Bosislava Let Down Your Hair

The wind was blowing rough and harsh upon the windows in the court room. A window shutter in another room clearly was not closing. It kept opening and closing, creating a very loud creaking sound. Every so often it could be heard, when talking died down. If it was an awkward length of silence, eyes would be exchanged between nobles and servants and someone would hurry off to see to the matter. This put everyone at ease and talking would flare up again. It seemed as though the person who was sent to fix the window issue went symbolically, to indicate that something was being done. Anything. That they weren't submitting to nature and enduring it's forces, rather having control over it in some way.

They did not of course, no one there did, but Heralt enjoyed the fact that they all had this collective idea of how it worked, and trusted it. That gave him a certain sort of comfort. It was there on that cold afternoon in the court that Heralt had met eyes with Bosislava for the first time. Though the candles were lit and it was a dreary day with the rain and the wind, the fire in his heart was lit in a blazing glory that day. All the candles that seemed to barely shine before, were as bright as the sun in summer.

She was the daughter of the King's family. In a time before Heralt arrived at the Kingdom, this woman's mother had married an adventurer from the steppes. He had only been passing through but at a feast the daughter had an eye for the man and he had proven himself in a duel that same day. Their love was deep as the seas and lasted briefly. When Bosislava was only 5 years old, her father died under mysterious circumstances and for fear of her life, her mother returned to the castle with her. There then they had stayed the past years and looking for good prospects for Bosislava. But love has it's own path. Just as the winds outside love goes in odd ways, in directions no one can foresee. Ever changing and ever moving!

This is what I felt when I saw into her eyes. She was talking to a lady-in-waiting of the Queen's. Her hair was let down and she was simply listening and patiently smiling. It seemed as though she gave the lady-in-waiting her full attention. She was not like some girls who clearly would show they are tired of Heralt. Nor did she seem to be pretending to be interested for the sake of the person, for whatever reason. No, she seemed genuinely, calmly interested in whatever that person had to say. It fascinated Heralt for her had rarely seen someone so considerate. Aside the King of course, who in his wisdom and grace enabled him to stay in the castle as the Seneschal. The title hadn't been held by anyone prior and that he trust him, of all people in court, someone who had just arrived with knowledge about Duke Eustachy of Lusatia, for this role! It was astonishing and truly an act of god to enable him this possibility.

He was soon taken from his dream like state by matters of the realm.

"Heralt, may I have a word?" Heralt turned to see that Hallsteinn Hemingrsson was speaking to him in his horrible Nordic accent. "What is it Hallsteinn? Please don't tell me someone was sitting on a chest again." The antiquarian of the court was a Nordic man from house Sigurdr who had decided to stay and somehow managed to convince the King that an antiquarian was of great importance. The King was in love with his ancient objects, and so were some other people as a result. So, he was hired. He annoyed Heralt greatly.

"Look, I know theez eez a beeg reqwest. But yoo must teell the peepole that. No. No they cannot sit on the chest of Cechy. Eet is too valuubol!" Hallsteinn was waving his hand around wildly, a habit he acquired working in the mediterranean a few years prior.

"I tell them to move, but you must appeal to the King for anything to really happen. He will listen to you Hallstein, just try the next time he is holding court." Hallstein balked at the idea. He tried to stammer a response but he could not. He could never admit to Heralt, a man he secretly admired, that he was ashamed of his accent. It made him too nervous to propose to the King but he trusted Heralt. Yet his pride and his shame led him to not say what he wanted to. He became flustered and threw up his hands. "I vill go eet!! Join?" Heralt nodded and confirmed with a smile. He thought it to be a fake smile, for he abhorred his accent, but he knew Hallsteinn had a good heart. He was just too shy.

Heralt looked back to where Bosislava was sitting, but as he looked he could not find her. He felt a tap on his right shoulder. "Looking for me?" He spun to his right and saw her as bright and beautiful as a spring day in front of him.

"I... uhm I was-" Heralt stammered.

"I know. You were looking at me. I like you too, you know. You're cute."

Heralt didn't know what to say, normally he went after the women not the other way around. She smiled at him and walked away. She knew people so well. He figured that just as some Kings are fit to rule, some women are fit to rule as well. As he watched her leave his eye caught the Cech Czest that Hallsteinn was raving about. Two young women were sitting on it and not too far off Hallstein was glaring at them, hoping they'd notice their folly without his intervening. Heralt looked at the chest and got an idea.

