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He hears the rumours.
In almost every city, about a man in his late thirties, maybe in his early forties. He barely speaks, lets his weapon do the necessary talking. Looks like a beggar, fights like a knight. A deadly shadow that leaves behind a trail of corpses, always of Sigismund’s followers, enough to give Hynce a headache every time the king’s court decides to ask questions. He wears ragged clothes but has enough money for whatever is needed. He has an unkempt beard, long and uncut for months, but a perfectly polished longsword that glistens against the sun. Dirty hair, but always one dandelion behind his ear.
Hynce is always one step behind, no matter how much he tries to keep up with him. He knows he should dedicate his full resources to survive the war, now that Sigismund is the on his way to be the rightful king, regardless of whatever opinion the old lords -or he himself- have of him, but he can't stop himself from sending one of Captain Dalebor’s men from time to time to nearby towns, just to get a glimpse of Henry, with the order of not doing anything to him.
He misses him a lot, even if it’s been years since he was last residing in Rattay. He worries, if he has to be honest. He worries that Henry will do something he cannot- Hynce would rather him not be alone. Or maybe, if again, he has to tell the truth, it’s himself, actually, the one who feels alone and doesn't want to. Fighting in a war has been a recurrent nightmare since he was little and the possibility of that is getting more and more real, and while the Captain is of great help, and Godwin sometimes stops by and helps him out with the strategics of war, his reality is this: he misses Henry.
And mostly, he misses his father.
He dreams of him, sometimes: he remembers them playing together when he was younger, the doubts of his love that clouded his mind when he grew up. They feel childish and stupid now that he knows Hans Capon loved deeply and selflessly. He dreams of his jokes, keeps some of them as part of his own repertoire for parties and for the beautiful, yet unattainable Anne from Kutna Hora; he remembers his laughter filling the room. He dreams of his parents dancing, Hans whispering something to Jitka, and her smiling despite the probably scandalous and terrible thing his husband has said.
He also dreams of Henry and Hans together: the knight’s and the nobleman’s wedding in a cottage in the middle of a forest. The best alcohol, the freshest food, the prettiest ladies. Hynce dances with three and kisses Anne by the end of the night, because their wedding takes all day and all night. In his dream, he dances and dances, and the knight kisses the nobleman under Godwin’s blessing, in a field of lavenders. His father dressed in gold and yellow, Henry in deep, darknblues. Hynce dances with his mother, and watches her dance with many young, handsome men who treat her like a queen. There are no fights, no tears, no smells of fire and smoke and failed concoctions. The grooms kiss and they go on a trip to Jerusalem to discover the secrets and wonders of the pagan, Arabic world.
He also dreams of his last hunting trip. Those are the less pleasant ones, not quite nightmares but close to that breathless, distressed sensation when he wakes up. He dreams of his father’s words, that he’s more than enough, that he’s proud, and ready. And then he dreams of the arrow. Sometimes he can see a faceless man shooting. Sometimes he sees the bandit who actually did it, a beggar turned a criminal, Hynce didn't bother to learn his name and simply hanged the man without any fuss. The fucker didn't deserve anything. On the weird days, it’s Henry or King Sigismund shooting him. In the most unsettling ones, he shoots the arrow himself. But in all of his dreams, his father falls from the horse and bleeds out, and instead of Dalebor it’s always Henry rushing to his body, it’s always him who treats the wounds of his lover, and fails time and time again.
Between political schemes and intrigues, the war at hand, and some unfortunate failing at courting Anne, Hynce finds some time to write letters to the ghost knight. He never sends them, but it brings him some piece of mind. It was his mother’s idea, as all good ones are. His letters are pretty much questions about this life he’s living, if he’s finding peace in the shadows now that the light that Hans Capon was has shut down. He writes to him to ask if he’s doing ok supporting the Utraquists, if his decisions will protect Rattay and the Pirksteins. He voices his concerns, the delicate scale of politics always on the brink of unbalance. One wrong move and Rattay could be under attack. One wrong word and it could be him at the end of an arrow. So he smiles and greets and makes deals, and keeps the useful secrets of the noble people close to his heart.
“Dear” his mother’s face emerges from the door. Grief has also stricken her, hardening her pretty features. Her eyes, once like sweet honey, are now unbreakable steel. “You haven't eaten once today and you didn't have dinner yesterday either, are you alright?”
