Work Text:
After the siege at Suchdol you are back at the Devil's Den with Hans for some much needed rest and relaxation. Accompanying the young lord in all of his revelry and merrymaking as the preparations for the wedding are underway.
All of this talk of betrothals and dowries has gotten you thinking about the future, and more and more you find your thoughts turning towards a certain ladyship who sits in a castle faraway.
You imagine her standing over a lectern next to the window, quill in hand. The mid morning sun casting its warmth across her lovely freckled face. Long red locks cascading down her back and to her breast. She purses her lips slightly in that way she does when she writes. Etching in the color of an illumination, a bookend to some clever tale she wrote. You have never met another woman like her in your life.
One morning as you sit down for sops, you hear the clod of horse hooves coming down along the eastern road towards the inn. A darkly clothed rider approaches on a well fed nag. Something large and cylindrical hangs from his saddle, covered entirely by a length of fine blue cloth.
Hitching up near the entrance, he unties the rope which had been securing the cylindrical load by a round metal ring at its top, and carries it along to the innkeeper who eyes him suspiciously. The stranger leans in out of earshot and asks him a question. For a moment the innkeep says nothing, only eyes him up and down, but then quickly gives a nod in your direction.
Dropping your piece of bread back into the trencher of milk you clutch the handle of Brunswick's dagger at your waist. The man starts towards you pulling a roll of parchment from his belt, but sensing your apprehension, he halts just a few feet short of the table. He does his best to soften his expression and bows his head respectfully.
“Henry of Skalitz?” he asks.
“Aye?” You respond.
“I bear a message for you.” He says approaching, and handing you the roll of parchment.
“I was instructed to give you this as well.” He says, placing the blue cloth covered object on the table. Something inside of it rattles about and you hear a sharp chirp.
“The creature is well trained, I assure you.”
You measure him up and down. His clothing is plain but by no means poor. He carries a short sword at his side, and with a well trained eye you can make out the tradesman's mark on the top of the pommel. One of a greatly respected swordsmith of Prague. Not the kind of piece just any messenger would carry.
“Where have you come from and who do you serve?” You ask.
“I cannot say aloud.” He answers, gesturing towards the parchment in your hand.
“Now respectfully, Sir, I must depart.” He says bowing again
You release the grip on the dagger and shake your head in slight amusement
“I'm no Sir.”
He gives a confused smile.
“I was told to address you as such.” He says.
An odd thing.
“Now forgive me but it is a long ride back home, and I have the greatest desire to rest my head upon my own pillow before the day is done.”
Although well restrained, you detect a hint of agitation in his tone. And understandably so. You might feel the same way given such a task, which you had been on many occasions. From experience you know how best to ease his burden.
“Before you go,” You say, sliding a purse full of groschen towards him on the table. Four score in total.
“For your good service, and in the hopes that it should help you to sleep all the better.”
He smiles again, in a genuine manner.
“Thank you Sir, you are too generous.” He says bowing again, and picking up the pouch.
It feels strange to be on the other end of this sort of thing.
“One more thing before you go. I couldn't help but notice that you have quite the sword there. Would you mind if I had a look at it? I'm a blacksmith you see.”
For a moment he hesitates but the hefty purse in his hand persuades him to draw it from its sheath and hand it over by the hilt. You feel the weight of it and give it a quick swing.
"It's a fine sword.” You say
“Aye, it's a thing of beauty. A recent wedding gift from my lordship.” he responds with a gleam of pride in his eyes. And just as you suspected.
You trace the length of the blood groove with your thumb, measuring its proportions by skillful estimation.
“An interesting design. I'll have to try it out next time I can get behind the forge.” You say, handing the sword back to him.
“A noble blacksmith?” He asks vexed.
“A bastard blacksmith more like.” .
“Oh..” he says, biting his tongue. He wasn't supposed to ask too many questions.
“Well, many thanks to you stranger and congratulations. I wish happiness and prosperity for you and your good wife. Safe travels.” You say bowing your head respectfully.
“Thank you Sir. God be with you.” He says bowing his in turn.
Then without another word the mysterious courier turns on his heels and departs. Mounts up on his restless nag and rides with haste back along the east road from whence he came.
You hear more sharp chirping coming from the mysterious gift, and so you cautiously reach out and pull away the blue cloth covering. To your amazement you are greeted by the sight of a snow white fairy swallow which peers at you through the iron bars of its cage. Its feathers puffed up in fear and excitement as it cocks its head to the side to get a better look at you.
From the highest bar of the birdcage dangles a gold framed portrait, suspended by a silver chain no bigger in size than a devotional scapular. Only in the place of iconography it bears the image of a young woman of a rosy freckled complexion. Her nonplussed gaze is familiar to you. So too are the waves of red-orange hair adorned with a golden circlet set with sapphires which undulate down over her embroidered dress of rosy pink.
You turn the parchment around in your hands. It is of a noble quality, and secured by a red wax seal which bears no insignia. It carries the faint and familiar scent of lavender and thyme. You feel the fluttering of anticipation as you break the seal and unroll the parchment.
