An Embarrassment of Riches (44 page)

Antal shook his head. “Women are fools about men, and will be swayed, like Eve was, by honied words. See you do not bring about the fall of our House through your self-indulgence.”

She wanted to scream at him, but she knew what that implacable note in his voice meant, so she ducked her head and turned away. “I must change. I can’t do the Konige’s business looking like a frump.”

“It is only a matter of time before you will be betrothed. Keep that in mind, sister-mine.”

She flounced down the corridor, not looking back; she was seething. How dare he! she thought. “He will not command me in this way,” she said under her breath as she entered her room and found it empty. She opened the door again. “I need a ’tire-maid,” she called out, and went to get out of her bleihaut.

Rusalka, one of four ’tire-maids assigned to the Konige’s ladies-in-waiting, answered Iliska’s summons, coming into the bedchamber just as Iliska dropped her bleihaut on the floor. “Lady? What am I to do for you?”

“Help me to dress, of course,” Iliska snapped. “The Konige is sending me to deliver a message to all her courtiers living outside the castle walls, and I must present an appropriate appearance.” She pointed to the bleihauts hung in the main garderobe; the odor from the vials of camphor-oil hung with the clothes was very strong in the room. “I will need some perfume, as well,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

“Yes. But shall you choose your bleihaut first, and do you want to select another chainse?” Rusalka pointed the clothespress. “You have a pretty one in pale-blue silk.”

“So I do,” Iliska said. “Yes, all right. I’ll change my chainse, too. And I think the white sculptured velvet bleihaut will do, with the blue veil and gorget.” She began to smile, aware of how pale colors set off the golden-peach color of her skin.

“Then let me help you out of your chainse,” said Rusalka. “I will help you to get into it in a moment.” She went to the clothespress and lifted its lid. “Oh! There are mice in the press,” she cried.

“There are mice in the pillows, if it comes to that,” said Iliska. “And the Devil has sent a miasma of flies to the castle well, to plague us.” She crossed herself.

“God between us and harm,” said Rusalka, and made the sign of the cross for the whole chamber. “Pray that no harm comes from them.”

“Let the Episcopus entreat God—it’s what he does.” Iliska was about to laugh but stifled the impulse as she saw the appalled expression on Rusalka’s face. “Well, it
is
what he does.”

“With all that Csenge of Somogy has Confessed, you would do well to be less light-hearted.”

“And since you are a servant it would be well for you to be less impertinent.” Iliska pulled her chainse over her head and handed it to Rusalka. “Give me the pale-blue one.”

Rusalka ducked her head. “Yes, Lady.”

“And find me those pearl-topped pins for the gorget.” She glanced at the small mirror that hung on the garderobe. “At least the weather is improving. That’s a relief.”

“As you say, Lady,” Rusalka murmured as she held out the chainse to Iliska, averting her eyes.

Iliska pulled the garment over her head and shifted it on her shoulders. “This should do,” she approved. “The bleihaut.”

Rusalka handed it to her. “I have the gorget and veil here as well.”

“Lace me up,” Iliska ordered.

“Yes, Lady,” Rusalka muttered, and said nothing more.

“Tight enough to make my breasts swell,” Iliska added, cupping her hands around them to move them into the preferred position. “Like this.”

When Iliska was finished dressing, she turned to Rusalka. “While I’m gone put out my clothes for the May Festival. You know which things I want. And make sure you include perfume with my garments.”

Rusalka nodded, but held her tongue.

“Pray for me,” Iliska said to the ’tire-maid. “If I do the Konige’s desire correctly, I will come out of it with a pledged husband.” With this as a final announcement, she bounced off toward the door, humming in anticipation.

*   *   *

Text of a report to Rudolph von Hapsburg, Comes of Austria, from his most highly placed spy at the Konige’s Court in Praha, written in code and delivered by private courier seventeen days after it was written.

To the most worthy Comes of Austria, Rudolph von Hapsburg, the faithful greetings of your servant at the Court of Kunigunde of Halicz, Konige of Bohemia, on this, the fifth day of May in the 1270
^th
Year of Man’s Salvation, by my own hand.

Most noble Comes,

As she has done in years past, the Konige celebrated the coming of spring with a May Festival, one that had to be postponed from the first or second day of May to the fourth and fifth days. I have just returned from the Konige’s Field and before I retire to bed, I am taking my pen in hand to tell you of how the festival was kept this year. You may decide what significance the events may have.

As I informed you two weeks since, the Konige’s lady-in-waiting, Csenge of Somogy, has Confessed that she has witnessed Devil’s Rites practiced by the Konige’s ladies, and that for her knowledge she has been tormented by imps and devils and other creatures of Hell. Because of these accusations, Episcopus Fauvinel has declared that he will examine the ladies-in-waiting to determine if Csenge’s claims are those of virtue or those of possession, and to set the tone for what is to come, the Episcopus required that many courtiers make public penance by carrying a cross in much the same way that Our Lord did to His crucifixion, while reciting penitential Psalms. In all, twelve members of the Konige’s Court made the four circuits the Episcopus had ordered. Their presence certainly reduced the gaiety of the festival. Not even the troubadours who were singing for the Konige’s entertainment were able to infuse the usual delights into the courtiers, although it is fitting to say that only one of them made any serious effort.

