An Embarrassment of Riches (35 page)

“That would attract too much speculation. At least I have carpets on the floor instead of rushes, which are more suitable than rushes to receive the Konige’s envoy. And most of the rats are gone.” Rakoczy gazed at the hourglass. “The current jewels should be out of the athanor by the time Imbolya arrives. I will attend to them if you will arrange a proper reception with Barnon.”

“I’ll start the household in motion now, if you will excuse me.” Hruther ducked his head as he went to the door. “My master? Do you need anything more from me just now?”

“I doubt it.” He paused. “When Vespers begins, meet me in my quarters to help me change clothes. The Konige’s lady, who is Kunigunde’s deputy, must not be welcomed in an old cope and stained braccae.”

“Of course. At Vespers.” He pressed down the latch and let himself out.

For the rest of the afternoon, Rakoczy kept to his workroom, turning the hourglass as it was required, taking out a blanket fashioned out of bear- and wolf-skins and spreading it over his Anatolian saddler’s chair, lighting two braziers and adding incense to the cut branches in them. He put his trestle-table in order and set up a velvet-covered stand where the jewels could be examined. By the time he took the vessel from the athanor and put it on the cooling-rack, he was ready to change clothes, and went along to his own rooms to meet Hruther.

While he donned black, sculpted-Antioch-velvet braccae and a chainse of dark-red silk, Hruther summed up all the preparations under way in Mansion Belcrady. “I’ve suggested that bread and beer be taken to the stable for the men-at-arms and grooms.”

“Will their supper be served there?” Rakoczy asked as he chose his huch of black Damascus silk shot with silver thread.

“If they request it,” Hruther said. “Which is likely.”

“Well done,” Rakoczy approved, and continued his dressing. As he set his silver collar in place around his neck, his eclipse pectoral hanging at the middle of his chest, he remarked, “My appearance shows my respect for the Konige, as everyone in the household will be aware, including the spies.”

“If we only knew beyond doubt who they are,” said Hruther, running a comb through Rakoczy’s hair. He nodded his satisfaction and went to open the door. “The envoy should be here shortly.”

“Is Pacar ready?” Rakoczy asked as he locked the door.

“Probably. He was setting out trays and plates when I left him.”

“Very good,” Rakoczy approved.

The main hall was brightly lit, as was the entry hall. Barnon stood near the door in his most impressive garb, trying to appear at ease. He ducked his head to Rakoczy. “The Konige’s envoy will bring honor to Mansion Belcrady.”

“As the Konige herself has done,” Rakoczy agreed.

“To be able to add to the Konig’s departing gifts, and you no Bohemian.” Barnon clasped his hands. “It is a fine thing for you.”

“It is.”

A cry went up from the warder’s tower, Minek announcing the arrival of the Konige’s lady-in-waiting and her escort. A few moments later the main gate swung open, and an enclosed carriage painted iris-blue and drawn by a pair of brown-and-white spotted horses came through, accompanied by two men-at-arms and two pages, all in bag-sleeved cotehardies with Otakar’s lion blazoned on the chest of all four. Two grooms hurried from the stable to take the horses’ heads.

Rakoczy opened the door and welcomed them all to Mansion Belcrady. He said to the escort, “My steward, Barnon, will take you and the wagon to where you will be given hospitality.” With that, he pulled back the carriage door to assist Imbolya, offering her a French bow. “For the Konige’s sake, you are welcome as her envoy.” For the sake of his staff, he spoke in Bohemian.

Imbolya, in a bleihaut of turquoise wool over a high-necked chainse and wimple of rose-colored cotton, stepped down and courtisied him. “In the name of the Konige I thank you, Comes.” She spoke in Magyar, then repeated herself in Bohemian, adding, “The Konige is grateful to you for your efforts on her behalf.”

Rakoczy stood aside to allow her to enter the manse, where the household servants were gathered to make their greeting. Barnon went on his knee on behalf of the entire staff, then rose and clapped his hands to send the servants back to their work, and only Hruther remained in the entry hall. “May your stay here be pleasant.” This time he spoke in Magyar.

