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Upon his return to Rattay, Henry of Skalitz had been hoping to relax and spend some free leisure time with Sir Hans Capon before he was undoubtedly wrangled into dragging the wayward lord down the aisle. Not that either of them wanted that but they had no choice. Anyway, those plans were on hold as Sir Hanush promptly announced a tourney in honour of their triumphant return, insisting Henry compete so he could show him off to his important guests. So, here he was, in the training area of the Rattay Castle, awaiting his turn.
He paced the courtyard, flexing his hand nervously. He’d faced bandits, cumans, Erik, even Sigismund’s forces, a simple tourney should be no problem. Then again, he’d only done those things to save lives, his own or that of his friends. He hadn’t been performing. This was something else entirely. Henry breathed, examining the practice weapons.
“I should speak to Uncle about letting you have time off.”
Henry smiled, relaxing almost immediately, “you know how it is. A peasant’s work is never done.”
When he turned around, Hans was leaning against the wall watching him. Henry wanted to hug him, tell him he was glad to see him but he couldn’t. Too many eyes and ears. Nevertheless, they moved away from the other combatants to somewhere slightly more private yet still within view.
“I was planning to spend the day at the baths but since that doesn’t look likely,” the noble was saying and Henry fought a smile, sensing he was shouting curses at his uncle in his head, “I am at loss at what to do. So, I may just have to attend the tourney. See what all the fuss is about.”
“You should,” Henry nodded, lowering his voice as he added, “you gonna give me a prize if I win?”
Hans peered over his shoulder, ensuring they couldn’t be overheard. The other participants were either sparring for practice or engaged in their own conversations. Good. He looked back to Henry, keeping his voice quiet, “what do you want?”
“Hmm,” Henry pretended to think about it, rubbing his chin, “well, I would say a sturdy weapon but that goes without saying.”
“Well, that depends if you win, doesn’t it?”
Henry chuckled, suddenly feeling like he could take on the world, “I suppose I have an incentive now.”
Hans smiled softly, looking down bashfully, “look, Henry,” he bravely reached for Henry’s hand, entwining their fingers together, “I know it’s been a while. I…if you wanted to, um…well, I-I’d understand. If you left, I mean.”
“Hey,” Henry whispered, unable to do much more than give his lord’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “we both know it’s not going to be easy. But we’ll manage. We’ve gotten through much worse together.”
Hans shook his head, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Go on, get out of here before someone sees you,” Henry said affectionately, giving his master a light shove.
Hans gave him a cheeky wink and he rounded the corner to leave the training area. Where he ran straight into his uncle Hanush. The older man looked flustered and frowned at his nephew, clearly wondering what he was doing here.
“Hans! Where in God’s name have you been?”
“What, are you spying on me now?” Hans said quickly, expertly playing off his shock at almost getting caught. Hanush frowned at him, his default mood around him lately.
“Our esteemed guests have arrived.”
“Guests?” Hans replied, racking his brains as to when Hanush indicated they were to play host, “what guests?”
“One of these days you’ll have to start listening to me, lad,” Hanush huffed in exasperation, running a hand over his face, “why, Lady Jitka of Kunstadt, of course, and her father.”
Shit. “Oh. Great,” Hans said with probably too much enthusiasm. He looked around for an escape route, not that he'd get very far, “and we’re entertaining them in the castle? Unless this tourney isn’t about our safe return from Kuttenberg.”
“Now would I deceive you underhandedly?" Hanush said with a smirk, clapping his nephew roughly on the shoulder, "besides, whatever the reason, it provides you the perfect excuse to ask the young lady to accompany you to the event.”
Fucking shit. “And I suppose it isn’t worth mentioning I am feeling terribly sick and cannot attend?”
“No,” Hanush glared at him, pointing a finger at his chest, “you’re to be on your best behaviour or there will be consequences. If I hear of any wrongdoing on your part, I’ll set Henry on you.”
“Joke's on you, then,” Hans muttered childishly to Hanush’s retreating back, following behind like the dutiful lord he was forced to be.
