An Embarrassment of Riches (6 page)

Rozsa pouted a little. “The Konige will not be—” She stopped herself, her eyes narrowing. “But if Konig Bela has restricted you, then of course, it is out of the question that you should joust.” She ignored the utensils on the platter, picking up one of the pickles and nibbling at it. “What else can you do that might entertain her on her festival day?”

“I have a lyre and a gittern. I can play for her.”

“A gittern and a lyre.” She ate a little more of the pickle. “If you would be willing to play for her between the contests, I think she may be satisfied.”

He snapped his fingers as if a thought had just occurred to him. “In ten days this manse will be ready to receive guests. You were gracious enough to suggest that the Konige would accept an invitation to dine at this manse.” He paused to allow her to question him; when she did not, he went on, “If it would not be too forward for an exile, I would be highly favored indeed if Konige Kunigunde and her Court would consider dining here at the conclusion of her tournament. There is room enough for a large company, and there is a room for servants that the Konige’s Court might require.” That should be enough to mitigate his refusal to joust for her, he told himself, and give Rozsa of Borsod something more to report.

“A banquet at night!” For an instant she collected her thoughts. “We don’t see many of those in Praha. A great undertaking.” She offered another of her feline smiles. “And all the cost will be borne by you?”

“Of course,” he said, more certain now that he had struck the right note. “If you will advise me, I will try to provide entertainment to the Konige’s taste.”

She finished the pickle and licked her fingers before picking up one of the sweetmeats. “Entertainment which you will pay for?”

“Yes.” He resisted the urge to embellish his answer, for he was aware that they were overheard and that her response, whatever it might be, would spread through his household like dust in summer.

“It may be possible. The Konige likes banquets and festivities. She likes mountebanks and jongleurs and troubadours, too.” She tasted the sweetmeat. “You have a good cook. I hope you pay him well.”

“I do, to both of your concerns.” He regarded her with good-mannered interest, alert to the tests she was posing to him. “May I entrust a gift to Konige Kunigunde to your care, to assure her of my devotion to her House? I will provide you a token of my gratitude for your conveyance.”

“It is my duty as her lady-in-waiting to do so,” Rozsa said, a speculative angle to her brows. “What do you want to give her?”

Rakoczy rose and went to take a small gilded pouch off the nearest shelf. “These are for Konige Kunigunde, with my duty to her, exile though I am.” He handed the pouch to Rozsa. “You may look inside.”

“I am required to look inside,” she said, her tone sharpening. “I would be responsible if you sent her any unwholesome or ill-omened thing.” She pulled open the mouth of the pouch and poured its contents out into her lap, then sat still in amazement as the diamonds and sapphires shone back at her. “So many,” she whispered, impressed in spite of herself.

“Nine sapphires and thirteen diamonds,” he said.

“And all of them large, and so well-polished,” Rozsa marveled, touching them as if she were afraid they might burst.

“One of many such gifts I hope to provide for the Konige.” Rakoczy went to the shelf and took down another, smaller pouch of tooled Florentine leather. “This is for you, for your willingness to carry the jewels to the dear Royal.” He gave the small pouch to her and watched her try to discern its contents by pressing the leather. “Open it, if you wish.”

Rozsa set her pouch aside and carefully gathered up the diamonds and sapphires for the Konige, counting them aloud as they went into the pouch. Once its neck was closed, she reached for her gift and opened the securing laces of twined red silk, turning it over so it emptied onto the palm of her hand. As she caught sight of the two cabochon rubies the size of currants, she let out a little shriek of excitement, the first truly spontaneous sound she had made since arriving at Rakoczy’s manse. “Are they real?”

“Most certainly. I would be a fool indeed to offer false jewels to a noble of the Konige’s Court.” He said it smoothly enough, concealing the stab of dismay that had gone through him at her exclamation: what had Konig Bela said of him that would lead anyone to suspect that he might offer counterfeit goods? He made himself smile and bow. “I hope you will enjoy them, Rozsa of Borsod.”

“Will you make fittings for them, so I may wear them as ear-drops?” Her eagerness was entirely genuine. She laid the two rubies down next to the rose he had offered her.

As he filled her goblet once again, he met her green eyes with his dark ones. “It will be my delectation to do so.”

*   *   *

Text of a dictated message from Hovarth Pisti of Buda, Master Tapestry-Weaver, at Praha in Bohemia, to Donat, monk and clerk to Konig Bela of Hungary, at Buda, carried by the apprentice Jeno of Buda, and delivered twenty-four days after it was dispatched.

To Donat, clerk to my most puissant Konig, Bela of Hungary, the dutiful greetings of the Konig’s servant Hovarth Pisti of Buda, on this day, the eighteenth day of May in the 1269
^th
Year of Salvation,

To the Konig, His Grace,

We are now all well-established in the household of your granddaughter, Konige Kunigunde, with the exception of Rakoczy Ferancsi, Comes Santu-Germaniu, who has set up his own household at Mansion Belcrady, which makes it difficult for me to keep the close watch upon him you have charged me to do. The rest of us have been given apartments in Vaclav Castle or provided housing outside the walls but near to the Castle. Slaves have been presented to all of us but the Comes, who refuses to have slaves in his household. The Konige has permitted him to maintain his customs in this regard without insult to her for offering him such a gift, for it is known that his blood have not kept slaves for more than five hundred years.

It is two days since the Konige’s tournament, and the Comes Santu-Germaniu’s banquet, and the Court is full of talk and rumors. There were twelve jousts, to honor the Apostles, and three interludes of diverse entertainment, to honor the Trinity. In the jousts, German and Bohemian knights prevailed, but there were only two Hungarians entered in the bouts, so it is no disgrace to the Konige or to you. One knight, Bubna, Rytir Oldrich, suffered a broken leg when his horse was fatally lanced and fell with Rytir Oldrich still in the saddle, and Thun, Rytir Dake, took a hard blow to the head and is much affected by it, his memory seeming faulty due to the ferocity of the impact he endured. One Hungarian contestant, Nitra Akos, bested three Bohemians before he was unhorsed and disqualified from competition. Konige Kunigunde presented Nitra with a wreath of silver leaves, and proclaimed him to be her champion for the month of May. Since the Konig is not presently in Praha, no greater honors were awarded, although it is likely that Nitra Akos will be advanced to the official rank of Rytir, and as Rytir Akos will be able to take his place among the officers of the Konig’s army.

The evening of the tournament, we were all welcomed to Mansion Belcrady, which Comes Santu-Germaniu has bought, as I have mentioned. This is a very fine mansion, consisting of a manse of ten rooms, a bake-house, a bath-house, a creamery, a small mews (currently vacant), and a stable with stalls for sixteen horses. Rakoczy has put many craftsmen and servants to work to make the manse not only livable, but an example to all the nobles of Praha, so it would appear that his wealth is undiminished in spite of your denying him the right to take his gold with him. Clearly he has other sources of treasure, and not just from the jewels he has presented to the Konige.

The Comes offered a banquet of nine courses, beginning with a pottage of oats and new onions, then a stew of eels, ducks turned on a spit and basted with wine, collops of veal cooked in beer, a subtiltie of pork in the shape of a hunting horn, dried berries cooked in cream, pastry boats filled with forcemeat and garlic, venison with bitter herbs, ending with a cream-bastard and candied flowers. There were four different wines poured and in such quantity that anyone might drink his fill three times over. What this hospitality must have cost the Comes is beyond my reckoning, but I cannot fault him either in the quantity or the quality of the food he provided. Among the twenty-four of us, no one had cause to complain. Rakoczy busied himself serving the courses with his own hands and did not join us to eat. This troubled a few of the Konige’s Court, but none of them refused any of what they were offered, and none has had cause to regret their decision.

Along with this magnificent meal, we were treated to songs from the Konige’s Court singers, as well as a celebrated minstrel from Venezia; they say Rakoczy paid him ten pieces of gold to come to perform for your granddaughter. There were two men with four dogs who had been taught to do things of such skill that it is almost beyond the nature of dogs for them to behave in such a way. The Episcopus who attended the banquet declared that such displays by simple animals smacked of diabolism, and was only dissuaded from arresting the trainers on the spot by the Konige, who put the two men and their animals under her protection.

I have sought an audience with the Comes in the hope of learning more of his activities here in Praha, but so far he has continued to delay offering me any time for a discussion. His obvious wealth has made him wary of those less fortunate than he, and given the envy his riches inspire, I am sure he has cause to be cautious, but I will persist in my efforts. It is my hope that as the time of the Konige’s delivery grows nearer I will be able to take advantage of our shared interest in her well-being and turn that to the acquisition of information that I may relay to you.

This, with every promise of my devotion to you and to the mission you have entrusted to me; I pray daily that God will bring you victory and the esteem of the world as well as a place of honor in Heaven,

Hovarth Pisti of Buda (his mark)

by the hand of Lukash, scribe to Konige Kunigunde’s Court

3

Konige Kunigunde lay back on her padded-leather Byzantine couch, frowning with discomfort. Five months into her pregnancy and she was feeling miserable; her back hurt, her feet were swollen, her guts were in turmoil, and the heat had given her a vise-like headache. If only she might be allowed to remove her heavy damask-silk bleihaut and lie about in her linen chainse, as a merchant’s wife might do—but that was unthinkable. She was Konige, and that imposed certain duties upon her, no matter how she felt; she was obliged to maintain her appearance for the sake of her position. She would have to endure as best she could. But this afternoon not even her solarium offered her any relief from her distress; the open windows brought only the odors of the middens. She felt her baby shift inside her and she made herself lie still, thinking as she did that she had to carry herself as if her womb were made of thin glass, and everything she did required her to consider first the potential heir she carried. Hating what she saw in her mirror, she made a sound between a groan and a sigh.

The two of her ladies assigned to her company came to her side: Csenge of Somogy and Imbolya of Heves, both of them dressed on account of the heat in light unbleached cotton bleihauts with the thinnest of linen chainses beneath them. Csenge, being the older of the two, spoke first. “What would you like us to get for your relief, dear Royal?”

“I don’t know,” muttered Kunigunde. “Cover my looking-glass. If you could make the room cooler, or the day less oppressive…” She waved her hand to show she knew this was impossible.

“Pray God, we shall have rain soon and the air will clear.” Csenge, too, was enervated by the sultry weather, but knew she did not have the right to rest while the Konige was in her care.

”Shall I fetch Klotild? Or ask her to prepare a cordial for you?” asked Imbolya, tentatively, her face flushed from the heat. She was younger than Kunigunde was when she married, not quite fifteen, a slender birch of a girl with a generous mouth, a straight nose, light-brown hair, and hazel eyes; she had a youthful lack of certainty in herself.

“What use is a midwife now?” Csenge challenged as she selected one of three chairs in the room and moved it nearer to the couch. “There is no sign of trouble.”

“She is also an herb-woman, cousin,” Imbolya reminded Csenge with the kind of helpful eagerness that made her cousin flinch. “She may have some means of making our Konige more at ease. For the good of her baby.”

“Pray God it is a son,” said Csenge piously, and all three women crossed themselves.

“For the sake of Bohemia and Hungary,” said Imbolya.

“Do you think Klotild could help me?” Kunigunde asked, trying not to whine; she reminded herself again what was expected of her as Konige of Bohemia—the production of a viable heir and an example of conduct worthy the wife of a Christian King, as well as securing the terms of the treaty between her grandfather and her husband.