“Rozsa of Borsod,” said Rakoczy some short while later. “I am honored to have you in my manse.”
She looked around, shocked that she had not heard his approach. “Yes,” she said, trying to conceal her discomfiture; she spoke in Bohemian. “I am come at the order of the Konige in regard to her May Festival. I won’t require much of your time; other duties await me.” She neither rose nor courtisied him as she held out her hand. “I have been looking forward to this.”
Rakoczy did not ask for an explanation, certain that one was coming. Instead he gave a little bow in recognition of the wishes of the Konige but did not approach her. “And what would the dear Royal like me to do for her?” He came into the room, his blehaut slightly stained from his labors in the workroom above, his hair slightly disordered. Taking Rozsa’s hand, he bowed over it. “I am honored to serve the Konige in all things.”
“As well you should be,” said Rozsa sternly. “Konige Kunigunde would like some new songs for her May Festival.”
“It would be my honor to provide them,” he said, looking up as Barnon brought in a tray with wine, bread, cheese, and a small saucer of salt set out on it; at Rakoczy’s signal he set it down on the table in front of Rozsa.
She waited until Barnon left the room, then reached to pour herself some wine, and said to him in Magyar, “She’s requesting diamonds from you for the occasion. She didn’t mention how many she wanted, but don’t offer too few. You don’t want anyone saying that your fabled fortune is becoming exhausted. That could lead to trouble for you.”
“I will keep your recommendation in mind,” Rakoczy said, and waited for her to speak again.
“It is always wise to keep high in the Konige’s regard.” Rozsa took a long sip of the wine. “There could be demands on your purse beyond those the Konige makes.”
“The Episcopus, you mean? I have given him a goblet filled with rubies.” He said it without any sign of rancor, but Rozsa sat forward.
“No, I don’t mean the Episcopus,” she said, her eyes daring him to protest. “I am going to make you a … proposition.” Although he said nothing, Rakoczy felt as if the whole manse had shifted around him. His disquiet increased as she went on, “I have dreamed of you often, you know. All those months with my husband, I dreamed of you.” He offered Rozsa an ironic bow; she paid no attention to him. “I would like you to resume our arrangement.”
“Not while you are with child,” he said, his memories casting back to Csimenae and her son.
“I know, I know; sad as it is, it must be. So while I am here for now, I have other uses for you,” she said impatiently as she tore a handful of bread from the loaf. “My husband’s blood must not be compromised, not with his cousins waiting for me to make any show of infidelity. They would like nothing better than to see me discredited, so that they may continue as his heirs.” She began to eat, swallowing more wine to help the bread go down. “My husband wants a son. He certainly beat me enough to produce a boy. But with him away at war, I must be vigilant for the child’s sake. I will have the child at my husband’s estate, of course, but I will not remain there; it wouldn’t be safe.” She turned toward him, her smile wholly without mirth. “When I return in a year or so, we will make new arrangements.”
Rakoczy studied her. “And for now? What are your plans.”
She relished telling him. “Since I will be deprived of your skills in passion, I will have the fruits of your skills in alchemy. You, who scatter gems like grain for chickens, I want jewels from you—many, many jewels. I want jewels enough so that if my reputation should be ruined, I will be able to keep myself from destitution or harlotry. I will do as the old Konige did, when Otakar changed her for Kunigunde, and endow a convent where I can live in comfort, where my husband’s relatives cannot reach me.”
Rakoczy let no emotion show on his features. “When you say many, many jewels, what did you have in mind.”
She cocked her head and studied him. “I will send you a coffer to fill by the May Festival. Surely you can accommodate me to that extent. Later I will send you another, and a third, before I leave to return to Kaposvar. That should make a good beginning.”
“And if I do not comply: what then.” He spoke cordially, but there was a blue light in the depths of his dark eyes like the heart of a flame.
