The Silver Sword (53 page)

On September 2, in a formal response to the council's action against Hus, more than four hundred fifty lords and knights, including those of Lord John's household, signed a document affirming Hus's innocence. This letter of protest was immediately dispatched to the still-convened Council of Constance.

Lord John remembered Sigismund's bold assertion that all followers of Hus should be sought out and punished, and he warned his fellow reformers that their actions might be fraught with grave danger. To unify and strengthen themselves against opposition, Lord John's allies formed the Hussite League. Binding themselves by a solemn covenant, they pledged to allow the free preaching of the gospel on their estates, to accept no orders from the Council of Constance, to obey only those commands of the pope and bishops which harmonized with the Holy Scriptures, to resist all unjust bans of excommunication, to arrange for the defense of the country, and
to regard the University of Prague as their authority in doctrinal matters.

In reprisal, the Bohemian nobles in agreement with the Council of Constance formed the Catholic League. These nobles were not as numerous as the Hussites, but many of them were powerful. Pledging themselves to adhere to the council's decisions and continue support of the Roman church, this group, led by Lord Laco of Lidice, steadfastly continued to contribute gold, men, and assistance to the Roman Church.

But most Bohemians had borne enough. Scholars and theologians at the University of Prague set forth four articles designed to govern religion throughout Bohemia. Lord John's knights cheered when he announced the four articles at dinner:

Bohemia, the unorthodox kingdom whose heathen ancestors had embraced the gospel from unconventional missionaries, rejoiced in the reform her own people had instigated.

But as Lord John sat alone in his chamber and listened to the nighttime sounds of his celebrating knights, he wondered how long the victory would last.

Rome had never allowed her errant children to escape retribution. And by establishing the Hussite and the Catholic Leagues, the
nobles of Bohemia had created their own great schism and sown the seeds for civil war.

Autumn days fell into winter weeks, which melted into spring showers that dried under the hot summer sun. Anika continued her work at Chlum, writing with an almost furious intensity, buoyed by the success of the Hussite League but shadowed by the certainty that this freedom could not last long. The Council of Constance would not convene forever, and when it dispersed, the evil Cardinal D'Ailly would doubtless return to Bohemia, spreading his malevolence and evil like the plague. Then she would have her opportunity for vengeance … but how many lives would he destroy before she could stop him?

D'Ailly had continued to wreak destruction in Constance. In the late spring of 1416, in an effort to further vent his displeasure against Jan Hus, D'Ailly convinced the council to condemn Jerome of Prague, Hus's chief disciple. On a balmy June day, Jerome was escorted to the same meadow where his mentor perished, and there he also met death in flame. In Bohemia, the Hussite League stormed in protest, and another flurry of letters flew off to Constance.

Each action in Constance gave impetus to the growing movement among the Bohemian people. Hussite evangelists sprang up like wildflowers, preaching in private homes and open fields, offering the cup and the bread to anyone who professed belief in the Savior.

While evangelical fervor blossomed among the populace, another kind of fervor burgeoned among the knights. Rumors filtering in from Constance suggested that the new pope, whenever he was elected, would be expected to inaugurate an immediate crusade against the Hussites.

“War is coming,” Novak told his knights in the garrison one night. “All of Christendom may be summoned against us.” His gray eyes took on a remote, reserved look, and Anika knew he did not
look forward to the fight. His hair had completely grayed in the four years she had been at Chlum, and war was for younger knights. “The Swiss with their halberds, the English with their billhooks and longbows, the French with their sharp glaives—we shall have to face them all.”

“What do the Scriptures say?” Anika countered, rising to her feet. She looked at the others gathered around the fireplace. “No weapon formed against you shall prosper. If the Lord is with us, who can stand against us?”

“The Lord was with Master Hus, but the fires consumed him,” Lev pointed out, his voice dull and troubled.

Anika's heart sank with swift disappointment at Lev's words. She suspected that the younger lad had been profoundly affected by Master Hus's death, but the only signs of his distress were his muffled cries in the night. When she tried to draw him into conversation, he only rebuffed her, scorning whatever kind attentions she tried to give him. Anika yearned to tell Lord John about Lev's torment, but if the boy would not admit his problem to her, why would he open up to the father he saw only as a master?

“Why are we talking about the past?” Manville spoke up. “We should be sharpening our skills and preparing for the battles to come. With proper training, even our peasants might be shaped into an army. Of course they will never be as disciplined as a corps of knights, but even such meager weapons as lances, slings, iron-pointed flails and clubs can beat down an armor-clad knight—if the peasant is properly motivated.”

Indeed,
Anika thought, looking around at the men who had become her peers,
if you can train me to wield a sword and a shield, you can surely train a farmer.

“Sir Kafka.” Anika looked up. Demetr, the steward, stood at the edge of the knights' circle, his hands clasped before him. “Lord John wishes to see you in his chamber. At once, if you please.”

Anika pressed her lips together, then stood to her feet. Her master had not sought her counsel in months, and they had exchanged
less than two dozen private words since their return to Chlum. What could he want with her now?

As she stood to obey, she felt her stomach drop, replaced by a frightening hollowness. What if he had decided to dismiss her? Was he about to cast her away?

A bead of perspiration traced a cold path from her armpit to her rib, but she nodded at the steward and followed him into the castle.

Lord John was seated in his chair by the balcony, his untouched supper plate on a small table at his right hand, the two mastiffs at his feet. Bilko lifted his head in curiosity as Anika entered, then lowered it with a resounding sigh.

“Sir Kafka, my lord,” Demetr announced. Then he bowed and backed out of the room.

Anika moved stiffly forward. “You wanted to see me, my lord?”

“Yes. Thank you for coming.”

Her heart contracted in pity as she looked at him. The previous months seemed to have aged him, and in the torchlight his flesh seemed so rarefied through suffering that now only his soul showed.

“I have spent the last day and night in prayer,” he said, one hand idly caressing Bela's broad head. “And I have heard the rumors that Novak shared with the knights tonight. These stories have persisted for months.” With his feet on a low stool, he frowned into the darkness beyond his balcony. “Though it has caused me great distress, I wanted to tell you that I and my household will withdraw from the Hussite League.”

Completely stunned, Anika uttered an indrawn gasp. “Withdraw?” she asked, her voice rising in surprise. Her mind reeled with confusion. “You would withdraw your support from our allies?”

“This has not been an easy decision for me,” he went on, looking up at her from beneath craggy brows. “I have agonized over it even as Master Hus agonized over the decision whether to recant.”

“But Master Hus did not recant,” Anika protested, struggling to
find words. She pulled her gaze away from his; she couldn't think under his steady scrutiny. “Master Hus held firm. But you—if you withdraw, you are forfeiting a promise! You are abandoning the cause!”

“Hus did not die for a cause!” Lord John's eyes darkened dangerously. “He died for the truth! They are talking now of war, Anika,
real
war where men die and others are forever maimed. Jan Hus did not resist arrest; he would not allow me to mount an armed defense for his sake. He was not a warrior; his sole purpose was to lead men to Christ.”

“His sole purpose was to reform the corrupt church!” Anika blazed back. “And he gave his life, all he had, in that cause. And now that things have come to a difficult pass, you want to back out!”

“I am no coward!” His burning eyes held her still, radiating disapproval, and Anika felt it like a hot wind in her face. His anger frightened her, but she could not allow him to retreat.

“If you are not a coward, then why would you abandon your fellow nobles?” she asked, her voice cold and lashing. “They have risked their lives, their estates, their sacred honor—”

“He that preaches war is the devil's chaplain,” he interrupted. “Have you never heard that, Anika? Those who encourage war are not speaking for Christ. The Savior never advocated war, and neither did Jan Hus. The psalmist wrote, ‘Scatter the people that delight in war,' and I fear we shall be scattered if we persist in fighting.”

“Would you rather we lie down and surrender to the Roman church?” Anika asked, horrified. “Are we to be mindless sheep led to the slaughter? Master Hus was a gentle man; 'twas not in his nature to fight. But you and I and the other knights were born and bred to battle—”

She heard the lie in her words and halted, tripping over her own tongue.

“You?” His eyes froze on her lips, and Anika felt heat stealing into her face. “Were you born to battle, gentle Anika? Or was this
desire wrought by something other than God? Something a great deal less than God?”

She turned away so he could not read the emotions on her face. He was clever, too clever, but he was wrong. Maybe, in time, she and Novak could convince him to continue his support of the Hussite League. Lord John was one of the most powerful and influential nobles in the region; his withdrawal would undermine the struggle against the Catholic league.

“Between Christ and war there is unalterable opposition,” he said, a fierce intensity in his lowered voice. “There cannot possibly be harmony. The day of war is nothing but a harvest for the devil, and I will not involve my knights in it. I will defend my people, I will defend Chlum. But I will not go forward to fight those who bear the name of Christ.”

“I am sure, my lord,” Anika answered, speaking in as reasonable a voice as she could manage, “that you will do what is right when the time comes. After all, no one has yet mentioned war. It may be that war will not come, though it appears the council will soon elect a new pope. And when they do, he will have the power to launch a crusade against us—”

“Which the knights of Chlum will not go forward to meet,” Lord John finished. “I intend to tell the other knights in three days, Anika. I will expect them to defend this estate and the villages under my protection. They are free to defend themselves, their wives, and their children. But I will not send my knights to kill in God's name. And if Jan Hus were here now, he would approve my decision. God has approved it.”

Anika stared at him in silence, trying to comprehend his unspoken message. If he was waiting to tell the other knights, he had a particular reason for telling her early.