Machiavillainess

80. A Reminder is Given


She did not often travel far in the winter months. Rare was the occasion which would merit such risk, impossible to know ahead of time whether the chosen route would be traversable, and an ornate carriage stuck in mud or snow made for a tempting target. Although she could mitigate some of those risks for shorter trips, to travel to Bohemia could hardly be shortened to a day of travel.

However, this was such an occasion that merited risk and some of that risk could be mitigated, so she travelled. In the winter chill, she half-led, half-accompanied a caravan of soldiers and supplies, her ornate carriage one made with care in its design, sturdier and lighter and with wheels that fared better on muddied roads.

That safety came at a steep cost, such a plodding caravan one which left after the various Christmas celebrations concluded and only arriving at its destination near winter's close. Well over a month of travel where she could do little more than sit in her carriage, the food she ate restricted to that which kept well, and she could hardly do any work either, that, as she travelled farther from Augstadt, any report she received would already be delayed, never mind how late her response would be.

So those days left her with many hours to reminisce. As painful as her trip to Italy had been, it had not been drawn out. A temporary pain could not compare to the time which comfort wasted. Well, at that time, her presence had been of much greater importance. By now, she had gradually established capable people in suitable positions and so made her own presence less vital.

Change, so much had changed, so little had changed, everything had changed.

Had she changed?

The journey did not take them to Prague, but near to the Polish border. While they did not number as many as a grand army, their coalition was not small, more than the farmland by the border could support. So they gathered near one of the larger Bohemian towns nearby.

Of course, such a place could hardly compare to Augstadt or Prague. Tents and the like filled one field beside the town like a winter crop. Smoke rose from some dozen bonfires, a trickle of men returning with wood in their hands, some dragging along simple sledges.

This was where her carriage parted ways with the caravan.

Inside the town proper, her carriage was led to perhaps the finest building there. It was of a regular shape, made of cut stone—rather fine ashlar blocks—and with a tiled roof. Quietly prestigious. Loud, then, was its size, a square manor with an inner courtyard into which her carriage was led. It was not as grand as a palace, but it was certainly a large building for the middle of a busy town.

However, the moment the door to her carriage opened, she had no more time for idle thoughts.

Within an hour, she sat in the parlour, a polite smile on her lips, in fresh clothes with neat make-up. The door opened then, everyone naturally turning as the butler said, "Prince Frédéric has returned."

Sure enough, her husband stepped through and his gaze immediately sought out hers. She met it, her smile turning sweet, and she gave off a bashful air with a flutter of her eyelashes, head a touch lowered.

"Ah, Frédéric, do join us," said Lord Branka, the owner of the manor and ruler of these parts as a count under Duke Bohemia.

Her husband did not dally, his broad strides crossing the room in little time even without rushing. In front of her, he offered a smile, for a moment his hand rising as if to touch her, only to return to his side.

"Are you well?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

She gave a mischievous smile and leant forwards a touch as she replied in a faux whisper, "I am now."

Branka chortled at that, hand on his stomach, and he turned in his seat to loosely gesture at the others present. "What shall we do with this deceiving Frédéric? To think, he would have us believe his wife demure and shy!"

The others were not only men, some here with their wives, but it was mostly men and they heartily laughed at their host's theatrics. Her husband could only give a sigh, his smile to her apologetic, and he reached out as if knowing the host would present him with his punishment; a moment later, a drink was placed in his hand and he downed it in one gulp.

"How my words have been so misconstrued, I cannot say," he said dryly, the drink lingering heavily on his breath. After saying that, he glanced down and found in her hands a teacup. "Rare is the guest who can turn down Lord Branka's hospitality."

"Indeed," she said, punctuating the word with a sip of her tea.

The lord in question still very much present, he chortled again. "Please, Frédéric, do sit."

Her husband hesitated over the request, then joined his wife on the couch, that it was a narrow seat and she did not squash herself into a corner and he was not a thin man, a firm touch felt.

"As I said, my husband is the shy one. Although he may appear confident, or rather, because he appears so confident, he is quite embarrassed when he must indulge me in front of others," she said, her head high as her hand found his.

Her touch brought a discomfort to him that others saw as proof of her accusation and they needed no more reason to laugh once more.