“Oh, then, I fear I must Confess what indecent intimacies you have forced upon me, and the ungodly rites you used to subdue me to your will,” she said with exaggerated lamentation. She pulled off more bread. “Not even the Konige could save you from the Episcopus then.” With a flourish she downed the last of her wine and poured more into her cup.
“I see,” said Rakoczy quietly.
“I hope you do,” Rozsa told him, and ran her tongue over her lower lip. “It will be better for you if you agree to my demands without dissembling. You have to uphold the terms of your exile, and what I report to Konig Bela can praise or defame you; do not forget that.” Her green eyes were shiny. “And it needn’t be unpleasant, accommodating me, in jewels or in ecstasy.” She rose and walked up to him. “I can be most devoted in my way, so long as I have no rivals.”
Rakoczy studied her face. “An odd requirement for a married woman.”
“Think of Erzebet of Arad.” She flicked the corner of his mouth with the tip of her finger. “It could happen to others of the Konige’s ladies.” She offered him an elaborate courtisy, then left the withdrawing room, calling for Barnon to have her wagon brought to the main door, leaving Rakoczy to ponder her threat; as the main door opened, an unexpectedly cold wind rushed through the manse.
* * *
Text of a letter from Imbolya of Heves to Rakoczy Ferancsi, written in Church Latin and carried by a scullion with the permission of Pater Lupu.
To the most worthy Comes Santu-Germaniu, on this, the first day of May in the 1270th Year of Salvation,
Esteemed Comes,
The unexpected snow that fell yesterday has delayed not only the Konige’s May Festival but, yet again, my departure, which will now be in ten days—days that will be filled with my last obligations within the Konige’s Court. I am taking this unexpected time to write to you not only to say farewell to you, but to ask your pardon for my fancies that led me to say such inappropriate things to you the last time we conversed, for surely no such monster as I said you reminded me of could have been able to be one of the Konige’s Court, not with the Episcopus and so many faithful Churchmen about to protect us from the Devil’s minions. I fear it may have been on account of the songs of the troubadours and the tales foolish women tell one another late at night, and that some Confess in the morning. It may also have sprung from the jealousy of some of the courtiers, who openly envy your riches, and hint that you do not come by your jewels through alchemy alone, but by the favors of the Devil, for the corruption of good Christians. Whichever weakness accounts for my imaginings must be attributed to my womanly weakness: my Confessor has exhorted me on my failings, and I humbly ask your forgiveness for the things I said, and beg you will not regard me with the contempt I deserve.
Recently I realized that I have found in you the nearness I should only find with God, that the troubadours have lied to us and offered us the fruits of damnation; daughter of Eve that I am, I allowed myself to turn away from Heaven for the sake of your love. Let me beseech you to abandon the lures of the flesh and turn your sight on God.
I have had word from my father that I will be married in July, and that the terms are beneficial both to Heves and to Szarvas, for which I am most thankful; I will seek to prove a virtuous wife so that I will bring esteem to my House and honor to my husband. I will thank you now for the handsome jewels you presented to me as a nuptial gift, which I shall treasure for all my days, and which is so typical of your many kindnesses to me. The Konige has also given me two chests filled with fine cloth, and four linen sheets for my marriage, once again showing her generosity. I have pledged to remember her in my prayers every morning and every night, and to pray a
lso for her children. Since I am returning to Hungary, she will not put me in the difficult position of having to pray for Konig Otakar while he and Konig Bela remain at war. That, at least, is something for which I am grateful.
May God guard and protect you, may He be gracious to you and your House, may He bestow His Mercy upon you.
With high regard, and by my own hand,
Imbolya of Heves
3
All of the uncanny snowfall was gone; blossoms showed edges of brown and rust as token of the late freeze, and the roads beyond the city walls were stiff with mud, but otherwise spring resumed as if there had hardly been any interruption at all; throughout Praha the markets were busy and the streets were full. As if to join in the city’s activities, Vaclav Castle thrummed with excitement in anticipation of the May Festival. Six large wagons were laboring out the south gate toward the Konige’s Field for the celebration that would be held the following day, all of them manned by servants and slaves whose task it was to set up the pavilions, fire-pits, lists, and stands for the grand occasion; the Konige watched their progress from the solarium at the top of her wing of the castle.
