Elizabeth of Vindobona (The Colplatschki Chronicles Book 3)

by Alma Boykin

  “Not to speak of yet, my lady, but we’ll be eating a cold supper tonight, my lady.” She bit off a thread with an angry little “snap.”

  I’m going to roll his grace in a carpet and push them down the manor hill. Godown send me patience, please.

  As she took off her riding habit and put on something softer and more comfortable, Elizabeth asked, “Mina, are all men completely without forethought when it comes to running a house?”

  “No, my lady, just most of them. Especially men who have other people to do everything for them.”

  “Ah. Thank you.”

  Mina shook out Elizabeth’s skirt, frowning at the shower of grey mule hair that fluttered onto the floor. “Major Destefani seems to have better manners.”

  “Major Destefani has eight older brothers and sisters to make him mind.” That brought a smile to Mina’s angular face.

  Lazlo found her after supper, as she was sewing a new band of cream-colored trim onto a light summer gown. She still avoided the elaborate ribbons and beading favored by the ladies of the empire. There was no point, she’d decided. Lace and lovelies suited her face and form as well as they did Snowy, except that she would not try and eat them. Instead she used strips of contrasting colors, tans on dark brown or black, dark blue or deep brown on paler colors. She, Mina, and Lady Ann had sought refuge in the reception chamber, hiding behind several bundles of linins and other domestic goods. “My lady?”

  She finished knotting her thread. “Yes? How is your arm?”

  He pointed to the sling. “Better, thank you, my lady. It’s not broken, just very badly bruised and probably cracked. It hurts in the evenings, so the churigon said to use this at night for a little while yet.” He wrinkled his nose. “Now I see why you avoid fancy court slippers, my lady.”

  “I never did understand felt-bottomed slippers except for dancing, my lady,” Ann added.

  “I’m glad you feel better,” Elizabeth told him, smiling. “Anything I need to know? And be seated, if you can find a space.”

  He looked around and found a bale to perch on. “Thank you. The horses are all well, my lady, and the cavalry mounts are accounted for. There’s been a rash of spring colic, but it seems to be settling down. Too much new grass.”

  “The annual complaint.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He looked around at the piles and heaps. “My lady, what is all this?”

  “It’s not campaign supplies, although I’d love to have some of the blankets and pillows in my campaign tent, if there were some way to keep fleas and seam squirrels out.” Mina and Ann looked aghast as she added, “Some things lavender won’t keep at bay.”

  Lazlo smothered a chuckle, or so it sounded. “Ah, no, my lady. Oh, speaking of which, I found out more about Col. Marcy’s tent in a wagon.”

  “Oh?” She’d coveted it ever since she’d first laid eyes on the contraption.

  “Yes. It requires ten oxen to pull, and he’s been adding to it for at least a decade now. No one knows where he got the wagon, or how much it cost, my lady.” Lazlo shrugged his good shoulder. “Just the wagon is probably several hundred thalers, or so I’d guess. It has iron fittings for the axels, among other things.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “That’s too much. Ten oxen? Too slow and they eat too much,” she declared, shaking out the dress and folding it. “Maybe it was a dower.”

  Lazlo tipped his head to the side, an odd look on his face. He frowned, eyes narrow, lips pursed, as if thinking or trying to remember. “I, hmm. My lady, I don’t know. I assume he’s married, but I just do not know.”

  “Well, it has nothing to do with his skill as a commander. His devotion to St. Mou is more of a concern.” Elizabeth pulled her summer-weight uniform jacket out of the workbag and turned it inside out so she could finish replacing the left sleeve. She set to work, complaining that, “I’m tired of mending saber cuts.”

  Stunned silence descended on the room, and she looked up to find Ann and Mina staring at her with expressions of mixed shock and horror. “Oh, for St. Gerald’s sake,” she snapped. “I’m a cavalry officer and field commander. You have known me for half a decade at least.” She undid the tie on the cuff of her blouse and rolled up the sleeve, revealing the pink stripes of healed slashes. “That’s why I wear a padded gambeson, remember?” She pointed to the scar on her forehead from nine summers before. “And a helmet?”

