A Forest of Wolves (10 page)

T
he next day we headed out of Vledrá. We had a mission: to recruit as many men as we could. We rode for a few hours before we came upon our next stop. This town was much bigger than Kladno and the other villages I'd visited in the past few weeks. The cobblestone roads led to a central square with many of the same luxuries that Prague had—a tailor, a blacksmith, and an apothecary. The town bustled with activity.

I followed the Sýkora men down the broad road. Strange faces watched us. What if someone recognized me?

“Should I put my hood up?” I asked. “This looks like a pretty big place.”

“There's no sense in hiding anymore,” Petr said. “The Crown knows you're with us. If they see Marc or me, they will assume we are all together.”

“Which is why you wanted me to stay home,” I said, finally understanding.

Marc tilted his head. “It's all right. This village, while technically under Catholic rule, is predominantly Protestant.”

“Where are we?”

“Prucha,” Henrik answered.

My heart stopped.

“Technically,” Henrik said, “You own this place.”

A loud buzzing filled my ears.

“I told you,” Marc said to Henrik. “She's not married to him. How many times do I have to—”

“I know, but the entire kingdom thinks she is,” Henrik said. “You know, because of the ceremony at Saint Vitus Cathedral with the priest. She wore a wedding dress....”

Marc's face tightened. “I told you they never consummated—”

“Ludmila?” Petr patted his horse's neck. “Are you all right?”

“We're in Prucha?” I whispered. My eyes devoured Radek's town.

“Mila?” Marc asked.

We'd reached a large, two-story tavern with a balcony that extended all the way around the second floor. The building was packed to capacity. Drunken men and women yelled down to the street.

Henrik seized the reins and tied my mare to a post.

Marc helped me down. “Are you all right? I thought you knew this was Prucha.... I'd assumed you'd been here before.”

The buzzing in my ears stopped, but my heart threatened to burst out of my chest. “I-I've been to Radek's estate, but never the town....”

“It's only a town,” Marc said.

“It's Radek's town.”

“He's at Prague Castle. He's not here. He can't hurt you anymore. I promised you that.”

“But...” I had no argument. Only fear. I stole a glance at the Sýkora men. They didn't look concerned that we were in Radek's territory. On the land people believed I now ruled.

Marc's hand cradled my waist. “Let's get something to eat. We won't be here long and I'll be right beside you the entire time.”

Henrik's arm brushed my shoulder as he walked past. “Mila, if the people of Prucha hate you and consider you the duchess, then we know they hate Radek and we can trust the town. You'll be like our secret weapon.”

“That doesn't help, Henrik.”

“Let's go, boys,” Petr said.

We walked inside the chaotic tavern. Men shouted and laughed. In the corner a band played music. Scantily clad women sat on men's laps. Ale flowed. Empty mugs of beer covered the counter. The floors were sticky with unknown substances.

“This is exactly what I was looking for,” Henrik said.

Marc's hand tightened on my waist. “Stay close.”

“There's a spot.” Henrik pointed to an empty table in the middle of the tavern.

Petr led the way. Empty mugs covered the round table. The tavern smelled like Prague's alleyways: the stench of vomit and urine mixed with stale ale and unwashed bodies. I had to breathe through my mouth to stop from gagging. Did the smell not bother the men?

“What's the plan?” Henrik's eyes moved around the tavern. “Can we eat before we start our speeches? I'm starving.”

“Here comes the barmaid,” Petr said.

All three Sýkora men watched as a voluptuous reddish-blonde sauntered over to our table with a grin on her red-painted lips. She wore a light green dress with a darker green laced corset. The dress fell off her shoulders and, somehow, miraculously, didn't fall off despite half of her bust exploding out of the dress.

The men couldn't look away.

“Hello there,” she breathed. “What a handsome group.” She winked at me. “You are one lucky woman to be sitting here with these three fine men. What can I do for you all?”

She'd initially noticed Marc, but her eyes dropped to his arm, protectively around my waist. By this time, Marc had lowered his own eyes, which now wandered around the bar, conspicuously on everything but the barmaid. Henrik, on the other hand, couldn't stop staring at the gorgeous blonde.

She delighted in the attention.

“What would you suggest, beautiful?” Henrik asked.

“I can give you whatever you want.”

Henrik's light eyebrows rose to his hair

Even I understood what was unsaid between them.

Petr cleared his throat. “I'll take a plate of potatoes and sausage. With a glass of ale, please.”

“I'll take the same,” Marc said. “Mila?”

“Red cabbage and dumplings, please.”

The waitress squinted at me. She leaned over and exposed more cleavage to the table. “You look...”

I raised my chin. “Yes?”

“Important.”

Marc kissed my hair. “She is.”

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Probably not,” I said. “This is my first time in Prucha.”

“Strange.” The woman scooted closer to Henrik. “And for you, handsome? What can I get you?”

Henrik's eyes were wide. “Whatever you recommend.”

“I'll be back soon.” She laughed and shook her hips as she walked away from the table.

“You can look away now.” Marc laughed.

Henrik finally dragged his eyes away from the barmaid. “What can I say? She is a beautiful woman. Not as pretty as Mila of course, but a pretty one indeed.”

I blushed and lowered my eyes.

“Did you even see her face?” Marc asked.

“Wasn't necessary.”

