Fifteen
Journeys and Farewells
Karin was cold. She was cold and wet and tired. The dampness of the concluding day seemed to close in on the coach as if to suffocate its passengers. They lurched to one side and Mary, the overzealous handmaiden, reached out to steady her lady. Karin brushed Mary's hand away. Mary's kindness was appreciated for the hundredth time, but Karin was too road weary to indulge the overzealous maiden. Still, she managed a small smile for her maiden as a sign of gratitude before adjusting her skirts. There were patches of still-damp cloth that had gotten drenched in the rain and road puddles when they'd stopped for the carriage to be pulled out of a rut.
Misunderstanding her shifting and fidgeting, Petr spoke up. "Karin, need we ask the coachmen to stop for a break to stretch your legs?"
"No, father, I'm quite all right."
"We are almost there, I am quite certain. You'll feel better once you are on solid ground again."
Karin nodded. "Yes, father, I'm sure you're right."
The car fell silent again. There had been many of these short spurts of dialogue, mere pleasantries, between her and her father, followed by long stretches of silence. This had been much of their conversation for the journey. And for much of the past month, she mused. In other circumstances, she would have welcomed the opportunity to spend time like this with her father, but the last weeks of tension between them did not allow for that.
For the early part of their travels, Karin had been much too absorbed in her own situation to think of how this must be for Mary. Now, as she glanced over at the girl who was two years her senior, she considered that Mary, too, was being moved far from the place she had for so long called home. Yet it was different for Mary; she found this change of scenery exciting. For whatever reason, this was a grand adventure of sorts for her. Karin may have been lost in self-pity the last several days, but she could still hear the servant gossip.
They continued to ride in silence, but it wasn't long before the canter of the horses slowed. Their destination was in sight. Her father and Mary both moved toward the window to set eyes on their new lodgings. Feigning interest, Karin did the same to see the fast-approaching summer palace.
Large burgundy walls reached toward the clouds, which were still dark and spewing moisture. The stones at the top were gray against the dark sky. Tall windows indicated the massive structure had but two stories, while two towers alluded to more above the second level. At the heart of the structure was a portico, shielding the door which would give them access. The foregrounds did not appear overly elaborate. Among the carved-out pathways, she could make out an ornate fountain in the yard. Trees and shrubs dotted the landscape before her eyes as well. It was a grand estate — albeit not as grand as the palaces in Prague — but as big as any summer home or hunting lodge that she had seen the royal family to possess.
This particular chateau was the favorite hunting lodge of her father's friend, the Royal Viscount Vlastik Dvorak — and for all she knew — it would be her home for the next days, weeks, perhaps months. To be sure, she hadn't been privy to that information. It was an appropriate place for her exile, she reasoned. There wasn't another living soul within easy riding distance. These places were built for seclusion, especially these houses intended for hunting getaways. And that was what she was here for—seclusion.
Their carriage slowed as they climbed one final hill and closed in upon the portico. Karin leaned back in the carriage and spent the rest of the short journey in silent prayer. The hoofbeats of the horses created a tempo that measured the steps to their destination and to her fate, drawing them nearer and nearer. She was thankful the portico had been built for such an occasion as this dreary, rainy day and that the horse and carriage fit underneath; their exit out of the carriage would be onto dry ground.
The carriage stopped. A manservant came from the house and opened the door for them to step out. Karin's father exited before turning and offering his hand first to Karin and then to Mary, helping them as they stepped onto firm dry land.
"This way, sir. The royal viscount is expecting you," the manservant said, ushering them into the chateau.
They stepped first into a lit foyer. Karin drew in a breath. Indoors at last. She embraced the warmer and much drier climate of the interior. With difficulty, she resisted the urge to shake the rain from her strawberry-blonde hair. The décor of the chateau called out. Deer and elk heads, along with a variety of hunting weapons, some primitive, decorated the walls. A servant took Petr's overcoat and Karin's cape while a maidservant stepped forward, closer to Mary.
"Zuzana will take you to your room," the manservant said to Mary.
Mary and Zuzana separated from the group as the manservant led Karin and Petr farther into the house to the receiving room.
"I will let Lord Dvorak know you have arrived," said the manservant as he bowed and took his leave of them.
Karin's gaze wandered around the ornate room — too much to take in. The ceilings were massive and high, dwarfing Karin in the space. One wall boasted a large marble fireplace with a fire hard at work warming the room. On the adjacent wall stood a large mahogany doorframe and door, more intricately carved with artistic design and scrollwork than anything else in the room. A family crest hung on the door frame. At each corner of the room, and at each side of the mantle above the fireplace, stood small suits of armor looking down on them.
Karin turned in a small circle. Family portraits covered the walls. These images, the faces of the men who had established the family, made the name of Dvorak known and carried it through the generations. One lone round table in the room held flowers. She breathed in the sweet subtle fragrance of the seasonal blooms, a bouquet of yellow daffodils.
Just then, their host was announced, "The Royal Viscount Vlastik Dvorak."
