Chapter Text
Hans looks through reports from Prague - all updates on the ongoing war and requests for resources and troops. Neither of which Hans will respond to - the war has dragged on, and Rattay has felt the squeeze of it. Like bathmaids wringing out water from clothes, so has Rattay been stripped dry. The harvest last year yielded less than in previous years. But then again, young farmhands have also left to join the call of the Orphans. As he reviews the accounts, quietly jotting numbers on a scrap parchment, the door to his study swings open.
He looks up, a reprimand ready on his tongue that quickly dies when Hynce enters. The sight of his only child fills Hans with relief - it’s been over a fortnight since he left to Kuttenberg on Hans’ behalf.
"Hynce," Hans greets with a smile, his voice betraying his joy. Every time Hynce leaves, Hans worries for his safety.
Hynce crosses the room with quick, long strides and comes to kneel next to the chair Hans sits in. He looks well, and why shouldn't he? It's only been sixteen days. Still, the paternal instinct in Hans wins out every time. Hynce should have been back three days ago - Jitka had begun spending time at the battlements in hope of seeing the retinue in the distance. Hans had to be the strong and sensible parent and act like the absence was not unusual.
"My Lord," Hynce bows with veneration. It always brings a touch of amusement to Hans how seriously Hynce takes his duties.
"How did it go?" Hans asks, waving a hand to the chair next to him. Hynce straightens and goes to the proffered chair. Hans forgoes propriety and takes his son's hands in his for a brief moment. Hynce smiles at the affection, bowing his head to hide the smile.
"Sir Vavak is well and sends his regards. However," here Hynce shifts in his seat and pulls his hands out of Hans' hands,"on our way home we encountered some brigands fighting one man. He dealt with the brigands, but he collapsed before we could find out who he was."
Hans frowns upon hearing this - encountering bandits has been an issue all through his rule as Lord of Rattay. Usually the bandits are killed in battle and the innocents are sent on their way. He doesn't know why Hynce would bother with this report.
"We found this stitched to his hood," Hynce continues, and holds out a patch of fabric. It's the coat of arms of Radzig Kobyla. The sight of the crest brings an uneasiness to the pit of Hans’ stomach. Kobyla died some fifteen years ago. To see this crest after his gruesome death is strange indeed.
"What did you do with the man?" Hans asks, thoughts of when that parasite stayed here alongside his uncle. The Kobylas were not necessarily welcomed in Rattay after Radzig took advantage of Hanush’s standing as the acting Lord of Rattay. One of the many debts Hanush amassed while in possession of Hans’ holdings.
"My men have him in a cart, I wanted to speak to you first before giving any orders." Hynce explains, giving Hans a momentary passing of pride. At twenty-two, Hynce has become a capable commander in Rattay’s guard.
"Send him to the physician, and tell them to alert me when the man wakes."
Hynce gets up from the chair and bows slightly. "Yes, sir."
With that, he turns and strides out of the study with sure, confident steps.
"Hynce?" Hans calls out right as Hynce reaches for the door. He pauses and turns to look at Hans expectingly. "Tell your mother we shall have a feast for your return. Just us three."
Hynce smiles at that before giving a quick nod and leaves. Hans looks back down at the fabric and runs his thumb back and forth in mild wonderment. Who could this man be and why is he carrying the coat of arms of a dead man?
The food tastes like nothing as thoughts swarm Hans' mind. Both Jitka and Hynce seem aware of Hans' wandering mind and mostly speak quietly amongst themselves. Hans only catches snatches of words though none catch his attention. Instead, he gazes out the window overlooking the town, his wandering attention settling towards the physician’s building. Since Hynce's arrival, Hans cannot shake the foreboding feeling upon seeing Radzig Kobyla's crest.
It almost feels like Hans is a young, brash lad again, awaiting judgement from Hanush. But Hanush is no longer around, and Hans is the Lord of Rattay with a wife and son. The days of being reprimanded merely for existing are no more. Still, unease at the crest gnaws at his chest. The time Radzig was a refugee after the sacking of Skalitz feels like a distant memory, but not a fond one. Both he and Hanush watched Hans with a critical eye. Where Hanush was loud and forthcoming with what he thought of Hans, Radzig was silent, keen-eyed, and judgemental.
The Skalitz survivors integrated into Rattay, and after almost twenty years, those men and women are Rattay citizens. None bear the crest of Radzig Kobyla nor Skalitz. So why did this stranger-?
"I fear dear husband, your thoughts have grown legs," comes Jitka's soft voice, interrupting Hans' thoughts. He pulls his attention back to the room and sees both Jitka and Hynce with twin amused smiles.
"Ah, if only they could walk, it would save me the trouble of ruling," Hans responds, placing two fingers on the back of Jitka's hand. Hynce snickers into his goblet of wine while Jitka rolls her eyes with a smile.
Hans looks at his family and feels nothing but pride at the manifestation of his service as Lord of Rattay. Jitka has been a steady presence in his life, anchoring him as he weathered hardships and especially when expelling Hanush from his holdings. Though he has no romantic love for his wife of twenty-seven years, he has affection and respect for her. Hynce is the result of his and Jitka's solid partnership. It took many years before a child lived past child birth, so both he and Jitka have indulged their only child. Now at twenty-two, Hynce is part of the Rattay guard and well on his way to becoming captain. Though there are times Hans thinks Hynce's aspirations lay further than the walls of Rattay.
"Did our injured guest ever gain consciousness on the way here?” Hans asks Hynce after a while. By the way Hynce seems surprised by the question, Hans vaguely thinks perhaps he interrupted a conversation he was having with Jitka.
"Only once, and he just groaned,” Hynce responds, straightening in his chair.
"Hmm." Hans drums his fingers along the table in contemplation, his mind wandering once more.