  “Yes, my lady Colonel,” Lazlo replied. “Your pardon. I thought you’d escaped last season unscathed.”

  She snorted a laugh and started threading a needle. “I did. I just found this buried under other things in a chest. At least it had been washed before the new sleeve was fitted,” and she stopped before she mentioned the bloodstains. Not all of them had been hers.

  Conversation shifted to other topics, and Lazlo excused himself. Elizabeth got a good start on repairing the jacket before a yawn surprised her. “Excuse me.” She gathered her work and went to bed.

  Other than to welcome him, Elizabeth ignored Archduke Lewis’s arrival in favor of running through campaign plans with Lazlo and the reserve Lieutenants Hans Sparli, Peter Black, Andrew Bonaventure, and Thomas Krehbiel. She also watched the infantry units drilling, spending the entire day out in the fields. She’d talked to her sergeants and they were trying a new type of formation, more linear than the older pike squares, in order to make use of the new muskets that had been developed.

  “Won’t work against cavalry, my lady,” Sparli gloomed after watching one set of drills.

  She shook her head, the plume on her helmet fluttering with the motion. “It will, just not instantly.” She shifted on Ricardo’s back, checking him without thinking about it. “If the stories about the paper-wrapped shot measures are close to true, we can increase our rate of fire twice or three-fold once we can get our hands on them here in the Empire.”

  “I like the new barrel-knives, Colonel,” Lazlo opined. “Not as good as a pike, but still nasty.”

  She smiled, expression grim. “Indeed. If we use the carousel guns, along with better firing by rank, very few cavalry will get close enough to be a problem.” Some always would, but the fewer the better.

  “Well, Colonel, I think we’re going to have another problem this season,” Lazlo said, eyes still on the men drilling on the lower ground ahead of them. “Siege.”

  Her smile faded. “Inside or outside?”

  “I’ll assume outside, ma’am, because I do not imagine Frankonian troops will get this close.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Major,” Sparli grunted. “But if they do, we’ve got much worse problems to deal with.”

  “True.”

  That evening she returned to Donatello Manor to find Lewis waiting for her. “You have been avoiding me.”

  “No, your grace, I’ve been preparing for Duke Grantholm’s summons.” She undid Ricardo’s girth and flipped the strap up, out of the way. The stud ignored them. Unlike his sire, flapping straps left him unmoved. Cows, alas, inspired quite a different response.

  Lewis, arms folded, glared down at her. “You have been avoiding me. You will come with me tomorrow, along with Lady Ann and Major Destefani. That way you won’t have the excuse of protecting someone’s virtue. We’ll leave an hour after sunrise.” With that declaration he stalked off, leaving her staring at his back.

  She shut her jaw with a click. I can see why his majesty lets his grace stay as far from the city as possible, she sniffed. If I were trapped in Vindobona with him I’d throw myself into the closest convent, even as a silent servant if necessary.

  The next morning Lewis, Ann Starland, Lazlo Destefani, and Elizabeth rode down from the manor hill. Lewis decided that he wanted to go north, so they rode out through the medicinal garden and orchard. Elizabeth made the sign of St. Gerald’s bridge and offered a quick prayer for the woman and children whose bodies had once lain in the garden, victims of the previous owner’s secret devotion to Selkow. But today the sun shone warm and enough wind blew to keep off the flies,
but not enough to cause harm or foretell a storm. Soon the quartet passed through the farmsteads closest to the manor and into open fields, then the broad expanse of pasture where the cavalry horses and mules spent the summers.

  Lewis invited Ann up to ride beside him. Perhaps he’ll apologize for turning the household up on its ear, Elizabeth mused. “No, Snowy,” she reminded him as he began pulling off to the side. “No more eating laundry.” She could see someone’s bedding flapping in the sun on the other side of the paddock. Ann and Lewis seemed deep in conversation about something. No, he won’t apologize. Why should he? It’s his household.

  “My lady, that’s why I prefer horses,” Lazlo informed her, smiling. “No horse of my acquaintance has ever tried to eat my sheets.”

