* * *
Stepan watched as another round of troops entered the camp at Kutna Hora. And not one of them was Czech. More and more they poured in, foreigners all. Wasn’t there something to be said for the Czech people handling their own problems?
Dominik shifted beside him. “I don’t like it.”
Had he just heard Stepan’s thoughts? Stepan stared at him, eyebrow arched.
“What?” Dominik gave him a long stare. Then he lowered his voice. “My father says this will not be good for any of us.”
“Oh?” The only thing Stepan’s father had worried about was getting rid of the heretics. But Stepan didn’t like the idea of the foreigners dealing with Czech problems. The Czechs should be dealing with the Czechs.
“My father speaks of how weak-handed Wenceslaus was and how much freedom that gave the nobility. He fears a conquered Prague would usher in a strengthened crown. Maybe even an influx of . . . Germans.” Dominik looked away toward a group of German mercenaries nearby and scowled.
Stepan could relate. He did not want Germans occupying and despoiling Prague and the rest of the Bohemian lands.
“Either way, my friend, it is time to go to Mass.” Dominik elbowed Stepan and jerked his head in the direction of the town’s cathedral.
They walked together through the town, among the gathering crowd. But, upon arrival, they found their own seats in the section set apart for the nobility.
Stepan enjoyed many things in the world. Mass was not one of them. Yet it was important for his faith that he attend. So he endured the songs and homily, knowing his presence in the church pleased Almighty God.
The priest gave his usual indictments of the Hussites and their heresy, proclaiming that all who joined the crusade against them would gain forgiveness for their sins and exemption from purgatory.
Even without such promises, Stepan would fight. But he could not deny that these assurances warmed his heart and made him feel more secure.
They took proper communion before the close of the service. And Stepan thanked God for the like-mindedness of those around him. This communion of both kinds was ridiculous on the face of it. Yet it was the one thing those Hussites refused to relinquish above all else. If only they cared as much about peace.
As they exited the cathedral, Dominik placed a hand on Stepan’s arm and drew him to the side. He glanced around as if ensuring no one was close enough to overhear. Then he spoke. “Stepan, I hope I am not wrong in thinking we are of the same mind.”
“I think so.” Stepan’s eyes moved between Dominik’s and the hand on his arm.
Dominik removed his hand. “There are a group of nobles that have started to talk.”
“Talk?”
Dominik licked his lips. “Yes, we hope to petition Emperor Sigismund about discharging these foreign soldiers.”
Stepan mouth tightened into a thin line and he spun to walk away. “I can tell you what he will say.”
Reaching out a hand to stop him, Dominik continued, “We have something to offer him that he won’t refuse.”
Looking back over his shoulder, Stepan’s eyebrow went up. “What could we possibly offer the emperor?”
“The crown of Bohemia.”
Ten
Maneuvers
Zdenek moved toward the small grouping of men. He had been summoned, but he knew not why. These men were Zizka’s captains and higher-ranking soldiers. Why was he here? As he drew near, he noticed that Zizka was in the center, standing at a table with papers stretched out.
Trying to approach without being heard or seen proved impossible. Several of the men glanced up.
Including Zizka.
Zdenek found himself looking directly into the face of the massive commander.
“Zdenek, so glad you could join us.” Zizka waved him further in.
How did Zizka know his name? Could he have remembered it from when Pavel introduced them? He had so many men under his command. Either way, he felt honored.
He came closer so he could see the map.
The man’s huge paw of a hand was on the west bank of the Vlatava River near the castle to the northwest of Prague.
“I have learned that a large convoy will be coming through to resupply the Hradcany. It is unclear how many soldiers will escort the wagons or how many wagons will be in the train. But one thing is for certain: we must take it. Shutting off supplies to the Hradcany and starving them out will be the best way to take it. No direct assault.”
The men murmured and nodded amongst themselves.
“Next,” he said as he motioned toward the other castle, the Vysehrad, “the moat we had constructed to defend the New Town from the Vysehrad has been partially filled in during fighting. A new moat must be dug. Deeper, wider, and farther north. The women, children, and priests will do this. I have other plans for our troops.”
Zdenek looked at Zizka expectantly. What was that next plan?
“We will then besiege the Hradcany. This will force Sigismund to act. I will not sit and wait for him to attack. It is cowardice to let the emperor make the first move.”
Zdenek’s eyes widened. Provoking the emperor? He thought maybe it would be best to focus on the city’s defenses, but perhaps Zizka was right. After all, he was the military genius and a more practiced soldier. His plans seemed sound. And they always proved effective. Thus far.
“Any questions?”
The men eyed each other, but no one opened his mouth.
“Good, I shall have you three take your units and prepare them to go with me to surprise the convoy. And you,” he pointed to one of his captains. “Your unit will oversee the rebuilding of the moat. All the remaining soldiers will take up positions around the Hradcany with hand cannons, preparing for our siege.”
The men took their orders and were dismissed.
“Zdenek, please remain.” Zizka moved toward him.
Turning to his commander, Zdenek watched the man for any sign that he had displeased him. “Of course, Commander. What might I do for you?”
“You have proven yourself to be a valuable member of my army. And quite loyal.”
“Yes, sir.” Zdenek thought about his conversation with Radek but pushed it from his mind.
“I need someone I can trust to take care of the supplies and foodstuffs we will receive from the convoy.” Zizka’s one eye searched Zdenek’s face. “It’s not something I can trust to anyone. There is a deep seed of greed hiding in many. I need someone who is selfless.”
“Commander, I am honored you would think of me, and I promise I will do my best to deserve that trust.” Zdenek raised his shoulders and puffed out his chest.
A smile tugged at Zizka’s lips. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
* * *
Stepan urged his horse forward. They made such slow progress; he wasn’t surprised his horse kept falling behind. Probably falling asleep. He had been charged with escorting the supply train to the Hradcany. It was beneath him to be sure, but he would fulfill whatever task was levied upon him. If that included walking these wagons to the castle, so be it.
Taking in the scenery around him, he couldn’t imagine how it was that these lands were torn apart by war and bloodshed. Or that these grounds were soon to be witness to such a crusade as this country had never known. But it was coming. And he intended to be on the winning side.
The wind rushed past him. He enjoyed the breeze—something to break the monotony of the day. As the wind died down though, he thought he heard . . . perhaps.
He held his hand up to halt the wagons. After several moments that felt like an eternity, they came to a stop.
Tilting his head to the side, he strained his ears, listening for anything out of place. All he heard was the distant rustling of trees and grasses. He prepared to lower his hand and get the convoy moving again when the world collapsed around them.
They were rushed from the east.
Blast those Hussites! How did they know?
Drawing his sword,
Stepan called out, “Prepare yourselves, men!”
The men drew their weapons, but they were shaking.
One glance at the horde of Hussites headed their way and Stepan knew they were outnumbered.
“Stand and fight!” he urged his men.
But as the Hussites came closer, one by one the men escorting the convoy lost their nerve and fled.
Stepan was at a loss. He should stay and defend the emperor’s supplies, but what could one man do against such an army? Surely he would be killed.
When he decided to flee, it was too late. The first of the Hussites was upon him, grasping at his horse. He kicked at the man, desperate for freedom.
Strong hands grabbed his leg and Stepan drew back his sword. He stared into the man’s determined eyes once before running him through. Then Stepan could not tear his eyes away from the man’s wide-eyed look of horror.
Shaking, he pushed the man away from his sword with his foot and dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, praying that by some miracle he could escape. He galloped away and did not stop for hours. And even then he could hear the sounds of the horde and see those eyes . . . those big, brown, horrified eyes.
* * *
The world was still and quiet. Lenka gazed out her window from the top floor of the massive structure. Nothing seemed amiss on the grounds of the Bornekov estate. Every tree, every flower had its place. And all remained at peace.
All but the chaos within. As much as the world displayed a tranquil order, it mocked her. She was anything but peaceful. Another wave of emotion welled within and threatened to spill over. These last months had been the most trying of her life, yet she thought she might take them all again if only she knew her daughter was well.
There had been no word from Karin in weeks. The news of her pregnancy thrilled Lenka, now it loomed like a dark cloud. Why no response to her letter? Why no news of the pregnancy? Lenka’s heart constricted. Something wasn’t right.
Had something happened to Karin? To the baby? Or had she simply become distracted? Settled well within the boundaries of Hussite controlled land, she wasn’t in much danger. But she mentioned Pavel’s injury. Had his situation become dire? Had he returned to the fighting?
The lack of information limited Lenka. The tightness in her chest became more intense. She swallowed hard. What was she to do?
Movement behind her alerted her to the presence of another in her room, but she did not turn.
“My lady, are you in need of anything else?”
Sharka, her faithful maidservant. A welcome distraction.
Lenka turned. “I wish to go into the village.”
Sharka curtsied and moved toward the door.
“Sharka?”
The younger woman paused and shifted to look at her mistress.
“Your mother, do you write to her often?”
“No, milady.”
Lenka’s brows furrowed. Was she expecting something of Karin that was not typical? As for Lenka, the letters to her own mother had been rather frequent until her mother’s death.
Sharka must have noted Lenka’s concerned expression. “My mother is one of your cooks. We have no need of letters.”
Lenka’s confusion melted into embarrassment. This information should not take Lenka by surprise. And it didn’t. Not truly. In her musings, it had been forgotten. But now Sharka’s mother’s face appeared in Lenka’s mind. Her kind eyes looking up as her plump hands continued hard at work. “Yes, of course.”
Sharka nodded and curtsied before she took her leave. She would notify the stablemen the carriage needed to be readied for their mistress.
The only recourse Lenka had seemed to be information. Could she seek out the Hussites in the Utraquist sect and divine if they had any news of Tabor? Perhaps of Commander Zizka’s army?
One thing was certain—she could no longer pace in her rooms and wonder.
* * *
Pavel returned from yet another ride through the hills of Tabor. If only his mind could be as clear as the mountain streams where he had watered his horse and refreshed his own sweat-soaked face. He had been able to see all the way to the bottom of the stream. He couldn’t see two inches in front of him in this situation with Karin.
What had happened to her? That day . . . that horrible day. Something happened and everything changed. Lady problems were not discussed; he did not feel the freedom to ask. Not even his parents, who clearly knew more than he.
And so they were at an impasse. He kept reaching out to Karin and she kept pushing him away. His heart ached for her, longed for the connection they once knew. Would they ever know it again?
He flexed his injured arm, no longer in a sling. The doctor cleared him to return to his unit by the week’s end. And he was eager to get back to the front, to bring hope and healing to his homeland. But could he leave when he and Karin were at odds? He didn’t know. Nor did he know what good it would do to stay.
Dismounting, he gave the horse a good, firm pat on her back as the stable hand took her by the reins and led her away. He continued on toward the house. Perhaps what he needed to clear his mind was some time in the chapel. He redirected his feet in that direction. And was intercepted by his mother. She stood in the stairway, awaiting him. How long had she been there?
“How was your ride, dear?”
“Refreshing,” he lied.
Her frown betrayed that she knew he was being less than truthful.
He ran a hand through his short hair, bleached a lighter shade of blond by longer hours in the sun.
“It was invigorating.” There, that was truthful.
She reached forward and fingered the collar of his shirt, attempting to brush dirt off his doublet. It had been a while since she had mothered him in such a way, so he indulged her.
“I’m headed to the chapel for solitude and prayer.”
Marketa’s face opened into a pleasant smile. “Why not go and see if Karin would care for some company?”
Pavel sighed. “I can tell you, Mother, that she would not.”
Marketa laid her hands on his shoulders, nodding. “I know things have been . . . difficult . . . between you and Karin.”
“Mother, I’d rather not discuss—”
The baroness held her hands up. “And I don’t want to get involved.”
“I think you are already ‘involved’.” Pavel resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Marketa continued, “I just think things are not what they seem. Keep reaching out, Pavel. I know how much you love her.”
Pavel leveled his gaze on his mother and opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand in front of his mouth.
“Just . . . think about what I said.” She leaned forward and planted a kiss on the side of his face before turning and moving down the hall.
And Pavel watched her go, more confused than ever. Rather, more torn than ever. Of course he wanted to go to Karin. But could his heart take more rejection? Could he bear it if she sent him away again? He longed to pull her into his embrace, press kisses to her lips, and hear her say they would be all right. If only she would let him.
But she would not, so he moved in the direction of the chapel. Yes, prayers, and then he would retire to the separate chamber he had been keeping.
As his footsteps drew him closer to the sanctuary of the small chapel, something gave him pause. He turned and glanced at the stairs that would carry him to the second level. To Karin.
She was so close. But so far away.
Should he risk it? Risk his heart? For her?
His eyes slid closed. Lord, my heart is weak. And it is wounded. What would you have me do?
For the first time in days, he filled with a sense of hope. And he imagined that perhaps things could be different. Even if they could not be the same, maybe they could be better. And that was something he was willing to fight for. For her.
He took several long strides toward the stairs, and with determination, he mounted the stairway, even taking some of the ste
ps in twos.
His heart raced with exertion and emotion by the time he stood outside the chambers he once shared with Karin.
He raised a hand to knock. And paused. A small voice warned that he asked for more hurt, that nothing would be different. But he knew he had received an answer to his simple prayer. And he would trust that.
Pavel landed his hand on the door three times.
“Come!” He heard from the other side of the door. It was Karin’s voice, strong and sure. This was different.
Praying it was a good sign, he worked the latch and swung the door open.
As the interior of the room became visible, he drank in the sight of his wife as if she were water in a desert. It had been a couple of days since he had seen her. And even longer since her eyes had searched out his as they did in this moment.
He fought the urge to rush to her and gather her in his arms. That might be too much too soon.
Stepping all the way into the room, he noticed the curtains had been pushed back and that she was dressed, no longer in her nightshift.
She offered him a smile. More than that, he saw the smile reflected in her eyes. Could it be his Karin had come back to him? There was a stinging behind his eyes and nose as he fought tears of joy.
“You have your sling off,” she said. Only then did he realize they had been squaring off in silence.
“Yes. Doctor Doubek came a few days ago. He said I should be able to return to the front by week’s end.”
“Oh.” Her face fell.
Why had he brought that up? Of course she didn’t need to hear that. He anticipated a flare of anger, or for the distance to fall back between them, or for her to find a reason to dismiss him.
Her eyes rose to meet his again. “Then we must make the most of the next couple of days.” She offered him a smile. A genuine smile!
Surely his heart had wings. Pavel stepped farther into the room, unable to keep himself from closing the distance between them.
She watched him as if she expected him to pounce on her at any second. But as he neared, she adjusted her legs to make space for him to sit on the chaise.
The Lady And The Hussites (The Lady Bornekova Book 2) Page 15