Karin spun around to meet her host. A warm, robust man entered the room. She arched a brow. At some point she must have met him, but his features were not familiar. His nose was round, and his eyes were bright.
Though it was quite unnecessary, they were introduced, "Earl Petr Bornekov and his daughter, the Lady Karin Bornekova."
The Royal Viscount rushed straight for Karin's father, seizing his forearm with both of his thicker ones. "Petr, my friend! So good to see you!"
"Vlastik, how is the hunt?" Her father gave his old friend a big smile.
"Good, good. You will see, it is a good time for the hunt. We have been out every day, save today. Such weather for your journey! I hope it was well."
"One wheel found some bad road. Except for the rain, I think our trip was pleasant."
"Ah, some of those roads are maybe not so good, I think. But, it will be worth the trip."
"It already is, I assure you!" There was a pause in the pleasantries as the Earl indicated his daughter. "It has been a while, Vlastik, but you may remember my daughter Karin."
"Yes, yes, but this cannot be the small girl I knew!"
Karin was somewhat concerned about her appearance, having come in from their travels in the rain. She was sure her long, curled hair was wet and matted and that her complexion belied an even greater pallor than her normally pale skin tone.
"A girl no more," Karin's father confirmed.
"No, indeed," Karin inserted. Unsure how to measure up this robust man, she fell back on her good breeding and curtsied. "Thank you for your hospitality, Royal Viscount." The man's overbearing personality made Karin feel even more timid.
"It is my pleasure," Vlastik said. The man's eyes gleamed bright, but they sat small in his face. Karin thought him an easy man to be in company with but not easy to trust. "I am happy for the excuse to get your father out here to my hunting lodge!"
"My absence has not been for lack of want to join you, my friend," Petr said.
"It is no matter. You are here now. Come, come, let me show you the chateau." He waved his arm, indicating they should follow him.
The conversation soon returned to banter between the two old friends as t
he Royal Viscount led the party out of the receiving room toward the rest of the house. Brushing past Karin, she was all but forgotten as the Royal Viscount led them from room to room, heading toward some unknown destination. Neither the Royal Viscount nor Petr made any attempt to speak to Karin or to include her in conversation as they toured the grand estate. So, Karin made every attempt to take in her surroundings, but it was impossible with the speed at which they would quit each room. It seemed, also, as if the Royal Viscount didn't exercise even the occasional breath, as her father had a hard time getting a word in edgewise.
At some length, her father did take notice of her plight. "Perhaps Karin would like to retire to her room to freshen up."
"Of course," the Royal Viscount said. He motioned for a young girl who was passing in the hall. "Would you show the Lady Karin to her rooms?"
The young girl nodded, curtsying politely to her master.
Karin nodded and hid a short sigh. She was all too happy to take her leave of the two men and even happier to be alone in her own room, if for even a few minutes. Smiling at the young servant girl, she followed her deeper into the enveloping halls.
* * *
Why was this young woman here at the chateau? A great secret surrounded her arrival, and no one seemed to know it. The servants always knew everything, but this was an exception to the rule. Everyone in the house was perplexed about her arrival. Only one thing appeared to be common knowledge: she was going to be staying for quite some time. Perhaps the Royal Viscount had plans for her being here. It would not be the first time he entertained the thought of taking on a young girl. Either way, her presence here did not make everyone happy—one person least of all, someone who didn't like surprises, who didn't like intrusions.
Did the Royal Viscount already have designs on her, already have a claim on her? That would not do. No, someone would have to do something about it before anything more progressed. Prudence may beg one wait to gain more information, but it would not do to risk the situation developing any further. Again, it would not be the first time.
* * *
Earl Petr Bornekov was not known to be a hard man. However, as with anyone, he had his limits. And he had come to think Karin had been able to do as she pleased, and her behavior had gone unchecked for far too long. Now he was facing the end result of this indulgence and pressing upon her some of the consequences of her actions. He in no way understood this to be a harsh punishment, but somehow Karin saw it that way. There was nothing he could do about it. This is how it was to be. Of that he was determined.
The Earl and the Royal Viscount had been close friends for many years. It was an advantageous alliance for the Bornekov family. Though they themselves were of noble station, to enjoy such special attentions from a family of royal blood was something to be envied. And so, Petr had chosen his words with great care when proposing that Karin might enjoy an extended holiday at the hunting lodge with the Dvorak family. Vlastik was all too pleased to reconnect with his good friend, so much so that he did not concern himself with the details of the circumstances surrounding the somewhat odd request. In this way, the plan had come into being.
During their first days in the hunting chateau, the Royal Viscount did everything in his power to distract Petr with hunting, wine, and all other manner of merrymaking. Karin, for her part, kept to herself, making only the obligatory appearances here and there. To watch his once vibrant daughter become so subdued wasn't as easy as he had expected.
During the day, Karin spent much of her time walking the grounds and sitting alone. Her father watched her day after day. She was polite and pleasant to those she happened to interact with throughout the day, but those instances were rare. Though she kept her distance from him, Petr could see the effects of her sleepless nights. The weariness in her eyes and the darkness underneath them were telling. This doubly concerned him, as the time for his return home was fast approaching. He had hoped she would be more adjusted to life at the chateau before he would have to return home.
