THE IMPALER'S WIFE

4

Despite my heart knocking in my chest I smile at this stranger with storm colored eyes and keep my voice steady. "I'm honored by your gift of augury."

The woman flicks her eyes right and left, making sure no others are within hearing and steps forward. "Your husband will live forever."

My anxiety vanishes and my lips twitch to suppress a giggle. Margit, however, lets out an unmaidenly chortle.

The stranger's mood changes in an instant. Coldness replaces warmth and her gray eyes harden. "Lady Ilona, mark my words." She curtsies. "Good day." She pivots on her heels, the folds of her pink skirt swaying angrily as she strides down the long corridor.

Margit touches my arm. "Is she part of the entertainment?"

"If so, she is not likely to be hired again."

"Maybe Matthias hired her to provoke conversation by creating rumor and mystery."

"That must be it. Remember when he hired four men to start a brawl a year ago?" The fake blood had splattered on the floor before the first punch was thrown. The players, unfazed, quickly traded drama for buffoonery. "Perhaps her job is to inspire a battle of witty word play." I remember the bronze statue in the front of Buda Palace memorializing the Holy Roman Emperor. "I suppose someone's deeds can make them live forever. Like King Sigismund. Or my future husband might be a scholar and write a book, and his words live forever." Bibliotheca Corviniana, the palace library, was full of manuscripts and treatises by modern and ancient philosophers.

"Or be a painter," says Margit. "His portraits passed from generation to generation."

Relieved to have found a logical excuse for the stranger's unsettling and heretical prophecy, I turn around to call her back. She is gone. Vanished. A remarkable feat considering the length of the passageway.

"I cannot wait to tell everyone that you had three prophecies today." Margit's voice has an odd edge. "How delicious."

"Please don't tell Aunt Orsulya about this or she'll have me saying the rosary three times a day for weeks. Please." My pleading sounds pathetic but I'm worried. Three prophecies! Maybe it is a warning from God.  

Margit frowns. "Oh, fine. It will be our little secret." Margit grabs my hand and tugs me into the great hall where the celebration is well under way.

The hour passes quickly, conversations about frocks, friends, and food keeping tongues wagging and ears burning until King Matthias arrives. I do not see the stranger in pink again but I do see Prince Vlad looking my way three times.

King Matthias arrives with great pomp and signals the beginning of the feast. Squires bring silver bowls of rosewater for hand washing. Servants cover the tables with fringed tapestries, strew sweet herbs about, and place trenchers of bread and bowls of fish stew on the tables. A skinny and eager young page escorts me to the royal table. I take my seat, marveling with the others at the whimsical centerpiece, a miniature of Buda castle festooned with tulips, lilacs, peonies, daisies, and peacock feathers.

I look over my shoulder and see Prince Vlad sitting with the officers at a table nearby. Our eyes meet. His gaze ensnares me, and I cannot turn away. I should not be flirting with him, or he with me. My face flames with embarrassment and I wrench away, the heat of guilt mixing with the warmth of pleasure.

"I'm going to eat until I burst." Margit spears a hunk of veal covered in sweet fig sauce. "Men like women with an appetite."

I pick at my own trencher heaped with food, nervous excitement dulling my appetite. Prince Vlad is flirting with me! Despite Aunt Erzsébet's plans to wed him to Margit. I dare not get in Aunt Erzsébet's way. I don't want to hurt Margit but...I glance over my shoulder.