The Papal Schism…Stepan remembered it all too well. What a mess that had become. Perhaps that was what led to the current situation. Two men vying for the papcy, King Wenceslas inserting himself in the politics of the university, Hus being allowed to teach his heresy…was it all connected?
A noise behind Stepan brought him to the present.
"Here you are! I have searched half of Prague for you.” His best friend stepped into the library.
Stepan turned toward the open door.
“Why the long face?" Pavel’s eyes betrayed his concern.
Stepan moved from the window. "It’s nothing."
Pavel frowned. Then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It's time to forget all of this and think about the hunting trip."
"Yes, yes, it is. Did we convince Radek to come?"
"I spoke with him on my way here. After he finished his last lecture, his thoughts about going changed. You know how he can get so engrossed."
Stepan nodded, smiling. Radek was by far the quietest and most serious of their small group. "I am set to leave at first light."
"I haven't seen Zdenek or Luc today, but I'm certain we can find them before nightfall and ensure they are prepared."
"The hunting chateau will be the perfect getaway," Stepan said to himself more than to Pavel. "And my father will be happy to see us."
"He'll be thrilled to see you for certain," Pavel said, smiling.
Stepan nodded back, but he was not convinced.
* * *
Karin rose just before dawn after yet another sleepless night. Dressing with haste, she wrapped herself in a shawl against the cool morning air. She was restless. But as she gazed around the room, she knew it was not for lack of comfort in her accommodations. Her room at the chateau was far more than adequate.
The room was every bit as spacious as she had come to expect from the rooms in this manor with their high ceilings and large living spaces. If the chilled air circling around the room had a color, it would no doubt match the pale blue featured in the tapestries. She held the shawl tight and walked the perimeter of the room around the mahogany furniture. Such a fine sitting area. Such a fine room. The gold and blue themes proved rather soothing. Karin sighed. Why couldn't her mind be still in such a marvelous atmosphere?
Some nights she slept for stretches of minutes from exhaustion, but her sleep was disrupted by the lightest sound and quite impossible to recapture once interrupted. She thought about her life, her childhood, her mother. Never could she have imagined finding herself in such isolation — her parents’ idea of imprisonment. And to what end she still was not sure. Leaving the warmth of the rushes, her feet bore the cold of the floor as she gazed out the window.
It was true she had disappointed them. But was her sin truly so great it required such measures? Karin expected her mother to speak for her or at least with her, to give her some further explanation, but there was none. Her mother had been more silent than ever. What was happening? What would happen? Night after night, the questions remained.
Shaking her head to clear the uneasy thoughts, she wrapped the shawl taut around herself and slipped out into the early morning. She found solace in her walks, which she took daily. On one of these walks, she had found a place within fair walking distance of the chateau yet secluded enough for her to sit, think, and pray.
Her special place was near a blue stream — a place where the water tripped over stones as it made its way through the forest. The flowers were bright and the grass green and soft. Pieces of the chateau were still visible, yet her safe place was hidden well in the tree line. It isolated her from the goings-on of the hunting palace and the people within.
Dawn broke over the horizon. Karin paused to breathe in the new day and whisper a prayer of thanks. Her body swooned a bit, but she opened her eyes and kept going. Was she so tired? She was weaker today, but so it had been the day before and the day before that. Such is the way it goes with exhaustion.
How she wished she could find deep, replenishing sleep. She had been unable to close her mind, her thoughts. Perhaps she was not trusting God? Trying to find a way on her own strength? Fighting for her own answers instead of leaning on Him? Something for my journal.
Karin's favorite spot lay mere steps away. Once there she could rest. Rest. Oh, if only it would come. Her mind raced and her legs ached. She winced and lowered her head. As a young, vibrant woman, she should not be worn by a two-mile walk as if she were her mother's mother. Something was not balanced in her body. Just thinking about it made her head swim.
The field in front of her gave way to the stream. Karin moved to the left to her tree — a steady oak, weathered by storms and long years. Its strong roots fed from the waters of the stream. Somewhere in its life, something affected its growth and caused it to angle to one side. The curved spot on the trunk made the perfect place for Karin to lean back.
She settled next to the tree and captured a moment of peace. Breathing in, she let the stress of the days and the negative thoughts of the morning exhale from her body. Perhaps another breath would revitalize her being. Taking the fresh air into her lungs, she imagined it fed her body as much as it fed her soul.
After several breaths, she pulled out her journal papers to study and write about the thoughts that plagued her. She let the sounds of the stream and the morning birdsong soothe her as she dove into her work. These papers were precious — so much so, she had kept them close for weeks. They were with her wherever she went, tucked neatly inside her dress at all times. And now they were all that were left to her.
After some study, words poured from her pen and into her journal until her lids grew heavy. Her sight blurred. She slumped forward, working to salvage her energy. Oh, Lord. If only she could stay awake a bit longer. Her pen could not work fast enough to rid her of the thoughts that tortured her so.
The time spent in thought and prayer these last few days had been a gift. Karin began to find her way through the maze of turmoil and back to her faith. She closed her eyes and offered silent words of gratitude. It was the first blissful sleep she'd had in weeks.
* * *
Earl Petr Bornekov gazed out the window. Clouds opened, and rain poured onto the thirsty earth. He did not celebrate the refreshing of the earth; he was concerned after his daughter. It was past midday, and she had not been present at either of the meals.
Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to see Mary standing timidly just inside the doorway. Her face was downcast. Did she bear bad news?
"Yes?" he said, his voice grating. He tried not to let his anger show.
Mary had been unable to account for Karin's whereabouts. She was only able to report that Karin had left the room before Mary rose to dress her. Who was at fault if not Mary?
"There is still no sign of Lady Karin. The horsemen have returned with nothing."
The muscles in Petr's jaw worked as he attempted to contain his emotions. Vlastik had sent a couple of horsemen to search the grounds. If they had not found her, where could she be?
"That will be all," he said, dismissing Mary with a wave as he fixed his gaze back out the window. A rustle of cloth let him know Mary left the room.
Petr stood vigil in the large library — overlooking the back of the chateau, giving him the best view of the forest line. Did he hope Karin would just appear? If so, he would be the first to spy her.
How could she have disappeared like this? Was she hurt? Dead? Killed by an errant hunter's arrow? Had she run away? Were his overbearing demands too much? Had she been taken? If so, for what reason? Each question led to more.
And so Petr continued to go in circles, ineffective as it was. What more could he do? The only thing left was to brave this torrential rain himself. Perhaps that time had come.
As Petr moved toward the stables, he heard a commotion in the hall behind him. Vlastik came into the study, several young men trailing behind him.
"Petr, come, see how my son has grown into a man! He and his friends h
ave arrived just before this horrid rain," Vlastik said, opening one arm for Petr to join them.
"I would be eager to do so, my friend. But, I fear I cannot." For certain, there was worry etched on his face as he had not the presence of mind to disguise his features.
Vlastik's booming jovial voice dissipated. "What troubles you, old friend?"
"Karin has not returned. She is not to be found in the chateau or the stables. No one has seen her since last night. I am certain she slipped out this morning for one of her strolls, and I fear something has happened to her while walking in the forest."
Vlastik's eyes widened. Had he forgotten the hour? Neglected to keep track of whether or not she had been found?
"If this is the case, we must go at once." He spun to face the young men. "Mount your horses. We must brave the rain for the sake of this young maiden's safe return!"
The young men moved down the hall with great haste toward the stables.
Petr started behind.
"We should wait here in case she returns," Vlastik reasoned.
"I can't sit and do nothing," Petr said. "I must go."
Vlastik nodded. "Then I will go with you." He laid a meaty hand on Petr's shoulder.
"Thank you." Petr put his opposite hand on Vlastik's shoulder.
* * *
Karin laid still, her mind and body at odds. She pawed through darkness to reach consciousness, while her sleep-deprived body refused to awaken. Thunder rumbled, and rain drizzled on her face. Stirring, she attempted to waken, but everything seemed almost dreamlike — dark, damp, and dreary. Thunder sounded once more, and the sky cracked with a sound clap.
Karin shuddered. She needed to get to the chateau, but her body wouldn't rouse, and she slipped back into her unconscious bliss.
Voices called out, attempting to pull her toward consciousness.
"Pavel! I found her!"
She sensed someone leaning over her, hands on her wrists.
"Is she all right?"
"Her pulse is weak."
Karin struggled to open her eyes, to tell them she was fine, but they were slow to work. After some moments, she forced her eyelids to obey. A pair of bright blue eyes met hers. Who did these eyes belong to? Trying to sit up, to push away, she wanted desperately to take in her surroundings, but nothing in her body would work.
"It's all right," the voice belonging to the eyes said. "Be still, you are safe."
Another face appeared. "We are friends. I am the Viscount’s son. Are you unwell?"
"No." Perhaps an untruth, but at least she managed one word. She struggled to sit up.
"Here," the blue-eyed man said, sliding an arm under her shoulders to help her recline at a slight angle to the ground. His eyes were captivating; it was difficult to pull away from them.
The other man’s hands moved over her arms. Was he checking for broken limbs?
It was dark. How long had she been asleep? No, not night, only raining. She returned to herself a little more.
Her papers! She reached for them, hoping to crumple them to herself before they could be seen.
"Don't worry, my lady," Vlastik's son said, "We won't leave those."
"No...it's," she tried to explain, but the darkness started to come over her again. "I can't..." The man with the blue eyes firmed his grip on her as she started to slide, and all was dark once again.
* * *
Mary moved about Karin's bedchambers, caught up in her own concerns about her mistress — and her future employment — when she heard a commotion at the door. She reached the latch just as the door burst open.
A small collection of men, one of which carried Karin, rushed inside. Turning, Mary was quick to make herself useful, directing the unfamiliar young man toward the bed. He brushed past her as if she wasn't there.
Petr hurried alongside as the young man laid Karin down. Her eyes opened to reveal slits of green. Everyone paused, as if afraid to breathe.
Mary drew a hand over her mouth. Surely the mistress was alive?
"Who...?" Karin managed to croak out with much effort as she gazed at the stranger who had borne her body such a distance. She made an effort to continue her question, but he answered her.
"Pavel," he said, resting a hand on hers, "My name is Pavel."
Seemingly satisfied, she offered him a slight smile before closing her eyes once more.
"Karin!" Petr moved toward her, reaching for her hand as Pavel took a step back.
Mary cleared her throat. "Let us give the lady and his lordship some room to breathe until the doctor gets here."
The younger men nodded and made their way toward the door and out of the room. It did not escape Mary's notice, however that Pavel stole one last, long glance at her mistress's lax form.
* * *
Over the next several hours, Karin had more snatches of consciousness. In and out of reality. What was dream, and what was real?
A physician examined her. Mary attempted to give her tea. Others talked to her or around her. All this fuss over a bit of drowsiness! Karin worked to speak, but words failed. Her limbs refused to obey and lay, as if heavy weights, at her side.
Karin's eventual return to sustained consciousness was slow. It began as if she were climbing out of a pit; little by little, she inched her way toward the light. Then it occurred how strange it all was, how unlike any dream she’d ever had.
At first the light was but a pinpoint, and her progress slow. Clawing at this invisible mire which held her in place was more effort than she believed she could muster, but as she came closer to the light, the thick substance holding her became thinner and more aqueous. She moved as if swimming, and no longer constrained, it seemed as if the light rushed for her.
Karin's eyes fluttered opened, and her hold on consciousness was firm; the darkness would not come for her again. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude as she drank in the sights, sounds, and sensations.
One quick glance about the room and she saw that she was in her bedchambers at the chateau. Someone had changed her into a nightdress, and her hair fell loose. The nightshift and her hair clung as if her vision of swimming had been more than illusion. Her eyes adjusted, and what had seemed like incredible light before was now dim. Dark drapes were drawn, and she could only just make out the sunlight in the window beyond.
How long had she been caught in this strange sleep? It seemed like so many hours ago she had been in the meadow. But could she trust her perception of time? She strained to listen for sounds beyond the door. Steps, movements in the hall were evident. But how close or how far was difficult to distinguish.
Testing the mobility of her limbs, she shifted to sit. Her muscles protested, resisting but obeying with some hesitation. And so, with some effort, she worked her way into a sitting position.
The footsteps in the hall came closer. And the door’s latch creaked. She could only manage to turn her head in that direction as Mary entered. Her maidservant carried a tray bearing a cup and fresh damp cloths.
When Mary noticed that her mistress was awake and struggling to sit up, she almost dropped the tray, catching it in time to save the cup of hot liquid.
"Milady!" She rushed forward. "No, milady, let me help you!" She grabbed for pillows to prop Karin up.
Karin wanted to protest, but she couldn't deny how grateful her body was for the relief. "Thank you, Mary," she croaked.
"I have your tea." Mary grasped the cup and held it to Karin's lips.
Karin reached to take the cup. "I thank you, but I am strong enough."
"Of course." Mary relinquished the cup but insisted on patting down Karin's face and arms with the cool cloth.
Perhaps this was part of Mary's routine while Karin lay unconscious. Now that she was awake, it was wholly unnecessary, but Mary seemed to be a creature of habit.
"Could you open the drapes? I would like to see the sunlight."
Mary nodded and moved across the room.
"How long have I been like this?" Karin’s voice
grew stronger. The warmth of the tea helped.
"Seven days, milady."
"Seven days?" Her teacup rattled.
Mary rushed over to help steady it.
Karin settled the cup in her lap.
"Yes, you were quite sick," Mary continued, turning away to continue her work around the room. She told Karin the story as if bored, as if she were telling it for the hundredth time. "You were in quite ill when they brought you in, and no one could figure what had happened. When your father called for the doctor, he said it was poison."
"Poison?" Karin brushed a hand across her forehead. Could it be true?
Chapter 2
Coherent
Karin's brow furrowed. Who would poison her?
"They couldn't decide what manner of poison," Mary continued her drawn-out narrative as if Karin hadn't spoken. "They searched for animal marks, but the doctor said some animals leave tiny marks they might not find. And, if you had eaten something, there would not be a mark. The doctor said we would have to wait and let your body fight it with the cleansing tea and medicines. If it could. Your father has been sick with worry. He has been in and out every day..."
Mary chattered on, but the sound of her voice muffled as Karin’s mind whirled. This was all rather difficult to take in. It was not possible she had been poisoned, was it? Why?
"If I may, I should go for your father. He will want to see you," Mary said, shoulders stiff, voice clipped. Was she annoyed Karin was ignoring her?
Karin nodded, only mildly concerned about Mary’s feelings.
When the door shut behind her, Karin let out a long sigh and thrust her head back into her pillow.
Seven days. Poison. Either one would be a bit much, but to be hit with both at once... Where could the poison have come from? Had someone…? Surely not.
The door was flung open and her father appeared, Mary fast on his heels.
The Lady Bornekova Page 2