Rosa's Letter to Henry #1
Henry
I trust that this letter will find you well, and I prithee please forgive the somewhat clandestine nature of this correspondence. You must understand that it is in both of our best interests to keep our dealings covert, as I wish to be open and honest in my language and admiration for you. If this letter and its carrier were to bear the seal of my house, it would necessitate a certain degree of caution and ambiguity that I do not wish to adhere to.
I must first confess to you that all my common sense implores me to cast you off, and to forget entirely of our friendship. I have tried for some time to keep you out of my thoughts, and to refrain from writing this very letter, but yesterday as I was walking through the gardens here in Podebrady it occurred to me just how short a season truly is. The spring with all its bloomage lasts but for a moment and then is sweltered up by the summer heat. Such is nature and such is life. What a shame it would be to pass an entire spring without ever once stepping out into that garden.
Forgive me if my language is at times overly flowery or convoluted, for I am not used to writing in such a way, and have had little reason to up until recently. You see I met a rather handsome young man who left quite the impression on me. Indeed he was as chivalrous and brave as any knight from any romance I have ever read. And with a wit and charm to match. I must tell you sir that it is the unfortunate fate of many young women who find solace in such fanciful tales, to come to the sad disillusionment that such men do not truly exist. That the devil has too much of a grip on men's souls for them to ever measure up to those fictitious ideals.
But good sir, for my part, I know now that they do exist, and that they are few, and that you Henry of Skalitz are such a man. You are my garden and it is springtime. And if I were to turn away from you now I would regret it to the end of my life. I do not know what the future holds in store for us, truly only God can know, but I will write to you with an open heart, in the hopes you will respond in kind.
When I heard news of the siege at Suchdol, my heart weighed heavily. I prayed everyday for your deliverance and for the souls of those poor wretches who had perished. I was so tormented by the dark imaginings of your fate that I could scarcely sleep. Indeed you have no idea how heartened I was to hear of your victory, and Sir what circumstances you overcame.
If ever you come to Podebrady we shall have to write another tale together as we once did in Kuttenberg. You could even stand in again as a model for my illumination. This time as yourself, Henry, Hero of Suchdol, rather than just for reference. Although I'm afraid my skill is insufficient to capture a likeness that does you any kind of justice.
As for the miniature portrait that accompanied this letter, It was commissioned by my father in order to be sent off as an enticement for some suitable bachelor. He has been fuming for days since its disappearance, but I care not. I would have no man look on it but you. Please keep it close and do not lose it. I believe it captures my likeness well, maybe even too well given its intended purpose.
Pray tell me how you have fared, and in whose company? Are you still Squire to Lord Capon? Will you be passing through Podebrady anytime soon? I have many questions but for now I shall restrict them to just these few. And please Henry do not be afraid to let your heart be known to me for I shall do naught but to have and to hold it as my own, and to give you mine in turn.
I never thought that I might speak or write the words “My heart is with you,” but for you my sweet Hal, I've done just that.
P.S. I've named the pigeon Cupid's Arrow, for what other name should I call him by. If you fix him up with a bit of oats he should prove a most loyal friend to you.
I pray to god on high for your health and good fortune Sir, God Bless.
Sincerely,
Your Rosa
A Response from Henry #1
Rosa
You write so well I fear it will put my letter to shame, but nevertheless I shall try to put those hours of copying in the monastery to good use.
I am indeed still Squire to the young Lord, who is enjoying his remaining days as a free unmarried man quite liberally. Whiling away the hours drinking, dicing and hunting with much desperation as I'm sure you can imagine.
Hanush is currently negotiating the terms of the marriage, and until then I am bound here to this Inn in the woods. You see I'm the one who is tasked with dragging his noble seat to the ceremony on the day of days which, believe me when I tell you this, shall be my greatest feat yet. Although I must admit that something about him has changed of late.
These past months have tested his resolve and I can see a certain maturity growing within him. He seems somewhat distant when we are out on the hunt or in the tavern. It is as if his conscience prevents him from sinking too far into those pleasures in the way he once could. Still, there is a ways to go and the wedding is far off.
I am much recovered from the ordeal at Suchdol! Food and drink has never suited me so well. It was indeed a hard fight, and we lost many good people there, but praise be, in the end God's good fortune smiled upon us. Had it not been for his intervention and for the aid of Jobst, Hanush and my Father we would have surely perished.
Now since you have entrusted your heart to me my dear Rosa, I shall try and do the same for you. The truth of it is that I know I ought to feel proud and triumphant of my victory, but I only feel a kind of hollowness. I do not feel like a hero and I am not sated as I thought I would be at journey's end. I'm reminded of something Father Godwin once told me at Trosky.
“There is a hole in your heart where hatred used to be, and now you must find a way to fill it.”
I know now that I may never fill that hole, and that nothing will bring back to me that which I lost in Skalitz. But still I must move forward. I must hope that there is a bright new beginning which lay ahead for me. For both of us.
Dear Rosa, here I am at the end of this road, and the paths split off in so many ways and I am left not knowing which route to take. It has occurred to me that my life has never been so open ended. However I do know for certain that I will not travel down any road which leads me away from you. You are always in my thoughts.