Vlastik, seeing Petr's concern for Karin's demeanor, tried to encourage his old friend often.
"My son and his friends will be here for hunting tomorrow, and they will stay for some time," Vlastik told Petr at a noon meal after Karin, begging off that she wasn't hungry, had excused herself early. "She will enjoy the company of some people closer to her age. You will see. It will lighten her spirits."
Petr was surprised to hear there would be more guests coming to the chateau. He and his wife had intended this to be a time of solitude for Karin, not an opportunity for her to develop new friendships.
"So much has changed for her, Petr," the Royal Viscountess soothed. "Give her time."
Petr wanted to take solace in their words, but they didn't know Karin like he did. They didn't know just how stubborn his daughter could be and how impassioned that fiery spirit of hers was. And he was caging that spirit.
* * *
Stepan Dvorak gazed out of the window of his small chambers. His gaze drifted over the grounds of the Charles University of Prague, and he realized how much he had come to love this university. Many of his friends back home chided him, and some of his new friends teased him for wanting to come here to study. They all knew his position and future as Royal Viscount would not depend on anything he did or did not do at the university. Whether out of sheer determination to prove them all wrong, or as a product of his character, Stepan outperformed many of his classmates. Yes, his marks would have made any father proud — except his father actually did not care. His father knew this truth as well.
But now he looked over the campus with sadness in his heart. He knew this may well be the last semester he was to spend at this university he had so come to appreciate. His thoughts drifted back to his conversation with one of his professors earlier that day.
“What a pleasant surprise, Royal Baron!" Professor Evzen said upon seeing Stepan. He was quick to be on his feet to greet Stepan with all due respect and propriety. "What brings you to my office?"
Professor Evzen had been a mentor to Stepan throughout his time at the Charles University. So, seeing Stepan at his door was not a real surprise. Rather it was a common occurrence for Stepan to stop by to engage Evzen in conversation about the happenings around the university and in the Czech political scene.
"I just came by for one of our good chats, professor," Stepan said. He knew what was weighing on his mind was evident in his stance. Professor Evzen's reaction to him told him as much.
"Please, Stepan, come sit." Evzen indicated a pair of seats at one end of his office where they might sit and talk in comfort.
Stepan crossed in front of Evzen to one of the proffered seats.
"What is on your mind?" Evzen probed.
Stepan was quiet for several moments. So many thoughts ran through his mind. Where to begin? Frustrated, he threw his hands up and exclaimed, "Where, professor? Where did it all go awry?"
The state of the university was what weighed on Stepan’s mind. He was sure Evzen would glean this from their most recent conversations. In fact, Stepan concerned himself with the direction things were going under the new rector, Jan Hus. The man was busying himself teaching all manner of heresy.
Evzen turned the question back to Stepan. "What do you think precipitated the events that led to the current state of affairs?"
Stepan winced. If he was looking for easy answers, he had come to the wrong place. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his attention rest on a spot on the floor as if the answer would magically appear there.
After several moments, Stepan came up with an answer. "Was it the changing of the votes here at the university?"
Evzen's expression did not change. “Perhaps. It was fortuitous that the king decreed our nation would have three votes instead of the one, while the foreigners would only have one vote instead of three."
Stepan sat upright again, folding his arms in a defensive posture. "Well, it gave more power to the Czechs, where the
power belongs. We are, after all, in Czech lands. It just makes sense."
No reaction came from Evzen. His voice remained even. "That's all well and good, unless you consider that the majority of the university's faculty was made up of foreigners...a problem from the start, if my opinion counts for anything."
Stepan remembered Evzen was on his side. "Why did the king do something so drastic?"
Evzen shrugged a shoulder. "To keep the university voting the way he wanted them to. For the pope he wanted."
Stepan eyed Evzen, his eyes reflecting his lack of understanding.
"This all began with a problem that had nothing to do with the university, but it came knocking on our front door. Here's how the story begins: Two men are vying for the papacy—Pope Gregory XII and Avignon Pope Benedict XIII. Well, the king fears Pope Gregory XII will interfere with him being crowned the Holy Roman Emperor, so what does he do? He renounces the pope and declares the university remain neutral. That's a problem when three-quarters of the university is German. And the king's answer to this is to change the voting rules."
Stepan was nodding, "I do remember now...and I knew the repercussions of the king's decision wouldn't be good. I knew those Germans wouldn't stand for it."
"Indeed. With the mass exodus — for lack of a better term — of so many of our foreign professors and students...well, you know, Stepan, we were in a pitiful state. That's the only way something like this could have happened. They begin putting the pieces back together, and someone has to ‘lead the way.'"
"Oh yes...Jan Hus, our great rector. How can a man whose teachings and ideals are contrary to the church be enjoying the favor of the court?"
"It is no secret to you that he only enjoys the favor of the nobles. Those loyal to the king, like your father, are adamantly opposed to the man's teachings."
The General's Wife (Ancient Egypt) Page 25