“I’ll tell the dear Royal how well I have been received.” Imbolya looked at him with a suggestion of hope in her face.

“The servants would appreciate that.”

“And you?” The playfulness she might feel was lost in the tentative note in her voice.

“Tell me when you leave how pleased you are, and I will take my satisfaction from that.” He bowed to her. “If you will come with me to my workroom, we can begin to sort the jewels.”

She looked a bit crestfallen. “Will it take long, do you think?”

His smile was gone almost as soon as it was begun, but there was no mistaking the anticipation in it. “That will depend entirely upon you.”

Imbolya’s demeanor lightened. “In that case, let us set to work at once, Comes.”

Rakoczy signaled to Hruther. “If you will bring the tray of food and drink up to us as soon as it is prepared?”

“Of course, my master.” He inclined his head, and was about to leave the entry hall, but paused. “Will our noble guest want hot wine?”

“I would,” said Imbolya.

“Then, good lady, you shall have it,” Hruther assured her with a bow as he left the room.

“If you will come with me, Royal envoy?” He said it loudly enough for anyone listening to hear. “I have a good selection from which you may choose; if they are not sufficient, there will be more tomorrow.”

She followed his example. “I look forward to seeing what you have.”

They went through the main hall and up the stairs beside the fireplace to the gallery, saying nothing so that they would not be overheard. Only when they were in the corridor leading to his workroom on the left and his private apartments on the right did she dare to speak. “I want to be sure we have the best matches possible. It may take some time.”

“Whatever you wish,” he said as he unlocked the workroom door and led her inside, where the fire was burning brightly and the room was pleasantly warm. He indicated the saddler’s chair with the fur blanket thrown over it. “I think you will be comfortable there.”

“I have good memories of that chair.” She looked warily around the room. “We are alone?”

“We are. And when he has brought the tray for you, Hruther will keep guard.” He smiled as he went to the trestle-table and took a small case of ivory and brought it to her. “For your inspection, while we wait.”

She opened the lid of the box and gasped. “They’re lovely,” she said at last. “Is the count complete?”

“Very nearly. You may review them for yourself.”

She turned the contents of the case into her lap and began studying the gems, putting them back in the ivory box as she reviewed each of them. “Four emeralds, all the size of a fingernail, all polished. Three peridots, the same. The Konige will be delighted. Four topazes, the color of butter. Four rubies. Four tourmalines. Two diamonds.” She held them up in turn to the shine from the fire. “Excellent. And as large as pigeon’s eggs. The Konige will be delighted.” Picking up the white sapphires, she counted under her breath, “… eight, nine, ten. There’s an eleventh!”

“In case there is any trouble setting one of them into the hand-grip,” Rakoczy explained.

“Is there an eleventh tiger’s-eye as well?” she asked, not bothering to count the stones.

“There will be, and for the same reason.” He took the ivory case from her as soon as she had put the last of the tiger’s-eyes in, closed it, and returned it to the trestle-table; he paused to open the casket of gems that stood at the other end of the table near the athanor. “I will leave this open, so that any servant who sees it will know that we have passed all our time together sorting jewels.”

She laughed, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. “You are a very clever man, Comes.”

He went and knelt next to the chair, pushing the jointed frame so that its back half-reclined. “I am glad we will have this time together.”

“It will probably be our last. The new ladies-in-waiting will arrive shortly, and when their escort departs for Buda, I will have to go with them. I will be married soon, I believe. Married.” It seemed that she was on the verge of weeping, but she made her face pleasant and managed not to cry. “So this will have to be enough to suffice for all my lifetime.”

“Are you sure you will not come to love your husband?” He took her hand in his and kissed the palm; he was suddenly aware of how very young she was.

“I hope not, for he isn’t apt to love me. My father is seeking alliances, not a lover for me, as Konig Bela did for the Konige. My duty is to have children, preferably sons, and to oversee my husband’s estate when he is away from it. And to be virtuous, or appear so.” She pulled her hand away from him and stared into the flames lapping at the logs in the fireplace; he saw the youth had gone from her eyes. “If I am fortunate, I will love my children.”

