Did Pavel think of her the way she thought of him? There were times when she was sure of it—when they shared a look, a moment, a touch. Other times, however, she was not sure of anything. It was all so confusing.
Footsteps shuffled beyond her door. Was it time for Mary to prepare Karin for morning mass? Karin soaked in the final moments of silence before the door opened and Mary entered bearing a tray with Karin’s morning tea.
"Milady," Mary greeted her mistress as she stepped into the room. She set the tray on a side table next to Karin and went about straightening the bed.
Karin drank the tea, grateful for the warmth.
Once the bed was settled, Mary pulled out the items needed to dress Karin: chemise, kirtle, and gown. As soon as Karin finished her tea, she stood and allowed Mary to start her routine.
First, the linen chemise went on, hugging close to her body. Next came the form-fitting, red-orange kirtle. The gown was golden-yellow with a fleur-de-lis pattern of the same red-orange as the kirtle. Mary pulled Karin's hair back, twisting and securing it with pins as she worked.
As usual, this took place in silence. Everything had been tense between them for days. It wasn't altogether unpleasant. Not too long ago, Karin would have been plagued by Mary's rambling. Now it was perfect silence, albeit a little strained. Soon thereafter, Mary pulled away. Had she completed her work on Karin's hair?
Karin’s reflection offered her a smile. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "You manage my hair quite well."
Not everyone could make Karin's curly tresses obey the way Mary could, and it was something Karin appreciated.
Karin moved into the larger cabinet where she would break her fast. Foods were being spread out for the guests from the nearby rooms—breads, jams, meats, cheeses, and fruit. The same as every morning. Breakfast would be taken with Zdenek, Luc, and Radek.
Zdenek was already seated, eating. Where were Luc and Radek? Though the hour was later, it was not altogether uncommon for she and Zdenek to breakfast without them. They were the early risers.
Selecting a few things from among the foods offered, she then smiled at Zdenek as she sat.
"Dobry den." She lifted her meat knife to begin her meal.
"Dobry den," he replied, raising his knife to her.
"I trust you slept well."
He nodded. "And you?"
"I did. Thank you."
Their conversation continued with early morning pleasantries. Though Zdenek was early to rise, Karin had discovered that he tended to be more reserved in the morning.
Luc might be later getting to breakfast, but he came with rapid speech. So, she and Zdenek always ate in relative silence until Luc arrived.
Radek was more introspective. There would not be much conversation from him no matter the hour of day.
As Karin and Zdenek sat in silence, the door burst open and their friends rushed in. Instead of gathering food, they made their way to Karin.
"Lady Karin, are you well this morning?" Luc asked, the words spilling from his lips.
"I am.” What did he know?
"There is talk of a carriage accident." Radek’s words were just as fast, but still subdued.
The coachman. Pavel wanted to wait to share the news with the Viscount before anyone else. So Karin had not shared the tale.
"Carriage accident?" Zdenek said, seeming to struggle for the words. Had he consumed too much drink last evening?
"Yes," Karin started. "One of the wheels gave way."
"And yet you were unharmed?" Radek asked eyes wide.
"Apart from some soreness and bruises, yes. Thanks to Pavel. He saved my life."
"You are lucky to be alive," Luc said. He stared at Karin, but it was as if his thoughts were not there. It was as if he gazed through her. Was he imagining the accident?
"For certain," Zdenek agreed.
"Enough talk of this!" Karin chided. "You two had better get food if you wish to eat before mass."
Luc and Radek looked at each other and then rose, making their way to the food.
"I know you do not wish to speak of it anymore," Zdenek said in a quiet voice, leaning in. "But I am glad you are well."
"Thank you." She smiled at him. "So am I."
* * *
Everyone made their way toward the chapel. Attached to the chateau, the small chapel was as beautiful as any other room. Rising high, the ceilings featured crisscrossing dark wood beams. The small room was filled with pews of the same dark wood. One end of the room featured the high altar, priest chair, and sacraments.
Karin filed into the pew occupied by Stepan and Pavel, sliding in next to Pavel. She greeted them with a smile as the room fell silent.
A lector stepped forward to begin his recitation as the priest and altar servers entered. Once the priest arrived at his chair, he led the assembly in the sign of the cross.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," the priest said.
The congregation crossed with him with a chorus of, "Amen."
The priest then launched into his greeting, but Karin had a difficult time keeping her mind on what he said. Her thoughts continued to stray to the previous evening. Was it due to Pavel’s closeness? Back to the dancing and to the incident with the carriage. It was those moments of closeness with Pavel that she found herself dwelling on — and the way that it stirred something in her. Even now, quite aware of his arm brushing against hers, a surge in her nerves caused her skin to pucker.
Karin closed her eyes. She should not be thinking of such things at this time. Her mind should be on God. Father, forgive my distraction. This is Your time.
Focusing once more on the priest, she became aware that he was halfway through the Confiteor, nearly to the assembly's response. She did, in turn, contribute, before the priest concluded with a prayer of absolution.