An excited crowd of nobles and townsfolk had begun to gather to witness the tourney in honour of their triumphant return. Or rather Hans' upcoming marriage. Hans followed Hanush to their private viewing area opposite the arena. There waiting for them was who Hans assumed was his future wife, Lady Jitka. She was a fairly pretty woman, slightly older than he was, a little taller, kindly face. She smiled shyly when they approached.
“My lady, it is my great pleasure to introduce you to my nephew, Sir Hans,” Hanush actually did manage to sound proud to Hans’ surprise. Jitka curtsied politely, extended her hand to her future husband.
“We finally meet, my lord.”
“The pleasure is mine, Lady Jitka,” Hans turned the charm up to eleven, kissing her outstretched hand sweetly, “I trust you and your father had a pleasant journey?”
Jitka nodded, batting her eyelashes, “yes, thank you. It is truly beautiful here.”
Hans nodded also, unable to think of anything more to say. God, they weren’t even married yet and they’d already run out of things to say. The weather? He could talk about the weather. He heard Hanush clear his throat loudly.
“I’d be honoured if you’d accompany me to the tourney, Lady Jitka,” Hans said almost through gritted teeth, wishing he could hit Hanush very hard without getting into serious trouble. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice his irritation as she nodded bashfully.
“I’d love to. I’ve never been to a tourney before,” Jitka followed Hans to their seats, admiring the view it afforded, “is it every bit as risky as I imagine?”
Swallowing a large gulp of wine, Hans smiled humourlessly, “you have no idea.”
They passed the first few couple of fights in silence, enjoying the show with Hans answering the occasional question Jitka had about the tourney. As for the woman herself, well, she was alright to look at he supposed but she was too meek and soppy for his taste. She reacted with shock at every blow inflicted in the fights, wincing as weapons connected with armour. And her laugh was grating. Oh, well, he didn’t have to love her, he just had to marry her.
“Our next combatant will be Henry of Skalitz…”
Jitka furrowed her brows as she turned to Hans, failing to notice how tense he seemed, “Henry of Skalitz? A knight?”
“In every aspect but by name,” Hans replied tersely, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Jitka seemed surprised, her attention switching between Henry and Hans.
“You know him?”
Hans hesitated, taking another swig of wine, “he served as my bodyguard during our diplomatic mission to Trosky.”
“Oh,” Jitka sat back in her seat, watching as Henry hammed it up for the adoring crowd. He hadn't been what she was expecting of a bodyguard to someone like Sir Hans. She’d pictured a menacing, hulking giant wielding a huge mace not someone who looked like he’d just stepped off the pasture. Still, she wouldn’t underestimate him, perhaps that was his secret, “in that case, I hope he is worthy of your name.”
Hans finished his jug of wine, immediately reaching for another, “indeed.”
“He is rather exceptional,” Jitka commented, clapping as Henry won a clinch, kicking his opponent away, “Zofia will not believe it when I tell her. What is his story?”
“It’s not my place to tell you,” Hans said bluntly, unable to take his eyes off of the combat arena. His future bride was going to think he had an alcohol problem if he carried on drinking the way he was, “he hasn’t had it easy.”
“But he told you?”
“Eventually,” Hans admitted, discarding another empty jug of wine. He knew he should slow down lest he embarrass himself but he couldn’t help it. He’d never felt so stressed in his life, “I had to drag it out of him. When we first met, he came hunting with me as punishment-”
“Punishment?” Jitka gasped, glancing nervously down at Henry who was currently trying to break his opponent’s defence, “what did he do?”
“Nothing serious. It wasn’t my decision, anyway,” Hans squirmed, wanting nothing more than to run away. He could feel Hanush’s eyes on him. He hoped it wasn’t obvious he was sweating, “he was tasked with closing the tavern. I was drunk, we brawled…”
“He fought you,” Jitka blinked, clearly stunned. She shook her head in disbelief, “my, you’re certainly lenient. My father would have had him in the stocks.”
