Chapter Thirty-One
Suzana shifted her market basket into one hand and knocked on the door of the two-level home in the lower grad.
Miladin’s wife, Magdalena, pulled the door open and gave Suzana a cautious smile. “Dama Suzana, your visit is an honor to our home. Will you come in? I have bread still warm from the oven.”
Suzana hesitated to accept the invitation because Magdalena’s welcome seemed subdued. It would also mean boredom for the man acting as her guard. Yet Suzana’s feet were sore after wandering the market, and fresh bread sounded appealing. “Thank you.”
Magdalena led her inside, past a loom with a growing length of wool cloth, then beyond a stone hearth, and offered her a chair at the trestle table positioned beneath a window.
“Do you bring news of the men?” Magdalena asked as she placed a slice of bread with skorup on it in front of Suzana.
That explained why Magdalena seemed so tense. Like everyone with a loved one away at war, she feared ill tidings.
Suzana shook her head. “I’ve heard nothing of the campaign.”
Magdalena relaxed. “I shouldn’t have assumed, but this is the longest Miladin and I have been apart since our marriage. It’s hard not to worry. I dreamed about a memory a few nights ago, when Miladin was almost killed.” Magdalena touched her forehead in the same spot where her husband’s face was scarred. “It . . . I’ve felt unsettled ever since.”
“I worry too.” Suzana said a silent prayer that Magdalena’s dream was only a memory, not a premonition. Suzana tasted the warm bread with the creamy topping. “This is delicious.”
“Miladin’s mother makes the best skorup in Rivakgrad. I’ll pass on your compliments when she and Sveta return from the market.”
“I saw them there.” Suzana had spent most of the morning negotiating with traveling merchants over the family’s upcoming needs for cloth. She had left Dama Zorica and Lidija debating between two colors of silk, and she had seen Miladin’s mother and niece not far from there. She bent and pulled a soft fur cap from her basket. “A furrier from the north was there, and he had two of these.” She handed the cap to Magdalena.
“It’s so soft.” Magdalena studied the cap. “And so tiny. Is it meant for an infant?”
Suzana nodded. “The last time the midwife visited me, she mentioned your condition, so I thought I would take both caps. One for your baby. One for mine.”
“But this . . . is it sable? I hate to think of the price.”
“I have been watching my father negotiate prices since I was your niece’s age. Trust me, it was a bargain. Besides, I’ve heard stories of both you and your husband saving Konstantin’s life. I think you’ve earned a few luxuries.”
Magdalena looked up from the cap, though her fingers continued to move across the soft surface. “Thank you.”
“Whenever I start to worry too much about Konstantin, I remember that Miladin went with him, and that makes it easier.” Suzana looked at the last few bites of her bread. “I know they would both rather stay in Rivak, but I am glad they can look out for each other.”
“It’s a generous gift. You have my gratitude.”
Suzana smiled and finished her bread. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long. I left my guard with most of the purchases. Konstantin insists I not wander about the lower grad without an escort.” The guard was a member of the garrison too young to march with the army.
Magdalena looked thoughtful. “A distant relative with a weak claim to the župa tried to kill him in the lower grad shortly after his father died. And someone has tried to kill you before. Rivakgrad is usually safe, but Župan Konstantin is wise to give you protection.”
The attacks against her the previous summer seemed so long ago. Suzana no longer worried about her own safety; she worried about her husband’s. Regardless, she would continue honoring his arrangements for her protection.
Suzana left the cozy home and returned to the grody with her escort. Ivan and Adamu, one of the men from Sivi Gora, sparred with wooden swords in the bailey. When Suzana, Dama Zorica, and Lidija had left to visit the market, both boys had been working with Kuzman. She’d watched them then, noting that though Ivan and Danilo lacked power, they had speed. Their footwork was well-coordinated and natural, as if they’d practiced so often that the motions were second nature to them.
But that training had begun some time ago, and now Ivan’s face was flushed and his hair wet from exertion. He blocked blow after blow coming from his opponent, and though Adamu used only moderate force, his blows came with a speed that made them hard to follow.
Adamu stopped and held back for a moment.
“Again,” Ivan said.
Suzana watched the session repeat once, then twice, and then Ivan staggered and would have collapsed had his trainer not reached out to steady him.
“Did you train the entire time I was gone?” Suzana asked.
Ivan sucked in a deep breath. “I did.”
“But you were ill only a few days ago. Oughtn’t you take your training more slowly? A body has limits, Ivan.”
His limbs may have drooped with fatigue, but the eyes that stared back at her held fiery resolve. “If I never push those limits, then they will never change.”
The contrast of his weary body and determined face surprised her. She glanced around for Danilo, surprised that he hadn’t told Ivan to stop long ago. But it was not a boy’s job to keep his cousin from overexerting himself. She turned her anger on Ivan’s trainer. “You ought not push him so. He is still a boy.”
Adamu did not answer immediately. “He is only a boy, my lady, that is true. But he is destined to be a župan. My župan, in fact, and the determination he has shown today has given me a glimpse into how great he can become. Forgive me for wanting to see how hard he could push himself.”
“I can do another round, Adamu.” Ivan’s breaths still came in gasps.
“No.” Suzana reached for Ivan’s wooden sword. “The rest of your day will involve tasks of a less physical nature.”
Ivan held her gaze for a while, as if determining whether he had to obey. He finally nodded and relinquished his sword, but that may have been only because his aunt and sister had returned from the market. Dama Zorica pressed a hand to his forehead before insisting on rest and leading him toward the keep. Lidija followed.
When they were out of earshot, Suzana turned to Adamu. “That boy may be destined to be your župan, and he may be destined for greatness, but he is still fragile, and his brother has placed him in my care. Do not push him until he collapses again, not in Rivak.”
Adamu bowed his head. “As you wish, my lady.”
“Where is Danilo?”
Adamu glanced at the range. “I believe he is practicing his archery.”
“Until his arm will no longer move?”
“No. Kuzman has taught the boys to stop when fatigue affects their aim.”
“And when were you planning to stop Ivan? When he fell to the ground?”
Adamu looked after the small figure walking to the keep. “I planned to see how far he would go before he stopped himself. I wish we lived in lands that did not require boys to study with the sword from such a young age, but he and his cousin will someday need to defend themselves. They must learn the proper techniques and the proper discipline, or they will not survive their first battle. He impressed me today, lady. And his grandfather, too, would have been impressed.”
“He may have impressed you, but he will never lead you into battle if he does not live to reach manhood.”
“I will be more cautious with his limited stamina in the future, my lady,” Adamu promised. “But sometimes the sons and grandsons of župans do not have the privilege of reaching manhood before their duties require them to shoulder a man’s burden.”
Konstantin had not been given the privilege of time. Suzana didn’t know if Ivan would either, but rather than following the boy into the keep, she went to the church to pray. She owed God gratitude for the promising crops now growing in last year’s burned fields, and she wanted to plead with Him on behalf of her husband and her husband’s small brother.