As he closed his prayer, they sang the Kyrie Eleison—one of Karin's favorites. What more could one ask of God but "Lord, have mercy"? When she lifted her voice, she sang from her heart, seeking God's mercy upon her soul. They moved next into another hymn and then to the Silence—a time to pray and become more aware of being in God's presence.
Next came the scriptures and then the homily. Karin expected with the climate of Bohemia that there would be direct challenges to Hus’s teachings. She was not disappointed. Wishing she could leave, or ignore the priest’s words, she sat, her hands drawing into fists and her heart beating harder as the man continued his rant.
The priest's voice grew louder, and he became more impassioned. "These heretics who believe anyone can preach..." He paused as if he had to gather his own anger. "God speaks directly to the pope. It is he who determines who shall preach and what we are to preach."
Karin looked at her hands in her lap. There was movement, ever so slight, beside her. Was it her imagination, or did Pavel tense as well when the priest spoke thusly? Yes, his hands were balled into fists, though at his sides and, though almost imperceptible, his jaw was clenched.
Could it be? He? A Hussite?
Her thoughts flew to her tree. The box. It was him. Had to be.
With a boldness she didn't think she possessed, she reached over and covered his hand with hers.
His eyes cut toward her.
Karin’s skin tingled. Heat sparked between them.
His eyes softened and he tilted his chin but slightly.
And so, with no words spoken between them, they acknowledged their connection as followers of Jan Hus.
Karin drew her hand back into her lap before anyone was to notice. But how could she still her heart, her hands as the service continued? Her mind raced with her desire to speak with Pavel. There were so many questions. When? How?
Her desire to look at him was overwhelming, but she avoided his eyes lest she give in to these questions. The wait was torture. But when would they find time to speak?
Pavel touched her hand.
Karin’s gaze drifted toward him.
He inclined his h
ead toward the aisle.
The congregation moved toward the priest to receive communion. She turned, following the motions of the ritual, but her body was ever more aware of Pavel’s. So near, yet so far.
At last, it was time for the Concluding Rite, and they were dismissed. The group moved in silence, almost solemnly, toward the greater chateau.
How was she to meet with Pavel? For certain she could not request an audience with him in private. But they would not be able to speak of their connection with the others listening. Not even in ear’s reach of the servants. Mary would find out.
And so, as they left the chapel she avoided his gaze. What could she say? Perhaps if she tried to speak, everything else would spill out.
Stepan stood in her way. And he spoke. Something about his relief of her well-being. She had a difficult time following the nuances of his attempt at conversation.
Still, she smiled and thanked him.
Then his brows furrowed. “My lady, are you well?”
She met his gaze. “Perhaps not.” Karin drew fingers to her forehead. “I think I may be in need of some rest.”
“Of course.” He held out his arm.
Slipping her hand through his elbow, she allowed him to guide her toward her bedchambers, eyes focused on the floor.
Where had Pavel gone? What was he thinking? Would there be a chance they could meet?
* * *
Karin walked from the chateau with as much outward calm as she could muster. She had to force herself not to hurry. What would happen if she were found out after telling Stepan she needed rest?
Making her way to the forest's edge, she arrived at the tree line and could not hold back any more. She broke into a run. When she arrived at the stream’s edge, she was alone. Had she expected Pavel to be there? Why?
Dropping to her knees, she began to unearth the box. Perhaps he left a message. Digging with furious intensity, she paid no mind to her hands or dress. She freed the box with less effort than before and pulled it open. The same papers lay within. Nothing more.
What did it mean? Would Pavel leave her to wonder?
Karin lifted the papers out, studying the words penned on the front. “For you, Karin”.
Thunder sounded. She looked toward the sky. Not a cloud. Listening closer, she realized her folly. It was not thunder, but the rapid fall of hoofbeats in the distance.
Louder and louder, closer and closer they came. Was it Pavel? Or did one of the others come to seek her out? Had someone seen her leave the chateau? What to do with the box? The papers? She had not the time to bury it, so she tucked the papers into the folds of her skirt.
Pavel and his steed broke through the cover of the trees. Reining in his horse, he slid down as he came closer, landing just short of where she stood.
Karin’s eyes stung as she met his gaze.
His breath came in gasps.
She held out the papers. "This! This was you?" Tears now brimmed her eyes.
"Yes." He put hands over hers, pulling the papers down so her face was unobstructed.
"How did you know?" her voice cracked.
"I was in the gardens the day your father..." His face contorted. Was he angry? He seemed to have great difficulty finding the words to continue. "The day before your father departed, I heard what he spoke to you on the balcony… when he raised his voice."
The tears flowed then. She had been convinced she was alone, that no one could understand. And not five feet away had been someone who heard. God had been good to her.
The papers slipped from her fingers as Pavel pulled her into his embrace, pressing her head to his strong shoulder.
After a few moments, he pulled her to the dip in the tree branch and settled there, now sitting.
Her sobs subsided, and her eyes moved from his shoulder to gaze into his eyes. Their faces so close, the intense heat was all that was between them.
Cupping her face, Pavel wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then, with the slightest hesitation, he leaned in and tenderly pressed his lips to hers.
She responded, opening herself to him, gripping his arms like a lifeline.
He broke the kiss for but a breath. Pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. As if he sought assurance that she was agreeable.
Did her eyes beg for him to kiss her again as much as her heart longed for them to? They must have because his lips tasted hers again. And he dove deeper, with a kiss that held more hope and promise.
Sliding one arm around her back, he cradled her torso, holding her to himself. With his other hand, he reached for hers, intertwining their fingers.
* * *
When they broke apart, both of them were a bit breathless.
Pavel pulled her into his embrace, hugging her to his chest. As much as he relished the feeling of having her in his arms, he was concerned about her virtue, about the appearance of impropriety. What had he allowed to happen? They should be chaperoned.
But would her father allow it? Could they hide their allegiance to Jan Hus? Would he want to? Until he could answer those questions, their relationship must remain secret. So, there would not be hope of a chaperone.
Father, give me wisdom. Lead me not astray.
* * *
Not a scratch... not even one scratch. Karin sat at the dinner table, enjoying her conversation and dumplings without one scratch. How did this happen yet again? All of the carefully laid out plans, and she escaped her fate once again. Just to look at her — happy, hopeful, blissful, and ignorant in her youth — aroused all the more anger in the one who watched with deadly intent. The watcher, who would not rest until the master plan to rid the chateau of Karin's presence forever had been seen through, would not give time to be discouraged by failed attempts. No, that energy would be put into the next plan. As long as Karin was breathing the same air, there would always be a next plan.
* * *
Professor Evzen sat to write his prominent student an update. As the son in a family closely friended to the royal family, who would one day rise to the station of Viscount, Stepan had become an important piece. Evzen had been impressed with Stepan, both as a student and as a young man. He would be a powerful viscount when his time came. That was nothing to scoff at. To be in his good graces could only be to one's benefit. So, Evzen counted himself fortunate to have found a place of favor with the young man.
Even as much as Stepan viewed him as a mentor, it was Evzen’s every intention to maintain close contact so his place may remain secure. Stepan seemed all too interested in the happenings with Jan Hus, so keeping him updated would serve Evzen’s purpose.
There was no real news to disseminate at that time. The trials of Jan Hus were a farce. Anyone with foresight could have seen that coming.
Evzen had initially been torn about Jan Hus. When Hus had been dean of philosophical studies, teaching the ideals of Wycliff, a banned subject, it was easy to take an opposing side. Then the man became rector and had the court's favor, so Evzen had to play the other side, all the while catering to Stepan's dislike of the man.
Now with Hus on trial, it was a lot easier to play to Stepan's opinion of the man. Many of Evzen’s peers at the university still sided with Hus. And the academic in Evzen could agree that there was truth to Hus's words.
Even so, Evzen had made his choice. He would side with the royals and curry favor with them. That was safest. So he began his letter to Stepan.
* * *
Stepan urged his horse ever faster as he approached the chateau. The trees opened to the grounds, he chanced a glance toward the balcony. Was Karin watching? His breath caught when he spotted her lone figure there. Focusing his attention to the horse beneath him, he squeezed his heels into the animal’s flank. Could the destrier possibly give him more speed?
He almost always won these races, and he would not disappoint Karin this day. Yes, he would win this one, too. For her.
The horse snorted and grunted. Perhaps she gave him
everything she could. An arm's length ahead of his closest competition, Luc, the temptation to look toward the balcony again to glimpse Karin became overwhelming. But he dare not take his eyes from his destination nor his mind off the horse for even one second, lest he be overtaken.
As they passed the balcony, his eyes cut in that direction to see that Karin had risen and walked to the railing. All the better to see his victory!
Stepan did not let up, pushing his horse once more. The animal gave him a last burst of speed, pulling him decisively ahead. Rushing past their agreed-upon finish line, he pulled on the reins, slowing the horse and raising his arms with a loud shout.
The horse turned as Stepan’s legs commanded. And he bowed to Karin, arm extended. Now all would know the victory was for her. Even from a distance, he saw her smile as she waved to him.
Stepan moved his horse into the stables, blood rushing through him, heart thumping wildly. From the race or from the exchange with Karin?
He had grown quite fond of her these past weeks. In the stolen moments with her, he found conversation to be easy and pleasant. Her grace and resilience impressed him. She had faced many challenges in the short time since coming to the chateau. Yet, she had overcome. Stepan could not have helped but watch her. Of course, he had been struck first by her beauty. Long since, however, his admiration had deepened.
Handing off the reins to a stable hand, he then rushed into the chateau to find Karin. Stepan moved with a speed previously only granted to his horse through the halls.
Stepping onto the balcony, he found Karin returned to her seat. He paused, taking a moment to even his breathing. It would not do for him to be panting when he approached.
"Dobry den, my lady," he said as he came alongside her chaise.
She wore one of his favorite colors. The light blue gown with a scoop neckline, hugged her torso nicely until it met the skirt at her waist. Light blue was interrupted only by a gold damask pattern.
The Lady Bornekova Page 10
