An Embarrassment of Riches (32 page)

“Dear Royal is most gracious,” said Rakoczy with a deep French bow. As the occasion demanded, he, too, was elegant in his huch of black-red Damascus silk lined with a herringbone pattern of darkest weasel-pelts, the square, open sleeves lined in red satin and edged in rubies. His chainse was of black Ankara wool, woven to the fineness of Coan linen; his braccae were of supple Persian leather dyed dark-red, and his thick-soled Hungarian estivaux were black, reaching up his leg to just below his knee. The ruby-studded silver-link collar stood out against his clothing, and the pectoral of his eclipse device was magnificent with silver raised wings over a large black sapphire. His silver coronet shone on his brow.

“It is doubly duteous of you to have brought these jewels to me when you have more pressing matters demanding your attention,” she said, running her finger over the lid of the box. Her torpid demeanor and downcast eyes were at odds with the splendor of the Court.

“I am here in Praha to serve you, dear Royal.”

“You keep to your task quite well,” she approved, but in so flat a voice that he would not have been convinced of her sincerity had he not been aware it was her melancholy speaking. “My grandfather did well in sending you to me.” This was somewhat more persuasive. Her quirky smile was a bit more animated.

“He wished to see you resplendently adorned, dear Royal, as befits a Konige of such high degree,” said Rakoczy, thinking as he did how tedious court-ship could be. “If you and Konig Bela are pleased, what can I be but delighted.”

“What gallantry,” she remarked. “For someone from so remote a region, you have the conduct of a Prince of the Blood.”

Rakoczy could not suppress a faint, ironic smile. “Dear Royal gives me much praise.”

She looked away, touching her necklace, her eyes distant. “How is it you do not give me pearls, Comes?”

Rakoczy had answered this question many times over the centuries, and said promptly and truthfully, “Among those of my blood, pearls are said to bring tears, which I would never wish upon you, dear Royal.” He assumed she would not pursue the matter; pearls were the one jewel he could not make in his athanor: he relied on Eclipse Trading to keep him supplied.

She considered his answer, her eyes distant, and finally said, “I will inform you when I have chosen the gift I wish to give the Konig through your generosity.”

“I await the hour,” said Rakoczy.

The Konige acknowledged his bow with a formulaic remark: “For your service you may be sure of my gratitude.” She waved him away.

Stepping back with a second bow, Rakoczy found himself next to Csenge of Somogy, whose magnificent bleihaut of peach-colored wool embroidered with colored silks and golden thread to show a vast array of flowers and birds almost concealed her air of deep fatigue. “Good evening,” he said to her, lowering his head respectfully.

She returned the greeting in an abrupt fashion. “Comes.” She glared at him, as if trying to break his composure; when she did not succeed, she relented enough to ask, “And how do you find the dear Royal this evening? She gave you a goodly amount of her time.”

“The Konige seems lethargic,” Rakoczy observed. “I had hoped she would be recovered from her delivery by now.”

“So has the Konig,” Csenge rejoined, looking about sharply to try to discover if she had been overheard. “She likes your gift well enough,” Csenge said in a tone that made it impossible to guess whether she meant the remark as a compliment or a recrimination.

“Then I am handsomely rewarded, but that does not lessen my concern for her,” said Rakoczy cordially, unperturbed by Csenge’s brusque remark.

“Just as well,” said Csenge, considering him through narrowed eyes. “My cousin won’t be here for this occasion, or not for a while. She is taking care of the Little Royals.”

Rakoczy heard this calmly. “If you will be kind enough to remember me to her, I would thank you.”

“Certainly.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Is it that you’re waiting for Rozsa of Borsod to return? Is my cousin less interesting, being little more than a child, than Rozsa is?”

“I had heard that Rozsa was coming back,” Rakoczy said smoothly. “The Konige will be glad of her company.”

This was not the kind of response Csenge had expected; she shifted the subject. “What do you plan to do for the Konig’s departure festivities?”

“I have no notion,” he replied genially. “Dear Royal has not told me what she would like me to do for her. I await her instruction.”

“And you have nothing to suggest?” Csenge inquired. “No idea that the Konige might settle upon? No inspiration at all?”