The lists—usually filled with jousting—were used only little, and those knights who decided to show their skills were ordered to pledge whatever prizes they might be awarded to the Church. The few knights who did joust were displeased by this condition laid upon them, but none of them were so outraged that they refused to give their winnings to the Episcopus. It is said that a number of the men have sworn not to compete again next year unless they are allowed to keep their winnings, but the Konige has not been able—or perhaps has not been willing—to offer such an assurance. Some of the knights said they feared that Konig Otakar was trying to buy the favor of the Pope in his bid for becoming Holy Roman Emperor. While that may be true, I doubt it is the way the Episcopus views his requirements, for he made no mention of the Konig, only of the Konige. It may be that he is playing a subtle game, laying traps for Otakar’s supporters, but he has never seemed so crafty to me; he is more a zealot than a schemer from all I have seen of him. But it may be that I am underestimating the depths of his contrivances.

Tomorrow the Episcopus begins his examination of the Konige’s ladies-in-waiting, to determine how many of them the Devil has claimed for his own. The one lady excused from this process is Imbolya of Heves, who departs in two days to return to Hungary to prepare for her wedding. Her Confessor has said that she at no time exhibited the kinds of depravity that Csenge has claimed occurred, and while Imbolya admits to taking delights in the tales of the troubadours and the stories of marvels that are told in the marketplaces, she is cognizant that these are the inventions of clever men, not creations of God. So she will be gone and the Konige will once again lack a lady for her service. It will be up to Konig Bela to decide who among his noblewomen is to come to Praha to serve the Konige.

When there is more to impart, rest assured, revered Comes, I will again take up my pen so that you may be apprized of all that goes on in the Konige’s Court in Vaclav Castle. If there is any way in which I might serve your interests further, I ask that you inform me in the same code with which this is written, in case that this or any other dispatch falls into unfriendly hands. Know that I pray for your victory morning and night, and that my dedication remains fixed on you and God.

Your secret servant

4

“Estephe is not in the household today,” said Hruther in Visigothic Spanish as he entered Rakoczy’s workroom on a warm afternoon three days after the Konige’s May Festival. “Barnon says he left last evening and hasn’t returned.”

“Where was he bound when he left—do we know?” Rakoczy asked, looking up from a large, leather-bound volume with
Res Naturae
stamped in gold on its cover and its spine; he was wearing a black-silk gambeson of Hungarian cut over braccae of black leather, much simpler than anything he would be seen in outside the gates of Mansion Belcrady.

“Barnon says that Estephe told him he was going to church; he didn’t mention which one.” There was a note of doubt in his voice. He glanced toward the open windows. “The glaziers are busy in the main hall.”

“I can hear them; they have promised to be finished in another four days,” said Rakoczy, and closed the book. “Is Barnon worried?”

Hruther nodded. “When he told me of it, he was troubled. He says that he fears the Church has detained Estephe, if he truly went to church, that, or he has gone to inform upon you, but whether to the Council or the Church he didn’t venture to say.” He noticed the disassembled Roman saw-clock spread out on the trestle-table, and recognized it as the sign of frustration it was. “I don’t think it would be prudent to make a close inquiry for him.”

“No doubt: it would be seen as an upset or a concession, and either way, there may be trouble. I trust we can deal with it, old friend.” Rakoczy sighed.

“Then you
do
share Barnon’s vexations,” said Hruther.

“I believe that Estephe’s absence could mean … difficulties,” Rakoczy admitted, a rueful smile tweaking the corners of his mouth and then fading. “If he has not returned by nightfall, I suppose I will have to make an inquiry through the Konige’s steward, since it would be considered suspect for me—or anyone else in the household—to seek him out directly.”

“Is there something you’d like me to do in the meantime? Do you have anyone you could tell to look for him without exposing yourself to risks? Are there preparations we should make?” Hruther asked, adding, when Rakoczy volunteered nothing, “I could send one of the household to ask for him at the Hive and Bees. It would be a start, and one that no one would think strange.”

Rakoczy considered this. “Not yet, I think,” he answered slowly. “If there is no trouble beyond his being out for the night, then … We do not want to create misgivings where none exist.”

“This might have nothing to do with you. He might have run away from the household. He might have been set upon by street toughs. He may have accepted other employment, to avoid being in a foreigner’s household,” said Hruther.

“If he has been set upon, we will hear of it soon enough,” said Rakoczy, his manner remote—another sign that Hruther recognized for the anxiety it was. “If he has run away, that may be less easily found out.”

“But you can do so, can’t you?” said Hruther. “Without increasing your exposure to the malice of others.”

“If no one forces my hand, it should be possible,” Rakoczy conceded.

“When are you next bidden to the Konige’s Court?”

“Tomorrow after Mass; that gives a little time to decide upon a way to discover what has happened to Estephe and what it can mean for us. If I must rely upon the Konige to address the matter, then there are apt to be more questions than any of us would like,” said Rakoczy. “Still, the Konige does feel some little obligation to me, and I have another two pouches of jewels to present to the Konige and her children tomorrow.”

“Does that strike you as excessive? The Konige has increased her requests again, hasn’t she?” Hruther watched him while he answered.

“Not from her view of the matter; she is adding to the riches of her daughters, which will give them fortunes of their own. I know she fears she and they may be in danger,” said Rakoczy. “She’s fretting about the lack of news from Konig Otakar, and adding to her display gives the Court the appearance of confidence of victory.”

Hruther nodded. “And how convenient that the display costs the Konige nothing.”

“I wonder,” said Rakoczy. He started ruminatively at the athanor at the far end of the room. “She is far from … content.”

“The wealthiest Konige in Europe is discontented.” Hruther took a long moment to mull over Rakoczy’s remark. “It is most unfortunate for her if she is. There are rumors that the Konig was not her first choice for a husband.”

“There are always such rumors about Koniges, for most of their alliances are for political ends,” Rakoczy said, then added, “But that does not mean that they might not be true of her. She has the air of loss about her.”

“She is far from her home and her husband is at war with her grandfather.” Hruther hitched up his shoulders. “Not an easy course for any woman.”