“Dear Royal,” said Teca of Veszbrem from the solarium door.
“What is it, Teca?” the Konige asked without turning away from the open windows.
“Episcopus Fauvinel is waiting in your withdrawing room.” She sounded so apologetic that Kunigunde blinked.
“Episcopus Fauvinel? Was I to expect him?”
“No, dear Royal. He said he was moved by the fervor of his office to seek you out to discuss what remedies your ladies might aspire to through penance to remove the peril of damnation that now hangs over us. The danger is real.” Teca crossed herself, fear hidden in her eyes. “Csenge is still claiming that she has seen ghosts and fiends about her.”
“Csenge herself may be possessed, and her accusations made at the instigation of the Devil,” said the Konige, sounding tired; since Csenge had made her Confession, Kunigunde had been filled with anxiety for all her Court. That Csenge was Hungarian only made it worse, for there were those in Otakar’s Court who would use Csenge’s accusations as proof of the danger that having Hungarians in Praha created. “We must pray that God will restore her wits and bring her to His care again.”
Teca shook her head as she crossed herself. “The Episcopus wants to examine all your ladies-in-waiting to be sure that none are—”
“I trust it will not have to come to that.” The Konige closed her eyes for a long moment. “But I should settle the matter of how we are to proceed before the May Festival begins; otherwise the Episcopus may require that we not have it at all. There are those who think the late snowfall was a sign that God wants no merriment in time of war.” She glanced at Teca and saw the distress in her eyes. “Have I put you in an awkward position?” she asked, and turned so that she could no longer gaze on the beautiful day.
Teca did not answer directly. “The Episcopus’ welcome-tray is being brought, but he is…” She floundered for the right word, and shook her head.
“I know; ever since Csenge made her Confession about the Devil and demons and fallen angels and hobgoblins and imps and enchanters and incubuses, and witches and vampires and night hags, and whatever else—” She made herself stop her outburst. “I am sure the Episcopus is concerned for the safety of our souls.”
Crossing herself once more, Teca whispered, “Amen.”
The Konige came to Teca’s side. “Well, I suppose it is best to deal with him now. I want the May Festival to go splendidly.” She smoothed the front of her dark-gold bleihaut and adjusted the hang on the gold pectoral crucifix that hung on a jewel-studded chain around her neck. “The May Festival will be over in three days, and the Episcopus may resume his hunt for all that is unholy.”
Teca coughed gently. “Do you think he will insist that we burn anyone?”
“I’m sure he will tell me,” said Konige Kunigunde, falling silent as she went behind Teca down the two narrow flights of stairs to the broad corridor that led to the three withdrawing rooms set behind the reception hall. “Who is attending to my daughters this morning?”
“Betrica and Gyongyi; Milica and Kustansze will replace them at mid-day. Iliska is Court messenger until mid-afternoon; she’s in the ladies’ withdrawing room.”
“Very good,” said the Konige automatically. She noticed a rat in the shadow of the main door. “It is time to order something done about the vermin again. They’re everywhere and bolder than before.”
“I will inform Cyrek that you have given the order,” said Teca, frowning a little as she spoke the Bohemian under-steward’s name, for it was well-known that he was one of the Konig’s spies in the Konige’s household.
“If you would,” said the Konige, her voice remote. “I don’t know how long I’ll be with the Episcopus.”
“No,” Teca agreed.
“So you will supervise the nursery meal,” said the Konige as she waited for Teca to open the door into the largest withdrawing room for her.
“Of course, dear Royal,” said Teca as she courtisied the Konige, then opened the door for her.
Episcopus Fauvinel rose and blessed the Konige as she knelt to him. “May God smile upon you and upon the Kingdom of Bohemia,” he intoned before he held out his hand to assist her to rise; on the table beside his chair the welcome-tray with its wine, bread, pickles, and cheese sat untouched. “I thank you for seeing me although I am unexpected.”