“I was captured by cumans on the hunt and Henry saved my life,” he was saying, watching as Henry was declared victor of his first bout. He felt relieved, a weight lifting from his shoulders as he gave his friend a subtle nod, smiling to himself, “I am loathe to admit when Hanush is right but…he was.”
Jitka didn't know what to say. She clearly hadn’t realised just how close her future husband and his loyal bodyguard actually were. They'd obviously been through a lot together and she hadn't meant to pry. She cleared her throat, “of course, my lord. I was just curious, I meant no offence.”
“It’s fine,” Hans said, feeling much more relaxed than he had done five minutes ago yet he still sipped at the wine. This was going to be a long day.
Jitka had never seen anything like it. Henry had ripped through his opponents, declaring victory on each bout much to the obvious pleasure of the man sat beside her. He was clearly proud of his friend. However, the last opponent was proving a challenge for a bruised and weary Henry. Once again he ended up flat on his back, winded, his ears ringing from the blow.
“Get up, Henry!” Hans suddenly shouted, leaning forwards over the barrier. He knew people were staring at him but he didn't care. Jitka was watching him, a look of interest on her face. Still, he shouted, “kick his fucking arse!”
Henry groaned, heaving himself up from the ground; he could hear Hans’ muffled shouts in the background as he raised his sword.
“You took on Runt and Erik single handed! Are you going to let this nobody beat you?”
“Runt almost killed me!” Henry tried to yell but it came out more a wheeze. He bent over trying to catch his breath. His opponent was too busy showing off to notice he’d gotten to his feet, “Erik…was a nutter…”
It appeared his opponent finally realised he hadn’t quite won yet and lunged at him, roaring with rage. Henry mustered all his strength to dodge, flailing around to strike him in the back as hard as possible. They traded blows with Henry eventually managing to overpower and knock him to the ground. Thankfully, the brute couldn't regain his strength and collapsed onto the ground. Victory was declared again and Henry was too tired to even raise his hands in acknowledgement of the cheering crowd, doubling over as the announcer called out his win.
“Well, my lord, that was…” Jitka fanned herself, the excitement of the day overwhelming her somewhat. Her betrothed looked straight past her, clearly not listening. He was too busy watching the crowd encircle Henry, all desperate to give him their praise. He just smiled sheepishly, not used to being the centre of attention. He was just ordinary Henry, after all, “wouldn’t you agree?”
Hans finally tore his eyes away from where Henry had last been and now stood a crowd of people. He blinked, confused, “hmm?”
“Is everything alright?”
“Uh, my apologies, Lady Jitka,” Hans started saying hurriedly, watching as Henry managed to break free and head towards a bench, “would you excuse me?”
“But-”
She started but he was already hurrying off, no doubt eager to congratulate his friend. It was nice, really. She had a smile on her face as she watched Hans join Henry, the lord patting Henry on the back. It was clear to her that they were close, leaning into each other’s touches, the two of them laughing at something or nothing. How they only had eyes for each other. Jitka tilted her head, thinking to herself.
“Well, Lady Jitka,” her thoughts were interrupted by Sir Hanush, clearly fishing for information on how her day with Hans had transpired, “I hope my nephew has been treating you well?”
“Yes, my lord, I have had a lovely time,” Jitka said honestly, smiling as she turned in time to see Henry and Hans exchange a meaningful look before they parted, “I am certain he will make a fine husband.”
Jitka waited until nightfall before donning her darkest attire and sneaking out of the castle. It hadn’t been all that difficult to work out where the two men were planning to meet. She'd stumbled upon them alone whilst she was out for a walk, lingering out of sight and soon enough they revealed their plans to rendezvous in an abandoned barn just outside Rattay. She was hoping to intercept Hans on his way rather than take the risk of arriving at the destination and witnessing something she might never be able to unsee. Sure enough, the man himself sauntered out of the castle carrying a basket of supplies, tipping the guards to make sure they forgot they’d seen him. Jitka rolled her eyes, watching from behind a tree as he got closer, biding her time.