In the next moment, though, her head turned, expression gentle, and her other hand came over to hold his hand in a sandwich. "I heard Lord Styria is unwell?" she asked, so very gentle.

He swallowed his first reply, then brought up his hand and gently touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "Pray think of yourself before others. Shall I have a maid fetch a blanket?" he asked, a whisper.

"I am not so frail," she said lightly.

"Of course not. It is I who is cold, so do indulge me," he said, turning as he finished. His gaze picked out one of the idle maids waiting on the group and he sent her off with a flick of his wrist.

Not one to stay idle himself, Branka broke the moment with another chortle. "Who would think the reputation our Prince Frédéric has built up these months could be so succinctly shattered?"

She gave a gentle laugh of her own, hand over her mouth, then she let it settle back on her lap, the other still in her husband's grip. "I regret to inform My Lord that this treatment is reserved for his beloved. Everyone else shall have to make do with him as he usually is."

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Although the lightness with which she spoke softened her words, there was still a challenge to them, an ever-so-slight push against social norms. Such teasing from a woman to a man, from guest to host, however innocent, was enough to bristle those most principled on such matters.

With brandy in his stomach, the host felt a certain reminder might need to be given and readied a retort. Only that—her gaze, her smile—she pinned him with a knowing look. It was not that he felt intimidated, rather that the hesitation gave him a moment to steady himself.

These were not ordinary guests.

Then, as if that moment hadn't happened, she turned her attention elsewhere. "Lord Chotzen, or would My Lord rather Choceň?"

Although the man stilled at her sudden address, he did not dawdle in his reply, loosely gesturing with cup in hand as he said, "Ma'am may address me however she so pleases."

"My Lord, I am a married woman," she said lightly with her head tilted.

He gave a half-hearted laugh and no more, his cup to his mouth.

"It is a courtesy I try to extend, that is all," she said, the lightness gone with nothing else in its place, a bluntness to her tone. "I simply wished to ask My Lord, as commander of the Duke's men, to look after my husband. I understand this will not be a simple affair and King Sigismund is far from a simple opponent. Still, I have faith in my husband and he has much faith in My Lord's talents. I hope My Lord may show himself worthy of the faith put into him, not only from my husband, but the Duke and all those present."

What had sounded cold at the start became brittle by the end, her hand squeezing her husband's. Even if her voice hadn't wavered, her eyes hadn't watered, her words portrayed a fragility she could not show.

The man who had received the brunt of her words was middle-aged. He had a weight to him, not from indulgence, but from a tall height filled out. Someone who looked like he could pick up a large sword or axe and swing it well. Skin tanned, emphasising the small scar on his cheek, a thick stubble.

For a second, that man stared at her.

"Now, now, today is a celebration to welcome Ma'am. Let us leave heavy topics for another time," the host said, a forced cheer to his voice, and he turned to his servants as he finished, urging them to hurry. Soon enough, every cup had been filled once more—even hers.

A long hour later, after everyone had suitably celebrated her arrival, she found herself the subject of a sigh while she sat at the dressing table. Although she had already been attended to, of course fresh make-up would be necessary for the later dinner.

"Has dear something which he wishes to discuss?" she asked, gently wiping her face.

"That is… darling seems to fall into something of a mood after travelling."

His words, however carefully chosen, still ended up being quite the wrong ones. Yet she gave a laugh, no anger touching her expression. "Dear thinks I spoke too harshly earlier?"

"I fear darling thinks these people like those of the capital," he said, his hands opening in a gesture that went unseen by her, focused on her task as she was. "I shan't call them simple, but they have an honesty to them. Rude, perhaps, but they find it ruder to not address the issue."

"Well, it sounds like dear has them all figured out."

She continued to speak in a soft tone, no hint of anger, nor firm, and it sent a shiver down his spine. "Does darling think I have not?"

One second, five, a loud silence with muffled chatter from the hallway leaking through, horseshoes on cobblestone and the odd shout from the busy road outside. All that time, he stood very still with his gaze upon her, and she—

She carefully removed her make-up.

Only then did she turn around, her face that little bit older, weathered, so very different to the girl not quite eighteen who had been banished from the Royal Palace. So very different, and yet exactly the same.