"You'll get your answers soon enough," Jitka admonishes gently, turning her hand to hold Hans'. "Best not wear yourself out."
Hans reluctantly has to admit she is right. He lets the conversation drift away from the infirmed man and to lighter topics. Jitka talks about some of the new horses Neuhof has received, reminding Hans he will need to meet with Mark soon. His vassal has been the head groom of Nuehof after its previous overseers, Smil and Zora, passed.
"Will you get one of the new horses?" Hynce asks his mother.
"No, but I promised Mark I will look at them and give my assessment," Jitka replies with a small smile. The Kundstat family has always been known for their care and eye for high pedigree of horses. A trait Jitka most certainly inherited that Neuhof, and indeed Rattay, have benefitted from.
"He'd be a fool not to listen, my dear," Hans replies absentmindedly. "Perhaps I will accompany you, I owe Mark a visit myself."
Jitka bows her head softly, some of the grays of her hair noticeable in the candlelight. He still remembers when they met at the chapel of St Matthews, her hair a radiant auburn. Now her hair, much like his own, has thinned and gray strands have taken up root. The thought makes Hans reach for his chalice, anything to corral his thoughts to safer topics.
Before the cup makes it to his lips, a servant barges into the room.
"I beg your pardon, my lord," the servant, no older than a young boy, huffs breathlessly, "but I hail from the physician's. The injured man Lord Hynce brought has woken up.”
“The injuries are not as bad as I initially thought, though his left leg sustained quite a bit of damage,” the physician explains when Hans comes to his home. “He will need a lot of rest and shouldn't put any weight on the leg as he heals.”
“Have you spoken to him?” Hans asks, looking towards the door where the injured man lays behind.
“No sir, as soon as he started drifting back, I had the lad come get you.”
“Leave us in peace,” Hans commands, walking to the door without waiting for a response from the physician.
When he opens the door, sure enough, the man lays on a lone bed in the room, a small oil candle lighting the space. Hans blinks at the man before him in mild surprise. He's younger than he was expecting - he thought perhaps he'd be an elderly man. But no, this is a man around the same age as Hans. Older, yes, but not a decrepit old man.
Despite his injury, the man is well-kempt with a groomed beard and tidy, wavy hair. Gray hair intersperses his mostly brown hair, making Hans grateful his own grays hide well within his blonde hair. The man lifts his head and they stare at each other for a long while.
"Does the lord of this town always check in on infirmed guests?" The man breaks the silence with a teasing grin. It lights up his face in a way that catches Hans off guard, more so than him knowing that Hans is a lord. He takes a seat next to bed and reaches to pull out the torn fabric.
"Only when the infirmed carries a sigil such as this," Hans responds, placing the fabric on the bed next to the man. His grin falters as he picks it up and looks at it.
"Ah, so this is an interrogation," he says, throwing his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes.
"Merely a... curiosity."
"It's been many years since someone has recognized this sigil," the man opens his eyes again, and Hans notices that they are intense and seem to pierce right through Hans. As if he can look through and judge Hans for all that he has done.
"You tend not to forget a sigil like this when its owner outstayed his welcome and ran up a debt for my town," Hans snips, trying to regain composure from the intensity of this man’s eyes. The man squints at Hans for a bit and then breaks into another smile.
"Ah... I'm in Rattay, then?" The man knowing this information further proves he is not some common peasant. This is not someone who just found a crest and started wearing it to prove he’s some sort of knight.
"You are uncommonly well informed for a peasant," Hans lets the unsaid question hang.
"I'm not a peasant."
"You are a noble?"
"I'm not that either. But you can call me Henry.”
"Henry," Hans says flatly. The man, Henry, quirks his lips and nods his head slightly. Hans looks away and instead at the medical dressings. The left hose is cut up to his thigh, and bandaged from his knee to his ankle. There is a scar peaking out of the bandage that runs up and under the remaining cloth of his hose. This man is a warrior.
"So, who are you?" Hans finally asks, breaking the silence.
"No one anymore," Henry plainly says. "I once fought alongside Jan Zizka but those days are over."
At the mention of the legendary mercenary, Hans' stomach lurches. It’s been six years since the passing of Zizka, but still that name holds power.
"Rattay does not have a horse in that war," Hans says primly. Henry continues to smile faintly, as if that amuses him.
"No? Last I heard, you fought alongside Petr Konopistsky at the Battle of Zivohoste."
The name of the battle sends a ghost of pain down Hans' leg. The battle was bloody and the Hussites had fought with zeal Hans had not seen in all of his years of fighting. Petr was so cocky and underestimated the Hussites that ultimately got him killed less than a year later. Hans knew if he had continued to pledge his allegiance with Petr, he too, would have been killed.
"You seem to know much, but not enough to know I signed a letter of support for the Hussites," Hans snips, folding his hands over his lap. "Since then, I let farmhands leave to join your cause, but Rattay has no interest in fighting a war."
"You ‘let the farmhands leave’," Henry repeats sardonically. His face and attitude suddenly shift, no longer as easygoing as it had been. “What a generous Lord you must be."
The sarcasm sits heavy in the room. Hans carls his hands into loose fists. "Careful," Hans warns, "I will not hear you take that tone. You are speaking to the Lord of this town."
"Oh aye, I know exactly who I am speaking to," Henry replies. "A lord who hides behind walls, too cowardly to fight, but is fine with peasants to die."
"Enough!" Hans slams his hands onto his lap and abruptly gets up from the chair. "You are alive because my men were kind enough to pick your half dead body and bring it here, and because I told the physician to heal you. You will not speak to me this way."
"And I'm ever so grateful," Henry responds back.
"If you truly fought alongside Zizka at one time, I shudder to think what kind of men the Orphans are. To almost die by bandits is pitiful."
