AT THE FEAST that evening, I stood before the head table pouring wine for my lady Dragomíra; her younger son, Boleslav; and her only daughter, Přibislava, when the door to the great hall flew open with a crash. All sounds of revelry faded away. The song the bard plucked from the harp he held on his lap ceased, though a faint echo of music hung in the air as a young man strode in.
“Prince Václav,” I heard someone mutter.
I stared at the prince as he approached the head table. He wore a black woolen robe under a coarse mantle, and his dark hair was cut short. His face was beardless, his build slender and youthful. Yet he was, I had to admit, more of a commanding presence than I had imagined.
Václav stopped at the table and bowed to the Duchess Dragomíra.
“Greetings, Mother, and greetings to you, my brother and my sister.”
Prince Boleslav was my age, about twelve years, but looked older because he had been well fed all his life. He did not smile at his elder brother, though young Přibislava did.
“We are glad you have come to our feast, Václav,” said Dragomíra.
“I don’t care to feast, Mother,” Václav said. “I’ve just learned of your new laws.”
“And are you offended by laws set down by the rightful regent of Bohemia?” Boleslav asked, crossing his arms.
“You know that I am.” Václav turned back to their mother. “Why would you forbid the priests, on pain of death, to teach children Latin and music? There are no better teachers in all Bohemia.”
“They teach what is not prudent for children to learn,” Dragomíra said through clenched teeth.
“They teach truth.” Václav laid both hands on the trestle table. I noticed he wore no jewels, unlike his brother. “Would you kill a man for teaching truth?”
“What you call ‘truth’ is an outrage to the ancient gods of Bohemia,” Boleslav sneered.
“Truth is truth for all,” said Václav. “I will not allow these persecutions to continue.”
“You will obey me,” Dragomíra said with growing anger, “and stay well away from those accursed priests. Would that I had never allowed you to live with your grandmother! She filled your head with empty words.”
Václav leaned forward. His eyes blazed with fervor. “My grandmother opened my eyes to the truth, the Gospel of our blessed Christ that you so stubbornly resist. For that I shall always be grateful. She is a devout and kind woman, and she still wields much influence from the days of her husband’s reign. Or have you forgotten that my grandfather also followed the Most High God, as did my father?”
Dragomíra stared coldly at Václav.
“And as you once claimed to do,” he added.
The duchess did not answer. Přibislava turned her head away as if she were ashamed.
“You will change the decree, Mother.”
Dragomíra stood up and smacked her hand on the table. “You will obey me, Václav, or I’ll have your head!”
The prince turned on his heel and left the hall. A few of the chieftains and courtiers followed him out.
As I scrambled down the stone steps to the kitchen to fetch my lady a fresh piece of trencher bread, I realized that this son of hers was not at all what I expected. He was not much older than I was, no more than fourteen, yet he had confidence and presence of mind that I had never seen in one of his years.
Later that evening while serving my lady in her private quarters, she accepted Boleslav and five local voyvodes, or warlords, into the sitting room where she received visitors. A cool breeze blew through the open window. Flickering candlelight reflected in the gold threads of the stag tapestry on the wall. As soon as the men sat down on wooden stools, Dragomíra glanced my way.
“That is all,” she said, dismissing me.
I turned to go as they began speaking in hushed voices. Before I reached the door, I remembered a pile of rags that needed washing, so I went into the next room to get them.
“It is imperative that young Václav not come to power at this time,” said a deep voice.
I inched closer to the doorway to hear what was said.
“With the dowager Duchess Ludmila’s influence, he would put us under Germanic power,” said another.
“My loyal voyvodes,” Dragomíra said, “if Ludmila’s influence over Václav were to end, it would solve many problems. And without his grandmother, my eldest son will not have the backing he needs to press his claim to the throne.” I stifled a gasp when I realized what they were plotting. “I plan to encourage our pious prince to pursue a monastic life, one that better suits his religious convictions.”
There was low laughter, and they began to discuss how to do away with Ludmila, the old duchess who used to bring food and firewood to our village every winter. “She is so kind, Poidevin,” Mama often said to me. “Though she has wealth and power, still she cares for the least of us poor villagers.”
I became frightened, not only for Duchess Ludmila, but for my life as well. What if the conspirators found out I was listening?
Dropping the soiled rags, I climbed out to the balcony and down the thick vines that clung to the wall. Once in the courtyard, I pondered what to do. Undoubtedly I should warn Prince Václav that his grandmother was in danger, but I had no idea where to find him or how to tell him. The only person I knew I could trust not to behead me for my knowledge was the old washerwoman, Bora, who had been kind to me from the day I met her. She remained loyal to the memory of the recently departed duke and his parents, and she was the only person in Praha who knew my name or even cared that I had one.
Holding my head high, I strode past the guards at the open castle gate. I felt their stares at my back, but they did not question me. As soon as I saw the thatched roof of Bora’s wooden hut just outside the castle wall, I ran toward it.
“Bora,” I called as loudly as I dared when I reached the doorway of the hut. She lived with her husband, who had a wasting disease, caring for him as she had their nine babes. The stench of his illness in my nostrils assaulted me, though Bora never seemed to notice.
“What is it, Poidevin?”
I took a moment to gulp a deep breath from the outside air and then leaned toward her. “The old duke’s wife, Ludmila, is in terrible danger,” I whispered.
“Danger?” She caught me by the arms. “What do you mean? How do you know?”
“I heard the duchess speaking with some men just now. They were planning to kill her!”
“But why?” Bora said. “Why would they want to kill a good woman, an old woman?”
“Something about Prince Václav. I don’t understand it, but we’ve got to warn him, and I don’t know how.”
Bora frowned. “The prince will see me,” she said, patting my hand.
Now I was puzzled. “Do you know him, then?”
Bora stared at me, her tired eyes reflecting wariness. But then she smiled, and her eyes glowed with something I’d never seen before. Was it peace?
“Yes, Poidevin, I do know Prince Václav, because he is my brother in the faith.”
I gaped at her. Before speaking I made sure no one stood near the doorway, but still I whispered, “You don’t mean you are a follower of his God?”
She nodded. “Yes, I am a Christian too.”
I swallowed as I realized the great trust Bora had just shown to me. After all, I served Duchess Dragomíra, who would behead both of us—Bora for being a Christian, and me for not reporting what I knew. “I will never tell my mistress.”
Bora patted my hand again. “I know you won’t, Poidevin.” She smiled again, that peaceful, glowing smile. “I will speak to the prince. Now don’t worry.”
I ran back to the great hall, trying very much not to worry. I now knew that my mistress was as cruel and ruthless as I’d heard she was. If she would plot the death of an old woman, her own mother-in-law, what could she do to me?