VÁCLAV SENT ŽITO ahead to start the preparations necessary for the visiting king. By the time we returned to Praha with the Fowler and his guard of fifty men, the castle inhabitants had mobilized and the feast was ready. I went to assist in the kitchen, while Žito and his loyal guards attended my master.
All the voyvodes had remained in Praha to see what would become of their duke. Kitchen gossip revealed that while some resented the treaty with the Saxons, others were relieved not to fight them. It was not the unified Bohemia Václav had hoped to achieve.
After the steward seated the Fowler beside my master at the head table, I poured wine into their goblets.
Václav and King Henry conversed throughout the meal. Because they spoke in German, however, I did not know what they were saying. The Saxons on the Fowler’s right seemed subdued. Likewise, the voyvodes to my master’s left sat like stones, staring alternately at the king or his men.
My eyes roamed from face to face among the Čechs. Most I recognized, but a few had not been present during Dragomíra’s regency. Probably they had not been welcome. Father Pavel and Father Balád were among the many priests, and some of the voyvodes had brought their wives and daughters with them.
At last I saw Přibislava sitting with her friend Ana. They were giggling behind their hands when Ana’s father, Žibrid, a gruff-looking man with shaggy black brows, scolded them. I thought Ana turned to look at me, but I realized with a start that she was watching Václav. The girl blushed with embarrassment.
Knowing that my master would notice her, I wished I could veil her or send her away. He was now the duke. Everyone expected him to marry and produce a son to carry on the Přemyslid dynasty. He would not want to leave the country in the hands of Boleslav.
My feelings were mixed and my thoughts confused. I knew that Ana was kind, generous, and devout to the Most High God. She was everything that would matter to Václav when he chose a wife. But I feared that when he married I would lose my place beside him. When Václav had a son of his own, it would be unlikely that he would ever call me “son” again. If I could no longer serve him, I might as well be sacrificed to Morana, after all.
None of my fears, however, were realized that night. Though the feast went on for hours; though the kitchen boys brought platter after platter of meats, cheeses, breads, and sweets; though the musicians never stopped playing, my master never noticed Přibislava’s friend. This was Henry the Fowler’s feast, and Václav made sure the king stayed at the center of everyone’s thoughts.
I tried to forget about Přibislava and her honey-haired friend and watch the faces of the voyvodes instead. I knew my master would want to know which of them appeared resigned and which still seemed hostile to his actions. But every time I glanced toward the two girls, Ana was either gazing dreamily at Václav or giggling with his sister.
The next morning Václav held a formal court in the great hall. He wore his crown and ducal robe. King Henry sat beside him wearing a golden circlet and cradling his scepter. Žito and Father Pavel took their places beside Duke Václav.
I stood nearby, where I could scan the faces of nearly everyone in the hall. Half were the Fowler’s men, and half were our voyvodes and Václav’s loyal soldiers.
Two of Václav’s guard carried a wooden chest through the crowd and set it at his feet, bowing low before they backed away. Václav stepped down from his chair and turned to King Henry.
“My lord,” he said, speaking first in German and then in Čech, “In exchange for the friendship of Saxony and your mighty protection of Bohemia, here are five hundred pieces of silver, which I pledge to you as a yearly tribute from Bohemia. In addition, one hundred twenty oxen are outside waiting to be taken to your army.”
While my master presented the tribute to our new overlord, I watched the voyvodes. I tried to remember the names of the discontented nobles. Fortunately Žito was also watching them. Some looked on the scene thoughtfully, but others could not hide their anger or dismay. I did note that every one of the grim faces belonged to a voyvode who still clung to the old religion. I was grateful that Boleslav was not present.
As soon as Václav dismissed the assembly, the Fowler and his men left the castle. They returned to their army with the five hundred pieces of silver and the oxen. Though most of the Čechs were at least resigned to Václav’s solution and grateful for Henry’s protection from the Magyars, the pagan voyvodes smoldered with resentment.
I supposed there would always be opposition to my master’s decisions. I remembered the story Václav had read to me about the man Noah and a great flood. At that time the whole world had turned against the Most High God. Only Noah and his family remained faithful. Sometimes it seemed that very few men were truly loyal to my master. Many, however, pretended to be so with professions of empty words.
To quietly celebrate his avoidance of war with Saxony, my master asked his most trusted inner circle to dine with him the following evening. This inner circle included the voyvodes who had supported him from the beginning, one of whom was Ana’s father, Žibrid. Also present were Fathers Pavel and Balád, along with other priests I had not met. Přibislava, of course, was there with her friend, though they sat apart with the other daughters and wives.
“I want you to know how much I appreciate each of you and your faithfulness to Bohemia and to me,” Václav began. He waited until I refilled his goblet before lifting it in toast. The men murmured their agreement and drank also.
“I believe with all my heart that God has delivered us from our enemies,” he continued, “enemies both within the realm and outside her borders. I want all of you to know that I plan to rebuild the churches and recall all the banished priests. If need be, I will ask the bishop of Ratisbon to send us more priests to serve the people.”
“Your Grace,” asked the older Ladislav, his brows furrowed, “are you saying that you mean to bring Germanic priests into Bohemia?”
“Pardon me, Your Grace,” asked Žibrid, who was as dark as his daughter was fair, “but paying tribute to the Fowler is unpopular enough. I would caution you about bringing in their priests as well.”
Václav calmly set his goblet on the table. “Faithful voyvodes,” he said, “I understand your reluctance to deal with Saxony. But in order to avoid the destruction of the Čech people and preserve Bohemia so she is her own master, I had no choice but to pledge my fealty to King Henry.”
“Yes, yes, my lord,” Ladislav said impatiently, “I do not approve, but I am beginning to understand. What I do not understand is the need for foreign priests.”
Václav held up a hand to forestall further protests. “The churches must be rebuilt, but because of Dragomíra’s policies, we don’t have enough priests from among our own people. I will ask King Henry for priests to help us, but there will be one condition.”
“What is that, my lord?” Žibrid asked.
My master folded his hands. “If they do not already speak the language of the Čechs, they will be required to learn it.”
Žibrid inclined his dark head. “So, Your Grace,” he said, “this is your plan? To conquer the Saxons one priest at a time?”
Many laughed at that, and the tense mood melted away.