka brought in a tray of bread and cheese, which she sat near Petr, and then began to serve mead.

  Lenka's mask was back up, and Petr returned to acting aloof. But Lenka’s concern after her daughter filled her mind. Whatever would become of Karin if she continued?

  Chapter 5

  Alone

  The days wore on. Karin was never far from Mary's watchful eye. Was Mary noting on her every move? Her every word? There were times she feared Mary could even read her private thoughts. Then she would catch herself. That was ridiculous.

  What a strange situation in which the servant controlled the mistress’s comings and goings. But Karin felt her strength returning every day. A time would come when she would make decisions about what made up her days, a time when she would go beyond the gardens. For now, she would enjoy the company of the young men, but none so much as Pavel.

  This particular day, Radek escorted her from the noon meal. Karin decided to retire to her bedchambers. She wanted to sift through her reading materials instead of venturing outside. After they topped the stairs, she excused Radek, insisting she could make it to her room without assistance. So, he took his leave.

  As she neared the room, she heard movement and bustling about within. Who was in her chambers? What were they after? Should she be fearful? Or angry? Quickening her pace to round the corner, she crept to the doorway. Perhaps she could peer in and catch the intruder unaware. Her breath caught in her throat. There, in the middle of her room, Mary was hunched over her trunk, rummaging through her things.

  "What are you doing?" Karin shoved the door open.

  Mary whirled toward Karin, face colored. From the effort of riffling through Karin’s things or from the embarrassed of being found out? She reached up to push an errant hair out of her face. "Your father instructed me to make regular searches of your rooms, milady."

  What could Karin say about such sanctioned violation? She wasn't hiding anything. And Mary knew more than she did what was in her chambers. But none of that mattered. In that moment, another piece of her was chipped away.

  "I regret you had to find out this way. But I am almost finished. If you could just step into the…" Mary couldn’t seem to find the next word.

  Karin shook her head as she backed away. What was there to say? What was left for her to do? Was there anywhere she could go? But the next thing she knew, her feet raced, carrying her away. To where, she could not say. Just away.

  Her feet took her down the stairs, through the house, and outside. Then she picked up speed. Running down the hill and toward the stream, her legs moved as if they would never stop. There was a stray thought, somewhere in the distance, of whether she should be exerting herself. But she pushed it farther. Escape. That was the only thing that mattered. Escaping Mary's ever-watchful eye and the prison cell the chateau had become.

  Karin slowed as she neared the tree by the stream, her dear old friend, who had been her early companion. For many hours had this tree, this stream, and her journal kept her company. Her journal… Without warning, her eyes began to water.

  Those papers, the only remaining words of Jan Hus, had been ripped from her journal. They had been the final copy she’d been able to hide. Her tears threatened to release as the fullness of the injustice slammed into her, but she dare not give ground. She had shed enough tears.

  The tree provided a solid place for Karin to land, out of breath and worn out. Her lungs burned and her body ached. But she felt more alive than she had in weeks. Thank You, Lord, for giving me the strength.

  Even two days ago, she would not have thought that possible. Indeed, she had pushed her body to its limits.

  Karin allowed her body to rest, feeling her heartbeat slow with each passing minute. She had no desire to give Mary another reason to lecture her.

  No, she told herself, Mary doesn't lecture. She prattles on and mothers one to death. How had Karin the bad fortune to be paired with such a handmaiden? Ah, yes, Mary was chosen to report to Father. I hope she weighs him with her incessant rambling when she tattles, Karin thought shrewdly.

  Laughing at her own joke, Karin relaxed. It felt good to laugh. And it felt good to be on her own, away from the house and the prying eyes within. Not that everyone's eyes were those of a spy. Certainly not the young men nor the Viscount, who likely cared little about what she did, were watching her movements. But servants talked, and Mary's ears heard everything.

  Standing, Karin moved to the stream for refreshment. Drinking her fill, she also splashed the cool liquid on her face, relishing the way the water reinvigorated her senses.

  Shaking her skirts as she stood, she moved back to her tree. She best take in the sights and sounds of the world as she could. It was a much better view here. Her bechambers kept her as a mere observer.

  As she approached the old oak, something caught her attention. It was nothing truly, she almost missed it. A strange bump protruding from the ground where the tree branch angled. She glanced about. Was anyone watching her now? Perhaps this was a trap?

  She appeared to be alone. No one else knew of this place or its significance. Should she take a chance? Perhaps she had found buried treasure.

  Settling on the ground, Karin tested the bump. Solid. Then she used her hands to move the dirt around the object, hoping it wasn't too big. The more dirt she moved, the more she found. It was bigger and deeper than she expected. Dare she keep going? Or give up? Her curiosity had been piqued. She started to paw more vigorously around the exposed edges, digging the object out.