Once he was close enough, she stepped out from behind the tree, directly in his path. He let out a yelp, almost dropping the basket. She shushed him urgently, examining the contents of the basket, “well, well, candles. Wine. Blankets. Who are you trying to impress?”
“Are you following me?” Hans hissed, clutching his heart dramatically as he tried to catch his breath. Jitka shook her head, lowering her hood.
“I need to speak to you. Urgently.”
“Are you mad? No, not now. You have to leave,” he muttered, looking around in a panic. There didn't seem to be anyone around but still, “if someone sees us…”
“It’s okay. I think we can help each other.”
“I’m not interested,” Hans brushed himself off, pushing past her as he continued on his way. Jitka was nothing if not stubborn and she grabbed his arm.
“Listen, you idiot,” she insisted firmly, standing her ground, “we have been presented with a unique opportunity and I’m suggesting we take it. We cannot escape our situation,” Hans had to agree with her there but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Jitka continued, “and if it isn’t me it will be someone else. Someone else who might not be so…tolerant,” Hans blinked at her, clearly expecting her to continue. Jitka sighed, clearly she’d have to spell this one out, “about Henry…” she lowered her gaze, fiddling with her hands, “and Zofia.”
“You followed me out here just to tell me you want our friends to start courting?” Hans scratched his head, shrugging, “if you insist. He’s never met her and I’m sure he has not trouble-”
“My God you must be good in bed,” Jitka resisted the urge to smack him, resorting into to massaging her temple, “Zofia is a maid in my father’s service. She would come with us when we are married.”
“You never mentioned her.”
“I most certainly did,” Jitka insisted, her hands on her hips, “if you took your eyes off of Henry for one minute…”
“Shhh!”
“Don’t you shush me,” Jitka actually did smack him this time, frustrated but for better or worse he was her only hope. As she was his, “look, we wed, produce an heir and do our duty. But as far as romance and pleasure, that is our own business. I can see the way you look at him,” she added sincerely. She could see Hans finally give up the pretense that there was nothing going on, his expression softening at the mere mention of his beloved. He was carefully considering her words, “as long as we don’t bring shame upon each other,” she held out her hand, ready to shake on the weirdest yet most necessary of deals in her life, “if you decline, I won’t say a word and will wish you all the best.”
Finally, Hans shook her hand. He looked her up and down, raising an eyebrow, “you and Zofia?”
“Not a chance,” Jitka said with a laugh. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Her future husband just shrugged, strutting off towards the abandoned barn.
“Worth a try.”
Henry stamped frantically at the small fire he'd accidentally started, kicking the useless candles in frustration. He’d tried to make the barn look somewhat presentable; he’d brushed the hay out of the way into a pile, tried and failed to light some candles and attempted to give them some privacy by draping a sheet from the rafters. Not exactly romantic but it would do. He was busy admiring his handiwork when Hans finally strolled in. Henry threw up his arms.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“Getting permission to keep fucking you from my wife,” Hans said matter-of-factly, setting the basket down and stretching his arms. Henry paused rummaging through the supplies, gaping at him.
“What, seriously?”
“You would not believe our luck, Henry,” Hans sounded giddy, so much so that he collapsed into the pile of hay Henry had swept into the corner. Henry committed the sight to memory, his noble lord Capon lying in the scratchy hay like a commoner, “turns out she has her own paramour,” without warning he reached out and grabbed Henry’s hand, tugging him down beside him in the hay, “I think it's going to be okay.”
Henry chuckled, plucking a strand of hay from Hans’ hair, “okay, well, how did she know?”
“How should I know? I was very discreet,” Hans nuzzled at Henry’s neck impatiently, nipping at his skin, “must’ve been your fault.”
“Hmm, I’m sure,” Henry couldn’t help but smile, leaning down to finally kiss Hans like he’d wanted to all day. When they parted, their foreheads rested together, “sounds like it all worked out for the best.”
“I suppose it did,” Hans said with a fond smile, his hands pawing at Henry’s clothes, tugging incessantly, “now get your fucking clothes off. I’ve missed you.”
Henry chuckled as he did as he was told, “I missed you, too.”