Red Magic (17 page)

"I hope you will be able to
understand. As the boys are a part of my life, it's right that you should know
about them, but I didn't intend for you to find out like this." His gaze
returned to the cavalryman frozen in a motionless prance upon the papers, a man
thinking about his sons.

Doubts and fears swirled. Again Cat
remembered the thing Christoph had said at the Black Swan, about the "blessing"
of delay. Had he been thinking of this?

Another black thought quickly popped in.
Caterina blurted: "How many other children are there?"

"No others that I am obligated to as I
am to Christian and Michael."

"Cuckoos in other men's nests, is that
what you mean?"

"Perhaps, Caterina.
No lady has ever taken me to task, but on occasion I've wondered.
The fact is I've done a lot of things I've lived long enough to be sorry
for."

Cat continued to gaze at the floor. So much
to think through…

"There are no other secrets, Caterina.
The past is past. As I told Wili, I want nothing more than to begin my life
again. So," he ended, inclining his handsome dark head, "will you
please stay? You must know by now that I have no intention of forcing you."

Caterina looked him up and down. "I
promised my mother that I would try to trust you."

"I hope you will do more than try, but
under the
circumstances that is
the most I can hope
for." He took Caterina's hand up and briefly kissed it. "I shall not
play the rogue with you." Dark eyes, gazing into hers, sent an alarming
green flash, one that a subterranean something deep inside tugged to answer…

"There are a great many obstacles to
our happiness, but I remain hopeful that in time we shall find our way. At the
Black Swan we both had a glimpse of something beyond duty."

"Time will tell." Caterina
severely quoted one of her mother's favorite maxims. Her heart, again heavy
with doubt and homesickness, ached.

"Between us there has to be healing
before anything can grow. Trust me a little, and I'll show you that a man can
change."

Chapter Ten

At Heldenberg there were a few raw recruits
for Christoph's company, young men from the farmsteads. There were also three
officers and about fifteen foot soldiers from his regiment. These men always
accompanied him into battle. They kept military discipline and so daily there
were exercises and drills which her husband overlooked.

Christoph's days were full, for besides
this and work with
Walter,
he took rides to survey his
livestock and land. To Caterina's delight he always asked her to come. Those
days were perfectly happy, the same cousinly fun they'd always shared. As they
ranged over the broad shoulders of Heldenberg, Cat was able to enjoy herself,
to let go of her fears and suspicions.

"You should meet my peasants. It's
important, especially as I might have to go soldiering again next year. I want
you to get a feel for the place and its problems. Your papa told me you were
more interested in such things than women usually are and that's an interest I
intend to encourage. If you have a talent for managing it will be useful,
especially because I am a soldier and often absent."

Christoph talked with her about the people
they met. He spoke about the livestock, about the few run-down farms, the
peasants who couldn't, for one reason or another, pay their tithe.

Cat loved these rides "on
business." It was wonderful to be treated like a grown, intelligent
person. It was also wonderful to get out of the house, away from all those cold
eyes.

"Come on, Red," her husband would
say when the business of the day was done. "Let's gallop."

And gallop they would, a breathtaking,
glorious chase. She'd set her sights on Brandy's burnished rump and chase
Christoph until they reached the high meadows. Then he'd slow and they'd ride
knee to knee, gazing at the range of gray-headed sister mountains and down the
long sweep into the valley.

"If you think it's lovely now, you
should see it in spring," Christoph said as they rode by a herd of dun
cattle. "It's a sea
of Edelweiss, white and
gold and green."

Peasants tugged their forelocks as they
rode past, watching their master survey what was his. They recognized their
young lord, but for the first time saw his bride, tall, slender and red haired,
sitting her horse as easily as any nobleman.

* * *

Caterina, frequently left to her own
devices, was in the barn a great deal. Here her path continually crossed the
dreaded Rossmann's. One of the first things Cat overheard while she was in the
barn were stories, the ones of which Christoph had spoken. The grooms called
Rossmann names: 'Heathen' and 'Turkman devil.' It seemed that his Christianity,
because he never went down the hill to the church in Heldenruhe, was suspect.

His temper was rightly feared. She saw a
welt on one man's arm and learned that Rossmann was like to lay about him with
a whip if his orders weren't carried out to the letter. Sometimes, in spite of
her Russian drab, she'd feel eyes while she curried Star. When she turned,
there would be the horsemaster, giving her the same sort of apprising once over
he might give a new mare. As soon as her eyes met his, he would turn and walk
wordlessly away. She knew it was the frank admiration of a man for a woman, but
she did not dare to confront him.

In spite of the discomfort she felt around
him it was next to impossible to keep out of the barn, for Cat loved horses and
her husband's were no exception. There were four mares, a heavy, stately Oldenburg war horse, a long bodied Wurttemberg and
two sturdy Hanoverians, all trailing foals or yearlings. There were also the
bay harness horses, two mares and two gelded. Also in the barn was a pair of
immense gray Percherons for farm work, as well as a hinny and two fat blonde
mountain ponies. Brandy was the sire of most of the foals, but there was a new
stud as well, a wild eyed silver Andalusian.

Cat was enchanted by him, by the agility
and spectacular paces he displayed while loose at pasture. She thought he was
one of the most beautiful creatures she'd ever seen in her young, horse loving
life. She asked Christoph if she could ride him, but he said no.

"I don't think it would be a good idea
until you've studied him for a time. That horse is not only crazy, but smart
too. He has found a way to toss every man here, including me. Only Rossmann can
stick on him. Why don't you go out on big Jack sometime while Rossmann's
exercising him? That will start to give you a notion of what you'll be up
against."