  Seconds passed into minutes, but she was soon able to unearth the biggest part of a wooden box. Jerking on the box, she nudged it loose. Perpiration beaded her forehead. She angled herself, planting her feet to leverage more of her weight against the box. As she tugged again, the small trunk came free, pitching her to the side. Karin landed hard on her left hip. Though it was sore, she recovered quickly and moved back toward the box.

  She ran her hands over the dirt caked surface. How long had it been here? Why hadn’t she noticed it before? What lay inside? Her fingers found the latch. Strange. It was neither rusted nor locked.

  Karin held her breath and opened the lid. Peering inside, she found naught but folded papers. Curious. Perhaps it was a love note left a
t a secret meeting place. Or maybe it was instructions on how to find each other. Maybe it was a treasure map. I’ve been confined for too long. These were grandiose ideas indeed!

  After moments of speculation, Karin decided to break the spell of her imagination and reached for the parchment. Her fingers grazed the paper. Lifting it as if it were made of glass, she unfolded it just as gently.

  As she looked upon the writing, and gasped. She had found buried treasure. And a love note? Even more confusing, it was addressed to her.

  The first page had three words inscribed on it: "For you, Karin." What followed were pages filled with words just as precious to her—copies of the most recent writings of Jan Hus. She couldn't stop the tears that came. This gift was too great.

  Karin had regretted losing her papers, but even then, they were older writings. She had read them several times over. Neither she nor her small circle of friends had regular access to Jan Hus's works. Getting something new was unimaginable.

  Who? Who would know? And who would do this? Who would risk it? Her head jerked around, looking for the prying eyes of anyone who might want to take her papers away. She couldn’t risk it, couldn’t lose them again. Tucking the sheets into the folds of her skirt, she glanced around until satisfied she was indeed alone and safe to view these precious documents. Karin pored over the papers, drinking in each word as she would water in a desert.

  Jan Hus and John Wycliffe. It was true Jan Hus was inspired by Wycliffe's writings and by the reforms he called for. Wycliff wanted the Church to return to the condition it was in during the time of the apostles. This would mean a removal of Church hierarchy, taking away traditions and anything else not in the Bible, including practices he found particularly unbiblical—the saints, intercession for the dead, and confession.

  And Karin understood why he opposed these things. If she were being honest, she had always struggled with the Church and some of it rituals and traditions. At times, it seemed the Church believed that a relationship with Christ was of only secondary importance. Were they so steeped in tradition that they all but worshipped those actions? And at what cost? Wycliffe was a brave man of conviction. It was easy to understand why he had become a source of inspiration.

  Hus, on the other hand, called for less radical changes. He sought freedom for all to preach the word of God and for all — not just priests — to take the sacraments of bread and wine at communion. He also declared that no power outside the Church be given to the clergy and that there be punishment for mortal sins. That struck a bad chord with many in power.

  How could the Catholic Church justify selling indulgences? Nothing in the Bible supported such a practice. This was but one of the many questions Karin had. Hus’s teachings spoke to this concern. He preached the word of God and called for change in the Church. There were many who followed and many who did not.

  How could her father not see the wisdom of this man? How could he not see the error of the Church? Lord, open his eyes, was all she could pray as she focused on the papers in her hands.

  So lost in the sermon within the pages, Karin lost track of the minutes as they slipped by. Mary would be concerned. And that began to mean something to Karin.

  With great care and reverence, Karin placed the papers in the box. Then she went about the task of burying them again. This was the safest thing. This time, however, she did not leave any part of it sticking up to be stumbled upon. It was imperative she be careful with her private things. All the more now than ever. She dared not risk taking something like this into the chateau.

  Moving some of the loose brush over the freshly upturned dirt, she was satisfied it would not be noticeable even from a closer distance. Then she began the short journey to the chateau.

  Hoping to sneak in as inconspicuously as possible, she came in by way of the servants’ hall. No one bore witness to her entry. She made her way down the hall and toward her bedchambers with careful steps. Looking at the stairs, she decided to instead turn toward the grand fireplace. Perhaps she could sit there and gather herself.

  As she neared the great hall, Mary stepped out in front of her. Karin nearly slammed into her.

  "Where have you been?" Mary's voice was sharp.

  "I went for a walk," Karin said dismissively, stilling her hands and attempting to still her thundering heartbeat. She moved to step around her maidservant.

  "Away from the chateau grounds?" Mary maneuvered into Karin’s way again.

  "Do not be mistaken." Karin eyes narrowed. She forced all of the strength into her voice she could muster. "I do not answer to you."