Inexplicably, Henry laughs. Hans is caught off guard by the reaction, taking a step back from the bed.
"You are right. Zizka would have tied me by my toes if he were still alive," Henry agrees, laughter still in his voice. This man does not make sense - blowing hot one second and cool the next. Still smarting from Henry's previous attitude, Hans has half a mind to throw this man out of Rattay. But the curious side of Hans still wants to know who this man is and why he has Kobyla's crest.
"Get some rest, we'll speak again another time. When you remember how to speak to your betters," Hans finally decides.
"You'll be waiting a long time, I'm afraid," Henry quips back. The cheek on this man. It startles a surprised laugh out of Hans, but he quickly recovers and strides out the room without a backward glance, feeling no less enlightened than when he first entered it.
Henry’s words play on Hans’ mind as the days pass by. He does not go back to the physician’s. Hans tells himself it’s because he’s far too busy catching up with Hynce and other duties that need him, not because Henry wounded his pride. Still, he does get reports from the young boy who works at the physicians the progress of Henry’s healing.
The warrior’s stay seems to attract attention: somehow the townsfolk find out that he once fought alongside Jan Zizka. There are excited whispers in the halls about a man who stood next to the father of the religious revolution. Since Hans’ signing of the letter of support for the Hussites, Rattay has seen a great number of people come to the town, almost as if seeking refuge from Sigisimund and his allies.
Rattay’s old priest left when Hans penned his letter of support. It had been days and possibly even weeks of Hans seeking counsel with the priest, and others about the religious aspect of the Hussites, before ultimately making the decision he did. Now, a younger priest from Sasau who has read Jan Hus and Jon Wycliffe's teachings sits at the head of Rattay’s church. Many townsmen speak with Father Prokop before they leave to take up the Orphans’ cause.
Now that a man who knew Zizka is in the town, people have flocked to the physician’s, as if Henry will give them more inspiration than Father Prokop.
After a week passes, Hans finally musters enough fortitude to go and speak to the physician in person instead of relying on messages. On the walk down to the physician’s, he’s greeted by some of his people, mostly polite nods as they are occupied with bringing in their autumnal harvest. It may be a hard winter for some as the harvest was sparse. He makes a note to himself to see what is in the storehouse to help some.
Upon arriving at the physician’s, Hans sees the door to the room Henry occupied open and devoid of anyone staying there.
“Where is he?” Hans demands, startling the other man.
“I could do no more for him,” the physician sighs out, almost apologetically. “He has healed as much as an older warrior can heal. It’s in God’s hands now if he were to fully heal.”
It’s said in such a passing way, yet the comment stings all the same. Henry cannot be much older than Hans, and so he feels as though the physician’s comment is directed at Hans.
Growing old has never been a sensitive topic, but since Hans nears his fiftieth year, his own mortality has taken up residence in his mind. He’s no longer a cocksure young lord - that is something more likely to be described about Hynce than Hans these days.
There are now aches in his body that he never thought could exist as he gets older. The wound he sustained from Zivohoste wakes him some nights, pinning him to his bed like some sort of warrior from hell. Embrocation helps, but it feels the more he rubs onto his leg, the less it seems to help the pain. Soon, the pain will be a constant companion as the rest of his body slows and withers.
“Thank you for your dutiful care, I shall pay for his treatment,” Hans says, coming back to the present.
“Err, sir, Henry has already paid me,” the physician hedges, wringing his hands. “He, ah, expressively forbade me from accepting money from you. Said he would not be indebted to you.”
The utter audacity of this man. Despite their one conversation, Hans knows the disregard Henry seems to have for nobility and especially Hans. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Henry paid for the physician’s services, like any other commoner would.
It seems almost anticlimactic, the way this mystery seems to end. Henry is healed, and most likely off to wherever he was headed to when the bandits attacked. Hans will never know why this mysterious man carried the crest of Radzig Kobyla.
When evening descends onto the town - earlier and earlier as the days march towards winter - Hans hears the patrons of the tavern livelier than usual. There is laughter and cheering coming from the normally quiet tavern, causing Hans to smile wryly. The colder air doesn’t seem to have stopped his people from enjoying themselves. He wonders fleetingly what would happen if he were to join in on the merriment, but immediately shakes his head for the ridiculous thought.
Once many years ago, Hans had been a regular in the tavern. But as the years have passed, the divide between Hans and his people have grown larger, and he knows his presence will only serve to dampen the mood.
“I heard they made a drum out of his skin!” someone yells, causing Hans to stop in his trek up to the Rattay castle. He had never heard of something so absurd and macabre, sparking interest in what is going on in the tavern.
As he reaches the tavern, sitting in the middle of the tables is none other than Henry. He has a tankard of beer as everyone around him sits and listens in rapt attention. He seems to not outright answer the question, but instead begins to laud the many great things General Zizka had done prior to his death.
Hans turns to leave before anyone can notice him at the edge of the shadows. He can’t help the small smile tugging on his lips as he walks back to the castle. Perhaps Henry doesn’t mean to leave Rattay so soon.
Rumors swirl throughout Rattay and the upper castle. Tittering women and impressed men talk about the great Henry who has taken up residence in one of the inns.
Henry seems to have time for everyone. A little old lady needing help with the vegetables she’s bought from a stall. A young lad trying to help his father with the fence. Even Hynce speaks highly of Henry, speaking of the way Henry will come to the training arena and give pointers and advice to the greener guardsmen. Guards are eager to speak to a man who once fought alongside Jan Zizka.
It would be very charming if it didn’t irritate Hans so much.
Despite all the love Henry seems to have garnered, Hans still has his misgivings about the man. It's hard to shake the distrust after Hanush and Radzig abused Rattay's generosity. The ripples of the debt amassed during that time took years to get out of once Hans banished Hanush from Rattay.