Perhaps after our night together in Kuttenburg when I told you I would marry you, it was too brash of me, but you must know that my feelings towards you have not changed. My love, life's thread will reach its end and we know not when. A season is brief as you yourself put it, and fates are not fixed.
Oh but Alas! I am just a common blacksmith, the bastard of an impoverished lord, without land or title!
My dear, you and I both know that this will not always be so. I have proven much in very short a time. As for wealth, I have acquired much of it. As for land, wealth can buy it. As for a title? I do not believe the king will fail to reward the loyalty of his subjects, especially not the ones who were so instrumental in freeing him from his bondage. Burghers have been knighted for less. I carry the sword of my fathers house with pride and honor, and he acknowledges me as his only son even though I am not of full lineage.
The world is not what it once was. Your own father can attest to this I'm sure. Forgive me if I am too bold. I have never written out of love in my life and so maybe I am getting carried away. Enough about myself though, I shall write of you now.
I am thinking of you. I picture you in that windowed corner turret looking down onto the river, perhaps reading, perhaps writing. I imagine there must be some foppish minstrel across the way who looks up at you longingly and waxes on about your virtues.
"Oh she has the beauty of Venus and yet the strength of Athena!" He would sing.
“Look at how her hand glides across the parchment with ease. The muses must have made her a great artist and poet,” and if it were me I might also add to the list, Diana, the goddess of the hunt, for I've seen your prowess with a crossbow.
Oh how he would prostrate himself in front of you and shower you with poetry and erudite language, thinking it sufficient to win your heart. Indeed for some women it might be enough, but you are not most women and it is not the pleasant arrangement and shape of the words themselves that strikes you, but the meaning behind them and purpose for which they are arranged. Some men might say you are too clever for your own good, but I think what they truly reveal about themselves is that you are too clever for them.
I hope they have built you a proper turret in Podegrady. It suited you well.
How do you spend your days my lovely, what books have you been reading? There are few others I can discuss such things with and perhaps our correspondence can serve as a kind of discourse on such matters.
One day I would like to introduce you to my dear friend Musa. He hails from Mali and until recently he was a physician in the service of Sigismund. I owe him my life as he saved me from receiving a killing blow when fleeing the Italian court. And he saved many more at Suchdol with his knowledge of medicine. He is the most learned and well traveled man I have ever met, and I have heard many amazingly strange stories from him about faraway lands, and of all their oddities. I believe you two would get on well.
How does your father fare? It is a hard thing to lose everything. I understand this well. If there is anything which I can do to help relieve either of you of your burdens do not hesitate to ask. I am at your service.
I hope my writing has sufficiently conveyed to you my feelings, and I beg your pardon for any stray splotches of ink or misspellings. My hands are more accustomed to wielding a hammer and a sword than a quill, and I'm sure I have much to improve on.
My lady I wear your portrait around my neck always. I shall never part from it. Although I would disagree with you as to its quality. I do not believe it comes close to capturing the true comeliness of your face and figure.
Oh my sweet Rosa I hope we shall soon be reunited so that I may count each lovely freckle upon your face
May God smile on you and your noble house good Lady, Jesus Christ be praised.
Your lad from Skalitz,
Henry
Rosa's Letter to Henry #2
Sweet Hal
In truth I did not expect a letter of such eloquence! Perhaps you really ought to have become a writer. I cannot deny my cheeks were flush as I read along. It is kind of you to inquire about my father. All things considered he is well I believe, if not busy with his many responsibilities.
As for this Musa fellow you speak of. I believe I have heard of him before. I am told he is a great healer, and from what you tell me he seems like an honorable man, even if he is not a believer in our lord and savior Jesus Christ. For I am told Muhammad is his prophet. Nevertheless I would very much like to meet him one day, and thank him for helping to bring you back to me alive and well.
Oh Henry, I am in tatters. I have heard of the horrors at Skalitz, and I cannot even bear to imagine such a sight. It would seem to me you have gone to hell and back Sir and its flames have left scars upon your soul.
It is good that you have come to the end of the wrath which has consumed you, and I do believe that the Fathers words are wise. It seems to me now that your wrath has turned to grief.
Poor Henry, think on the fact that if it were not for the love of that which you have lost, then this grief would not consume you so. It is in fact proof of that love, and all things will eventually come to pass. So if grief is the end part of love and you feel now as if you were an empty vessel, I urge you to fill it once more with sweet wine. It is true that the wine of yesterday is not the wine of today, but a good wine is a good wine nonetheless, and we must savor it as it is.
In time all wounds heal if they are given good succor, and I hope the words I have written above will bring you some amount of this. There is a new day dawning good Sir, for both of us, and we must rise to greet it, which I'm sure we shall with great courage and vigor.
Oh Henry, You write with a great strength of character and I have no doubt you would conquer all the lands and nations on this good earth if the task were put before you. But my dear sir, you write in ignorance about a world you scarcely understand. I have my whole life been a part of this noble class, and I can tell you that merit and worthiness, although worth quite a sum, are no substitute for lineage. Perhaps if we had met in some faraway age such things would seem silly and superfluous, but alas now is now, and such things do carry weight.