  Mary stared at her for a few moments. But Karin did not back down, meeting her eyes and straightening herself to her full height. Was Mary so reluctant to give up her loosely-held semblance of power, however false, that she had carried these last few days? Karin was finished. Her maidservant may report everything said and done back to Father, but she would not be pushed around, and she would no longer feel imprisoned.

  With a slight bow, it was Mary who backed down. "Yes, milady." That was the way it had to be.

  After those simple words, Mary walked off, disappearing around the first corner she came to.

  Karin watched her go. There would not be any real change between them. Mary would still perform random searches of Karin’s room. And Karin would need to be careful of her words and actions, as it would all be told to her parents.

  Still, there was a wonderful sense of freedom, of taking back her life. She had put Mary back in her place. What had happened to Karin's backbone that it took so long? Karin only truly answered to her hosts — the Viscount and his wife. And they did not seem to expect restrictions beyond those placed by the doctor. This being the case, perhaps she was freer than she assumed. Had her father relied on her fearfulness? If so, he would find out from Mary's next missive that he was mistaken.

  * * *

  The entire thing was impossible. Karin was always watched, so carefully watched. This frustrated every plan the individual in the dark tried to devise. But the one knew Karin would not always be kept so close to the chateau. It did not escape notice that just this afternoon, Karin had ventured beyond the grounds. Yes, even I am watching Karin. Watching... and waiting. The watcher just had to wait. Perhaps her new association with the young men who had come to the chateau, though now a hindrance, could be used as an advantage. Yes, perhaps it could. Just then, a plan began to form. Patience. Remember, patience is a virtue.

  * * *

  Two days later the Viscount announced Stepan’s plans to visit the nearest village for the afternoon. All who wished to join were invited. Karin watched Lord Dvorak’s face as she expressed her interest. The Viscount seemed all too pleased that she wanted to venture out of the chateau. The Viscountess, however, voiced her concern.

  "Are you quite sure you are well enough for such an outing?"

  "I thank you for your concern, my Lady. I am much better." Karin sought the Viscountess’s eyes. Was she so concerned?

  "And I can only imagine the poor girl is ready to see something beyond the walls of this hunting lodge," the Viscount spoke up. "Come now, my dear, do not fret. Stepan will take care after our guest."

  The Viscountess raised a brow and frowned, but nodded all the same. Once her husband had spoken, she had little choice but to give her assent.

  "At least take my carriage," the Viscountess inserted. "Then I can be assured your journey will be in comfort and safety."

  "I thank you for your kindness," Karin said. She'd rather not enter the small village in such grandeur, announcing their arrival so ostentatiously, but she could not refuse the Viscountess's offer. So, she would just have to look forward to arriving in style.

  Karin was barely able to contain her excitement as the meal continued. Conversation shifted to the outing and what they would find in the small village. She soaked up every detail. What would she see?

  In due time, the meal came to a close, and Luc escorted Karin to her room. She thanked him, assurin
g him she would be ready to depart before long.

  However, as she stepped into her chambers, Mary was waiting for her. "Milady, I don't think you are ready for such an outing.”

  "The Viscount believes I am, and he has given me his permission." Karin spoke simply, her voice even.

  Mary glared at her. And for several seconds, they squared off. Would Mary insist on checking with the Viscount herself?

  In the end, she conceded.

  "Let's pull out something appropriate for you to wear."

  "I have some ideas..." Karin started. This was going to be a battle.

  * * *

  Pavel's horse shifted under him, eager to be on the move. The men were gathered at the portico, awaiting Karin. Stable hands pulled the grand carriage around, and everything was in place for her arrival.

  "Do you think one of us should ride in the carriage with Karin?" Zdenek asked, looking at the looming coach.

  Pavel wanted the chance to spend more time with Karin, but didn't want to seem too eager. So he held back. After a pause, in which no one else volunteered, he opened his mouth. But that was the same moment Stepan spoke.

  "I will ride with the Lady," Stepan interjected, dismounting. Once on the ground, he handed his reins to a nearby stable hand.

  Then Karin emerged from the chateau.

  Pavel’s gaze was on her immediately. He noted that she had chosen a more simple dress for the outing. A plain blue-gray over dress with two wide bands over her shoulders that met in a "v" at her waist, displayed the neckline of the black kirtle underneath. Sleeves fell loose over her arms, but stopped at the wrist, not flowing to the hemline as was more common with the finer dresses she wore. The skirt gathered at the waist and flowed down to the ground with only the slightest hint of a train.

  Perhaps she didn't want to stand out as much among the village folk. A simple gold cross hung around her neck. Her long, curly, red-blonde hair was left down with the sides braided back and out of her face.