“I am, mother”
She enters the room and approaches his desk, leaves some apples over it, and leans over his shoulder to check his paperwork. Jitka presses her lips tight, a frown in her eyebrows.
“You’re meeting the Utraquist Hussites, Hynce? You swore fealty to Sigismund, he will protect Rattay”
“Fuck Sigismund,” he says in a lower voice. You never know who could be listening at the other side of the door. His mother presses her lips together. Neither of them are fond of who will probably end up being the future king of Bohemia, and Hynce would love to run a sword through his chest, but he is a powerful ally for Rattay and if he learned something from his father is that his people should always come before his own desires “He most likely would come here just to assert his dominance over this territory, but I’d rather avoid any besiege, and that means as many allies as possible”
“So you’re playing both sides?”
“I’m playing our side”
Jitka raises an eyebrow, still tense.
“It’ll be fine, mom. This is what makes most sense for Rattay. Captain Dalebor has helped me with all details. We’re covered”
She straightens her back, then goes around the desk to sit down in the chair right before him. Hynce knows she trusts him, but it’s the Captain’s mention that relaxes her a little bit. She’s always saying Hynce should listen more to older, wiser men, despite him being the lord.
“What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing is troubling me” he lies. His mother, however, knows him too well. Hynce sighs and stops writing. “I was thinking about dad. I miss him”
“I do, too. He would be so proud of you, I wish he was here to see what a good lord you are” she says, puts her hand over his, and smiles warmly, looks suddenly like the sweet woman Hynce remembers from his childhood.
Hynce smiles back at her, then stretches his back in the chair. He’s hungry, he realizes, his stomach growls so he takes an apple and bites it. It's extremely sweet.
“I also miss Henry” he confesses. Jitka’s expression doesn't change the slightless. “How did you do it, mom?” He dares to ask. “Knowing what… he and dad were”
She sighs. She takes an apple too and bites it delicately, the perfect image of a lady.
“My interest lied… somewhere else, too. Both of them were good friends”
“Somewhere else?”
“I had a lover before coming to Rattay”
Hynce supposes that knowing your parents don’t love each other should hurt him, but he’s seen so many loveless marriages, has even thought about getting himself into one for the sake of his people. It doesn't come as a shock that her mom, a beautiful, elegant woman, had -has?- a life outside her marriage. He thinks about Anne, her golden hair, her vivid green eyes, and her wide waist, her perky chest. If he gets to marry her, will it all be a lie for her, too? It hurts to even think about it.
“Is he my…?”
“No. Of course not”
“I didn’t mean to imply you-”
“I know, Hynce. He married a commoner little after I was married so it was difficult to see each other. I did not see him the year we conceived you”
That relaxes Hynce a bit.
“And are you… still? With him?”
“He died a couple of years ago”
That does surprise him. He doesn't remember seeing her sad, or grieving. He bites the apple again, thinkful. He thinks about how little he knows about women, how much they hide, and how much they don’t but he doesn't take time to see it.
“I’m sorry”
Jitka smiles.
“You have also heard the gossip, huh? About Henry”
He doesn't wish to press his mother any further on this topic, so he lets her change the subject and nods.
“I worry about him”
“He wanders a lot, sometimes even all the way to Kuttenberg, but he has a small cottage in Rattay’s forest”
“Wait, how do you know that?”
Jitka finishes her apple with a big bite, and smiles wider.
“He’s my friend, Hynce. I worry too”
She’s a resourceful woman, always has been. Nobility does that to everyone, it seems, even to women.
“Do you think I could…”
“Visit him? He probably has been watching you all this time, from afar.”
“But I’m not sure he wants to talk with me. I probably remind him of dad” he whispers, feeling like a child. Sometimes he thinks his emotions will always be a mess.
Jitka takes his hand again between hers. Hynce can feel the apple juice in her fingers.
“Do not fear rejection, my child. Never stop doing something because you’re afraid”
Of course his mom knows. Hynce thinks about Anne, her confused stare every single time he tries to court her. Do not fear rejection, Jitka says, but what if he is also afraid of love?
*
It takes Hynce months to get the courage.
The cabin is small, abandoned in the middle of the forest. You should be looking for it to be able to find it, it easily blends in with the deep green surrounding it, the only sound is the riverflow next to it. There’s moss growing between the wooden planks, a broken window and the door knob is so rusty Hynce thinks it very well could disintegrate if he touches it. The small garden of dandelions is the only thing that looks well kept, the flowers of a vibrant yellow. A couple of dogs sleep peacefully next to it, as if guarding the plants.