What you say of my father is true, and if anyone can appreciate a man of merit it is he, for he is the greatest man that I know, but I am the sole heiress to my house. What would become of his legacy? All of which we have fought for. All of those sacrifices and many years my father labored to bolster his name and earn respect in court, and much of it by way of politics.
Regretfully sir, it is politics more so than merit or owed due that determine such titles and endowments. What would become of my house if I were to fail to secure a suitable alliance through marriage? It has always been my fate to marry above my own station and thus increase the renown of my namesake. It is how these things go. This is after all a woman's expected lot. Had I been lowborn I might have married for love, but all things are two sided.
I have wanted for nothing my whole life, God has bestowed me with many wonderful gifts, and this is something I would be a fool to take for granted. Especially when so many in these times wonder about homeless, hungry, and dejected. Why should I be so greedy as to demand the same good fortune in marriage?
You are young and I have no doubt great things still lie in store for you, but you must understand that for us women, spring has an early arrival and even earlier departure in regards to marriageability and children. Unfortunately time is of the essence.
Truly, am I to wish and wait on the good blessing of a king who still sits in captivity? For it would matter little if you had all the wealth of Solomon, you should not be permitted lordship without the King's blessing. And Henry, both of our fathers have been pushed out of house and home. If we were to be married now we would be as two vagrants.
Besides this, as I have already stated, politics is very much involved. I am sure my father would like to give me to some noble house of Prague, for we have never been quite as welcome there as he would like.
My love, I hope you do not think me overly tactful, and I do not mean to sound cold or calculating. I am simply being frank and realistic about my circumstances. I have given you my heart Sir, but this is all. I cannot give you my life. My only wish is to delay my fate for a time, so that I may remain for just a little while longer a free woman. In this way I am not so different from your Lord Capon.
You must understand that there will come a time when these letters must halt, and we must say goodbye to one another, but for now there is nothing between us but an untraveled distance and for that I am glad. So please let us not waste what precious time we have left and put this matter to rest. I would like to write of more pleasant things now.
Have you ever read Chaucer? His stories are so pernicious I feel I must pray immediately after reading them. He writes in English however and it has occurred to me that I have not come across any Czech translation. Therefore I have endeavored to do so myself. If you would like I can send them to you when I have finished? I would very much like to know your thoughts.
As for my own writings I have recently acquired a blank codex from a stationer here in Podebrady. It lacks the charm of the last one's scarlet cover, but I believe its contents are much improved. Looking back on what I had written before, some of the things of which I put down feel beneath me now in skill. Of course our story is one of the crowning achievements of the collection, as well as the closest to my heart.
Right now I am endeavoring to write a fable about a black sheep who tries to turn himself white by rolling around in ash, so that the other sheep think he is one of them. I know how it must sound, but I promise it is quite a clever tale, and the ending is not what you might expect.
Actually Henry, my brave and valiant knight, I have a task for you and if you fail me I absolutely shall never forgive you.
You see when our palace was looted, those scoundrels made off with most of my manuscripts, and recently I happened to chance across my copy of Homer on display inside a shop here in town. When I inquired into how it was the gentleman obtained the book, he informed me that he had purchased it from a bookseller in Kuttenburg, who claimed to have recently come upon an inheritance in the form of a small library. I have no doubt that this man is in possession of my books, and maybe even some of my fathers belongings. If you would please look into this matter, it would do me a great service. Some of those works belonged to my mother and I have very fond memories of her reading them to me as a girl.
Now my guess is that you might find him somewhere near the horse market. That seems to be the part of town where people are most like to conduct their illegitimate business. I trust this task should prove but a trifle for a man such as yourself, but still do be cautious. I worry for you always.
And Henry, the next time you write to me I trust you shall endeavor to flatter me further? I quite like it when you do that Sir. And tell me a funny story! You always seem to know how to make me laugh. I look forward to your next letter my darling Chevalier. I shall think of you now as I stare longingly out of my turret window.
Adieu, Henri, mon bel amy. Que les vens portent mes soupirs jusques à vous, mon doulx.
P.S. (I have counted all sixty-eight of my freckles for you)
Yours,
Rosa
Henry's Response to Rosa #2
Sweet Rosa
I feel a great many things after reading your last letter. I would like to begin by promising you that I shall not push the issue of marriage any further, as I do not wish to upset you. And mostly I do agree that when it comes down to it we are best off to make use of the time we have left.
However, I will have you know before I leave off that I am admittedly a stubborn fool, who has oft been called a madman for refusing to adhere to common sense in regard to matters of the heart and of honor. I will not trouble you further with my words, but know that I shall labor through my actions every day of my life to bring about the future that I believe both of us in our hearts desire. Unless I am wrong in this assertion, for I will not force a thing that is not willingly taken.
Rosa my door shall remain forever open to you if and when the circumstances permit our union. I am convinced my house shall one day be worthy of your esteem. Even if it is not our fate to walk through this life together, I will at the very least prove this to you out of love. You have my word on this. Now I will put the matter to rest, and tell you a story that I hope will bring you much amusement.
The other evening, as we have done often these past few weeks, Lord Capon and I were riding south along the road to Horschan, where we had planned to stop by for a game of dice.