A man who proudly wears the sigil of Radzing Kobyla after all these years is not a man Hans feels comfortable to trust.
Despite Henry somehow becoming a prominent fixture in the town, Hans has not seen the man since their one conversation at the physician’s. It’s almost as if Henry is avoiding Hans - darting out of Hans’ way but making sure to bewitch everyone in the town with his charisma and kindness.
It’s after a few weeks of this hiding that Hans steps out of the upper castle and finally sees Henry at the training arena, sparring with Hynce. He pauses at the top of the stairs, his hand resting on the balustrade, hoping that the pair below does not see him.
Hans can’t help but to feel a little like Hanush back in the days he presided over the tournaments. The fleeting thought seems to startle Hans, and he shakes his head as if trying to expel Hanush out of his mind. He focuses on the pair below and watches with curiosity. There are a few guards standing along the perimeter of the fence cheering and pointing at the dueling pair. There’s camaraderie there that touches Hans, if also leaving him a bit hollow.
As Hans continues to observe, he feels a presence come stand next to him. He turns and sees Jitka wearing a small smile. Of all the rumors and amazement Hans hears about Henry, he has not heard anything from his wife.
"Hello dear husband," she says with a tilt of her head.
"Dear wife," Hans responds back, touching her hand softly in greeting. They fall into a comfortable silence as they watch their son spar with Henry. The footwork from both men speak to years of training. Hans is proud to see his boy hold up against a Hussite warrior. Henry seems to favor his right leg, seemingly still recovering from the sustained wound he got.
"What do you make of our new guest?" Hans finally asks after a moment. Jitka is always fair in her assessment of people and Hans values what she has to say. She doesn't say anything at first - her eyes going down toward the fighting pair. Hynce manages a quick feint that Henry is too slow to parry. He puts a hand up in surrender then cobbles over to the edge of the combat arena to catch his breath. A few of the guardsmen slap Henry’s shoulder while Hynce looks at Henry with clear admiration on face, visible even this far away.
"I'm uncertain," Jitka finally says in response to Hans' question. He has to blink a few times to remember what he asked. "He seems earnest, that much is true. But..." here she hesitates. "Sometimes I wonder if he is running from something."
The answer takes Hans by surprise. "You think he will bring danger to our doorstep?"
Henry looks up at the pair, as if he senses that they are speaking about him. He smiles at them and gives an almost teasing like bow in acknowledgement. It is the first acknowledgement Henry has given Hans in weeks. At least it’s better than being ignored, Hans muses to himself.
"No, not something physical. But something that haunts him. Should he decide to stay here, I hope he can heal from whatever it is that pains him," Jitka continues, turning to look at Hans. Her eyes, honeyed color in the sun, show the same compassion she’s always had as Hans has ruled Rattay. Hans always feels like Jitka can see his own thoughts when she looks at him like this.
“Have you been to Nuehof?” Hans asks, changing the subject. He’s been so wrapped up with Henry’s presence, he had forgotten that Jitka was going to assess the newest horses.
A small smile dances at her lips as she tips her head, “Yes, a few days ago. Mark was asking after you.”
“Hmm.”
It had been weeks, perhaps months, since he last went to Neuhof. Most vassals come to Rattay and meet with Hans, but Mark sitting so close in Neuhof was one place that Hans often would go horseback riding to visit. His leg jolts in uncomfortable pain thinking of riding.
“I’ll drag you by your ear if I must,” Jitka continues, patting Hans gently on his cheek before going into the castle. Shaking his head with a wry smile, Hans turns back to the arena. Hynce and the other guardsmen are no longer around, but Henry still stands by the fence, his gaze fixed firmly on Hans.
It sends a shiver down Hans’ spine, and he turns and follows his wife into the castle, trying not to think of that gaze for the rest of the day.
Several days later, before Hans has broken his fast, a young servant comes into his chamber with a message that Jitka requires his presence in the courtyard. And that he is to meet her wearing “appropriate footwear."
"That's all she told me, my lord," the servant says when Hans questions his wording.
He knows she's dragging him out to Neuhof, but doesn't know what she's planning. Still, he listens to the instructions and selects a pair of boots with a sturdy sole. He grabs a handful of nuts that lay on the table, and braces himself to see what his wife has planned for them.
She sits at one of the benches in the courtyard, wearing a gray chemise with green embroidered leaves at the shoulders. For Jitka, it is a plain outfit, and one that does not bode well. When he approaches her, she stands and raises her hand for Hans to take.
“We are walking to Neuhof,” Jitka explains patiently, a smile tugging on her lips. She always pretends to have an air of reservedness, when in reality she is the most mischievous person Hans has ever met.
"You mean to kill me, woman!” Hans says in disbelief. Jitka simply lets out a peal of laughter and shakes her head.
"You're going to grow cobwebs if you don't move your legs," she says, tucking her arm underneath Hans. Rotely, Hans adjusts her arm and laces his fingers with hers. It's how they've walked together most of their marriage and is somewhat of a comfort to Hans. As years have passed and he has found himself more withdrawn, he knows he can take his wife's arm, tuck it under his own, and share companionship with her.
"At least have someone from the guard come with us. What will happen if I throw out my ankle?" Hans complains, as they begin to make their way towards the gate.
"You poor thing," Jitka coos unsympathetically, and then calls to the guard at the gate: "Sir Hans requests someone to accompany us on our walk to Neuhof."
"I can accompany you, my lady, if you don't mind," comes a voice behind them. When Hans turns, he sees Henry standing there, smiling pleasantly at the couple.
"You?” Hans exclaims before reminding himself where and most importantly who he is."I mean, that's very generous of you, but you are still healing from your injury, are you not?"