"The purpose of my presence," she whispered, "is to remind you that I have not sent men and supplies here in order to murder Polish peasants."

He stepped forward, saying, "I would not—"

"Would you stop it?"

Her question silenced him, his mouth open and yet his breath dared not leave, for a moment as if even his heart refused to beat, clenched painfully in his chest.

"This is not something I ask at all lightly. I have a duty to my people, and I would not have them commit such sinful murder. We are acting against King Sigismund and, indirectly, those who support him. To slaughter those peasants he rules over does nothing to achieve this goal."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, then went to speak, only to need another attempt before the words actually came out. "Of course, I am in agreement. What that has to do with…."

"Lord Chotzen rose to prominence in the late Duke's graces after putting down a heretic rebellion. He did so by encircling the barricaded town, then, in the middle of the night, had archers loose flaming arrows until the houses set alight, and then ordered his men to cut down any who fled, even the women and children."

She did flinch nor even hesitate in saying such words.

After a breath, she added: "For his service, the late Duke awarded him the title."

She did not look away from his gaze, held it through the silence until he was the one to lower his head and make a half-turn.

"Do you recall the letter you wrote while supporting the Greeks?" she asked, her voice neither gentle nor firm, but as it always was. "I confess, my primary interest in opposing King Sigismund is that I believe he heralds the collapse of the Empire. Regardless of my own animosity with the King and Crown Prince, I would do everything within my powers to protect the people of this realm from the suffering that such a collapse would bring about, and yet…."

Only with those last two words did emotion tinge her voice, breathless words as if her throat closed up. However, after she took a deep breath, that emotion was gone once more.

"Even if I did not think King Sigismund such a threat, I would oppose him. It is my duty to oppose such evil. To be the commander of my men, I need to know that you understand this. I need to know that, if Lord Chotzen orders a village razed, you would put yourself and my men between him and that village."

His head hung lower, his body tense.

Barely a whisper, he asked, "You would risk Sigismund's victory over some Polish peasants' lives?"

"Of course not. These are two separate matters, which is precisely why there need not be any more discussion on it. There is no necessary evil here, there is no justifying a lesser evil due to the threat of a greater evil, there is only evil. If you cannot promise me that you will use my power to oppose evil, then I will lead the men myself."

He stood there, silent. It was not that she asked something outrageous of him. Truly, that was what made it all the worse. As always, she saw right through him, then confronted him.

What he had seen in Greece haunted him. It was easy to say that he would never forget what Sigismund had done, what horrors his army inflicted on the innocents. However, no matter what he did now, those horrors could not be undone. It was true that he wished to inflict retribution upon Sigismund, a statement to the world that such a man should not be a ruler.

And it was true that he wished to prevent more of such horrors. How, then, could he stand idle if his ally committed such a horror?

She had seen through him. She had seen through them all in only this short meeting. It terrified him, in a way. It terrified him to think of what she could accomplish if she abandoned her morals. It terrified him to consider what she had already accomplished under such constraints.

"I swear it. With God as my witness, I swear to oppose evil."

He gave no qualifications to his oath, did not hedge his words, did not see a reason to do so. If he should witness evil and do nothing, then his soul would already be forfeit. This was his place in society. She had said as much before, that there was already much good in the world. His role, then, was to protect that good.

After all, there was no good that he could possibly do to overcome his sin.

Opposite him, she smiled. A knowing smile. "I am glad dear has found his resolve," she said, her voice gentle. "The matter of the others, I shall convey what rumours and such I have gathered with dear after dinner. For now, though, I need dear to remember that he is not here to make friends. While this may be a coalition with the Duke as the de facto leader, dear is not some minor figure.

"Our goal, then, is to make dear the one that others shall defer to. Lord Chotzen is not a fool. Moreover, he is not as charismatic as dear. It should be a simple matter to usurp the leadership. If nothing else, dear needs only to remember that he is my husband. Do not let them speak of you as I would not permit them to. As with an army, there is a hierarchy and it is to be respected. Especially now I have brought over the men, it is important that they do not see weakness, only strength."

With so much said, she needed to pause for a deep breath.

"Does dear understand?"

He met her gaze and said, "I do."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.


Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter