THE FOLLOWING NIGHT before resuming our studies, I accompanied Václav and Father Pavel to a building within the castle walls I had never entered before. Since coming to power, Duchess Dragomíra had kept the main doors of St. George’s Basilica locked, but my master had a key to a back entrance. The three of us wore cloaks with hoods to conceal our identities, but the cloudy sky was so dark not even the sleepy night guard noticed us.
When we entered the tomblike church, the air was still and musty from disuse. Father Pavel fumbled in the dark and lit a candle. Then he began to make mysterious preparations in a side room while Václav explained that his mother had outlawed the worship of the Christian God in this holy place.
“As soon as I am crowned, the doors of all the churches will be open again,” he said quietly.
My master beckoned me to pray with him at the altar rail, but I could not concentrate. I was curious about what Father Pavel was doing, and heard the splash of water in between his quiet footsteps.
At last the priest returned and without a word we followed him to the side room in which a stone basin had been filled halfway with water. Several candles provided some light. Father Pavel told me to remove my tunic, which I did, and then he helped me up the three stone steps in order to enter the basin. I shivered when my bare skin came in contact with the cold water.
Thankfully Father Pavel spoke in Čech so I could understand his words, though at the time I didn’t fully understand their significance. Then after I renounced the devil and confessed my faith in God, the priest baptized me in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Father Pavel helped me back down the steps, and Václav wrapped me in a cloth so I could dry myself. I glanced at his face, and to my surprise his cheeks glistened with tears. Only then did I begin to understand that something life-changing had happened.
“Your new life in Christ has begun,” my master said with a smile. “Now we are truly brothers.”
I quickly dried off and pulled on my tunic, and the three of us donned our cloaks to return to Václav’s tower.
For several weeks my life fell into a happy rhythm. Each day my mistress, Dragomíra, divided my time between her needs and those of her sweet daughter, at least in those duties appropriate for a slave boy to perform for a noble lady: fetching firewood, keeping the fire going, cleaning out the ashes, delivering food and messages. That is how I came to know Přibislava better. I spent every night in study with my master and the priests. The more I learned about Václav’s God, the more I understood the source of the Prince’s goodness. I could see why this triune God, so different from the fearful gods and evil spirits that inhabited Bohemia’s forests, inspired my master to such loyalty.
However, one question continued to trouble me. I did not understand how the God of the goodly Václav could allow such terrible suffering in the world, and most especially the suffering of good and innocent people. On more than one occasion I came close to framing the question on my tongue in order to ask my master and the priests, but cowardice melted the words like the snow melted each spring. Did I fear their answer might uproot the seedling of my faith? Somehow I had to find a way to ask the question.
But my opportunity vanished, for on Midsummer’s Eve, my second in Castle Praha, everything changed.
The feast began like any other. Dragomíra sat in the center of the head table, with Boleslav seated on her left and Přibislava between Boleslav and Václav. On her right, instead of the usual Tunna and Gommon, two other voyvodes had earned the duchess’s favor on this festive occasion. The older man sat hunched over his food, but the younger one drank freely of the wine. He cuffed me, and I almost dropped the platter of meats I carried.
“More wine, boy.” He held up his goblet.
I glanced at my mistress to see what she would say.
“Even my best servants cannot do two things at once,” she snapped. “You will have more wine when the boy has finished serving our meat.”
The man glared at me as I moved down the table. It was a relief to finally serve Přibislava and Václav. The warmth of their friendly faces gave me courage. I took the empty platter to the kitchen and exchanged it for a wineskin. It was nearly full and difficult to manage, so I took greater care than usual pouring wine for the sullen voyvode. Unfortunately, just as I lined up the neck of the skin with the goblet and started to pour, the older man sneezed, startling me. Wine splashed onto the younger man’s robe.
“Clumsy fool!” he shouted. He jumped to his feet and drew a jeweled dagger from his belt. “We should use this one as the sacrifice tonight.” He grabbed the front of my tunic and held the blade to my throat.
“Hold!” Dragomíra rose from her chair. Václav stood also, but he did not speak. The voyvode glared at them both as my mistress continued. “Release my servant and leave my presence at once, or face the consequences.”
The man seemed about to refuse when Boleslav spoke up.
“We can’t use him for the sacrifice,” he said. “Tonight we offer Ladislav’s finest bull. This slave will have to wait until the winter solstice.”
Though Boleslav’s words made me sick with fear, they did reach the voyvode before he used his knife on me. He let go my tunic, sheathed his knife, and stormed from the hall.
Dragomíra reseated herself, but Václav continued to stand.
“Brother,” said Boleslav, “are you planning to join us this evening?” He grinned as if they shared a secret.
Václav crossed his arms. “You know that I will not.” He spoke to the duchess. “I shall take my leave of you now.” He nodded to Přibislava and stepped down from their table.
“Václav,” said Dragomíra. He glanced back. “All loyal Čechs are occupied at the bonfires tonight.”
The prince turned to face his mother. I inwardly cheered the determination in his face. “I follow the one true God, and he demands no sacrifice of blood, for he has already sent his only begotten Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, to die for our sins.”
Boleslav snickered. “And you say you do not believe in human sacrifice.”
Dragomíra’s face grew red. “I forbid you to leave.”
“I will not stay, Mother. This must come to an end.”
As he left the room, I wondered what it was that Václav wanted to end. Did he mean his conversation with the duchess, or something much larger?
As soon as the revelers left for the bonfires, I rushed through my cleanup chores and hurried to check on my master. I saw when I reached his rooms that there were to be no lessons this night.
“Poidevin.” Václav’s robe swirled at his feet as he approached me.
“Yes, my lord?” When I knelt before him, he raised me up.
“I am about to ask a hard thing of you.”
“What is it, Master?” At that moment I could have gone into the lion’s den for him, as Daniel had.
Václav chuckled at my shining enthusiasm. Before he spoke again, his eyes became somber. “I must travel through Bohemia and visit with the people. I need to discover who my supporters are, and perhaps win over those who are not.”
That seemed a good thing to do, now that he’d proven his mettle as a battle commander.
“I am nearly old enough to claim the crown,” he continued, looking away, “yet I fear my mother shall not easily give up the power she wields. I need the approval of as many voyvodes as I can find.”
Žito spoke up for the first time. “You will find more support among the people than you realize, my lord.”
“I pray you are right, Žito,” Václav said. “But whatever the case, we will soon find out.”
He turned his attention back to me. “Would that I could take you with me, Poidevin, for the priests cannot come for our nightly sessions while I am away. I may be gone for weeks or even months, but I must leave you here.”
“But, but ...” My heart began to flop about like a fish out of water. “I can go with you, Master. I can serve you as I have the duchess.”
Václav shook his head, and I saw regret in his eyes. “I need you here, to be my eyes and ears while I am gone.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Will you do this for me, Poidevin?”
What could I say? The last thing in the world I wanted was for him to leave me alone with Dragomíra and Boleslav and their loyal followers.
“Yes, my lord,” I whispered, trying to sound braver than I felt. I hoped my mistress would let me continue to serve Přibislava, at least. She alone was most like her goodly brother.
“God will keep you safe while Žito and I are absent from you,” he said.
I swallowed as fear tightened its cold fingers around my heart. I could only hope he was right.