Read Online Darker Jewels by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Ads: Link
bring you the victory. And while we pray, we will also continue to gather the charts and maps you say you need. We have been at pains to obey your orders and keep these maps hidden from all but your appointed deputies, so that others will not be able to turn the tide against you. We are all loyal to your cause and iviU defend all that we have learned. There is no enemy who can cause us to surrender what we know. If God wiUs it, you will have no cause to worry about the Russians or the Livonians or the Hungarians or all the might of the Ottoman Turks. As you have said yourself, the leaders with the most complete information will prevail so long as the forces are well-matched.
Until we receive your embassy and report back to you, rest assured of my loyalty and devotion. My skills are ever at your service.
Pavel Donetski
At the library of Anatoli Gritschekov, near Smolensk, April
16, 1583
4
“Why have we stopped?” demanded Father Pogner as Hrabia Zary motioned for the Lancers to halt. The soldiers at once formed a block at the front of the travelers, prepared to fend off anyone who might be ahead of them. Behind him the baggage train mules of the embassy were grateful for the respite. The priests, all but two of them riding mules, gathered around Father
Pogner, with the exception of Father Krabbe, who stayed in the company of Ferenc Rakoczy.
“Because we are not on Polish land anymore, Father,” said the young man with ill-disguised annoyance. “We are strangers here.”
“We are the embassy of Istvan Bathory, king of Poland, and servants of His Holiness the Pope,” said Father Pogner, reciting these credentials with ritualistic fervor, as if they alone could preserve them from any danger. “We are not enemies, we are appointed messengers of two sovereigns.”
“The Rus might not see it that way,” said Rakoczy quietly, and nudged his grey Nonius forward, approaching the Lancers with caution, for they were suspicious of him. “Whatever the trouble ahead, it is getting late and we would do better facing opposition in the morning. Is there a village near this place?”
“Well, there was a village once, but it was burned in the fighting, years ago,” said Hrabia Zary, guarding every word he said where Rakoczy could hear him; no matter what the King had declared, Zary did not trust the elegant and cultured exile from the Carpathians.
“Then there are no buildings we could shelter in,” said Rakoczy.
“No,” said Zary, becoming nervous as he contemplated Rakoczy. “There are no buildings. It was burned. Razed to the ground.”
“I see,” Rakoczy responded, and signaled to his manservant. “Rothger, I think we had better attempt some scouting.”
Rothger was composed and quiet, a sandy-haired middle-aged man with steady blue eyes, mounted on a raking Neapolitan bay; he rode as if a day in the saddle was a pleasant outing, and the prospect of more travel no more daunting than an invitation to visit nearby. He heard Rakoczy’s scouting suggestion without flinching. “Very well, my master. But I would recommend a change of horses. These need rest.”
“Of course,” said Rakoczy. “There’s no reason to ride the horses into the ground.” He looked directly at Zary. “Would you like one of your men to come with us, Hrabia? It might be best.”
Zary flinched but answered as directly as he could. “I will select one.”
“I’ll accompany you,” volunteered Father Krabbe. “I can ride for a few hours more before my loins give out.” He chuckled, and was pleased that a few of the soldiers laughed as well; as a priest he realized that soldiers did not readily trust him. Their laughter gave him confidence.
Rakoczy considered this offer, taking care to show the necessary respect. “If Father Pogner does not object, it is quite satisfactory to me.”
Though Father Krabbe was disappointed, he did his best to conceal it. “I did not mean to act without the permission of Father
Until we receive your embassy and report back to you, rest assured of my loyalty and devotion. My skills are ever at your service.
Pavel Donetski
At the library of Anatoli Gritschekov, near Smolensk, April
16, 1583
4
“Why have we stopped?” demanded Father Pogner as Hrabia Zary motioned for the Lancers to halt. The soldiers at once formed a block at the front of the travelers, prepared to fend off anyone who might be ahead of them. Behind him the baggage train mules of the embassy were grateful for the respite. The priests, all but two of them riding mules, gathered around Father
Pogner, with the exception of Father Krabbe, who stayed in the company of Ferenc Rakoczy.
“Because we are not on Polish land anymore, Father,” said the young man with ill-disguised annoyance. “We are strangers here.”
“We are the embassy of Istvan Bathory, king of Poland, and servants of His Holiness the Pope,” said Father Pogner, reciting these credentials with ritualistic fervor, as if they alone could preserve them from any danger. “We are not enemies, we are appointed messengers of two sovereigns.”
“The Rus might not see it that way,” said Rakoczy quietly, and nudged his grey Nonius forward, approaching the Lancers with caution, for they were suspicious of him. “Whatever the trouble ahead, it is getting late and we would do better facing opposition in the morning. Is there a village near this place?”
“Well, there was a village once, but it was burned in the fighting, years ago,” said Hrabia Zary, guarding every word he said where Rakoczy could hear him; no matter what the King had declared, Zary did not trust the elegant and cultured exile from the Carpathians.
“Then there are no buildings we could shelter in,” said Rakoczy.
“No,” said Zary, becoming nervous as he contemplated Rakoczy. “There are no buildings. It was burned. Razed to the ground.”
“I see,” Rakoczy responded, and signaled to his manservant. “Rothger, I think we had better attempt some scouting.”
Rothger was composed and quiet, a sandy-haired middle-aged man with steady blue eyes, mounted on a raking Neapolitan bay; he rode as if a day in the saddle was a pleasant outing, and the prospect of more travel no more daunting than an invitation to visit nearby. He heard Rakoczy’s scouting suggestion without flinching. “Very well, my master. But I would recommend a change of horses. These need rest.”
“Of course,” said Rakoczy. “There’s no reason to ride the horses into the ground.” He looked directly at Zary. “Would you like one of your men to come with us, Hrabia? It might be best.”
Zary flinched but answered as directly as he could. “I will select one.”
“I’ll accompany you,” volunteered Father Krabbe. “I can ride for a few hours more before my loins give out.” He chuckled, and was pleased that a few of the soldiers laughed as well; as a priest he realized that soldiers did not readily trust him. Their laughter gave him confidence.
Rakoczy considered this offer, taking care to show the necessary respect. “If Father Pogner does not object, it is quite satisfactory to me.”
Though Father Krabbe was disappointed, he did his best to conceal it. “I did not mean to act without the permission of Father
Similar Books
