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They do not invoke the words “faking his death”, when talking about what John had done.
It was, of course, the will of G-d to decide when a person’s journey in the physical world ended. On the other hand, life was precious, and there was no reason not to take precautions and avoid bringing about the inevitable quicker. And it just tore at something inside Samuel to speak the word “death” so often when talking about John.
And in Kolín, as in every city after all, the walls had ears. And what if someone overheard that John II of Liechtenstein had faked his death? What if the wind carried it to those oh so mighty in the cushy seats of the council?
So no. His supposed death was not spoken of. Rather, when they had to talk about it, they used the word “stunt”.
***
The first few days after John pulled off his… stunt were lovely, like a waking dream. Nothing compared to the euphoria of knowing they wouldn’t be torn apart by John’s duties again. They spent whole hours just talking about all kinds of inane topics. The climbing temperatures now that it was spring again, the neighbours’ dispute about a goat, the roof that might need some slight repairs.
And they spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time in bed. But, well, they were making up for the past years.
But Samuel knew reality had to set in eventually. Both his mame and zayde knew of John’s not-death, and the neighbours probably did too, as did the people that frequented the tavern, and really, it was unavoidable that most people in the quarter had heard of it. It was inevitable- they either knew John personally or were aware of John’s occasional presence in the quarter. So when Henry turned up with the news of John’s death on Samuel’s doorstep, it spread fast among the people, and when John miraculously showed up, alive and well, it also didn’t take a long time for the rumours make their way through the quarter.
The problem was, none of them had any idea John wanted to be thought of as dead. They simply thought Henry was wrong, because, let’s be frank, the escapades of nobility were at times ridiculous. It wouldn’t be the first time something unlikely like that happened to one of them.
Many of them thought John dead in 1405, when he was captured, since he didn’t come to Kolín for six months straight. Oh, how it killed Samuel inside back then, hearing the conversations in the tavern, the gossiping of the neighbours. But they were proven wrong in the end and so it didn’t come as much of a shock that John apparently bested the angel of death the second time.
They assumed John would stay for a week, or two, or maybe three, and then ride off again, not to be seen for months, as was standard.
None of them knew John wanted to stay. And Samuel understood, this was not a decision he could make lightly, on his own.
So eventually, together with John, they sat down his mame and zayde and explained the whole situation, as reasonably and concisely as they both could. Which was not all that much on John’s part, given his proclivity to going on unrelated tangents.
Among explaining his reasoning, the execution of his plan and his way back to Kolín, he apologized at least five times for making everyone worry, complained about the rain, complained about unreliable horses, complained about the general landscape of Bohemia (“Really, it looks like a bowl! Have you ever noticed that?”) and complimented his mame’s new dress.
Suffice to say, their heads were quite full once John finished his monologue, but at least he had the presence of mind to look a little sheepish about it. Samuel had gotten in about five words in total.
A deathly silence fell on the table they were all sitting around, heavy like wet snow. John tried to mask his nervousness by taking a sip from his cup of wine, and Samuel shot him a look. John’s tendency to drown whatever negative feelings he had in alcohol was slightly concerning, but Samuel didn’t want to sully the time they had in the past by scolding him for it too much.
Finally, Samuel’s zayde spoke. “The goodmen will have to come together and decide, if you really wish to stay.”
“I know. I thought so,” John replied, eyes downcast.
“They may not decide in your favour,” Jehuda continued.
“I know,” John repeated, “I understand. Really.”
Samuel didn’t want to think about such an outcome, and yet, it was a clear possibility. He didn’t know what they would do should John be ordered to leave the quarter. However, Samuel was confident they would find a solution. They always did. Together.
Strange, how much of Samuel’s life was shaped by the decisions of the goodmen. They allowed Martin to stay in the Kuttenberg quarter, thus allowing him to fall in love with his mame. They allowed John to hide in the basement, thus allowing him to fall in love with Samuel. And now, they would hopefully allow John to stay with them here, thus allowing the two of them-
Thus allowing them the happiness his mame never got to experience.
