An Embarrassment of Riches (4 page)

“I feared there would not be anything here for you to use,” said Counselor Smiricti. He gestured to the room. “I had hoped that the Counselors would allocate the funds you provided to set this place in order before your arrival, in accordance with your instructions, but no one could agree on the amount to spend, so nothing was done.” He clicked his tongue. “Since your gold that bought this mansion was in our hands, we should have made an appropriate disposition here, in accordance with your wishes, but, as you see…”

Rakoczy made a small bow. “I understand. Matters of this sort are always difficult, are they not?” He went and righted one of the two overturned benches in front of the fireplace. “At least I can offer you a seat. I am sorry it is only a plank.”

Counselor Smiricti went and sat down. “I was examining that chest,” he said, pointing to the red-lacquer one that stood at the other end of the room, its detached legs lying in front of it. “A handsome piece.”

“I agree,” said Rakoczy. “I have had it for many years.” That those years were reckoned in centuries he did not mention.

“Excellently made.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “It occurred to me that you would need some help in making this house habitable. I felt I should give you what advice I may.”

“Thank you. I would appreciate it.” He managed to keep the irony he felt from his voice,

The Counselor cleared his throat. “You see, the previous owner, Pan Belcrady Jaromir, had many mines, mostly silver mines, and he drove a hard bargain for his silver with Przemysl Vaclav, and then was exiled, two years ago. His estates now are the fiefs of Konig Otakar, and the revenues they produce are owned outright by the Crown.” He coughed. “The manse was cleared out by order of the Konig, and Belcrady’s kin have been ordered not to leave their country estates, or face imprisonment for rebellion. There is some hard blood between the Konig and the Belcradys. I thought you should know this, since this mansion is regarded with misgiving by many, and not without good cause. In order to avoid problems, I will tell you what Guilds to deal with, and whom to approach for servants. That is, if my offer is welcome to you.”

“An exile’s manse for an exile,” Rakoczy mused aloud, a trace of amusement in his midnight eyes. He nodded to Counselor Smiricti. “Thank you for this information. It will help me to make my arrangements to set it in order. In that regard, your advice would be very much appreciated; I am grateful for your offer.”

“I feel it is fitting that I do what I can to make up for this unpromising beginning. Let me know what you require and I will tell you where to obtain it, and at what cost,” said Counselor Smiricti, and gave Rakoczy his full attention as the Comes began to list all he would need to put the manse and the mansion in order.

*   *   *

Text of an order from the Carters’ Guild of Praha confirming the transportation of deliveries to be made to Mansion Belcrady.

To the Comes Santu-Germaniu, Rakoczy Feransci, the following items are to be brought to Mansion Belcrady:

Delivered today, April 29
^th
, 1269
^th
Year of Grace:

Three wagon-loads of cut stone from the Italian quarry, as presented by the Masons’ Guild

Six wagon-loads of lumber from Styria, as cut by the Woodsmen’s Guild

Two wagon-loads of straw and two of hay from the farm-market of Roztoky

Delivered tomorrow, April 30
^th

On a flat-bedded cart, three sheets of iron, from the Blacksmiths’ Guild

On a flat-bedded cart, four completed new doors from the Carpenters’ Guild

Three wagon-loads of household furnishing as ordered from the Furniture-Makers’ Guild

Delivered on May 4
^th

Fourteen beds and eleven chests, also from the Furniture-Makers’ Guild

Two wagon-loads of fencing lumber, as cut by the Woodsmens’ Guild

Two large bathing tubs of caulked wood

I have been paid thirty-five gold Vaclavs and ten silver Episcopuses for these deliveries, which is a full and complete payment for the services required. Payments to all other Guilds must be arranged with them, and no claim for undischarged debt to them may be applied to the monies paid to the Carters’ Guild.

Jaroslav of Praha, Guildmaster (his mark)

by the hand of Josko, clerk and Premonstratensian monk

2

Four youngsters in the Konige’s colors stood on the threshold to Rakoczy’s manse, at once pugnacious and shy. They ranged from about nine to no more than twelve; their stiffly embroidered cotehardies did not fit particularly well, and they all four were uncomfortable in their grandeur, for though it was early, the day was warm. Two of the younger pages fretted at their posts while the oldest—a gangly lad with wary eyes and the first hint of a mustache on his upper lip—announced in a high voice that broke once during his recitation, “To Comes Santu-Germaniu: this day after High Mass, the Konige’s lady-in-waiting and messenger to the Konige, Rozsa of Borsod, will visit this mansion on behalf of the Konige.”

Hruther, arrayed in a dignified bleihaut of dove-gray linen over a bleached-cotton chainse and tan-linen trews, studied the four pages, and was startled by the sudden memory of his son, dead twelve centuries ago. “Thank you for your message. The Comes Santu-Germaniu will be honored to receive the Konige’s messenger, Rozsa of Borsod.”

The tallest of the four bowed for them all; he was slightly younger than his companion who spoke first. “You will make ready to receive her and her escort of four men-at-arms.”

“We will welcome her and her escort most gladly,” said Hruther. “We thank you for this notice, and for the distinguishment the Konige shows to the Comes.”

After an awkward moment, the four youths stepped back and made for the gate in the wall. As they went through to the outside, two armed men fell in with them, making their way toward the narrow street that led up the ridge toward Vaclav Castle.

Closing the main door, Hruther stepped back into the entry hall; three workmen were finishing the repairs to the shutters, and two women were laying down new rushes intermixed with rosemary needles; the manse was nearly ready for invited guests. Hruther nodded to the workers and went into the main hall, now fully restored, with a new table capable of seating twenty dominating the room, wanting only padded benches to be complete. Climbing the stairs next to the fireplace, he continued along the gallery and the central corridor to the door to the nearer of two north-facing rooms. Here he rapped on the door, and being bidden to enter, he lifted the latch and stepped into what had become his master’s workroom and library.

“What news, old friend?” Rakoczy asked in the Persian of a thousand years ago as he removed a flask from the athanor that sat at the far end of the room on a footing of bricks, and carefully set it down in a small stone bowl. “Sapphires this time: the Konige likes sapphires. They will be cool enough to touch by mid-day. I’ll add them to the rest.”

“You may be glad to have them,” said Hruther in the same Persian. “One of the Konige’s ladies is coming here after Mass.”

“I thought I heard the bell,” said Rakoczy, his attention still fixed on the flask.

Hruther chuckled. “Four pages, from Vaclav Castle—they came to give us time to prepare for the visit, and to make sure you would be here. Not that you have been granted leave to go about the city unguarded.”

“Do we know which of her ladies will arrive?” It was slightly more than a month since he had first presented himself at the Konige’s Court, and since then he had had no direct contact with anyone from Vaclav Castle. This, he knew, was a sign of change, and given the elaborate notification, it seemed to imply the Konige’s favor and interest.

“Rozsa of Borsod.” Hruther kept his demeanor exquisitely neutral.

“The wife of Otakar’s favorite, Notay Tibor of Kaposvar? I believe I saw her at Bela’s Court, five years ago,” Rakoczy remarked, curious as to why Konige Kunigunde would send one of her highest-ranking ladies as her messenger unless the visit was official. “She was a pert bride, as I recall, very young to be married.”

“I believe so, from what we have been told by the Counselors,” said Hruther. “She may be bringing you a request of some sort, my master. Why else would the Konige’s messenger be coming here?” This was not quite a warning. “Do you think that the Konige has an assignment for you?”

Both men knew that a request was likely, and they exchanged knowing nods. “I already have a pouch of diamonds and rubies for the Konige. It may be best to entrust them to Rozsa of Borsod, as a show of respect, both to Kunigunde and to her. Whatever else the Konige may want of me, the jewels should please her, and satisfy Bela.”

“Not the rubies,” Hruther warned him. “Remember, she’s pregnant.”

Rakoczy frowned, then said, “Rubies and blood. Some would say they would bring about a miscarriage. So nothing red or otherwise hot.”

“The sapphires will be cool enough,” said Hruther.

“Yes. And a pair of rubies will be a gift for Rozsa of Borsod.” He looked toward the window. “Thank you, old friend. I should have remembered.”

“Why? The lore is Bohemian, not of your homeland.”

“Still,” said Rakoczy, his dark eyes becoming troubled.

“How should Rozsa of Borsod be received?” Hruther asked, intending to redirect Rakoczy’s concerns. “Given that the manse is still largely unfinished? We can’t yet have the kind of grand display she may expect. You don’t want her to offer a disappointed report to Kunigunde.”

“We will receive her as formally as we can, and with apologies for the manse not being fully ready. Make sure the servants are in clean clothes; that should help. Have wine and bread and salt set out for a proper welcome, and ask Pacar to make up a plate of pickles and sausages and sweetmeats for our guest. We must not be lacking in attention to one of the Konige’s ladies-in-waiting. Have flowers strewn at the door. Also, see that her escort have beer and bread, and cheese if we have any to spare.” He stared at the open window, and the serene blue sky beyond. “I suppose I ought to change my clothes,” he said, looking down at his stained leather apron that covered an old-fashioned black-cotton dalmatica. “This is hardly fitting for Rozsa of Borsod.”

“The Antioch silk huch and the embroidered braccae?” Hruther suggested. “They’re fairly grand, but not over-much.”

“With the red-silk chainse; yes,” Rakoczy agreed. “I will finish up here and go along to my apartments.”

“I’ll go down to the kitchen and then will meet you in your quarters, unless you have more for me to do?” He started toward the door, glad that they had a strategy for the visit. “High Mass should begin in a short while.”

Rakoczy held up his hand to slow his manservant. “Hruther, the second withdrawing room is the most complete; have it prepared for the visit. It can be made quite comfortable. Have the housemaid bring the silk cushions down from my apartments to set on the chairs.” The second withdrawing room had been chosen to be his study, and although books were stacked on the reading table and the floor, it was more truly ready for occupants than the first, which was in the process of having its woodwork replaced. “A bowl of cinnamon and rose petals should sweeten the air. Also, be sure the shutters are fully open. It will be hot this afternoon.”

“A good thing then that the dung farmer came yesterday,” said Hruther with a faint smile.

Rakoczy nodded. “There’s only the stable midden to contend with, and it is on the leeward side of the house.” He paused, mentally reviewing what more ought to be done. “Tell Pacar to use the brass platter and the Chinese plates, and the glass goblet for wine. A wooden platter will do for her escort.”

“Yes, my master,” said Hruther, and hurried toward the stairs, climbing up them with unusual haste. By the time he entered Rakoczy’s private apartments, he had had the satisfaction of seeing the kitchen in a bustle and two house-servants set to furbishing the withdrawing room according to Rakoczy’s instructions in preparation for the official visit; he had dispatched two other house-servants—the seamstress Magda and the herb-woman Jozefa—to the main gate to greet Rozsa of Borsod as soon as she arrived, and to bring her into the manse. He himself had changed from his simple linen bleihaut to one of polished cotton the color of mulberries over a chainse of pale-gray cotton.

Rakoczy stood in the main room of his quarters, wrapped in a drying sheet, rubbing the water out of his hair with the end of it. “I see you have put camphor in the clothes chests,” he remarked. “Or rather, I smell that you have.”