  “No, but I seem to recall repeated attempts to scrape you off on low branches and one plunge off a small cliff.”

  “Those don’t count, my lady.” He looked ahead. “Speaking of which.” Lewis and Ann had turned off the cart track and onto a trail leading into the woods. “I hope his grace remembers that this is redbug season.”

  Elizabeth grimaced. “Ugh. I did not bring any herbs to burn or oil for the horses’ legs.” They rode a little farther and she observed under her breath, “His grace truly is a city creature.”

  A quiet laugh rewarded her comment. “Indeed he is, my lady. He is the only one of the princes or royal dukes who does not hunt for pleasure.”

  “Really?” But as she guided Snowy around a bush and thought about it, she realized that Lazlo was right. She’d never seen or heard of Archduke Lewis hunting except when necessary. “How odd.” And yet Lewis was not bookish, like most non-hunters.

  They stopped in a clearing near an odd rock formation. Elizabeth had ridden past the rock many times, but never had given it a close inspection. The vaguely mushroom-shaped pile was not Lander-made: that much she could tell from the smooth, weather worn edges and crumbling creamy grey stone. No trees or brush grew on it and some of the manor folk avoided the rocks as if uncanny. Lewis and Ann dismounted, tying their horses to trees at the edge of the clearing, and as a bemused Elizabeth watched, Lewis began leading a giggling Ann up the side of the rock.

  Elizabeth blinked. “I’ve never heard Lady Ann giggle.”

  “Ah, no, my lady, I haven’t either.” Lazlo looked from the archduke to Elizabeth and back. “My lady, I think we need to ride on a ways.”

  What? She glanced at him, then at the rock, and back. Ann giggled again and Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Lewis dropping onto one knee in front of the astonished woman. Wha—? Oh, I. Oh my. Lewis has been chasing… She turned Snowy and rode back up the path, out of sight of the rock and the proposal in progress.

  Lewis has been chasing Ann. And here we thought he was courting me! Elizabeth found a solid-looking stump and dismounted, pulling the reins over Snowy’s ears and letting him graze if he so chose. Lazlo followed and also dismounted, but tied his horse to a tree. He walked over and thumped Snowy’s neck. The mule ignored him in favor of gobbling up an especially tender bit of grass, moving closer to Elizabeth until she got the hint and stepped out of the way. “You must have been raised in a barn,” she scolded with a smile.

  “I’ve always wondered if Godown used the same material for mules and cats.” Lazlo speculated. “Except that mules are slightly more predictable.”

  “And cats wash themselves.” She found a patch of shade, close enough to reach Snowy quickly but out of the mule’s way. Lazlo joined her in the leafy shadow. She shook her head, fanning a little as she confessed, “I must admit, I made a major miscalculation.”

  “Oh? How so, my lady?”

  She chuckled as she looked up at the deep green leaves fluttering overhead in the breeze. “Ann and I assumed Lewis was courting me.”

  Lazlo seemed to be considering the idea. “It would be logical, my lady.”

  “The assumption or the courting?”

  “Both. You are close to his grace in rank, he’s not needed for a dynastic match, and it would irritate King Laurence but not so much as to cause a diplomatic incident with the Empire’s allies.” Lazlo counted off the points on his fingers. “Plus he could let you select some more mules and another war horse and that takes care of the groom gift.”

  For a second Elizabeth felt offended, but then she laughed at herself. “Yes, it would. I’m horribly predictable.”

  Lazlo smiled and stepped closer, then reached over and took her hand in his. “Yes, my lady you are. But the heart is not.” He reached his free hand into a pocket of his jacket and brought out a small carving of Snowy, done in seawolf ivory.

  “Oh,” she inhaled, astonished. She reached for the figure, then stopped. She looked into Lazlo’s dark eyes. “This… you…”

  His expression turned serious. “Yes. Lady Elizabeth, I love you. I have loved you for the last five years and more.”

  She took the figure. It felt warm in her palm. “The storch feathers. The pfeach trees.”

  He smiled and stepped a little closer to her. She took a deep breath to try and settle her nerves and smelled horse, and a bit of wool, and another scent. His? “Yes. And flowers for your friend there,” he pointed at Snowy, now nibbling something in a patch of sunlight.