***
His zayde came to talk to him, later that night.
"Don’t worry your head too much," he said, putting his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. "What comes to pass will come to pass."
"I know," Samuel sighed, "but sometimes I wish that things weren’t as complicated."
Zayde nodded, sympathetic. Understanding. "This is the lot we are given. But you’re smart, yingele. I’m sure you will figure something out. You always do, no?"
Samuel smiled at him, still feeling nervous, but also lighter. If his zayde thought so, then there must be at least a drop of truth in it.
***
The few hours when the goodmen were convening were probably one of the most nerve-wracking experiences in Samuel’s life.
There was no adrenaline in his veins, no immediate threat. Instead, there was just waiting, waiting, waiting. No distraction to occupy Samuel’s attention, no conversation to be had, no household chore to complete.
In that, it rather reminded Samuel of the siege of Suchdol, when they were in between attacks. Back then, he knew that another attack would surely come, but didn’t know when and how. Now, he knew that there will be a decision, a final one at that, but didn’t know when and what it will be.
He didn’t offer John any alcohol, covertly starting the process of making him let go of the habit, but uncharacteristically, John didn’t even ask for any, nor did he try to find some by himself.
They waited, long after the sun has set, long after the tavern has been closed, and did not speak of anything. Rather, they just sat next to each other, bodies pressed together from their ankles to their shoulders. The warmth of John’s body next to him was a balm on Samuel’s nerves. John started fidgeting with his hands in his lap, so Samuel took them and enveloped them in his own.
Together, they watched the door, waiting for Samuel’s zayde to come and tell them what will happen next. And watched, and watched, and watched. Anytime there was a sound, some movement behind the door, their heads would snap up, looking at the handle of the door, but inevitably, nothing would happen.
Eventually, Samuel’s mame joined them, sleep having eluded her for the past hour and started sweeping non-existent dust from the floor. The sound of the broom on the ground was a bit grating, an annoying swish, swish, but Samuel did not begrudge his mame how she coped.
She must have been thinking of Martin. Did she think of his looks? How he smelled? The tone of his voice? Did she even remember all those details, after so many years? Or was all that was left of him just his name and a carved “M”?
Just when Samuel was about to get up to stretch his legs, the door opened, and his zayde walked through.
“It was decided he can stay,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
All the tension left Samuel’s body at once, and he had to remind himself not to just flop over to the ground like a babe just learning to sit upright by themselves. That was rather anticlimactic, but he was grateful zayde did not prolong his state of anxiety.
He vaguely heard John thanking his zayde, thanking him from the bottom of his heart.
“You won’t regret it, I promise. I’ll do anything you ask of me,” John said, voice a bit hysterical as he squeezed Samuel’s zayde’s hand between his own in thanks.
Zayde just hummed and patted John on the shoulder, telling him to calm down and let him sit. When Samuel managed to lift his head, he spotted an unmistakable twinkle in zayde’s eyes. As he walked past Samuel, he ruffled his hair, prompting an undignified squeak out of him. Still, it made Samuel fondly recall all the times he had done so when he was a boy.
***
The next morning, Samuel’s mame sent Samuel to go and buy some seasoning. After the initial shock had worn off last night, she declared she will cook something special for dinner the next day, as a small celebration.
John, of course, tried to talk her out of it. “Please, lady Sara, that isn’t at all necessary, really-“
“Don’t talk nonsense! I’d like to do this for both you and Shmuli,” she cut him off, making Samuel cringe a little at the nickname. He was in his thirties, it was in no way necessary. However, the mention of Samuel was enough to shut John up and end the whole debate.
But come morning, his mame realized that she was missing some of the ingredients, hence the reason for Samuel’s current quest.
He greeted Gisse, whose tate and husband were both merchants. They were often the only sources of various spices and herbs accessible in the quarter, or at least accessible without some serious hassle. He quickly rattled off what his mame instructed him to buy- some rosemary and honey.
While getting it ready for Samuel, Gisse eyed him curiously.
“I heard your… friend was allowed to stay, yesterday.” She said the word “friend” like she had absolutely no illusions as to what was going on beyond the closed doors of Samuel’s home but didn’t want to embarrass him.
Samuel’s hand froze in motion, holding ready the coins for payment. “He was. Why are you asking?” he eyed her a bit suspiciously. Though Gisse was older then Samuel, she was known for helping the children with pulling pranks on the adults sometimes. Whenever she got that look in her eye, as if she knew more than all those around her, it was never a good sign for anyone in the vicinity.
She opened Samuel’s palm herself and took the proffered groschen, not waiting for him to unfreeze.
That’s when Samuel realized that with her tate being a respected member of the community and only a few odd years younger than Samuel’s zayde, he had definitely been one of those deciding John’s fate yesterday, long into the night.
“Well,” she leaned over, almost conspiratorial, her voice getting quieter, “I heard that for a long while, about half of the goodmen wanted to allow him to stay, and half wanted him gone. Even if he might have been an ally in the past, they were concerned that nobody knows what he might do in the future. You two might fall out and he could do all sorts of stuff to make our lives harder here.”
Samuel knew John wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. But he also understood where they were coming from. There was never enough caution, in the world they were living in.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Samuel asked, “And what swayed them, in the end?”
Gisse looked at him like he was the biggest idiot she has ever had the displeasure of encountering.
“Really? You’re asking? Your zayde, of course. He told them that John might be a goy, but that he is kind. That he poses no danger or threat.”
***
His mame did end up cooking a delicious dinner, enlisting John’s help where there was the least amount of danger he would accidentally destroy the kitchen. Mainly cutting ingredients and watching over pots so their contents did not burn.
Samuel wanted to ignore them both when he heard them talking about how he should maybe obtain some decorations for his tavern, that it was too plain looking, almost sad, really. His tavern, his rules. But then he saw his zayde nodding along, sitting across him at the table, and it felt like the ultimate betrayal.
"Maybe let me worry about my own tavern!" he yelled, so they could hear him over the general noise in the kitchen.
His mame laughed at his indignance. "We’re just making a suggestion, Schmuli! If people thought the inside looks nice, they might be more inclined to visit, no?"
Samuel decided to capitulate and started thinking what kind of decoration would suit the tavern, lest he gets bullied by his entire family for the rest of his life.
Zayde sat at the table, reading a book, but he would occasionally get up and stare over John’s shoulder, giving him pointers.
“You are supposed to stir it more often,” he advised, and John laughed, nervous, but happy. “I promise I’ll be more careful.”
“Good, good,” zayde said, more to himself than John, and then sat down with his book again.
While mame cooked, and John stirred the pot with all his might, Samuel asked him whether it was yet determined which of their neighbours owned that one adventurous goat, and wished the moment would never end.
***
Once everything was ready, all four of them sat down to eat. It was later in the evening than originally anticipated, since the whole process had been a little stalled by John’s lack of skills around the household. But the mood was merry, and Samuel enjoyed having all those he loved around him. His family.
This time, John did not deny himself alcohol and insisted Samuel have a cup of wine as well. Samuel allowed it, for now.
At one point, Samuel lifted his eyes from his plate and his gaze met that of his zayde’s. Samuel nodded at him, almost imperceptibly, hoping he understood his meaning. Thank you. I know you care. I have always known, even when we argued.
Zayde just shook his head fondly, smiling.
If either his mame or John noticed the exchange, neither commented on it.
***
Still, Samuel thought that some sort of celebration, just for the two of them, was in order. As luck would have it, Samuel knew of the perfect place.
When he returned from Suchdol and recovered from his injuries, almost ten years ago now, he threw himself head-first into what he knew best- planning for the worst scenario imaginable. So, he naturally made significant effort to familiarize himself with every nook and cranny of the Kolín quarter and the streets surrounding it.
