The Lady Bornekova

by Sara R. Turnquist

  As she turned, her foot struck something solid. She paused. Perhaps it was nothing more than a protruding root. Still, she bent toward the irritant. It was no more than a small bump. Brushing the leaves aside, realization slammed into her—it was the box Pavel had left for her so many weeks ago, a box filled with Jan Hus's writings.

  Hungry for the precious words within, Karin dug with her hands. Soon after she had unearthed her prize. She sat, placing the box in her lap. Dare she go one step farther? Would it take her once again father from Stepan and closer to Pavel?

  Karin could not contain the desire to hold the papers once more, see her name in Pavel’s script. Ripping the box open, she pulled out the papers. There, as she remembered, the words etched which had confused her at one time. They now stabbed at her heart: For you, Karin.

  Holding the folded papers to her chest, her eyes closed and hot tears brimmed once more. At length, she moved a hand across her face, erasing all evidence they existed. Opening the folds, she poured over the words of Jan Hus as if seeing them for the first time.

  Yes, this was truth. This was right.

  * * *

  "Karin," Stepan called for his bride. Where had she walked to? Perhaps these strolls about the grounds were not wise. Turning around a tree, he spotted her red-blonde hair.

  He opened his mouth to call to her again, but he paused. She leaned over something, holding it to herself. What was it?

  Dare he invade her privacy? Didn’t he have every right? Thinking it best not to overreact, he spoke her name.

  She jumped, turning her head. Was she attempting to find the source of the sound? Karin scrambled to her feet. Her eyes fell on his as he came around, now face-to-face with her.

  "I have looked everywhere for you. The cake maker is here to—" He took in the scene, eyes trailing up and down his beloved. A box set on the ground, her hands and dress dirtied. There was also a hold in the ground. Had she dug the box, buried for some reason, out with her hands? Then he met her gaze. Why were her eyes so wide? Was she so shocked to see him? Why? Was she hiding something?

  "Digging for buried treasure?" Would it be best to maintain a calm demeanor?

  "No, I..." she fumbled for words, her eyes cutting toward the ground.

  He noted the papers in her hands, peeking out, almost hidden within the folds of her skirt. Was she hiding them?

  "What do you have there?" He kept a smile on his face, attempting to keep the mood light, but he could not keep the serious edge out of his voice.

  Those papers concerned him. Were they love letters? Was she having some secret affair? Was that what his mother tried to tell him?

  "N-Nothing," she stammered, burying them further into her skirt, her hands shaking.

  The sky rumbled.

  She glanced up. "I think it will rain soon. We had better head back to the—"

  "Nothing, eh?" He closed the gap between them too quickly for her to react.

  Pulling her into his arms, he gained a decided advantage, pinning her. It took little effort, then, for him to extricate the papers from Karin's grasp.

  He moved away from her, spreading the papers open. Dare he look? What if they were love letters? If Karin had been untrue to him?

  As he tried to read, Karin made a futile attempt to grab for them, reaching around Stepan. He maneuvered his body to keep her to his back, holding the letter at arm's length. Her efforts were futile.

  The lines stilled before him and he read. It was something of a scholarly paper. Perhaps even a sermon. Relief washed over him. Could there be anything devious about a sermon?

  Then why would she hide them? He read further. As he did so, his anger welled, rising toward the surface.

  Stepan turned back to her. "Karin, tell me you do not know anything about these papers."

  "What?" Had she not heard him? She backed up until she was under the tree. Did his tone scare her? Cool moisture pelted him. He glanced toward the sky—it had started to rain.

  A simple shower would not dissuade him. He leveled his gaze on her once more, stepping toward her. "Tell me you found these and were just curious. They don't belong to you. And you don't know anything about them."

  Wouldn’t she plead innocent? This could not be happening.

  She remained silent for several moments, looking down.

  He took another step toward her.

  Karin met his eyes. What was there, he could not name. Determination? Sadness? Resolve?