  Flowers for Snowy? What? “The ear covers!”

  “Yes. Both sets. Master Snowy told me that you tend to be too conscious of rank, duty, virtue, and manners, and that a sideways approach might work best.” He tightened his grip on her hand.

  “You… you asked Snowy?” She couldn’t seem to get her thoughts together.

  “Well, in mule years he’s old enough, and he is your closest family member.” Lazlo sounded completely serious. “He gave me permission to court you.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she stared from Lazlo to the mule. “You asked my mule for permission to court me?”

  “I certainly was not going to ask your mother.”

  She cringed. “Oh, blessed Godown, by St. Sabrina, no, not Olympia Sarmas-to.” She could easily imagine her mother’s response, which would be blunt and graphic, and followed by a demand for money.

  “Master Snowy also gave me his blessing.” Lazlo tugged her hand, shifting his grip so that he could lift her hand up to rest against his chest. “I love you, Elizabeth.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Will you marry me?”

  Before her mind could register his words, she heard herself saying, “Yes. Yes, Lazlo Destefani, I will marry you.” But the emperor, permission, rank, the Diligence! Another part of her mind snapped, oh, hush! Because Lazlo was bending, turning his head, and their lips met. She had no idea what to do next, but he seemed to know. She felt his other hand reaching around her back, steadying her. She tipped her head to get her hat brim out of the way as they kissed again.

  A warm feeling started in her stomach and flowed out, overriding her mind. She tucked the ivory figure into her vest pocket and tentatively put her hand on Lazlo’s back. He smiled and tightened his arm, pulling her close. She rested her head on his shoulder. She’d never held a man before, but she liked the sensations it made her feel.

  She felt Lazlo taking a deep breath. “Now, by marrying Lady Ann, his grace gains an experienced chatelaine and ties Aquila Starland closer to the Babenburg family, which is necessary since Lady Marie is still angry about her brother’s disinheritance.” His voice sounded different with her head resting against him. “And since it will be a morganatic marriage, any children they have will not complicate the inheritance lines, but will be available for secondary alliances.”

  Something in Elizabeth withered a little. “So he’s making a dynastic match and putting Quill in his debt.” Her voice sounded flat. She wanted to be disgusted with Lewis, but Lazlo’s words made too much sense.

  Lazlo released her so he could meet her eyes. “Yes and no. Yes, it will make Duke Aquila happy and yes, there are dynastic considerations. If you are a Babenburg, there are always dynastic considerations. But his grace also loves Lady Ann, and I wager that she
loves him, too.”

  “And you?”

  “I do not love Lady Ann, if that’s what you mean. She’s too much like Duke Starland, thank you, without Aquila’s ability to step back and let things go.” He pulled her close again. “I prefer ladies who can prioritize their crises.”

  She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Good. Because it is one.” And he kissed her again.

  She checked on Snowy, who had wandered closer, into the shade. Lazlo’s horse drowsed in the sun. “Ah, Lazlo, you realize that we can’t have a formal public marriage.”

  “Yes, my lady. I know very well.” He sounded a little wistful. “But I never planned to marry, at least not before I met you.”

  She blushed as they kissed again. When they separated, she observed, “I think we’d better go check on his grace and Lady Ann.” Before they come looking for us. I do not want Lewis teasing me for kissing my major.

  “Hmm.” He glanced up towards the sun. “Ah, yes. Rumors, hearsay, and I’d hate to have to explain to Duke Starland if Lady Ann were eaten by dardogs or a pseudo-boar.”

  Her blood went cold. Dardogs this late in the year? Dear holy Godown not that! Then she realized that he was teasing. “Do not scare me like that, Lazlo.”

  He just laughed and caught Snowy for her. She climbed onto the stump and mounted. He waited until she’d adjusted her skirts over the horns of the sidesaddle, then handed her the reins, caressing her hand as he did. They rode back to the rock formation in companionable silence.

  There they found Lewis and Ann looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, my lady,” Ann began. “We ate all the lunch.”