Her desolation transfixed him, and he took her into his arms, encompassing her knees as well as her torso. “Imbolya, I am sad that you are so constrained.”

“You’re constrained, too,” she said, and slipped out of his embrace as a tap sounded on the door.

“I have the tray,” Hruther said. “If you will allow me to bring it in to you?”

Rakoczy got to his feet. “Yes; bring it in.” He brought the low table nearer to the saddler’s chair, where Imbolya was now sitting upright.

Hruther brought in the tray and set it on the low table. “For your delectation, Lady,” he said, ducking his head and withdrawing.

“The wine is hot: would you like some?” Rakoczy inquired with great court-ship.

“I would,” she said, looking at the large earthenware pitcher with its wispy crown of spice-scented steam. She reached for the green glass cup as soon as he filled it, her eyes bright. “You have wonderful wines.”

“It may burn your lip,” he warned her.

She put the cup down and shook her hand. “Yes.”

He took a linen polishing towel from the end of the trestle-table and handed it to her. “Use this. It will keep you from being hurt.”

“Thank you.” She wrapped the linen around her glass, lifted it, and blew on the dark wine before attempting a little sip. “There’s bread and cheese, too,” she observed, needing to say something. She took a second sip, looking up at him as she did. “I wish you’d stop acting as if we were in the Konige’s Court.”

He came to her side again, laying his hand tranquilly on her arm. “When you are ready, we will seek your pleasure.”

“I’m ready now,” she said, putting the cup of wine down. “The food can wait, but I cannot.”

“Then let me move the table away,” he said, and went to pull the table back a full stride; the legs of the table made no sound on the magnificent carpet.

“Where are we going to lie?” She bent over and touched the carpet. “Here?”

“Not unless it would gratify you,” said Rakoczy, coming back to her. “The chair will let you lie back, and I will kneel beside you.”

She considered this. “That might work,” she allowed. “But I suppose you know it will already.”

“Yes,” he said, and pressed on the side of the chair so that it rocked back. “You will be comfortable.”

“And warm, too, when I get out of my clothes,” she said, sitting up and turning away from him so he could loosen her laces. She unpinned her veil and removed her gorget, handing them to him. “Don’t wrinkle them.”

“I will not,” he promised, and rose to hang the veil and gorget on pegs near the door. “If you will give me your bleihaut…”

She struggled out of the garment, muttering, “My hair must be a mess.”

“With a little luck, you will have the chance to repair the damage before you go.” He took her bleihaut and hung it on the largest peg, then waited for the chainse and her braccae.

“Are you sure your man can be trusted?” Her voice was low and a bit unsteady.

“With my … life,” he said, and took her chainse.

“Then I suppose I must rely upon him for my honor,” she said, suddenly sounding very old and world-weary. She tossed her braccae to him.

As he caught them, he regarded her with concern. “What troubles you, Imbolya?”

It took her a little time to frame her answer. “I have realized that no other living man, not even the greatest hero, will ever please me as you have—and that you are something not entirely natural, not if you gain your pleasure as you do, through mine; you are like the heroes in songs. Perhaps you are an earthbound spirit, or perhaps an incubus, such as the troubadours sing.”

He remained very still. “What makes you say that?” He hung up her braccae and came back to her side.

“You have taken my blood and nothing else, and only a little blood. You do not take my body with your flesh as most men would do, but you still have desire, and your desire fulfills mine. You seem to have no reflection: I saw you in front of the Konige’s mirror in her Court and there was no sign of you in the glass that I could see. You have no fear of holy things, but you take no Communion. When you speak of your travels, it’s hard to think you have gone so far in your life, if you look your age.” She laughed sadly and held out her arms. “The stories of embodied pagan spirits are like the stories of the Saints, but opposite, violent, and goatish, yet you’re kind beyond what is asked of any courtier. You may say that it’s alchemy that gives you these qualities, but no other alchemist has ever been like you. You tell me about those of your blood, so you must be an elemental force in flesh or an earthbound spirit. If that is what I have in you, then I am satisfied. What is better for me than a lover who is not of this world?”