"If you think it's lovely now, you should see it in spring," Christoph said as they rode by a herd of dun cattle. "It's a sea of Edelweiss, white and gold and green."
Peasants tugged their forelocks as they rode past, watching their master survey what was his. They recognized their young lord, but for the first time saw his bride, tall, slender and red haired, sitting her horse as easily as any nobleman.
* * *
Caterina, frequently left to her own devices, was in the barn a great deal. Here her path continually crossed the dreaded Rossmann's. One of the first things Cat overheard while she was in the barn were stories, the ones of which Christoph had spoken. The grooms called Rossmann names: 'Heathen' and 'Turkman devil.' It seemed that his Christianity, because he never went down the hill to the church in Heldenruhe, was suspect.
His temper was rightly feared. She saw a welt on one man's arm and learned that Rossmann was like to lay about him with a whip if his orders weren't carried out to the letter. Sometimes, in spite of her Russian drab, she'd feel eyes while she curried Star. When she turned, there would be the horsemaster, giving her the same sort of apprising once over he might give a new mare. As soon as her eyes met his, he would turn and walk wordlessly away. She knew it was the frank admiration of a man for a woman, but she did not dare to confront him.
In spite of the discomfort she felt around him it was next to impossible to keep out of the barn, for Cat loved horses and her husband's were no exception. There were four mares, a heavy, stately Oldenburg war horse, a long bodied Wurttemberg and two sturdy Hanoverians, all trailing foals or yearlings. There were also the bay harness horses, two mares and two gelded. Also in the barn was a pair of immense gray Percherons for farm work, as well as a hinny and two fat blonde mountain ponies. Brandy was the sire of most of the foals, but there was a new stud as well, a wild eyed silver Andalusian.
Cat was enchanted by him, by the agility and spectacular paces he displayed while loose at pasture. She thought he was one of the most beautiful creatures she'd ever seen in her young, horse loving life. She asked Christoph if she could ride him, but he said no.
"I don't think it would be a good idea until you've studied him for a time. That horse is not only crazy, but smart too. He has found a way to toss every man here, including me. Only Rossmann can stick on him. Why don't you go out on big Jack sometime while Rossmann's exercising him? That will start to give you a notion of what you'll be up against."
The Andalusian had been Herr Rossmann's pride and joy until Star had come. After taking in her conformation, her short back and long neck, her large-eyed diamond head, all so true to Arab type, Rossmann had persuaded her to stand so he could count her vertebrae. The total, several short of the other horses, proved her ancestry to his satisfaction. "Yes," he declared to a small audience of grooms, "there's definitely Arab blood here. You Austrians don't appreciate how fine a little desert blood can be. You think that size is everything, but crossing will improve your horses, both in hardness of bone and in hardness of head."
It was Karl, one of the grooms, who told Cat. He added that the horsemaster was always stopping by her stall and crooning to her in his own strange tongue.
"She's scared of him, Lady," Karl said. "God protect her, just like the rest of us. You should see her, tossing that pretty head of hers, snorting and stamping."
Cat came upon it one day, heard the mysterious chant as she came through the gloom of the barn to Star's capacious box stall. She heard the strange words mingling with the sound of the mare's distress as she puffed and snorted, sounds punctuated by a nervous stamping.
"What a pleasure it is to have you in my stable, my beautiful red darling." Rossmann said.
Cat peeped around the half open stall door. Rossmann was running his hands along Star's neck, her withers. One minute the mare was issuing the stamping, eye rolling warning she gave when alarmed. The next she was standing, her sides quivering like sorrel jelly, breathing hard, but allowing the horsemaster's strangely long fingered hands to stroke her. They ran down her neck and across her sides; they lingered down the sensitive backs of her hind legs.
The sudden acquiescence and the terror that still seemed to sit in those round eyes sent every hair on the back of Caterina's neck erect. It was almost as if Rossmann was touching her!
"What are you doing?" She pushed through the door.
The spell was broken. At once Star gave a sideways hop, whinnied and reared. The horsemaster lifted a hand, said some quick distinct yet completely unintelligible words. Still quivering, the mare pushed her backside into a corner and stayed there. Her eyes showed white crescents and she continued to breathe hard.
Rossmann turned towards Cat. The look in his eye sent her backing up in a hurry too.
When they were both outside the stall, Rossmann wordlessly shot the latch. His face was pale. "What were you doing? You are supposed to know something about horses, but you were the one who frightened her."
"No." Cat trembled. "She didn't want you touching her. And—and—I don't want you touching her, if that's how she feels."
Rossmann's lip curled. Amusement, scorn, it was as plain as if he'd written it on the stable wall.
"Who will take care of her later?"
"I will."
"No," he insisted, "who will take care of her this winter, when the snow is over your head and you've got a belly full?"
Cat's jaw dropped. She couldn't have been more shocked if he'd slapped her.
"You want only the best for her, eh, Mistress?" A slight cold smile appeared. "Well, I am the best. The sooner she gets used to me the better. Don't worry. I know how valuable she is. I will do every little thing for her." He approached as he spoke, had come close. She found herself staring into his white face, into a pair of burning black eyes.
"You and I will be the only ones who touch her. You and I, and her chosen stallion."
Cat swallowed hard.
"She is well groomed, as you can see. Why don't you go and visit her now?" Rossman's manner turned off hand. Abruptly he turned and walked away into the gloom.
Cat went to the stall and peeped over the high wall. Star whickered a nervous greeting, tossed her head, making the blaze flash up and down in a blur. Slowly, as if she wasn’t too sure of who Cat was, she approached, stretched out her ruddy neck and sniffed. Numbly Cat opened the door and went in. She stuck her hand into her pocket and came up with the fresh carrots the gardener had provided.
Then, while the mare munched her offering, she breathed in the good warm comforting horse smell and ran her hands slowly over the sorrel's shining neck and back. Star felt like a length of satin, for she was curried to a fare-thee-well, white stockings brilliant, her mane and tail prettily braided. Even her hooves gleamed. Cat thought ruefully that Star hadn't been in such fine condition since last autumn's hunts.
* * *
"Do you really know he's a Serb?" She asked at supper. "Goran says that Rossmann was in the Pasha's army."
"Yes, I know all the things Goran says," Christoph replied. "Some of it is probably true, but I also believe that Rossmann's personal honor is a sufficient guarantee of good behavior."
"But doesn't he make you nervous? You, who've fought so many times against the Turks, been almost killed by them?"
"No, not really. I see many reasons for their enmity, besides the hereditary ones. Herr Rossmann is learned, a thing which Goran, who was born a peasant, naturally mistrusts. Rossmann has books. He knows about the stars and about healing plants and medicine. The one thing I really do know about Rossmann is that in his own land he was a gentleman. Then something happened and his property was confiscated. After he came into my service, we passed through what was left of his village. He told me that the Turks had burned his family alive. They never take revenge by halves." Caterina shuddered. Once, as a child traveling with her family to Passau, she'd seen a barn burn, the flames shooting to the sky. There had been terrible sounds, the howl of the heaven piercing fire, the boom of coll
apsing timbers, the screams of animals and people.
Brave men had been in the barn, blindfolding horses in order to lead them out. Then the roof had come down. She would never forget the smell that had assaulted her, the hideous smell of burned flesh—man and beast together.
But this conversation wasn't going as she had hoped. She must complain about Rossmann. The house servants could play whatever games pleased them. The barn was where Star was, the place where she absolutely must feel safe, be respected.
"Until the day Rossmann shows me that he isn't a gentleman, a gentleman down on his luck, I won't treat him as anything less."
"Yes, but he still scares me. Today he, he—" Cat stammered to a stop.
"What?"
"He was most dreadfully rude."
"And what did you do to provoke him?"
Cat glared. "Why do you assume that everything is my fault? I tell you that your servant was rude to me and you start quizzing me?"
"I just want to know exactly," said Christoph, shifting around in his chair and regarding her somberly, "what Herr Rossmann did to offend you."
"It was what he said."
"Which was?"
Cat knew she'd sound foolish if she hedged further, but it was difficult to repeat those humiliating words.
"He was touching Star, um, gentling her, and, um, I could see that she was very frightened. You know how she is."
Her husband nodded understanding, encouraging her to go on
"And I told him not to do it because—because I could see she did not like it. Then he was rude to me."
"I saw Star just before I came in to dinner. She was beautifully groomed. Head and shoulders above the slap dash you've been giving her lately," said her husband, showing an eye for the details of life in his domain which she hadn't suspected.
"That's not fair. I haven't had time to do a good job since I've been traveling and—and getting settled—and—"
"Back to the subject, Lady von Hagen. I promise I shall take it very seriously if you tell me that one of my servants has been rude to you. What—his exact words, please—did Rossmann say?"
Cat bit her lip and lowered her eyes. "He said—he said that I should let him gentle Star because—because—when the snow came and when I had a—a belly full, I wouldn't be able to do it."
Christoph looked grave. He pushed his chair back from the table magisterially.
Then taking her hands into his, he said, "Sounds like nothing less than the plain truth, at least, as he sees things."
He pulled her first into his arms and then onto his lap. The maneuver was complete almost before she knew what had happened.
"Damn you!"
"Star ought to start getting used to him—and you ought to start getting used to me."
"Let go!" she cried.
"You are," he teased, "almost as beautiful as Star and exactly as temperamental."
He held her by the wrists, crossing her arms around her waist. He let her twist so that her back was to him and then pulled her close once more so that his lips could find the nape of her neck. As they brushed the feathery scarlet tendrils, Cat trembled. Just for an instant, she stilled, let the tremor run through her.
"Stop! Please."
"Do you know, Caterina, these last few months have been the longest in my grown-up life that I've been without a woman?"
Cat raged inwardly, praying that he would loosen his grip so that she could get her hands away and give him the slap he so richly deserved. He did, but only a little, allowing her to turn to face him. Prudently, he did not relinquish his hold.
"Most men would say that I'm showing astonishing restraint with a beautiful young creature who is legally my wife." He was not teasing now, but serious. "And our papas would bellow in unison that I'm a damned derelict in my duty."
"Are you so quickly out of mourning?" She said it furiously, wild to hurt his feelings as he had just hurt hers.
Immediately she was pushed off his lap and onto her feet.
"Sitting you on my lap and giving you a kiss is hardly the same as dragging you to bed. You are a temptation, you know. Even—or maybe, especially—because I have lost a warm and loving partner."
"How dare you talk like that about my dear good sister?"
She was furious, not only because he'd dismissed her complaint about Rossmann. There was also a desire to erase the feelings his handling aroused. She moved out of reach, reflexively rubbing her neck, wanting to erase the tingles his lips had begun.
Her husband stood and shook himself like a dog throwing off water.
"I shouldn't have teased you," he said, "and I'll order Rossmann to curb his tongue. But what you aren't yet old enough to know about human nature—about me, or about your sister—or about yourself, for that matter, would fill a book."
He strode out of the room, calling impatiently as he went for Goran and the young soldier who stood sentry in the front hall. Cat went to the door of the dining room and peeped out. There she heard her husband giving orders for readying horses, men, guns, and his best hunting dogs.
In a few moments servants were bustling everywhere. The officer of the day put in an appearance, accompanied by an aide. Finally, gathering all her courage, she went out into the hallway among the men. As soon as Christoph saw her, he said, quite formally, "Grafin, I'll be away for a few days, hunting the oak woods for the boar that has been harassing the charcoal burners. Herr Goran will stay and look after you."