  "I cannot tell you any of those things. Because I will not lie to you." Her words were out there, between them.

  What did this mean? He was a fool if he ignored the truth. Anger so filled him. Surely his skin would singe the drops of water from the heavens.

  "Then you...you are one of...them?" He spat the last word at her. Could he not even bring himself to say the word?

  Karin squared her shoulders and raised her chin. Defiance?

  Then she spoke with a confidence he could not have expected. And it caused his ire to swell again, to dangerous proportions.

  "I am a Hussite."

  * * *

  Whatever might happen, Karin had spoken true.

  Stepan drew his sword. "Treacherous," he muttered.

  Karin took a step back. He could not be serious! Would he truly use his weapon on her? "Stepan, what are you doing?"

  "My mother was right. All she was trying to do was protect me. From you! But none of us saw it.”

  “That’s not true, Stepan, you must see that—”

  He held up a hand. “Now she is in prison awaiting trial. And the real villain, an enemy of the crown, is free to do as she pleases.”

  Stepan raised his blade, as if preparing to strike. He wouldn’t! Would he? She backed into the tree’s trunk. Her faithful oak was no longer friend, but captor.

  His eyes narrowed. “How long were you planning on keeping up the act? Until we were married?"

  Stepan lunged.

  Karin jerked to one side, dodging his sword. He had not been serious with that attack, and she knew it. "Stepan, please let me explain!"

  "Your words are venom. Has anything been the truth?" He followed step for step as she attempted to evade him.

  "Yes! I am the same Karin, the woman you chose to marry!"

  "You are a traitor!" he screamed at her. Stepan swung his sword once more.

  Then his movements became measured, more purposeful. Another attack was coming.

  "That is a crime punishable by death!" Stepan lept toward her again.

  She moved to avoid his thrust, but her foot slipped on the wet grasses and mud. And then she was falling, grasping in futility for a handhold which would prevent her from tumbling down the bank. To no avail.

  Her body smacked the rock-clad ground with a thud, knocking the wind from her. When she was able to breathe, she attempted to gain her feet. She had to put some distance between herself and Stepan. But her body would not obey. Pain shot through her torso. Had she wounded her ribs?

  Stepan's rough hands twisted her injured body. The rough rocks were at her back, rain stinging her face. She could no longer make out his features. Was she delirious from the pain?

  He was only an outline, moving over her. But she saw with clarity that he pulled his sword back and raised it above her chest.

  Karin heaved. Breathing only caused her torso to fill with searing pain.

  "This is how we deal with traitors," he said, his voice grim.

  She closed her eyes. Lord, let it be quick. I will be with you in a moment.

  Chapter 13

  Homecoming

  A rush of movement filled her vision. Followed by the sound of metal on metal. Another man stood over her, deflecting Stepan's strike. She slumped against the rocks beneath her.

  The man who had come to her rescue heaved deep breaths, well exerted.

  "Why did you stop me?” Stepan yelled. “Do you know what she is?"

  "I do," the man replied.

  Her heart quickened. It cannot be! But i
t was, undeniably, Pavel.

  Stepan’s feet crunched. Did he move nearer or farther? Would he and Pavel come to blades again?

  "She is a traitor to the crown! Masquerading, enjoying the hospitality…and good opinion…of my family.” Stepan’s voice was to her right, no longer over her. Had he stepped back?

  "I know!" Pavel countered, kneeling beside her. His eyes moved over her form. Was he assuring himself she was well? He scooped an arm under her shoulders, lifting her slightly.

  She gasped as pain tore through her.

  "You know?" Stepan shouted, the sting of betrayal in his voice. "You knew and did not tell me?"

  Pavel’s arms offered comfort. He would protect her. All would be well. She sought his eyes, but they were on Stepan.

  Shifting his focus, Pavel’s eyes caught hers. Bliss.

  Pavel looked once again to where Stepan stood. "I could not. I am a Hussite, too."