Heralt was no man of great skill beyond what he was good at, strategy on battlefields and listening himself. That's how he got his position. But he wanted to make Bosislava something. Not as good as the Cech Chest of course, but something that she would use and like. He considered her hair. Long blonde streaks of light that shone from her beautiful head. Surely, something that a woman would need for her hair would be good. A veil? No, her beauty had to be admired. Perhaps a locket or crown? Too intricate. She was not that noble and it would be offensive to the King perhaps. Ah, perhaps a comb! A comb to pull her hair apart and make it look even better than before.

He went into the town of Praha to find a carpenter that could help him. His position as Seneschal of the King paid very handsomely. He went from carpenter to carpenter, looking for the perfect comb that would be able to touch Bosislava's hair. He went to the carpenter in the castle, but he was too busy. He went to the carpenter on the main road to the castle. His comb was good, but too fancy for Bosislava. He felt that she was the type of woman who preferred function over style. He went across the bridge into town and found a shop that all sorts of things for women. There, too, was an assortment of combs. There were some fine, some not so nice, but he could not find one that he believed she would like. None of them had that special something.

He ventured further into the outskirts of the city and saw a farmer's market. There he strolled along the market and observed the delicious breads, marveled at the various fish, and then soon came to a little stall with various wood figures and ornaments. There was a comb. Simple, but elegant. It's teeth were fine, just perfect to split the hairs of the beautiful Bosislava.

He hurried back to the castle with comb in one of his pockets. He was elated with the discovery, surely she will love him immediately for such a great present! He was quite clever, wasn't he?

He entered the castle and just as he entered the court, he noticed her. She was in the distance, near the Queen as they all listened to her regale them in a story from a travel to some far off Kingdom, no doubt. There, even from afar, he recognized that he was combing another woman's hair. No! It cannot be! She already had a comb! As he approached the throne slowly, he realized it was simple, as was his. It seemed to be similar in design. She truly had taste. His hand in his pocket he touched the comb. There, suddenly, the King stood before him.

"Ah the women are having a fun time. How are you Heralt? How goes life?" Stunned, Heralt gave a short bow of his head "My liege, I apologize. I only came to ask for... for..."

The King raised a brow and smiled, his bushy blond beard meticulously taken care of. Lost in thought Heralt admitted his folly "Oh. I forgot my King, good King! I will come back as soon as I remember."

The King slapped his belly then gave Heralt a slap on the shoulder. "Oh, I bet you will. Off you go then!" Heralt turned and left the court as if driven by another force. Before he knew it he was in his quarters. What... what could he present her that would show her his interest? Her value?

He looked at the objects in his room. He realized he had quite a stack of papers. A quill was set nearby, and a nice tincture of inks, of two colours. He liked to use another colour to emphasize things for the King in his official papers. He could... write a poem! A poem of delightful grace for her lovely self. He took a piece of parchment and the quill and dipped it in the ink. He hovered his hand above the paper and thought... what could he write about? What was the most appealing part of her? He could not write about her clothes. Too unseemly. He did not know her that well. What was the one thing he admired of her the most? Ah! He knew...

The poem was soon written and without hesitation upon completion he hurried out and to the court to see if she was still in the throne room or nearby. Indeed, she was standing near the doors of one of the servant's entrances and talking with a wench. As he approached the wench disappeared and Bosislava turned to Heralt. He knelt on one knee and presented the poem to her as if it were a holy relic. She giggled and took the parchment and smiled.

"What is this, good sir?" She smiled and unfolded it.

"It is a poem! I have written it in honor of your beauty.

She smiled and looked at the parchment "Ah, unfortunately I am not good at reading. Do read it to me!" She handed it over to him and smiled. Her bright smile was so broad, he could not deny her such a request. He took the parchment and read it, as all around the servants and nobles stood still on his every word.

"Y-your hair is bright as the sun is gold,

And without a doubt everywhere it's told,

That from the roots of that hair, so very fair,

Comes love that is purer than gold."

He blushed as he finished the poem and noticed that everyone had stared at him. One noble in a corner gave a hoot and clapped and the women smiled. A countess nearby shoved her husband noting he never writes her anything nice anymore. Bosislava was besides herself with happiness. She hugged Heralt and gave him a kiss on the cheek and scurried off. He was confused, was that good? The servant nearby gave him an approving nod as he carried food on a plate towards the table. It seemed to have... worked.