On this particular evening there was a thick fog which had made it so that we could hardly see but a short distance in front of us. The road was also very muddy you see and poorly maintained so it was difficult to make out where it led exactly. We rode on like this for a while, until it occurred to us that we ought to have arrived in Horschan sometime before.
We carried on just a little further hoping to come by a familiar place and get our bearings, but alas it was all mud and grass with a thick treeline on either side of the road. I must admit in that fog it gave quite the ominous impression.
We had stopped for a while to discuss our predicament and to give the horses a rest, divvying up a bit of cheese between ourselves. When suddenly, from the treeline, and it struck us as particularly odd because the woods had fallen unusually silent, we heard the ringing of a small bell.
We looked to each other, and then towards the forest but could distinguish nothing amongst the foliage. There was an eerie stillness. Then another ring of the bell, and a third, and then we heard a terrible bleating that startled the young lord so much that he jumped up and a piece of cheese flew from his hand and landed in the mud.
Oh Rosa, I realize it is quite amusing, but in truth it is embarrassing to admit this to you, so please do not mock me when I tell you that when that dark creature bolted out towards us from those bushes, shrouded in fog, and bleating like the devil. Both of us in all of our heroism took to heel and fled as fast as we could back down the path, leaving both horse and pack behind.
When I stopped to catch my breath I realized I was alone, and had lost Lord Capon in the thick of the fog. I called out to him, and he answered, although it sounded to me like he was some ways off. He called out to me again, only this time it was much more dire.
Hastening then, I stumbled through the fog, ankle deep in mud and made my way towards his voice, pushing through the dense thicket of the treeline.
Eventually I came to a glade with a single tree at its center where, and I could hardly believe my eyes, the noble lord was up in the branches of a young poplar waving his one free arm down at the beast and shouting wildly at it, trying to scare it off. The limbs of the tree bent and swayed from his weight, and the beast was jumping and bleating and stomping in response, it was as if they were in some sort of row with one another.
At this point I began to realize the devil was in fact some kind of black sheep. A horribly deformed and grotesque thing, which bleated and jumped up nipping at Sir Hans’ feet. I noticed then that my lord had with him still a napkin of cheese in one hand. So I called up to him, suggesting he throw it from the tree to lure the beast away. He did so immediately and the beast bolted off after it, gobbling it up with much relish I believe.
I helped the lord down from the tree and we made our way to the edge of the glade in the direction of the trail, turning back only for a moment to see whether or not the creature was following us. And much to our surprise we found him right there, rather calm and content as if waiting for us to lead on. In the end we thought it best to pay him no heed.
We made our way back to the trail and found our horses, which were still where we had left them, and mounted up. The fog was beginning to clear by then and we figured that we must have made a wrong turn at the fork in the road further back.
We rode along and that god ugly sheep followed us all the way back down the path. Its bell ringing about merrily until we met an old shepherd who stood by the roadside leaning on a staff for support. His pasture was some ways up on top of a hill. We would never have seen it in the thick of that fog.
He thanked us kindly for returning his sheep to him, and told us that there had hardly ever been a sliver of cheese within a mile of that pasture that the beast had not rooted out. I'm told his name was Regus. The sheep I mean.
And that was that. We decided to head back to the Devils Den (which is the name of that alehouse which I have mentioned to you before) and we both went off to bed, having had our fill for the day. I reckon it was all in a day for us two, and I'm sure it won't be our last misadventure, nor the most eventful. But nevertheless I hope it made you laugh, and maybe there is something in it that might help to inspire this story you are writing.
In two days time I shall be in Kuttenberg once again for the tournaments, and in the course of my visit I shall endeavor to track the whereabouts of your manuscripts. Unfortunately, as duty has demanded it of me, I have been made to spend quite some time in those seedier areas of the city, and so I believe I know the best place to begin my search. I hope I shall not fail you in this task.
As to this Chaucer you have mentioned, I am sad to say that I have not had the pleasure of reading his work, as I do not know a word of English. In fact outside of our common tongue I am rather hopeless in this regard, although I have been made to memorize quite a bit of Latin verse. Of course I understand that this hardly gives me as full a command of the language as you yourself possess, but I dare say it's not bad for a blacksmith's boy wouldn't you agree?
On the subject of blacksmithing I was thinking that I would like to make a gift for your father. I believe a fine and truly noble sword of the highest caliber would befit him, wouldn't you agree? And please do not think of it as being some expensive and burdensome process for me.
You see when I am standing at the forge working metal it is as if I am in communion with the almighty. I lose myself to it and what's more I feel the spirit of my father is with me. Truly sometimes when I am at the forge it is as if he is standing just over my shoulder, as he was not so long ago.
Anyhow I am writing this letter whilst sitting on top of a crate of folded Toledo steel, recently recovered from a camp of brigands and I have no intention of letting it go to rust. I shall busy myself with this task so as to not let my hands grow idle.
From the time I spent in your palace I do remember your fathers arms and armor well. That which he himself wore, and that which was on display in the main hall. From this I ascertained, in a general sense, a certain aesthetical nature, the style of which I shall do my best to implement. Let it be a gesture of goodwill and loyalty between our houses.