One night, when the moon was full and provided enough light, he decided to venture down a narrow street south of the quarter. It looked rundown, and only two windows from the surrounding houses pointed this way. All in all, it looked like there was nothing of interest. However, continuing on, Samuel found something peculiar- a dead end and an old door in the city walls. It was hidden behind three very tall bushes of some kind and weeds that have not been cut for the last ten years at least. This end of the alley must not have been used at all, because Samuel spotted no recent disturbance in the surrounding flora.
The hinges of the door were rusty and opening it was harder than Samuel was willing to admit. He had not yet recovered all his muscles after the siege, and his ribs smarted a bit. Still, he felt a little proud of himself. A door that probably nobody knew of and nobody used, so close to the quarter, could become lifesaving.
Finally opening it with a push, the door creaked slightly. Samuel turned back, looking around, making sure the air was clear. Figuring everything was probably fine, he stepped outside the city walls to look around.
Huh. The forest started not that far from here. It looked intimidating, even bathed in moonlight. The trees took on a mysterious, almost menacing quality, standing like silent giants. “Who knows what you will find here?” they asked.
It might be a bad idea, but he wanted to look around. If he stayed just at the edge, within sight of the walls, everything would be fine. Probably.
Gathering his courage, Samuel stepped out and shut the door behind him.
***
Samuel woke John up about an hour before sunrise, which was met with significant grumbling, seeing as Samuel didn’t tell John anything about his plans the night before. However, the promise of showing John a secret he had discovered was enough to wash the vestiges of sleep from him, and before he knew it, it was John telling him to hurry on.
“You can’t just dangle something so tantalizing in front of my nose like this, Sam, come on!” he complained while Samuel was putting on his shoes.
Once he finally finished dressing, which took about five minutes, but John whined about it like it was at least three hours, Samuel led John through the main street of the quarter. It was deserted at this hour, most people still comfortable in their beds. The spring morning air was a bit chilly, and a few stars could still be seen in the sky, even if it was beginning to brighten.
They didn’t speak, content to enjoy each other’s presence and the quiet calm around them. But when Samuel turned to go down the south-facing alley, John jogged a few steps in front of him. He turned around to face Samuel, beginning to walk backwards with hands clasped behind his back.
“Are we perhaps going to that door at the end of the alley, Sam?” he asked, smirking a little.
Samuel was surprised for a moment that John knew of the door and then realized he probably shouldn’t be. This was still John, after all. Even if the passing of time and age mellowed him out a little, he was still sharp as a knife. He probably did his own little recon here recently, though Samuel had no idea when- he wasn’t aware of John disappearing for any prolonged periods of time.
Sighing, Samuel answered, “We might be.”
Giggling a little, knowing that he had guessed correctly, John turned on his heel and fell again in step next to Samuel, hands still clasped behind his back. It was probably for the best, otherwise Samuel wasn’t sure he would be able to resist the urge to hold his hand, just for a moment, unwise as that would be.
Fighting their way through the bushes in front of the door, Samuel opened it and held it for John, who gave him a little mock bow as he stepped through.
John looked around, curious, most likely seeing the outside of the city from this angle for the first time, since there were no major gates or any settlements around.
Samuel closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, enjoying the clean air free of the various smells of the city. The birds were chirping already, with no regard to the early hour.
When he opened his eyes, he found John watching him.
There was a little indulgent smile playing on his face and his gaze was full of… love.
It dawned upon Samuel then that these are their lives now. That John will smile at him like this every day, and every day, Samuel could return a smile of his own. That he could annoy John with early mornings and John would grumble about it but always do what Samuel asked him to. That when he would call out, John would answer with a shout of “Do you need something, Sam?” and when he would look for him, he would always find him in their home, in the tavern, in the quarter.
Suddenly full of childish excitement, Samuel took John by the wrist and started to drag him across the clearing, toward the forest. John laughed at Samuel’s determined pace and asked, a little breathless, “Where are we going, Sam? Not poaching, I hope?”