Rakoczy took a moment to weigh his answer. “I am charged with pleasing the Konige, so in matters of this sort, it is fitting that I rely upon her to tell me what would please her most. It would please neither of us if I were to provide her with something unsatisfactory. It is one thing to present her and her daughters with jewels, as Konig Bela has charged me to do, but her husband is not the same as her grandfather, and the dear Royal’s decision on what Konig Otakar is due must remain with her. She will know best what she wants Otakar to have from her, and it will be my task to make it for her, when she informs me what it is to be; I would not presume to know what she wants.” He gave her an urbane smile. “Or do you think I err in that?”

Csenge hardly took more than a moment to consider. “You should recommend something to her; she is disinterested, as you remarked. Surely you can see that she is apathetic, can’t you?”

“I can, and that is troubling,” Rakoczy said.

“She is in God’s Hands, as are we all,” Csenge said as piously as possible. “We must all bow to His Will.”

“Then I will be content to wait until God moves her to decide.” It was an argument that Csenge would never dispute.

“Well, be ready to do her bidding when she finally makes it known.” Csenge lifted her head, her jaw at a defiant angle.

“Yes. That is my intention.” He lowered his head again. “If you will permit me to—”

“Oh, yes,” Csenge said impatiently, having found no nuggets of secrets in anything he said, or his manner. “Go, by all means.”

Rakoczy moved away toward Counselor Smiricti and Counselor Hlavka, who stood together near the main fireplace, their Court garments burnished by the fire’s shine. Both men wore several gold rings, but no jewels, and no hats, as the Konig’s Law required. Smiricti, in a huch of Damascus silk over a chainse of ecru wool, ducked his head as he noticed Rakoczy. “Comes Santu-Germaniu. A happy encounter. Let me make Counselor Hlavka Innec known to you.” He gestured to his companion, who ducked his head.

“Counselor Hlavka,” said Rakoczy.

“Comes Santu-Germaniu,” said Hlavka with a flourish of his hand, then added, “You’re the one at Mansion Belcrady, aren’t you? The exile, or so they say.” His huch was of heavy, amber-colored Venetian silk and lined in marten-fur; his chainse was of light-blue Anatolian cotton, and his braccae were thickly embroidered with his family trade-mark, a mallet and a pair of farrier’s tongs. His color was high and his eyes were shiny, indications that he had drunk all the toasts that had begun the gathering at mid-afternoon, and very likely more than toasts.

“I am he.”

“We heard of your fire; a sad misfortune.” Hlavka turned to Smiricti once more. “There is a rumor that the fire was deliberately set.”

“I have heard the same,” said Smiricti.

“A bad business, if it’s true.” His innuendo was conspicuous; he continued to ignore Rakoczy. “Didn’t you tell me that you had recommended Bartech of Tabor for the rebuilding of the damaged furnace and chimney?”

“I did. And Szigmon to make the new roof. Everyone speaks well of his skills.” Smiricti smiled, going on effusively, “Masters in their Guilds, both of them, with well-reputed apprentices and reputations of the highest order. Both of them know the Comes is one of the Konige’s Court, and will be diligent in their work.”

“When will they be able to start that work?” Hlavka asked, still not speaking directly to Rakoczy.

“As soon as the weather improves; to do anything now while the rains continue, that would lead to wasted effort. We are devoting some time to planning what is to be built, and how,” said Rakoczy as if he had been included in the discussion. “The damaged parts of the bake-house have already been cleared away. My baker is having to use the kitchen ovens for his loaves while the bake-house cannot be used.”

Hlavka nodded, his gaze flicking about the hall as if to make note of everyone in attendance. “It must be inconvenient for you, Comes, not having a bake-house for your mansion. But surely the repairs will begin shortly,” he said, sounding a bit distracted.

“It certainly is inconvenient for my cook who wants to have his kitchen back. He and the baker do nothing but wrangle.” Rakoczy shook his head. “It’s their temperaments; they clash.”

“How … lax, to have so little authority over your household,” said Hlavka with a snide half-smile.

Rakoczy refused to be provoked, shrugging and saying, “You know how it is with exiles. We must depend on the good-will of those around us.”

“We would like to thank you for all you’ve done to help us be rid of the rats,” said Smiricti, after an awkward silence, striving to maintain the courtesy required.

“I was gratified that you asked me,” Rakoczy said.

“Oh, yes,” said Hlavka; his next words were almost an accusation. “Your poisons made short work of many of them.”