Now comes the part of this letter where I shall embarrass myself totally with my gushing. For there is one more story that I wish to tell you.
The other morning as I was washing, I had shifted your portrait on its chain so that it was hanging down to the middle of my back, so as not to get it wet. From behind me I heard a gasp, and I immediately swung it back around and away from this person to shield it. You see I had thought the gasp disingenuous, and that It was one of the lads goading me. Indeed many if not most of the men you will meet in this place possess only a baser notion of love, but I was quite mistaken. It was in fact an old woman, who I recognized worked at the baths mixing salts and herbs for soaking. She said to me,
“Young man, is that your lady love?” I answered yea, and she asked if she could see the portrait.
She appeared to me then, so kind of heart that I could not deny her this, and so I let her hold the painting.
“Beautiful.” she said. and then with a kind of wisdom she looked into my eyes and asked me this question.
“Do you truly love this woman so much that you would not part from her likeness even when bathing?”
What I wished to reply was,
“Well especially not when bathing,” but I refrained from doing so.
What I said to her in truth was,
"I have promised her that I shall not part from it and to keep it close to my heart always." ”
Then with a toothless grin she said to me,
“I imagine it must be difficult to wash while trying to keep such a thing dry?.”
“I suppose it is, but I don't mind.” I answered
“Then I am convinced you are truly in love.” she said and then handed me back the portrait.
This wise old woman said one more thing to me which I shall never forget.
“Beautiful things are easy to cherish and love when they are convenient. But to truly love something is to bear it as your burden.” and then she went away and I have not seen her since.
I believe those words to be true, and you Lady Rosa are my beautiful burden, and I shall gladly bear the weight of you upon my breast for every day of my life.
Yours,
Henry
Rosa’s Letter to Henry #3
Henry
Firstly I would like to congratulate you Sir on your victory at the tourney. I have already heard news of it here in Podebrady. I only wish that I was there to see it myself, and to show you my favor. I am told it was quite the performance, and I have no doubt of this, as I've seen your skill at swordplay first hand.
And oh what a story! At first I thought you had put down something of a nightmare and did not expect that twist. I admit I chuckled so loudly that, had I not been alone, someone would likely have thought me possessed by some spirit or another. Indeed I do not think I shall ever pass a poplar again without imagining the young lord with his napkin of cheese in hand.
In regards to this sword for my father. If I might be so bold, I would very much like to play a part in its design, that we might make this a gift from the both of us. Below I have written in Latin a phrase of which is very close to his heart.
Omni custodia serva cor tuum, quia ex ipso vita procedit
Oh Henry, I feel at times that I contradict myself, and I do stand by all of which I have said before. However I wish to keep you near to me, and in bringing our houses closer in alliance I believe it shall accomplish this. Therefore let me help you in this task so that my father may know of our mutual love and respect.
I have heard that your stepfather was a renowned swordsmith, and that you take after him in skill. I wonder, will you take up the trade in full? Build a forge and open a shop? If blacksmithing really does bring you such joy wouldn't you like to keep on with it? I suppose my fear is that you should forsake a happy life for one which chases a thing which you cannot possess. You have made a vow, and I cannot keep you from it, but you must know that the only thing that breaks my heart more than us not being together is the thought of you torturing yourself over it. I do not wish myself to be so much of a burden to you, as to have you live like Sisyphus with his heavy boulder. Forever laboring uphill to a summit you shall never reach. I would rather end things between us than watch you go through such suffering. God knows you have had your share of that already good Sir.
I have finished the first of my translations of Chaucer and it is included it in this parcel. Now I shall be perfectly frank with you good Sir, I am not for the nunnery, as you well know, and neither is this tale. But I would not discuss such things with any man but yourself.
One final thing that I will add is that in this story there is a fruit tree. On the limbs of which certain acts are performed. They have been the contents of my fantasies of late and perhaps we might endeavor to climb such a tree together someday?.
Yours,
Rosa
A Response from Henry #3
Rosa
I could fill the length of this parchment from top to bottom with all of the things that I wish to do with you up in that tree, but alas, my supply is running low, and so I must be careful in how I choose my words.
I am beginning to feel that you have a certain taste for such fantasies, as I am reminded of the story we ourselves wrote. I mean no judgement of course, quite the opposite in fact. Your passion enlivens me.
Chaucer is indeed not for any nunnery, and I would be curious to read more of his work, if you would be so inclined as to translate for me. He is bawdy indeed but what's more he is quite the clever fellow, and there is something of a rebel in him. I see now why you were so struck by his work.
You know I had been thinking more the other day about black sheep, and It occurred to me that perhaps you and I are somewhat akin to one.
Forgive me if I presume too much, but I have never met a woman quite like you, and I get the sense that you have a nature that is not always looked upon in favor, as it is in my eyes.
Intelligence and good learning is all well and good, but cleverness can be something that threatens and intimidates. Peter of Pishek once told me that had you been born a man, your father would have had an heir worth envying, and I believe this statement proof of my point.
There is something of a fighter in you that I admire and I do not just mean because you shoot so well but because you challenge. That is the main thing, you challenge, aren't afraid to question, and are tenacious in your convictions.