The Andalusian had been Herr Rossmann's
pride and joy until Star had come. After taking in her conformation, her short
back and long neck, her large-eyed diamond head, all so true to Arab
type, Rossmann had persuaded her to stand so he could count her vertebrae. The
total, several short of the other horses, proved her ancestry to his
satisfaction. "Yes," he declared to a small audience of grooms,
"there's definitely Arab blood here. You Austrians don't appreciate how
fine a little desert blood can be. You think that size is everything, but
crossing will improve your horses, both in hardness of bone and in hardness of
head."

It was Karl, one of the grooms, who told
Cat. He added that the horsemaster was always stopping by her stall and
crooning to her in his own strange tongue.

"She's scared of him, Lady," Karl
said. "God protect her, just like the rest of us. You should see her,
tossing that pretty head of hers, snorting and stamping."

Cat came upon it one day, heard the
mysterious chant as she came through the gloom of the barn to Star's capacious
box stall. She heard the strange words mingling with the sound of the mare's
distress as she puffed and snorted, sounds punctuated by a nervous stamping.

"What a pleasure it is to have you in
my stable, my beautiful red darling." Rossmann said.

Cat peeped around the half open stall door.
Rossmann was running his hands along Star's neck, her withers. One minute the
mare was issuing the stamping, eye rolling warning she gave when alarmed. The
next she was standing, her sides quivering like sorrel jelly, breathing hard,
but allowing the horsemaster's strangely long fingered hands to stroke her.
They ran down her neck and across her sides; they lingered down the sensitive
backs of her hind legs.

The sudden acquiescence and the terror that
still seemed to sit in those round eyes sent every hair on the back of
Caterina's neck erect. It was almost as if Rossmann was touching her!

"What are you doing?" She pushed
through the door.

The spell was broken. At once Star gave a
sideways hop, whinnied and reared. The horsemaster lifted a hand, said some
quick distinct yet completely unintelligible words. Still quivering, the mare
pushed her backside into a corner and stayed there. Her eyes showed white
crescents and she continued to breathe hard.

Rossmann turned towards Cat. The look in
his eye sent her backing up in a hurry too.

When they were both outside the stall,
Rossmann wordlessly shot the latch. His face was pale. "What were you
doing? You are supposed to know something about horses, but you were the one
who frightened her."

"No." Cat trembled. "She
didn't want you touching her. And—and—I don't want you touching her, if that's
how she feels."

Rossmann's lip curled. Amusement, scorn, it
was as plain as if he'd written it on the stable wall.

"Who will take care of her
later?"

"I will."

"No," he insisted, "who will
take care of her this winter, when the snow is over your head and you've got a
belly full?"

Cat's jaw dropped. She couldn't have been
more shocked if he'd slapped her.

"You want only the best for her, eh,
Mistress?" A slight cold smile appeared. "Well, I am the best. The
sooner she gets used to me the better. Don't worry. I know how valuable she is.
I will do every little thing for her." He approached as he spoke, had come
close. She found herself staring into his white face, into a pair of burning black
eyes.

"You and I will be the only ones who
touch her.
You and I, and her chosen stallion."

Cat swallowed hard.

"She is well groomed, as you can see.
Why don't you go and visit her now?" Rossman's manner turned off hand.
Abruptly he turned and walked away into the gloom.

Cat went to the stall and peeped over the
high wall. Star whickered a nervous greeting, tossed her head, making the blaze
flash up and down in a blur. Slowly, as if she wasn’t too sure of who Cat was,
she approached, stretched out her ruddy neck and sniffed. Numbly Cat opened the
door and went in. She stuck her hand into her pocket and came up with the fresh
carrots the gardener had provided.

Then, while the mare munched her offering,
she breathed in the good warm comforting horse smell and ran her hands slowly
over the sorrel's shining neck and back. Star felt like a length of satin, for
she was curried to a fare-thee-well, white stockings brilliant, her mane and
tail prettily braided. Even her hooves gleamed. Cat thought ruefully that Star
hadn't been in such fine condition since last autumn's hunts.

* * *

"Do you really know he's a Serb?"
She asked at supper. "Goran says that Rossmann was in the Pasha's
army."

"Yes, I know all the things Goran
says," Christoph replied. "Some of it is probably true, but I also
believe that Rossmann's personal honor is a sufficient guarantee of good
behavior."

"But doesn't he make you nervous? You,
who've fought so many times against the Turks, been almost killed by
them?"

"No, not really.
I see many reasons for their enmity, besides the hereditary ones.
Herr Rossmann is learned, a thing which Goran, who was born a peasant,
naturally mistrusts. Rossmann has books. He knows about the stars and about
healing plants and medicine. The one thing I really do know about Rossmann is
that in his own land he was a gentleman. Then something happened and his
property was confiscated. After he came into my service, we passed through what
was left of his village. He told me that the Turks had burned his family alive.
They never take revenge by halves." Caterina shuddered. Once, as a child
traveling with her family to Passau,
she'd seen a barn burn, the flames shooting to the sky. There had been terrible
sounds, the howl of the heaven piercing fire, the boom of collapsing timbers,
the screams of animals and people.

Brave men had been in the barn,
blindfolding horses in order to lead them out. Then the roof had come down. She
would never forget the smell that had assaulted her, the hideous smell of
burned flesh—man and beast together.

But this conversation wasn't going as she
had hoped. She must complain about Rossmann. The house servants could play
whatever games pleased them. The barn was where Star was, the place where she
absolutely must feel safe, be respected.

"Until the day Rossmann shows me that
he isn't a gentleman, a gentleman down on his luck, I won't treat him as
anything less."