Henry's smile grows and he pats his leg confidently, "I'm sturdier than I look."
"We'd hate for you to hurt yourself again on account of us, good man," Jitka says with a smile. "I must insist you rest longer!"
"My wife is a force not to be contradicted," Hans adds with a laugh, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "Though I do thank you for the offer, sir. I didn't think you cared enough."
"I do," Henry responds earnestly, and Hans stops and stares at Henry, blinking a few times in disbelief. He’s not sure what has shifted since their last conversation, but the sincerity in his tone gives Hans pause.
"Then you shall accompany us once you are fully healed," Jitka declares with a determined nod. "Hynce speaks with such admiration of you, I must get to know you myself."
Henry's face seems to brighten at the mention of Hynce before he slides his eyes towards Hans. "I hope I live up to his image."
The words, though in response to Jitka, seem as though addressed to Hans. There is indeed an image in Hans' mind but he's unsure if he wants to know who Henry truly is. Something lurks that almost terrifies Hans - the reactions and emotions that Henry seems to stir within Hans. Emotions that Hans thought he had left in his youth.
"I'm sure you will," Jitka says distantly - Hans' own thoughts far away from the topic at hand.
Henry continues to look at Hans in a mild manner, making the silence feel uncomfortable under his gaze. Just as he’s about to say something stupid, a guard approaches the group.
“My Lord, my Lady, I’m to accompany you to Neuhof,” he says with a slight bow.
“Ah there, you see,” Jitka says with a grin, “now your poor ankle will be in safe hands.”
It’s in jest, much like how they normally engage, and yet in front of Henry, Hans almost feels like snapping at her. What stills his tongue is the way Henry gives out a small bark of laughter, and then covers his face with his hand to hide his smile.
“Need I remind you I’m the lord of this town and need to be protected?” Hans complains with a huff.
No one has anything to say to that and Jitka instead directs her attention to Henry. “Thank you again for your offer, Henry, we shall make good on it once you are fully healed.”
Henry bows his head in gratitude, the smile still lingering on his face. The poor put upon guard says nothing to this scene, but clears his throat awkwardly and begins to make his way to the drawbridge.
“Safe travels,” Henry calls out softly as they begin their journey out of the town. Jitka looks back and gives a small wave before turning around and leaning her head against Hans’ shoulder.
Hans doesn’t remember much of the journey there, nor what was spoken with Mark, but he remembers the soft way Henry called out to them.
Autumn brings crisper mornings, waking Hans earlier than the warmer days. He pulls on a wool coat over himself and walks out to the battlements for his usual morning sojourn. There are guards who are half asleep that straighten when they hear their lord approach. He waves them off good naturedly, knowing if he had to stay up through the night, he too would be falling asleep.
The sprawling trees have slowly begun to turn dazzling shades of reds and oranges as the Sasau sparkles amongst the early morning rays. It’s his land though he does not remember the last time he has gone past the walls of Rattay. As the years pass, and his body begins to slow, he has found himself staying closer to safety. Hans knows he has withdrawn from his people, from everything, really. But…he has not found a reason to leave, not unless Jitka forces him to go to Neuhof like she had just recently done.
So, for a time, for a moment, standing and overlooking the nature before him, Hans feels as though he has no responsibilities. No one is relying on him, relying on him to fix their problems. Here, he can just be Hans Capon.
The moment is broken when he hears the scraping of an unsteady amble giving itself away as Henry. He idly wonders how Henry knew where Hans would, or that he would even be up at this early morning.
“My lord,” Henry murmurs, as if trying not to disturb the quiet this morning offers. Hans can’t help the sardonic smile that tugs on his lips.
“When did you learn manners?” Hans snips, turning to look at his unwelcome companion. Henry, too, is smiling, that maddening charming smile that seems to enchant everyone, including Hynce and now even Jitka. God above.
“How often do you and Lady Jitka go to Neuhof?” Henry asks instead, somehow talking to Hans as if they are familiar with one another. As if Henry hadn’t been avoiding Hans for weeks.
“Where did this sudden interest in me come from?” Hans instead asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I seem to recall you saying I couldn’t speak to you until I knew how to speak to my betters,” Henry tosses back with a grin.
“And I seem to recall you saying it would be a long time until you would!” Hans can’t help but exclaim, frustration tinging his voice. Is that why Henry has avoided Hans all this time? Because of a comment Hans had said in anger?
“I’ve been here for almost two months,” Henry points out with a shrug. “I suppose it was time to finally know who this Lord everyone talks about is.”
Two months. Has it truly been two months? The turn of the seasons had started when Hynce had returned, that is true enough. But the following days? They seem to have blurred together.
Time has done that recently. Days pass and pass and then Hans is looking at himself with a short beard to hide his wrinkles, crows’ feet permanently at his eyes. He feels as though he has blinked and his life has passed him by.
“Do you know,” Henry continues when Hans doesn’t say anything. “I went out to the woods a few days ago and the deer there didn’t startle at all as I got close to them.”
“The deer-?” The non sequitur snaps Hans out of his melancholy thoughts and turns to face Henry with an incredulous face. “What are you talking about? Is this some sort of riddle?”
Henry tosses his head back with a laugh, and the sound washes over Hans in a way he doesn’t fully understand. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, waiting to hear what the hell Henry is on about.
"No, no riddle," Henry answers with amusement. "It tells me these deer aren't used to being feared of being hunted."
"And your point? We have a gamekeeper and butchers should you need deer meat," Hans responds, exasperated. Henry chuckles again, as if everything Hans says is endearing or a joke. It still leaves Hans feeling discombobulated, seeing Henry act with such…warmth towards Hans. What shifted? Why did it shift?