Do you not feel somewhat alone and different from those around you? As if someone always has their hand on your shoulder and is telling you to not act according to your true nature?
For my part it's as if I am everything and nothing at the same time. I have been a soldier, a monk, a scribe, a surgeon, a bastard and a blacksmith. Truly I have been whatever I was required to be. My true place in this world is a mystery to me.
A part of me is thinking that you are right, and perhaps I should open a shop. I have many acquaintances in Kuttenberg now as well as enough money to purchase property. I imagine I should do quite well there. I do not wish to remain idle in these days ahead, and I admit I am fond of the notion of having a home to myself. I sometimes tire of all this galavanting.
Indeed until our King Wenceslas has been freed, dubs me knight, grants me lands and says to me “I bid you make haste to that lady love of yours and make her your wife,” I should endeavor to make use of my craft and give good service where I can. Of course all of this after the wedding.
By the way, I had forgotten to ask you about Jitka. Are you two Acquainted? I must admit I am curious about her, and most especially Lord Capon. How is she as a person? For her sake I hope she is patient (you have to be, given the young lord's temperament) and I suppose I should ask if she is pretty. And by all means give me a yes regardless of the truth so that I may more easily tempt Capon to the ceremony.
I hope I do not paint him in too bad of a light though, for I am mostly goading. He is the closest friend that I have in this world, and I believe his character to be truly noble and loving. It is just a new world for him of late, and there are certain pains that come with manhood. However I have no doubt that in time he shall grow into his full potential. Now on to a bit of good news.
Today I traveled the length of the city by way of a network of underground passages. You see I came upon a merchant near the horse market, who after some persuasion told me of this man you had mentioned. Unfortunately he was no longer around that area, and had gone back to some den or another, which I was told was somewhere beneath the city. This is where he was said to store his merchandise. Luckily I still possessed a map of these tunnels which I had acquired from an earlier escapade, so I was not rendered completely directionless.
With a lantern I made my way along, and I could hear the muffled voices of people as I passed by the cellar doors which led up to the shops. (Indeed I was shocked at just how many of the wealthier burghers' workshops were connected to these passageways but I digress.)
Eventually I came to a point where I happened to notice the flickering of candlelight coming from between the gaps of wooden planks which had been leaned up against the side of the tunnel to disguise a kind of cave. I labored at removing the planks until there was a gap wide enough that I might slip through.
It was a dingy place, candles were scattered about on top of crates, and lengths of fine cloth were rolled up in corners next to barrels and hoards of all sorts of merchandise. I could make out a figure laying on a cot on the ground. I kept a hand on the pommel of my sword, ready for anything, but to my relief he was dead drunk and asleep next to a wineskin.
I took the liberty of relieving him of his keychain, and began perusing his merchandise. Soon I came across a chest which I recognized, which was fortunate for there were so many that I should have gone mad before searching them all. It was one which I had a memory of from your quarters in the palace, and I instantly knew that this was what I had come for.
As you know it is a sizable thing, and to try and move it myself through those narrow passageways would have proved a fool's errand.
But as fate would have it, there was something on the dark floor of the cave which, backing into it, caught the heel of my foot and I fell, crashing loudly down onto an assortment of pottery and pewter ware.
Rosa It was as if I had woken a bear from its slumber. This man jumped up and spun around in all directions grunting like a beast.
When he saw me he reached for a candle and pulled his knife from its sheath.
“What are you doing here?” He growled much more vulgarly than I've put it.
I held my hand out at him.
“Wait!.” I pleaded.
Now what happened next is a bit of a blur to me, and I can hardly explain it myself but in the end there was a few drinks had, and a bit of a wager, and the short of it is that I won the chest off of him and even managed to convince him to help me carry it up from the tunnels. It seems the chest was most likely sold to him by one of those vagrants we encountered.
Fortunately the lock was unbroken when he received it so no one else had sorted through it. Alas though, such people are no stranger to a lockpick and I am sorry to tell you that there were five manuscripts sold off including the one which you stumbled upon. It is not all bad news however. I believe the chest still contained many of its original contents as well as several other articles. I shall list them here:
-Les Lais De Marie De France
-Fabluae: Las Fabulas latinas de Esposo
-A beautifully bound and illustrated book of hours that I believe must be an heirloom
-A collections of works by Christine de Pizan
-(A collection of books which were tied together by a length of brocade cloth and have similar styles of leather binding) Ars Minora,Ars Grammatica/De Orthographica/Ars Rhetorica/De Dialectica
-A collection of Chrétien De Troyes’ Arthurian Romances
-A book whose author is anonymous (Rosa Ruthard)
I also found a finely ornamented hunting knife with a polished ivory handle and an embroidered coverlet. I am sending all of these things to you, and I assure you that despite his appearance the courier is to be trusted (Also be warned, if he offers you his sausage he is referring to the food and it is not an innuendo. He is a wizard with seasoning though so I might consider taking him up on it.)
I could not locate the whereabouts of any of your fathers possessions, but shall remain vigilant. I know that this is only a small portion of the great wealth which you have lost, but I hope that it will bring you at least an inkling of happiness.
P.S. I have begun work on the sword. I expect it will take me just over a week to complete.