“It is the least the Konige can do for the Church, Episcopus,” said Kunigunde, feeling dispirited, anticipating the worst from this zealous man. She took her place in her chair, and nodded to the Episcopus to be seated. “I understand you want to discuss the Confession of Csenge of Somogy and what it may mean to the May Festival.”
“That I do,” said the Episcopus, and launched into the explication of his purpose in coming without an announcement of his arrival. “Csenge of Somogy’s Confessions have continued much the way they began—she herself has not yet been attacked, or so she claims, but she fears that several of your ladies-in-waiting have become the abject servants of the forces of the Devil, and through them the whole of the Court is in danger. If her Confession is an honest one, your Court is at grave risk, dear Royal.”
“So you have said,” the Konige responded calmly. “Do you tell me that Csenge has added to her Confessions?”
“A great deal more,” the Episcopus said with a nod. “She has recalled a night when she sat with Erzebet of Arad before she died, when Erzebet declared there were witches and devils gnawing her entrails, and that Csenge saw specters hovering over Erzebet, all of them with knives and spears in their hands, attacking the vitals of Erzebet. She fears now that Erzebet died from a malign spell.” He paused to cross himself. “With all that she has claimed already, and the dangers she has revealed, I feel that it would be prudent to examine your women to see who among them is bound to the infernal beings that are the enemies of all that is good and holy.”
“Have you any reason—beyond what Csenge has said—to think that my ladies-in-waiting have been corrupted by hellish—”
Episcopus Fauvinel held up his hand to silence the Konige. “We have yet to be certain that this has happened. It may be that the Devil has visited Csenge and filled her mind with visions of damnation and the denizens of Hell, so that the Devil might triumph over God in your Court, dear Royal, through the offices of a single woman who is possessed rather than the corruption of all of your ladies. You can see why I would like to investigate your ladies further than their Confessors have done.” He pointed his hand at the Konige. “With Konig Otakar at war, it is apparent that we must be circumspect in all we do so as not to endanger anything that the Konig is undertaking in the field.”
“I am agreed,” said the Konige, keeping her manner accommodating, “but I would rather that we be allowed to have our May Festival before we subject my Court to your inquiries.” She felt a sensation in her vitals, as if a serpent had coiled there a
nd was starting to squeeze the breath from her body.
“Then we should be able to set the seal upon our agreement shortly.” The Episcopus gave a smile of satisfaction. “You must know that I am concerned for the welfare of your Court, and the preservation of the souls of your daughters.”
“They are very young for such worries,” said Konige Kunigunde. “Agnethe is hardly more than half a year old, and Kinga is very much a child.”
“All the more reason to take precautions,” said the Episcopus. “They do not yet have the judgment that would keep them from becoming the servant of Satan. You know that children and women are especially susceptible to the workings of the Devil, and so must be diligent in preserving their souls from peril.”
“There are monks and priests at Court. Their presence must count for something,” said the Konige, trying not to bristle.
“Professions of faith do not keep the soul from falling into evil. Think of how readily the monks of Sante-Wisie succumbed to the temptations of the flesh so that not even imprisonment was sufficient to drive the Devil from their monastery, and they had to be burned to eradicate their iniquity.”
The Konige paled. “That was twenty years ago, Episcopus. Since then the Church has been more vigilant in matters of monks, and errors such as the ones the Trinitarians committed at Sante-Wisie are now guarded against by authorities, such as yourself. Surely, with so many holy men to watch over them, you don’t think that young children would become possessed by lust as the monks were? What child feels lust?”
“It is not what I may think, dear Royal,” said the Episcopus smoothly, “it is what the Devil seeks to do to bring about the destruction of the world.” He cleared his throat. “It would be well to encourage your courtiers to show their devotion to God and His Church with donations and public displays of penance, some of which could begin during your May Festival.”
Saint-Germain 24: An Embarrassment of Riches: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain Page 31