LITMIR.BIZ

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gave first-time visitors a far better impression than its name implied. Jack stepped a few paces inside and looked around the expansive room. The tavern was warm, smoke-filled and cavernous, and its massive upright wooden posts were darkened with soot and the passage of time. Their immense size was designed to support the floor above. Many were draped with hanging coats and hats as well as the occasional sword or pistol belt, beneath which sat their owners—smoking, drinking or engaged in conversation. The low ceiling was comprised of exposed timber beams—bowed in the centre—that added to the aged, rustic charm. They had browned in the constant haze of staining smoke. Jack selected one of the numerous unoccupied tables with a view of the door and shuffled over to the serving bench after claiming a chair with his saddlebag and cassock coat.

      “What can I offer?” asked the dour barman gruffly as he stepped across to where Jack stood and wiped the bench with a greasy rag.

      “Do you have a lad named Pavel working for you out in the square, good sir?” Jack was polite as he inquired good-naturedly.

      The swarthy, unshaven man peered at Jack with unfriendly eyes, tinged with suspicion. “Why? Has the rascal been rude? I’ll pull his bloody ear,” he countered. The bench had been wiped dry, and the surly publican leaned forward on his arms against the bar.

      “Quite the opposite. You have a valuable assistant out there whom I have engaged in a number of small chores. He’ll stable my horse after riding on an errand for me to the Royal Palace. I trust that this does not pose an inconvenience,” Jack smiled and continued, “I have requested him to report here to me after completing these tasks, for which he has been paid handsomely.” Jack inflected these last words as if seeking confirmation that this was acceptable. The old man dropped his shoulders in obvious relief.

      “My son is a good, hard-working boy. I’m happy that he could be of service, and he’ll come in to see you when he’s finished if that’s what you have asked of him. Sometimes I’m overly harsh with the lad, especially these last three years since his mother passed away from the fever.”

      “I believe I see the family resemblance. There’ll be another copper coin for him when he returns, and a warm meal would not go astray to keep him happy against the autumn air out there. If you have a room for the night—something quiet, small and comfortable—you may add his meal to my bill.”

      The taverner’s surliness disappeared as he replied, “I’m the innkeeper here, and thank you for your kind words. I’ll fetch you a key.”

      Jack paid for one night’s board—a modest room with a window facing away from the square. He ordered a jug of apple cider and pointed to his table, thanking the barman. After locking the saddle bag, he descended the stairs and made himself comfortable, draining a mug of the very palatable golden drink. He soon dozed against the wall as the effect of a long, sleepless night of travel, the warm environment and the alcohol took their cumulative toll.

      After what seemed to be no more than a few minutes, Jack woke with a start as a gentle shaking of his shoulder brought him back to the present. Blinking and momentarily unaware of where he was, Jack looked up and grinned openly as he recognised the man shaking him. “Vilém! My old friend, Vilém Slavata! How good it is to see you after all these months.”

      The two comrades embraced warmly, swaying together like a storekeeper’s sign in the wind. Inviting him to sit down, Jack helped his companion with his coat and filled both of their mugs from the ample wicker jug. Without speaking, the two stared at each other with watery eyes, barely believing that they were once again sitting at the same table. The middle-aged man before him had gained weight, Jack noted, since their last meeting. His forehead had become more prominent, and his receding light-grey hair sat neatly combed in abundant waves. Creases radiated from the corners of the regent’s large, sky-blue eyes, giving him an aura of benevolence and bonhomie, like a child’s favourite uncle. A grey moustache, curling at the ends, veiled his upper lip with tips that caressed his pudgy cheeks, and his double-chin was hidden behind a small, manicured, greying goatee. Dressed in sumptuous breeches of pastel violet and a matching doublet, Vilém carried the bearing of an educated man of title and authority burdened by the responsibility of high office. He had aged.

      “I came as soon as your message was delivered, somewhat fortunate that the king is away today. Without his absence, I may not have been able to come—his industrious sense of duty and assiduousness absorb every hour of my day. When did you arrive? Ah, we have so much to talk about, Jacek; we may need a week to cover it all!”

      “Not wanting to interfere with your imperial and aulic duties, I did not stop at Hradčany on my way past but sent word immediately on arriving here. I have taken a room for the night and can easily extend it to a week if that’s what we need,” Jack remarked, and the pair laughed convivially.

      “How are your parents? And the king? How is King Sigismund?”

      “I haven’t seen them for over four months. The king ordered me to go to Paris to seek military support from the French, but that’s another story that we can discuss a little later. There have been rumblings, especially here in Bohemia, that the situation between the Catholics and the Protestants is deteriorating rapidly every day. What is going on?”

      Vilém’s manner became animated; he looked briefly around him with darting eyes before replying in a hushed tone, “The bastards nearly killed me. Can you believe it?”

      “They nearly murdered the king’s regent!” the minister spat, taking another generous mouthful of cider. His face reddened with anger and incredulity, a vein appearing in the middle of his forehead. “In fact, two of us… and the secretary from the royal council,” his voice took on an angrier tone. “Three of the king’s representatives—on official business,” he hissed, raking his hair back with a hand, his face still sanguine with rage. “We may not have—” he broke off as Pavel appeared at their table, oblivious to the tone of their discussion.

      Jack looked up, summoning a smile. “Well, my young master. I see that my message was delivered successfully as my companion here has arrived at its request.” He pointed at the regent with his eyes. “Vilém, this is Pavel, the innkeeper’s son and the only man in Prague to whom I would entrust my horse. How is he faring?”

      Pavel’s face beamed unreservedly at the compliment and he bowed reverently to both guests.

      “I have stabled your horse, my lord, and made him very comfortable with fresh fodder and water. As you asked, his hooves have been checked. I have also brushed his coat hard and inspected his legs.” Pavel paused for a moment and looked up at the ceiling for inspiration, hoping he had covered every requirement.

      “He’s in excellent shape now and will rest well tonight,” the youth reported proudly, “and I have caped him against the cold,” he added as an afterthought.

      “Just as I suspected, “Jack nodded, “and here’s an extra coin for your trouble.” He flipped a copper into the air with his thumb, and shifting in his seat to face the boy, he continued in a more serious tone, “I have also had a word with your father, who tells me that he loves his son very much and has a plate of something special for him at his earliest convenience. You should report to the cook and claim your meal.”

      Beaming with the news and the unexpected gift of an additional coin, the stable boy bowed again, thanking Jack repeatedly and backed away to head for the kitchen. Enjoying the happy interlude, Jack and Vilém emptied the apple cider jug and called for a pitcher of mead and a generous serving of boiled lamb with roast potato. The aroma permeated throughout the table.

      “Where did this attempt on your life occur, and why?” Jack finally asked with concern. Between mouthfuls of food and honey wine, Vilém explained the events that led to the assault in detail.

      Emperor Matthias had returned to Vienna last year after attending the election—in Prague—of Ferdinand, the Catholic Duke of Styria, to the throne of Bohemia. In his absence, he left the duties of Bohemian government in the hands of a council of 10 regents, seven of whom were Catholic. The council was led by three senior imperial governors: Vilém Slavata of Chlum and Košumberk, Chancellor Zdenko Lobkowitz,

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