Gypsy Baron by Mary Daheim

Author:Mary Daheim
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Epicenter Press
Published: 2017-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The Elector Frederick was training a new gyrfalcon, and having little success. The young German prince slipped the hood from the bird’s eyes, but could not get it to leave his arm. Frederick swore, then reached with his free hand for a silver goblet all but overflowing with a fine white wine from the vineyards of Castle Schaubeck.

“Here, highness,” offered Stefan Dvorak, adjusting the band on the bird’s left talon. He spoke to the gyrfalcon softly in Rom, then stepped back. Flapping its wings, the bird took flight, soaring above the castle walls.

“What magic words were those?” Frederick demanded, his swarthy features faintly suspicious. “I know of no such language.”

“The language is unimportant,” replied Dvorak easily. “It’s the tone that matters. Talk to the gyrfalcon as you would talk to your ladylove. The results will be equally rewarding.”

Frederick drank deeply of the wine and gave Dvorak a surprisingly engaging smile. “Ah, of love I understand! But then I’ve been blessed with my beautiful Elizabeth.”

“You have indeed,” Stefan agreed as the gyrfalcon circled above them, a bright spring morning with sparse clouds blowing off to the north and the sun warm enough to remind its admirers that winter was still being held at bay.

The paddock was a busy place, the hub of the castle’s equestrian passions. “Thus far, you have led a charmed life.”

“You are most gracious,” Frederick murmured, signaling for a lackey to refill his goblet. “We are pleased to have you join us as our ambassador from Bohemia.”

Dvorak shot a puzzled glance at the young elector. Perhaps Frederick’s mistake was due in part to the absence of Colonel Schomberg, who was away on business in Heilbronn. Dvorak had served as the elector’s eyes and ears for several years, in England and on the continent. His capacity was unofficial, but indispensable. It was also a secret, known only to Frederick and Colonel Schomberg. Even Christian of Anhalt-Bemburg, Frederick’s uncle and chancellor, was unaware of Dvorak’s role. At the moment, Prince Anhalt was near the kennel, absorbed in conversation with Dr. Abraham Schultz, the royal chaplain.

“I’m only passing through, your highness,” said Stefan. “I have never held an official capacity. You’ve merely asked me to keep you informed. Remember, we first met when I was a student at Oxford and you were wooing the electress in England.”

Frederick looked up from his goblet just as the gyrfalcon swooped down onto his hand. “Ah! England! My lady wife and I were supposed to visit there this past summer. But she is enceinte again. So home we stay. And glad I am. Her royal sire makes me nervous.” His brown eyes had grown troubled, if faintly unfocused.

Stefan grimaced. The elector’s mind seemed as cloudy as his eyes. “You also wish news of Bohemia,” Stefan said carefully. “I am going there almost at once.”

“Prague? Some call it the crossroads of Europe. Would I like it there, I wonder? Would Elizabeth?” The elector’s attitude was more whimsical than practical. He was adjusting the gyrfalcon’s hood, spilling some of his wine in the process.

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