Sam shot him a look over his shoulder, deciding to tease John a little. “Who do you take me for, Capon?” he answered while wearing his most innocent looking expression.
“Oh, for the love of-, I certainly hope not!”
John’s mild distaste for Hans Capon was certainly amusing to invoke at times. “You do realize you share some traits with him, right? Both of you can certainly be dramatic,” Samuel had pointed out once.
“We are not similar at all, Samuel! I can’t believe you would say something like that to me!” John replied, aghast. His expression stayed sour for the rest of the evening.
“If I were a less magnanimous man, I would deny you cuddles,” John declared when they went to sleep. Then he fell into the bed face first like he got struck on the head from behind, not really realizing he was proving Samuel’s point.
Once they reached the forest edge, Samuel let go of John’s wrist and let him follow on the slightly walked out path in the weeds behind him- it was more practical than continuing to drag John on.
The sounds of the forest, the sky that was starting to get a little orange, John’s steps behind him, it felt all very calming, even knowing the forests could hide all sorts of dangers.
Finally, they reached their destination. The trees gave way to a small clearing, still inside the forest. Various wildflowers and weeds were starting to bloom, and the song of crickets could clearly be heard.
In the middle, a little pond laid, it’s water slightly murky but still inviting. Across the surface of the water, the first sunlight of the day reflected. Pond striders were going this and that way, the patterns of their movement a mystery. Samuel thought he even spotted one or two dragonflies, with their bright bodies and long wings.
Due to the slight incline in the terrain, one side of the bank was only gradually, slowly, disappearing into the water, while the other was harshly vertical. On that side of the pond, three willow trees grew, leaves just starting to sprout on their long, thin, finger-like branches. All of them were bent towards the pond, the branches almost touching the water, like they longed to take a sip.
The first time Samuel saw it, he was reminded of an oasis in the middle of a desert. An oasis of tranquillity in a desert of the bustling world.
“Oh, oh this is beautiful,” John whispered, like he was afraid speaking louder would make the moment disappear, like a beautiful dream.
Then he took one hesitant step, then another, and then he was confidently striding towards the pond. Only when he realized Samuel was not following did he turn around and stretched his hand towards him, a silent invitation.
And what was Samuel to do but accept?
Quickly catching up to John, Samuel put his palm into John’s, wonderfully solid and warm. He let John lead them towards the pond, to the willow trees. There they sat down, not minding the grass was still a bit wet with morning dew.
John leaned his head against Samuel’s shoulder, closing his eyes and sighing happily. Samuel put his cheek on top of John’s soft hair and inhaled its scent, prompting a laugh out of John. Together, they watched the ripples in the surface of the water.
“I’m… really grateful,” John said after a while, breaking the silence.
“You don’t have to thank me. You would have discovered this place sooner or later by yourself anyway, I reckon,” Samuel replied, putting an arm around John’s shoulder and pulling him closer.
“No, I meant, - this is lovely of course, thank you so much for showing me, - but, I meant letting me stay. For that I’m grateful. To all of you, you know? I know it is not without risk.”
And Samuel couldn’t help but reminisce of one of their first conversations. They were not even friends yet, neither really knowing what to make of the other, the chasm between them seemingly unbridgeable. He couldn’t help but think of John, almost ten years younger, thanking Samuel for letting him stay under the King Solomon.
How much he had wanted him gone back then, and how much he had wanted him to stay after everything.
John barrelled on undeterred by Samuel’s lack of response, “And, well, I know I am not the most skilled person when it comes to, well, any labour, but I promise I won’t just sit around all day, and, you know, if you want me to help you out in the tavern, I could certainly do that, and…”
Samuel looked for words, anything to stop John’s rambling, but found none in his heart. So instead, he simply tilted his head and pressed a kiss to John’s temple.
John smiled at him, suddenly full of mischief, and gave Samuel a peck on the lips. Then he patted his lap and guided Samuel to lay down his head.
Samuel closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of John’s fingers scratching his scalp, and let the whole world fade away.