  She did not have to see Stepan's face to distinguish his surprise. Everything began to spin and blurr. Had she the strength to help Pavel? Karin's head lolled against his shoulder. His voice vibrated against the side of her face.

  "Believe me, Stepan, I was your friend long before I came to understand and accept the truth of Jan Hus's teachings. I wanted to tell you. But your father’s distaste of Hus and his followers made that difficult. I was a coward... I am truly sorry for that. I should have been more trusting, old friend. But I believed you would have to come to understand in your own time."

  Stepan twisted away, bringing his hand to his face, and dropping his sword.

  Several breaths passed before he turned back to Pavel. There was nothing keeping him from striking them both dead. Did Pavel know this, too? Was he trusting in Stepan’s sense of friendship and reason?

  Stepan’s voice was no longer so loud, but it still had an edge to it. "Why did you come back? To bring such terrible tidings as these?"

  Pavel took a deep breath before he answered. " I came back for Karin. I feared for her."

  Stepan’s volume rose again. "Feared for her? Did you not leave for your own safety?"

  "No." Pavel ducked to catch Karin’s eyes once more before facing Stepan.

  "You were so secretive about it. Now I see you were secretive about many things! Why did you leave if you were so concerned for the safety of your Hussite friend?"

  Pavel’s voice quieted. "Because I discovered she was intended for you."

  Stepan stared, his eyes almost gleaming. They were set on Pavel. Intense. Did he fear what more Pavel had to say?

  "Because I could not bear to see the two of you together...” Pavel drew in a breath. “I love her."

  Karin's head swam. It became too much for her weakened body, and she lost her hold on consciousness.

  * * *

  "Karin!" Pavel's attention shifted toward her when her body went limp.

  Stepan stepped forward. Was that concern on his features? Whereas a few breaths before he was swinging a death blow upon her, now he was worried after her well-being?

  Pavel lifted a hand to cup her face. Cold. But he was reassured by her steady breaths.

  "I…I cannot." Stepan shook his head. “How can I even…?” His voice trailed.

  What could Pavel say to assuage his wounds? He had to let the truth guide him. "You cannot know how much I wish it was not this way. I never meant to bring any pain upon you."

  Stepan looked at his sword on the ground, then at Pavel’s sword, also laid by the side. "What happens now?"

  Pavel’s eyes glistened. Was it the rain?

  "Please let us leave. Karin needs a doctor, but it is not safe for us to remain here."

  It was true. Did Stepan think he should ensure they were penalized for their treachery? Pavel did not think Stepan could bring himself to see harm befall his friends. Not as his head cooled and reason returned. But the Viscount would not hesitate to have them executed.

  Stepan spoke, "It is my fault she is injured. Allow me to send you in a carriage."

  Pavel nodded. It was the only thing his friend could do for him, and it was more than he dared hope for.

  * * *

  When Karin came to awareness, she was being jostled about. The more aware she became, the more information she took in. She was wrapped in blankets, and Pavel held her body as still as possible. His arms buffered the bumping of the road.

  And then the pain returned. Biting back her cries, she maneuvered a hand free of the blankets and reached for one of Pavel's.

  His eyes met hers. "How do you feel?"

  "Like I was trampled by a horse," she confessed. Her breaths were ragged. A million questions filled her mind, and a few spilled out. "Where are we? What happened?"

  "Stepan lent us this carriage. We are bound for your family's home."

  There was sadness and pain in Pavel’s eyes. The interchange with Stepan had affected him. There would be time later to learn more.

  She held Pavel’s gaze. Once again, wanting to dive into the pools of his eyes. But this was not the time. There was more to think of. And something she must tell Pavel. "My father will not receive us well when he sees us together, perhaps not at all."

  "I know." His attention was drawn elsewhere, but he soon refocused on her. "But you need the attention of a physician, and we are far from safety, from Hussite controlled territory. We have to take the chance."

  He was right. Her body was broken. She wouldn’t be useful to anyone until her injuries were tended to.