“Nice place” Hynce says to the figure sitting down in the stairs right before the door.
Henry has a goblet of wine in his hands, and looks at him as if he’s drunk more than one already. He looks way too old for his actual age, his blue eyes dull. With his free hand, he plays with the edge of his dagger. He looks dangerous, deranged even, but Hynce cannot bring himself to fear the ghost knight, not when he knows the turmoil in his soul.
“You should work on your lying, my lord. It’s an important skill for a nobleman as you”
“Oh, come on, Henry, drop the titles”, then he goes to sit right next to him. “Can I?”
Henry nods and brings the goblet to his lips. It’s a very strong wine, from what Hynce can smell this close. He waits for the knight to share, but it seems he has forgotten manners now that he lives as a ghost. Encouraged by not feeling like a young boy anymore, he takes the goblet from Henry’s hands and drinks.
“What do you want, Hynce?”
Why is he here? He doesn't know. He has no straight answer, just the faint pain of a wound that he knows will never close. The ache of grief, the need to not be alone in his sadness.
“I wanted to ask” he starts, and coughs. The wine is strong. Henry rolls his eyes and gets up to take a new cup for himself. Hynce watches closely his movements, notices the knight limps a little bit. He has wounds, too. He’d like to help him heal. “How are you?”
Henry is caught by surprise, and Hynce can't stop the small, pleased smile in his lips. Henry always seems younger when something unexpected happens, the world amazing him like a child.
“Did you- did you just come here to ask me that?”
“Aye” he says. “I worry”
Henry huffs, and rolls his eyes. He empties the goblet and stands up to get inside the cottage, without uttering a word. Hynce awaits for the knight to come back, with the feeling that he has said something wrong.
It takes Henry a while to come back, so much time Hynce fears he has left him outside alone. But he doesn’t move, simply enjoys the quietness of the forest, and imagines his father here. He’d hate it, probably. No adventures, no business, no women, nothing to do but haunt animals. Would he have been able to leave his nobleman life behind, just for the sake of his love? He guesses not, and it makes Hynce sadder, that his father had to choose between the two halves of his heart, Henry, and Rattay.
“You shouldn't worry, my lord”
He hears Henry say behind him, with that low voice he has grown to love. A new silver goblet appears over his shoulder, the fruity smell of wine delicious. When he turns back to take it, Henry’s observing him closely, trying to make sense of something within him Hynce hasn't even thought of.
Hynce turns around again to watch the forest in front of him, drinks under the imposing scrutiny of his father's knight, and thinks that while he is now an expert, it doesn't make any sense to lie. Not to Henry, and not about this.
“I miss my dad,” he admits “I know you do, too”
He hears Henry gasp behind him. Has he said something wrong again? Was a lie better than the harsh, cruel reality they live in? He thinks not.
“I miss you too,” Hynce continued. The sun rays radiate through the leaves. The image of the last day of hunting with his dad strikes him right to the heart, the same sunlight hitting the trees. He can picture him right before them, joking about this shit of a cabin. “If I knew you missed living like a beggar, Henry, we could always get Zizka to rob us of everything again” he would say. Has Henry imagined the same? Does that bring him comfort? “This may be too straightforward for a noble, but I’d love for you to pass by from time to time” and then, when Henry only sits back down next to him and sips from his goblet, he asks “What do you think?”
“There’s nothing left there” Henry says, not looking at him, and Hynce tries his best not to feel hurt, because he knows grief and its cruelty. As if he could still read him, the knight adds “It’s enough for me to know you and your mom are ok”
Hynce sighs. He knew this wouldn't be easy.
“I’m getting married next year” he says, and hopes Henry accepts the implied invitation.
“I know”
Every other noble would congratulate him, but, of course, Henry never stopped being a peasant. Or maybe he only knows about arranged noble marriages. Hynce feels bad for imposing, but he can't stop himself from trying.
“Will you come?”
Finally, Henry looks at him. He looks so different from the man Hynce knew, the one that grew old beside him as his teacher and protector. The ghost that haunts Sigismund's army, slaying them one by one, barely keeping up due to sheer will, is wounded too deep to be saved. His soul bleeds what his body endures. The wine clouds Henry’s gaze but never his mind, as if the darkness of the world have given him clarity. As much as it angers him to admit it, there is nothing Hynce can do.