"I'm told that you used to go on hunts quite regularly. I wonder what could have changed that you no longer do."
Insolence. That has been the common word Hans has begun to associate with Henry. He is cheeky, insolent, and so damn confusing. Why does he persist annoying Hans when every other person is so very charmed by him and his grand stories. What could he possibly want from Hans that he doesn't get from others?
"You've been gathering information about me?" Hans curls his fingers into a loose fist. He hates the way Henry brings out these emotions.
For years, since having to force Hanush out from Rattay and give him his holdings, Hans has striven to be the calm, respectable lord. Henry seems determined to take an ax and cut down that facade. What Hans doesn't understand is why. To make a mockery of Hans when he's been nothing but hospitable to this injured man? To punish him for initially being against the Hussites? What does Henry want from Hans?
"I merely want to know more about my gracious host," Henry responds mildly, perhaps sensing Hans' unease. Yet he continues with, "And perhaps tempt you into going on a hunt with me.”
The suggestion causes Hans to bark out a laugh. It was the last thing he could have ever thought Henry would say.
"Henry... I could hear you walk over here from a mile away, you can't possibly think with your injury you can hunt."
"Maybe I wanted you to hear me," Henry responds, his tongue between his teeth as he smiles at Hans. And Hans... dammit, is oddly charmed by it.
"It's true it's been awhile since I've hunted," Hans muses softly to himself.
"I heard it was one of your favorite pastimes," Henry goads gently. A flash of irritation fills Hans again, but he stamps it down. Still, he doesn’t respond to the offer, instead shifting his gaze back to the land beyond the walls. When was the last time he had gone hunting? Enjoyed himself? Felt unburdened by duty?
"Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a stone wall," Henry murmurs after a long silence. Hans turns and sees Henry gazing out past the town. His eyebrow is furrowed and lips downturned.
"I don't know what you want from me," Hans responds, just as quietly. Henry turns to look at Hans, and he looks at Henry. Possibly for the first time. His eyes seem to carry a heaviness that doesn’t seem to match the actions and words everyone speaks about. Hans is suddenly reminded of Jitka's words: something haunts Henry. Hans shakes the thought away and looks away from the other man.
"I never met someone who is in more need of a friend than you... my lord," Henry seems to add the title as a way to soften the words. But soften, they do not. Hans bristles at the implication.
"Fuck, you are so insolent. I have friends."
"Your wife and son don't count," Henry replies with a shrug, and it takes years of teaching to restrain himself from taking a swing at Henry. He's not that hot headed young lord anymore.
"Ha! So this is pity. And then what? Go to the tavern and laugh about me with all your shiny new friends," Hans spits out. He suspected the people of Rattay do not think highly of him. He doesn’t need actual proof.
"Why would I do that?” And the tone in which Henry says it is so goddamn earnest, it makes Hans pause in his anger and look out to the horizon. The morning sun has broken through the mist hovering over the Sasau. Little dots out in the fields tell Hans his people have started working for the day.
"Have you ever even hunted?" Hans says instead, bringing the conversation back to more familiar grounds.
"I've hunted my fair share of deer and boars in some lands. Just don't tell any local lords." Henry slides over to Hans, his tone conspiratorial. Unfortunately, it charms Hans.
"God’s teeth, you're insufferable." He rolls his eyes with an exaggerated head shake. Henry throws his head back and laughs - Hans starts to think maybe he likes hearing this man laugh. It’s deep and carefree, and Hans wants to bottle it and keep it to himself.
"So, master huntsman,” Hans begins with a coy smile, “what are the parameters of this hunt? A full hunting party?”
"No, no. Just the two of us,” Henry responds, his face no longer amused, but serious.
That catches Hans by surprise. If anything, he'd think Henry would want all his fans to see his prowess.
"Afraid of losing to me?" Hans taunts with a raised brow. If there was something Hans knew he could take full pride in, it was his ability to hunt.
"Maybe I just want you all to myself," Henry says in a low voice. The hairs on the back of Hans' neck stand at that proclamation. But from what emotion, Hans is not sure. Fear? Possessiveness? Fuck...arousal?
The intrusive thought, no matter how small, lurches Hans out of this little bubble he was happy to be in. For god’s sake, they’re out in the open, and he’s having impure thoughts near his own guardsmen.
"Meet me at the upper gate before the sunrises tomorrow," Hans commands before pushing past Henry.
He almost breaks into a run when he hears Henry softly call out,"I look forward to it, my lord."
It’s the same damnable voice Henry used when he wished him and Jitka a safe journey. And this time, Hans lets it linger.
The Lord of Rattay does not flee, but it's a close thing. By the time he gets to his chambers, he feels out of breath and light headed…and a growing throbbing in his braies. He walks to the bowl of water left by a servant and he splashes it on his face.
"Snap out of it," Hans admonishes himself. He lets out a shuddering breath as he collapses to the edge of his bed. It's been years since he's felt any sort of attraction towards men. He thought it had just been an adolescent passing. Since marrying Jitka, Hans has only allowed himself to stray with other women. And now this... this stranger has come and tempt Hans again. And because of what? Some nice words directed to Hans? God he's pathetic. Truly an utter failure.
Did Henry do this on purpose? Somehow found out about Hans' sins? He certainly seems to be inquiring about Hans to others. Could someone know?
I've never met someone who is in more need of a friend than you. Hans drops his head into his hands, emotions warring against his chest.
But maybe... maybe he truly does want to be Hans' friend. Could it really be that simple? Hans has been nothing but suspicious since Henry awoke in the care of the physician. Perhaps that suspicion has only clouded his judgement. Hynce seems to trust Henry despite growing up in the shadow of war. Even Jitka, his pragmatic wife, has since spoken highly of Henry since the time they went to Neuhof.
