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At the Devil’s Den, Jan Zizka’s band had gathered to drink and have fun, like they’d done every evening for a while now. They were all waiting for their chance to act in the coming events that would help them slow Sigismund’s advance.
Knowing how long these drinking nights usually lasted, Hans hadn’t joined them right away. Even his faithful page, Henry, was already downstairs. But Hans wanted to take some time for himself, for once, and complete the journal he always carried around. It was one of the rare things he kept secret. Everything else, his good mood, his complaints, and his cocky young noble attitude, he shared freely with his companions. He knew it annoyed some of them, but others couldn’t help but like him anyway. Hans even hoped that one person in particular was among those who liked him for who he truly was, no matter what.
He and Henry had been through so much together. Sometimes, Hans was even exasperated by his friend’s kindness and generosity, but that was part of his charm, and Henry always gave him the cheeky side of personality. And damn, that made Hans fall even harder. His feelings for the blacksmith’s son were growing deeper and turning into something more than friendship. That’s why he needed to write everything down in his precious journal. He couldn’t just share these feelings with anyone.
People wouldn’t understand. It was a sin. And as a noble, he couldn’t allow himself to act on it. Loving a man was dangerous in his time, and the arranged marriage his uncle Hanush had forced upon him would prevent him from ever living any other kind of life, at least if he wanted to keep up appearances. So Hans had to make the most of the time he had left, away from responsibilities and close to his friends. Even though Henry would remain in his service later, which was the only source of hope and comfort he had, his friend might choose to stay with Zizka’s band and travel the world in search of adventure instead.
This storm of thoughts made Hans dizzy. To shake it off, he decided to finally join his favorite bunch of crazy drunk bastards. Hans closed his journal and sat up on his bed before getting up and hiding it under the bed, right next to the little wooden ducks he’d taken a liking to carving during his questionably legal hunting phase.
Once he stepped out of the shared room, just two simple beds he and Henry called their own, he trotted toward the noise downstairs. It was still warm and pleasant outside, and the entire group was sitting at a long table outdoors. Before going down, Hans leaned on the wooden railing of the upper floor to get a good view of everyone. From up there, he could see Adder and Samuel arguing over who would get to use the guitar for the next song. Neither of them had shown much musical talent, but it was just an excuse to have fun and sing together.
Suddenly, something disrupted the rowdy atmosphere and drew everyone’s attention toward the center. Henry had stood up and clapped his hands loudly to catch everyone’s attention. It worked, silence fell over the table. At the same time, with a grumpy, then victorious look, Samuel managed to tug the guitar from Adder’s grasp, who had been distracted by Henry’s sudden interruption.
“My friends,” Henry said with a wide grin, “tonight, Samuel and I have a little surprise for you! While we were waiting out here, we wrote something.”
“We’re even gonna sing it!” Samuel shouted, lifting the guitar triumphantly into the air.
The group erupted in laughter. Samuel put on an offended face, but Henry clapped him on the back and gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.
Dry Devil doubled over laughing. “You can sing, Samuel? Henry wasn’t too convincing last time either!”
“I was completely drunk, Hynek!” Henry retorted.
“I want to hear it, this going to be good!” said Janosh, clapping.
“All right, all right, boys! Let them do their thing,” Zizka chimed in, still laughing.
From his spot on the balcony, Hans watched the scene with a broad smile. He briefly caught Henry’s shy glance before he turned to coordinate with Samuel. After a meaningful look between the two brothers, Henry started clapping a rhythm, and Samuel followed with a cheerful guitar melody. To everyone’s surprise, Henry began singing not in the uncertain way they might expect. His voice silenced the group as they listened. At first tentative, he quickly grew more confident when he saw the encouraging faces of Katherine and Samuel.
Take that pain, pass it down like bottles on the wall
Mama said her dad's to blame but that's his daddy's fault
Oh, there's no one left to call
You stay up counting down the days 'til you make your escape
But you're afraid you can't outrun what's running through your veins
Oh, you're carrying the weight
In the dead of night, on that broken road
I won't let you walk alone
Hans was mesmerized. He had never heard Henry sing before, not like this. A wave of emotion overwhelmed him, the same deep feeling he’d tried to bury for so long. Instead of leaning on the balcony, he gripped it tightly. A part of him wanted to run from the intensity of it, but he also needed to hear this song, this voice.
He’d heard more technically skilled singers at court, but this was different. Here, now, surrounded by these people and especially by Henry, the song was filled with meaning. Henry conveyed the lyrics with such raw honesty that the group fell under its spell. Adder and Janosh began to sway like clumsy dancers, and by the time the chorus hit, Katherine and others were clapping in rhythm.
Oh, my brother
You don't have to follow in your bloodline
Oh, we got each other
And if you got tomorrow, then you still got time
To break the chain that left you scarred
From where you came isn't who you are
Henry was glowing—singing and sharing the moment with his friends and brother. He even tried a little dance step before passing the song to Samuel, whose voice was rougher, deeper but just as heartfelt.
Oh, I won't pretend that I know half the hell you've seen
But that don't mean that's something that you're destined to repeat
Oh, you're stronger than you think
I know it has to end, but you don't know where to start
You can pack your bags and I'll meet you where you are
Oh, I'll be waiting in the car(riage)
In the dead of night, on that broken road
I won't let you walk alone
The two sang some parts together. During the final verse, just before the last chorus, now sung by those who’d managed to catch the lyrics, Henry searched the crowd for Hans’s eyes and smiled at him. At that moment, Hans felt like the song, once meant for Samuel, was now meant for him. He blushed. Hans, who never blushed, not for any lady, not in battle, was stunned. He tried to smile back but averted his eyes, flustered. When he dared look again, Henry had turned his attention back to the crowd, finishing the song.
Cheers and applause erupted when they were done. Samuel and Henry embraced and were soon surrounded by their friends, who pulled them back into the revelry. Henry lifted his head to find Hans again, but the balcony was empty. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, but it quickly vanished when Hans appeared from the inn’s front door, heading straight toward him now that the others had let Henry go.
From the way Henry looked at him, Hans knew he was expecting some praise, or maybe teasing. But Hans couldn’t string a coherent sentence together.
“Hey,” Hans said, like they hadn’t seen each other in days.
“Hey,” Henry replied with an amused smile.
Hans crossed his arms and scratched the back of his neck. He was oddly nervous. Normally, this would’ve been a simple conversation. But after what Henry had unknowingly stirred in him, Hans was barely himself.
“I… I didn’t know you could sing like that.”
“Was it that bad?” Henry asked, jokingly.
That bit of sarcasm brought Hans back to himself. The teasing tone, their usual tone, was back.
“No!” Hans hit his arm lightly. “Don’t twist my words.”
“I wouldn’t dare, my lord.”
Hans put on his haughty noble expression, the one that gave him confidence.
“Go fetch me a drink. All that poetry made me thirsty!”
Without warning, Henry leaned dangerously close to Hans’s ear.
“My poetry… or the one you hide under your bed?”
Color rushed back to Hans’s cheeks. Had Henry found and read his secret journal, his deepest thoughts?! Before Hans could reply, Henry was already heading back to the others. While still sober, Hans spent part of the evening trying to get Henry to admit whether he’d really read his journal.
That night, Henry had one of the best times of his life laughing with his friends, and he kept the secret until Hans fell asleep at dawn.