Smiricti intervened before Hlavka could entirely forget himself and insult Rakoczy beyond all acceptable limits. “Our slaves have been put to work secreting your poison-boxes where rats have been found before. We hope to avoid another such infestation as the one we had last year.” He glanced at Hlavka as if to warn him to hold his tongue.

Rakoczy saw that Smiricti was discomfited by Hlavka’s behavior, and so he inclined his head. “Perhaps we can speak more privately in a day or two?”

“I will send a messenger; you may assign the time.” Smiricti gave him a grateful, chagrined, lopsided smile. “I look forward to it.”

Moving away from the two Counselors, Rakoczy saw Hovarth Pisti standing a little apart from the rest of the company, staring into the dining hall beyond the reception hall, his demeanor both anticipatory and bored; Rakoczy made for the tapestry-weaver, nodding his greeting. “Are your apprentices with you?”

“My apprentices are working on the tapestry for the Konig’s departure. We have twenty-two more days, three of them Sabbaths, so we must work on two feast days. Episcopus Fauvinel has granted us a dispensation for those.” He gave a harried chuckle. “The Konige didn’t decide what the subject should be until four days past, so we will have to labor well into the night to have it ready.”

“The work is an honor, of course,” Rakoczy said.

“Oh, yes. It is why Konig Bela sent me here. It is a fine distinction he has extended to me and my apprentices. I know that Konig Bela has noted all we have done for Konige Kunigunde. We gain favor from Konig Bela
and
Konig Otakar when we please the Konige.” His expression turned smug. “And unlike you, I can expect to be richly recompensed for all I and my apprentices do, by Konig Otakar as well as by Konig Bela.”

Rakoczy’s deportment did not change; he gave no sign of vexation at Hovarth Pisti’s condescension, and no offense at his disparaging remarks. “I do have a reward of sorts,” he said. “My fief is safe as long as I fulfill the requirements of Konig Bela and his granddaughter. That reward is more than sufficient for me.”

“Not an easy bargain, even for so wealthy a man as you are, Comes.” He ducked his head and moved away as three buisines sounded a call from the minstrels’ gallery, and a herald stepped to the railing.

“In the most gracious name of Kunigunde of Halicz, Konige of Bohemia,” he announced, “you are all welcome to the Konige’s Court, summoned for the purpose of arranging the festivities to mark the departure of Przemysl Otakar II, Konig of Bohemia, with his army, to the field of battle, where, with God’s Grace, he will enlarge his conquests and be named Holy Roman Emperor. The Konig will leave on the twenty-seventh day of March unless the weather delays him. The celebration for his departure will begin on the twenty-fifth day of March and last until the Konig and his army are outside the walls of Praha. May God favor and defend the Konige and her daughters, and grant victory to our Konig.”

A cheer went up, only to be overwhelmed by the braying of the buisines; as the brazen echoes died, a consort of shawms and gitterns and a tabor took the place of the buisine-players, beginning their part of the Court’s music with the popular song
Praise to the Virgin.
After that, they played
Hills and Meadow,
an engaging, wistful melody. When they finished, Episcopus Fauvinel came to the railing and raised his hands; everyone in the reception hall dropped to their knees and crossed themselves.

“In the Name of the Father, of the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen,” the Episcopus intoned in Church Latin.

“Amen,” the Court echoed, a few of the Konige’s Court taking out their rosaries from under their chainses, and beginning to run the beads through their fingers, their lips moving in prayer.

Episcopus Fauvinel waited until he was confident of the Konige’s attention; when he was sure he had it, he addressed the Court. “Let us all give thanks to Merciful God in His manifest Glory. God has given illustrious favor to Bohemia and all its territories, the which you must all show your gratitude, through adherence to God’s Law and the offering of Masses. To show your worthiness for God’s Blessing, may you, each and all, serve the Konige to her honor, the honor of Konig Otakar, and the honor of Bohemia. May you, each and all, bring esteem to the Konige’s Court and show no contempt for other Courts in doing so. May you, each and all, seek to ennoble the Royal House of Przemysl and of Halicz to greater heights. May you, each and all, welcome the benefices that come to you from your service with humility and piety. May you, each and all, give praises to God for providing so excellent an opportunity to demonstrate your fealty, for it is through Him that you are advanced for your loyalty and devotion, first to God, then to the Konig and Konige, of which you ought to be mindful every hour of your lives. Amen.”