The crest of Radzig Kobyla weighs on Hans still. A good friend of Hanush. What does Henry know of Hanush? Why be cold and rude to Hans and then suddenly charming and wanting to get to know Hans?
These questions, though they unsettle Hans, doesn’t stop him from thinking of the sweet laugh and earnest words. Hans has been so guarded since expelling Hanush. He knows he has hardened himself. It’s not the aging that makes him unrecognizable in a polished piece of metal, it’s the way he has retreated into himself.
Perhaps it was time Hans allowed himself to be a little less cautious.
Light has not yet spilled when the needle from the candle drops, waking Hans. The autumnal weather has him slow to dress, and he is not surprised to see Henry already in the courtyard dressed in magnificently tailored hunting gear.
“Those look new,” Hans says by way of greeting. Henry bows his head and scratches at his beard in almost embarrassment.
“Wanted to make sure I look my best, hunting alongside a master hunter,” Henry explains with a coy smile. Hans is thankful for the lack of light as he feels his face heat up.
“You have a horse?” Hans asks as he makes his way to the stables. His trusty steed, Ethon, stands tacked up.
“Lady Jitka was kind enough to lend me one,” Henry responds, and sure enough, he goes to Jitka’s beautiful dappled mare, Jiskra. That damn woman, Hans thinks fondly to himself as they hoist themselves onto their horses.
They don’t speak much as they make their way out of Rattay. The morning rays illuminate their path as they make their way up to the Uzhitz forest. When they pass Neuhof, Hans starts to feel jittery and inexplicably anxious.
“Are you okay?” Henry asks, somehow noticing his unease. He slows Jiskra to a slow trot, looking patiently at Hans, who had stopped his horse.
“Yes,” Hans manages to croak out, knowing he does not sound convincing. He clears his throat and looks back at Neuhof - the furthest he’s been in perhaps…years. But it’s not something he wants to talk about, especially to Henry. So he shakes his head and manages a smile, “These old bones need a bit of a rest.”
“We can walk for a bit?” Henry suggests, swinging his leg over and jumping down. He raises his hand to help Hans down, and dammit, it’s a good idea. They walk for a bit, Henry nattering away about something or other that Hans will admit he’s not paying attention to. He feels his apprehension mount a little bit more with each step.
When they finally reach an area to camp, Hans almost collapses on a log. Henry goes over and crouches next to him, handing a waterskin. “I hope I haven’t forced you into something,” he murmurs softly as Hans takes a few sips of water.
“I just need-” Hans starts but stops just as quickly. He’s not sure what he needs, but he feels like he does in a small confining space. Yet there is nothing but open space around them. It’s embarrassing and stupid. Hans is almost fifty for god’s sake and he still feels this way.
Henry nervously buzzes around Hans - first unpacking the horses’ bags and laying out some food, then pulling out his own bow, before finally sitting next to Hans.
“We can turn back,” Henry offers after Hans’ prolonged silence.
“No, I’m fine,” Hans responds, handing the waterskin back to Henry. He cautiously takes it back, and doesn’t say anything.
“I propose a game,” Hans says after a while, shaking off all the anxiety. Hunting is where he thrives, and he will not let his apprehension ruin what little joy he has in life. “If you are so good at hunting, perhaps, we should see which one of us can bag the most hares.”
At the suggestion, Henry’s face brightens, “You are certainly going to win, but I can never say no to a contest.”
“No need to flatter me, you already got me out here,” Hans jokingly says, hitting his shoulder against Henry’s. Henry unexpectedly blushes at the words. His beard covers most of his face, but pink creeps up above the beard towards his upper cheeks.
“The day isn’t going to stay light for long, we should go now.” Hans stands up and picks up the quiver Henry laid out while he was still having his fit. Henry smiles and takes his own quiver - his face still faintly pink. It causes Hans’ stomach to flip.
Hans turns from the camp, and without another word, dashes off into the forest. Here, he is unencumbered by life. He can smell the damp soil and savor the way the ground gives as he walks silently through. It had been possibly years since he last hunted, but it comes back to him like it was only yesterday.
There’s a flash in the corner of his eye, and Hans quickly draws his string and strikes a hare. When he walks over to it, he sees he cleanly shot it in the chest - some skills just never go away, he thinks to himself with a smile. Afterwards, he falls into a groove as he begins to spot and shoot hares. Despite the cooler weather, there are still a significant amount of them out and about, making Hans’ task all the easier.
All the worrying he had building up this morning vanishes with every hare bagged. Hans feels lifted and reborn being out here again. As he picks up his latest prey, he hears the crunch of a twig behind him that has him spinning on his heel, and drawing an arrow to his bow. When he turns, he sees Henry with a bashful smile - a few hares strapped to his belt.
“I told you,” Hans says, not putting his bow down, “I can hear you from a mile away.”
“And I told you,” Henry responds in a teasing lilt, “maybe I want you to hear me.”
Hans feels that same arousal creep itself up his back, licking and cloying. Hans looses the arrows and it hits the ground directly between Henry’s feet. Henry bends down, picks it up, and, astonishingly, puts it in his own quiver.
“For luck,” he simply says, a smile playing on his lips. Hans can’t help but return the smile, finally putting the bow down. The action seems to give some sort of permission, and Henry crosses the gap in quick, long strides. Hysterically, Hans can’t help but realize that this movement truly is quieter. The bastard.
When Henry gets close enough for their breath to mingle, neither of them move. The only sounds are some distant birds chirping, and the tick tick tick of the river wheel.
“What do you want from me?” Hans asks again, knowing now what he hopes Henry to say. Wants Henry to say. Still, Henry says nothing, but slowly raises his hand. Fearing he has misread the situation, Hans closes his eyes and braces for a strike.