  Lord, be with us. Open the way to safety. I pray You will soften the heart of my father to receive us. Prepare the steps before us, Lord. And give us the strength to accept Your will, no matter what it may be. We want Your will to be done.

  Karin struggled to maintain her concentration. The darkness warred with her senses, along with an uneasiness in her stomach.

  Pavel was speaking. His chest rumbled under her ear.

  Karin glanced up at him, but whatever his words, they were muffled. What did he say? She wanted so much to latch onto what he said. But the urge to close her eyes and let go became irresistible.

  * * *

  A loud banging sounded at the door. Who would come in such a storm? Lenka moved toward the entryway, preparing to receive the untimely visitor.

  Moving through the great hall, she heard a man's desperate plea. The manservant at the door seemed to have difficulty finding words.

  "I must see the Lord Bornekov or his wife. Their daughter needs help!" a young man shouted.

  All sense of proper decorum flew from her mind. She rushed toward the door. A young man, soaked, stood in the doorway, holding Karin’s limp body in his arms.

  The manservant’s eyes caught Lenka’s, still he rushed off. Was he gone to retrieve her husband?

  "Please," she said to the young man who bore her daughter, "bring her."

  Who was this man? A friend? Or foe? Why did he have Karin? Where was Stepan? Had the hunting chateau been attacked? Was this man charged with her deliverance home?

  Lenka led the man farther into the house, turning toward the stairs. Karin would be best suited in her own room.

  They were but halfway up the stairs when Petr appeared.

  "What is this?" His voice was harsh and his eyes set on the young man. Petr seemed prepared to attack. Did Petr know who the man was?

  Lenka spoke, leaning until she was between Petr and the young man. "Karin is injured."

  Petr’s eyes widened. "There is a war. She is a traitor."

  Did Petr speak from concern for them all? Karin as much as himself? Would he stop her? Was he so uncertain how to proceed?

  Lenka would not have it.

  "She is my daughter, and she needs our help. And I intend to do everything I can for her." The urge to protect Karin rose within Lenka. No matter who this man was, he had brought Karin home. She would ask questions later, but now was not the time. They must make sure Karin was all right.

  Petr’s eyes widened ever more. He stepped out of her way just as she push
ed by him.

  The young man followed, cradling Karin’s body. Did he care for her daughter beyond the edict to protect her?

  "Send for the doctor," Lenka called out to any servant standing nearby.

  As they reached the top of the stairs, Lenka led the young man into the room that used to and, as far as she was concerned, always would belong to Karin. She indicated that he should lay Karin on the bed.

  He did so with much care, releasing her weight to the support of the bed. And there was a hesitation in his movements as he stepped aside.

  Lenka paid him little mind. She moved to Karin. Leaning over her daughter's body, she heard that her breaths were rattled. Her hands moved over her Karin’s face—cold. This was not a good sign.

  Karin's clothes and hair were damp.

  A servant entered the room, bearing a pitcher of steaming water that she poured into the bedside bowl.

  Rolling up her sleeves, Lenka glanced at her daughter's dirtied dress.

  Without looking up, she inquired of the young man, "What happened?"

  "I do not know the whole of it. I came upon her after the injury had occurred. I believe she fell down some embankment onto rocky ground below, but I cannot be certain."

  Lenka nodded. This would mean injuries they could not see. She would have to remove the dress without shifting her too much. But she needed to clean and warm Karin’s body in preparation for the doctor's inspection.

  When Lenka looked up, it was to catch the eyes of the maidservant who had just finished emptying the pitcher. "I am in need of a knife.” The simple request was made without explanation.

  The young man stepped forward. "What are you ... ?"

  Did he think Lenka would hurt her own child?

  "I need to disrobe her." Lenka's eyes met his. The man’s true feelings for her daughter were evident in his concerned expression. His eyes told all.

  Would hers assure him that Karin would never know harm by her hands? "You should step outside."

  He hesitated. Was he so loathed to leave Karin's side? Lingering a few moments more, he stared at Lenka’s movements.