“Please come. Just for a few days. Sigismund will still be alive after my wedding”
“I don’t do weddings” Henry murmurs. It’s always weddings with you, his father said. Is he remembering that? The passion under the moonlight? Hynce left after they kissed but no one saw them until sunrise. Is that what he thinks of whenever he hears wedding bells? “And there’s always work to do”
“You’re becoming more reckless. Only one man can’t take out an entire army, Henry”
“I already have and I will, again. Hynce”
“Not when Sigismund is about to be the rightful king”
“He is rightful of nothing. He’s a fucking killer and I will bring him death or die trying” Caressing again the dagger hidden in his belt, Henry looks at him with such an anger it’s impossible for Hynce to look away. It pains him, and it frustrates him, that he is not enough for the knight. “You will not stop me” Henry threatens.
It should shock him but he just sees a man desperate to get the light in his life again, the water in his mouth, the air in his nose. His father told him once, a night he got drunk and let Hynce try the wine out for the first time, that revenge was the biggest flaw of Henry. He told him about his insatiable search for his father’s sword, his need to destroy everyone who destroyed Skalitz. It surprised him, still a tender child incapable of understanding the complexities of the human spirit, but now he sees it, right before him.
The future, and its inevitability. Revenge is not just his flaw but his doom. Hynce knows he killed Runt, Istvan, and he didn't even spare von Autlitz, not even on his deathbed. He killed Erik, Hynce was little but still remembers the blood all over his armour, his father’s embrace to get him to a healer. A stab in his torso and a head injury. He is merciless, and the only person who could convince him to stop the bloodshed is six feet under, and Hynce may resemble him, but he is not his father.
The knight will die fighting, as any honorable warrior should. Hynce shudders, the sudden realization that he will soon lose Henry is too heavy in his stomach.
He drinks his wine in one big sip, and wonders if coming here has been a good idea, the grief is now worse than before.
Silently, and selfishly, he prays to God that he is mistaken.
“You will always be welcome in Rattay, Henry” he says at lasr, and doesn't bother saying goodbye before leaving the goblet in the stairs and going through the trees.
The knight doesn't say anything, either, and Hynce cries when he’s back home, in the safety of his room, for the grief of losing someone who is still walking on earth.
(They bring him to his tent at night, a few days after his wedding.
Shot several times, a sword ran through his chest during an attack on one of the many Sigismund’s camps along Bohemia. Too much blood lost, too many wounds. He will die as a warrior. Captain Dalebor brings him because he will always be a good man, who takes care of the enemies that were once friends.
“Thank you, Captain”
“He took three of my men”
Dalebor explains, and he is so visibly angry and sad, Hynce doesn't really know what else to tell him. He nods, the old man nods back, and lets him privacy to say his goodbyes. Hynce kneels beside Henry, who trembles from the pain, but has a peaceful expression.
Hynce takes his left hand, and it shocks him how cold it is, and how thin it feels between his, as if Henry has been living off wine and beer alone. Weakly, the knight interlaces their fingers, and does his best to focus his gaze on Hynce.
“Your Anne is pretty” he says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “It was a beautiful wedding”
Hynce knows he was there. No one saw him, really, but he knew, somehow. A feeling every time he looked through the shadows. He prayed, every time, and wished for him to come to the light, to dance with his mother and with Anne, to hug Hynce, and maybe share a toast on his father's name. Henry didn't, though, only left a perfectly crafted sword for him as a present, with a small “M” in the handle.
“I’m sorry it ends like this” Hynce whispers. He does feel sorry, even if he knew his doom was inevitable. What he means by it, though, Henry’s life, love, fight, death, he doesn't really know. He hopes the knight understands.
“Ah” Henry smiles, the strength in his hand weakening. “But this is my happy ending, Hynce. Above or below, I will meet everyone again… and I will finally be free”
“Go be happy, then” Hynce’s voice shakes, and his body trembles, but he doesn't let go, never lets go, not even when his eyes are too full of tears to stop them from falling, not even when the light in Henry’s eyes goes out as he prepares for another battle in the afterlife to find Hans Capon once again, ready to fight even God on his reign if that means to have his lord by his side.
Hynce cries, and mourns, and prays to God to forgive their sins and let them have a peaceful encounter, to let them have the embrace they both need with no bloodshed, their deserved happy ending, at last).