Cat, feeling red burning in her cheeks, knew that she should incline her head obediently and retreat upstairs. It was something of a shock to realize that Christoph was doing exactly what she'd seen her father sometimes do to her mother, go hunting in order to terminate a quarrel. She remembered how her mother had seethed.
She had to cross the room to reach the stairs, so she started as if going that way, but as she passed Christoph, she whispered, "I see you run away too."
He stared down at her and in his beautiful eyes she saw a spark. Laughter or anger, she couldn't tell which.
"Thank your lucky stars." He made a gracious gesture, bowing her to the stairs. A path cleared before her as she went.
Later, from her bedroom window, she watched unhappily as the hunters and a crowd of barking dogs trotted off to harsh accompaniment of horns.
* * *
For the days of her husband's absence, Cat did one of the things her mother had ordered her to do, which was to look into the kitchen every morning. It wasn't easy, braving those cold eyes and she didn't stay long, but even if she didn't know about cooking, Mama had said that she ought to look to see if everything was orderly and clean. Each time she entered the room everyone stopped what they were doing and stood there looking cross.
"Please don't mind me. She'd tried to sound nonchalant, but they insisted upon interrupting their work and stood doing nothing, standing at attention while she was present.
"Does your ladyship need something?" On the third morning the cook turned, showing a face that wasn't just red from the heat of her fire. She'd been in a bustle when Caterina had come in and clearly hadn't relished the interruption. "You can send Elsa down if there's anything you want. No need for you to trouble yourself with us."
The woman's tone was more than challenging. Caterina couldn't find her tongue. She was horribly aware of Josefa smirking in the corner. There were a few seconds of dreadful silence, all eyes on her.
When she didn't respond at once, the cook bobbed, threw up her hands in exasperation and turned her back.
"Excuse me, Lady! But the sauce will burn."
Caterina fled. Titters and hushing noises followed her retreat up the stairs. Embarrassed and angry that she'd let them best her, Cat set off to her room. She intended to don her black dress, have Elsa help her pin up her braid and head for her customary place of refuge, the stable.
As she plunged around a corner at a run, she dashed against the obstacle of her husband's chest. There was the smell of man, pungent with the chase. The beard that he had
started gave him an even more than usually dangerous air.
"What's the matter?" He caught hold and they spun in a swirl of dress and petticoats.
"Nothing! Nothing!" She pushed at the woolly material of his hunting jacket. "Just let me go." It was too humiliating to admit that she'd been driven out of the kitchen—her kitchen, when all was said and done!
"You're running, Cat, and that means you are running away from something."
"You run." She stopped struggling and glared.
"Never."
"Never? Then where have you been for the last week?"
"It was only four days, Caterina. I didn't think you much wanted my company. And it was more than high time I went out and took care of that animal."
Caterina looked up silently, tears of anger and frustration rising.
Men were so unfair, so dishonest!
"You know, Caterina," he said in a more gentle tone, "it's one of the things I don't understand about you. You're either in full scale attack or total retreat."
"So! I'm a—bitch—when I fight and a weakling when I give way? If I were a man, you'd be saying 'courage' and 'discretion'."
She went to storm away, but Christoph refused to let go. "Pax, Caterina," he said, offering the childhood pledge. "Your point is well taken. In fact, 'courage' is the word for you."
He bowed over her hand. Cat accepted his kiss, watching as the movement sent dark curls tumbling over one big shoulder.
"Let me get cleaned up, Grafin," he said, "and we'll talk more at supper."
* * *
He'd shaved, bathed and dressed again, and he looked splendid. Cat had to admit to herself that she had missed him. They dined upon delicious venison from a young buck the men had taken, this with an accompaniment of buttery potatoes and turnips. When Christoph described the hunt, Cat was an interested listener.
Christoph had, in company with two of his men, held it with long pikes while the net was thrown. After a dangerous tussle, they'd managed to dispatch it. The creature had been a huge male, the body carried back to provide meat for the peasants.
Red Magic Page 12