“What do you think?” Henry asks, his breath mingling with Hans’ own. It was all the encouragement he needed to lunge forward and kiss Henry. Henry responds immediately, dropping his own bow and pulling Hans close to him.
It’s not a pleasant kiss - it’s more teeth gnashing against each other and they wrestle against one another, all the pent up tension that had been building for months poured into this kiss. Henry pulls at Hans’ belt and tosses the hares off to the side without a single look, then goes for his own belt.
Henry’s beard is starting to burn against his lips, and the whole thing is so insane, but Hans doesn’t care. They are frantic and Hans pushes Henry, and the push must have been more forceful than Hans realized because one step back, and Henry falls to the ground.
“Fuck!” Henry shouts as his back hits the ground, but then collapses into a fit of giggles. His eyes light up and show a younger side of him that Hans wants to see forever. Hans follows him onto the ground, and can’t help but to kiss the crow’s feet at Henry’s eyes. That stops Henry’s laughter and he just stares at Hans for a moment. The intensity is gone, but in its place there is uncertainty. At least for Hans.
The stalemate is broken by Henry reaching up and tucking a strand of Hans’ hair behind his ear. Hans leans into the touch and then kisses Henry again, and the fire is reignited. They grapple at each other, trying to tear off each other’s clothing, anything to get closer to each other. Hans would care more about ruining Henry’s new clothes, but he’s not currently in a state of mind in which he cares about such things. He pulls Henry’s hose and braies down, greedily stares at Henry’s erect cock. He wants to put his lips to it and suck it as well as a thousand other possibilities. His head begins to spin with indecisiveness, until Henry puts his hands on Hans’ hips.
Immediately, Hans begins to shimmy his own hose and braies off. Henry tries to help, but he is distracted, petting at Hans’ stomach. What was once a toned stomach is now slightly pudgy due to age and less hunting excursions and more sitting around and drinking. He’d feel more embarrassed about it if Henry wasn’t completely entranced by it.
“Ah!” Henry moans softly when Hans gets their cocks aligned and begins to stroke them. This is far from the most pleasant experience of Hans’ life, but he cannot stop. The moan encourages him, and Hans wipes his thumb over Henry’s slit where moisture has gathered. Henry writhes under Hans’ ministrations, and he feels like the king of Bohemia.
Henry lurches up and captures Hans in another kiss that seems to catapult them both into release. Were Hans younger, he may say something tasteless like they are one beating heart and so they of course climaxed together. Now, he’s older and knows what luck it is they were able to come. He huffs out a wry laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Hans rolls off of Henry after, knowing the injured man can’t take all of Hans’ weight as well as whatever rocks are poking at his back. The ground is unyielding when Hans settles himself. In his clarity, he knows he should pull his braies up - that having his bare arse on the ground is probably not a good idea. But he doesn’t move, his body too heavy.
They don’t speak as they come down from their frenzy. Hans’ mind wanders, trying to figure out what comes next after this. What he has done. Henry brushes his fingers along Hans’ arm, but doesn’t say anything.
"Radzig Kobyla was my father," Henry says quietly after a long time spent in silence. Hans uses his elbow to prop himself up and look at Henry. Henry stares up to the sky, refusing to look at Hans.
"I... didn't know he had any children," Hans awkwardly says after a long pause.
Henry lets out a humorless laugh, then turns his body to face Hans. "He spent months in your town and never mentioned me. Shows how much he cared for me," Henry bitterly says. It's the first time since Hans has met him that Henry has no levity to his words.
"Then why..."
"Why do I wear his crest?" At Hans' embarrassed nod, Henry sighs and wipes a tired hand across his face. "He was my father. He set my ma and I comfortably in Kuttenberg when he left for Skalitz. My ma... well she was the daughter of an apothecary, not noble so Radzig did not marry her. She met a man, Martin, a kind blacksmith in Kuttenberg. They came up with a cover story where Ma was a widow and had come to live with my ‘uncle’. We lived together with his wife and son. They were all my family. Whenever Radzig would come to Kuttenberg, he would take me with him on business. Always introducing me as his squire."
Hans hangs on to every word as Henry speaks, but here he abruptly stops. It's no secret nobles beget bastards, but most of the time they would never be acknowledged. Radzig almost did both - not acknowledge, yet acknowledge Henry. Still... what a lonely life that may have been - to be surrounded by a happy family while Henry and his mother had to lie.
“I’m sorry, that must have been…difficult,” Hans manages to say after a moment of silence. Henry rolls to meet Hans’ eyes but winces as he moves.
“Not as difficult as being on the ground is,” Henry grouses, with a smile. “I met Zizka before Hus was killed, and it was easy to just be in his band and follow his causes. When my father was killed in Kuttenberg, well…”
“Yes, well…” Hans echoes. The ripples of Kobyla’s death were felt miles outside of Kuttenberg. People knew something was on the horizon. And Hans…who had just taken over his holdings and was looking for guidance, let Petr Konopistsky convince him to fight against the Hussites. It’s very likely at one point, he and Henry fought against each other. A shiver runs down his back at the thought - thankful to have met now instead.
“I think my body is going to revolt if we lay here any longer,” Henry says, groaning as he begins to get up. He looks ridiculous with his hose and braies bunched around his ankles, though Hans isn’t one to judge as he is in a similar state of undress. He continues to lay there for a bit until he pulls his clothes back up and takes the offered hand Henry has out.
“Are we…okay?” Henry asks when Hans gets to his feet, and Hans almost wants to laugh. The surety that Henry seems to always exude is gone with that small question, and it relieves Hans. He’s not this perfect person, he has insecurities just like everyone else.
“Yes, we’re okay,” Hans replies, and for the first time in a very long time, he feels…free.