With all my love,
Henry
Rosa’s Letter to Henry #4
Henry
You found it! I am overjoyed! I had been in such a sour mood that day until your courier arrived with my chest. All day today I have been reading. The book of hours is indeed an heirloom of my mothers and is irreplaceable.
Oh Henry the most touching thing of all has been this dagger. I presented it to my father this morning. You see it was my brothers, and it was given as a gift to him for his sixteenth birthday. I have kept it as a keepsake ever since he fell at Kuttenberg, and so it feels as if a part of him is returned to us. Thank you. I feel I must reward you in some way! If there is anything which you should desire from me, name it and it shall be yours.
You say you won a wager? How in heaven did you manage such a feat? To wake someone like that from his stupor, and persuade him to assist you? You must have a tongue of solid silver Sir. And do not fret at the lost books, for they may still turn up yet.
Oh Henry, Your letters never fail to pierce my heart. We are much alike it seems. Two black sheep together. And when you look at me with love in your eyes, you see me for all that I am. And then I do not feel as a black sheep might feel.
Lord Capon is indeed a lucky man. Jitka is exceedingly beautiful, and I know her quite well, for we have been friends for many years. In fact I see something of her In Sir Hans. I dare say they may prove to be twin flames.
As for Chaucer, you have my word that I am diligently at work translating more of his writings, and I have to say I am enjoying the challenge.
Oh Henry, How very distinguished you would be with a workshop of your own. In fact I had a very strange dream the other night after reading your letter.
I had come for my fathers sword, and It seemed to me that we were in the city. I stood outside a shop which bore the mark of your trade and I somehow knew that you owned it. It felt familiar to me. When I entered I was greeted by the sound of hammering coming from the yard out back and so I made my way through the hall and out of the back door.
There was an open air forge, with coals ablaze, and the bellows pumping. I saw you there at work. Suddenly you stopped and looked up at me smiling, and it was not the smile of someone who had not seen their love for a lifetime, but a familiar one. There was an apprentice just behind you working the bellows, a young boy who shared your features, except his hair had more red in it and his face was dotted with many freckles. He smiled at me in the same way. Then I awoke.
Your Love,
Rosa
Henry's Response to Rosa #4
Rosa
Our gift should arrive along with this letter. I hope that it pleases you as well as Lord Ruthard. It is the product of every ounce of my skill and love. However it breaks my heart that I should not be there to deliver it to you myself.
Sweet Rosa every letter I receive from you pains my heart. I ache to be with you once again.
I did not know that you and Jitka were acquainted. Does this mean that you will be at the wedding? The thought of that easies my heart some.
I am glad you are so pleased with your chest. You know I have a few rare manuscripts of my own back in Rattay. Perhaps I should send for the them so that you might safe keep them for me?
You know I do not know if or when I shall ever return home again. It seems my path would lead me away from there. I would like to see Skalitz again one day, when it has been rebuilt. Maybe you might even like to come along with me?.
Please forgive the briefness of this letter, for that rascal companion of mine, the one with the tale that wags, decided to eat my roll of parchments. Only this small portion remains. But on my honor I shall not go to long before writing to you again.
I have faith that soon we shall both travel that untraveled distance, and once again be in each other's company. Then I shall kiss and greet you six thousand times, carry you away to that fanciful fruit tree and the words that once would be written shall be spoken.
Yours,
Henry
One evening as you untie the string of parchment from the recently arrived swallow, you notice that the seal is different. It bears the sigil of the House of Ruthard. Upon opening it the handwriting is entirely different from Rosa’s.
Lord Ruthard's Letter to Henry
Henry of Skalitz
I look now upon the sword which you have forged for me. The words which are carved upon the length of the blade bring to life memories from long ago. They are words once spoken by my dearly departed wife, Rosa’s mother. She said them often. They have always helped to guide me, and for some time now they seem to have escaped my memory.
There are now many things which must be sorted, wrongs put to right, and fires which must be quenched. My daughter will one day be married, no doubt, but for now her betrothal is not chief among my concerns. In fact chief among them is her well being and happiness, and I have done all that I can in this regard.
There is much that a father can do for her daughter, but when it comes to matters of the heart, he can only act as a gatekeeper to her. Letting in whomever he chooses. And now with these words returned to mind, I am resolved.
There have been no confessions, but even I with these old tired eyes could not fail to see the smile which has returned to my daughter’s face of late. It has been a long time since I have seen her this way. Far too long. And therefore I shall disregard my doubts and better judgement for the sake of her happiness.
She loves you, and that is that, and if it is you who has her heart then I am glad. For I know you will guard it as fiercely as I. I can make you no promises for the future, but for now I urge you, continue to make her smile.
I pray for your health and good fortune, and am sure we shall meet again at this wedding I’ve been hearing about. Perhaps then we can share a cup or two of fine wine and you can tell me all about what happened at Suchdol, and also of this village I'm told you built for Sir Divish. Pribyslavitz I believe it's called. Both are quite the feat for someone of your age.
The sword is truly a fine piece of craftsmanship, and I'm sure both of your fathers would be proud. I shall find it a place of honor.
Respectfully,
Sir Kunzlin Ruthard