The men laughed and I secretly watched the barmaid as she assembled the mugs of ale. She resembled Ruzena, with the same shapely figure, long hair, and blue eyes. Both women were attractive and both knew how to behave around men.

I was painfully aware of my own skinny wrists and thin frame. My body looked like a child's in comparison to the barmaid's. I didn't have voluptuous hips or overflowing cleavage. My long hair was dark and my eyes were blue.

Did men find me attractive? Or were they only attracted to me because of my lineage? Did Marc—or even Henrik, for that matter—prefer their women to look like the barmaid? Could I excite Marc in the same way watching that woman had excited Henrik?

The barmaid placed our drinks on the table and every man in the vicinity watched her retreat back to the bar.

“It's predominately Protestant,” Petr said.

“What?” Henrik muttered.

Petr tugged the black string around his wrist. “The room is mostly ours. You do remember why we're here—don't you, Son?”

“Oh yes.”

Petr was right—most of the people in the room wore the black string that symbolized the Protestant rebellion. However, most of the men were in such a state of drunkenness that they probably had no idea where they were. Nor were they in any state of mind to fight for a cause.

I examined the room for any unfriendly faces. I was on edge because we were in Radek's town. Petr claimed the room was
mostly
theirs, meaning there were at least some Catholics in the tavern, too.

When the barmaid brought our food to the table, I noticed a man at the bar sipping ale. He kept glancing at our table, but it could've been because the barmaid was talking to Henrik. She'd scooted on the bench beside Henrik and was whispering in his ear. Painted lips nearly touched his earlobe.

Irritation seeped in, but why?

Perhaps it was the long horse ride or maybe my nervousness at our surroundings. Whatever it was, I was ready to leave. I'd had enough of Prucha.

The man stole another peek at our table.

“What's the matter?” Marc asked.

“See that man over there with the red hair? Sitting on the stool?”

“Yes.”

“He keeps staring at us,” I said. “Do you think he's from the Crown? Does he recognize me?”

Marc watched the man for a long time. “No. He's wearing a band. Maybe he recognizes my father. He's about his age.”

“Oh.” I squinted until I saw the black thread. I'd missed it before. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Shall we begin?” Petr asked his sons.

Marc kissed me on the lips. “I'll be back. Stay here.”

The Sýkora men went from table to table. I sipped my ale and watched as they made their way around the room to different groups of men. A slight fuzziness clouded my brain and I enjoyed watching them try to convince strangers to fight for the cause.

Petr and Marc were serious in their communication with the men. Henrik of course was laughing through most of his speech. All in all, their efforts appeared to be successful. On more than a few occasions, men presented coins to them. Others enthusiastically nodded and shook their hands. Others declined with a quick nod. Some tables were completely avoided, which must have meant they were Catholic.

I scrutinized the presumably Catholic tables to see if I recognized any of the men. Would they send word back to the castle about my appearance in Prucha? Maybe the message had already been sent?

While watching the boys deliver their speeches, I was also extremely aware of the barmaid staring at Henrik. The blatant way she flirted with him bothered me. I had no reason to be irritated, but I didn't like the way she was throwing herself at him. It seemed desperate.

Henrik didn't mind, though, which annoyed me, too.

I drank more ale.

After nearly two hours of drinking alone, Marc returned to our table. “We gained a decent number of followers. Over a dozen men have agreed to come to the camp this week.”

“That's great news.”

“Even that redheaded man you were worried about... the one staring at our table? He's coming to Kladno tomorrow.”

“I'm glad,” I slurred.

“Are you drunk?”

“I think so. I had nothing else to do, and the barmaid kept bringing mugs of ale. She said they were free of charge.”

“That was kind of her,” Marc said.

“She wanted information about Henrik.”

“Oh.” Marc's eyes traveled over my face. “You two have become good friends, haven't you?”

I shrugged. “I don't have any friends in Kladno.”

“I'm in Kladno.”

“You're busy leading and whatnot. We are starting a revolution. How could you not be busy?”

“I apologize if you feel neglected. That wasn't my intention. But I am responsible—”

I put my hand up. “Stop. Sorry, that sounded needy. I'm fine and I like your brother. He's nice and funny and he brings me food.”

Marc glanced at Henrik laughing with a group of men. “He's a good man. Mila, are you still upset with me about—”

“Ruzena?”

“Um... actually, I was going to say about Kristoff, but I guess you're upset about Ruzena, too. I've told you before, there is nothing between us. I swear. She's just an old friend.”

“You should tell her that. She seems to think otherwise.”

“It only matters what I think. And what I want.” Marc grabbed my chin and lifted my lips to his mouth. “And all I want is you.”

After he kissed me, my eyes lifted over his shoulder. Henrik was talking to the barmaid again, but he wasn't looking at her.

He was looking at me.

Petr stepped in between our line of sight. “This was a success, son. Shall we head to the next town?”

“Let's go. Oko
is not far.” Marc offered his hand to help me to my feet. I was wobbly but not completely inebriated.

Marc led me through the crowded tavern. “Henrik, are you coming? Or are you staying with your new friend?”

Henrik regarded me for half a second too long. “I'm coming with you.”

We made our way to our horses. My vision was tilted and my head throbbed in rhythm to the mare's stride. However, despite the headache, I was thrilled to be leaving Prucha.