The Prince in Exile

Chapter 11

Together, Erzsebet and Gertrude sat atop the examination table, awaiting the physicker. Gertrude had made the appointment with the man, another of her household she had brought from Bavaria, but it seemed even this history could not guarantee his timeliness.

At least the delay gave Erzsebet time to think. She had come out of the pit of her distress, regained some semblance of propriety, but still she knew not what she meant to do. Gertrude had pushed her to set the examination regardless, assuring her that she could take her time to decide once the pregnancy was confirmed.

"Though," Gertrude had added, "if you wish to be rid of it, sooner is better. There are risks even now, and with every passing day they grow."

And so she sat, stewing in her thoughts, awaiting the man who would tell her that which, more and more, she felt she already knew.

A child. Her child–and Janos'.

"Of course, keeping it comes with its own share of risk–I trust I need not list them," Gertrude had gone on as they made their way back towards the castle. "How the courts treat unwed mothers, how your prospects for marriage run down the drain–not to mention how many die during childbirth."

Like your sister, Erzsebet had thought, but held her tongue. The fear of betrayal had not raised its ugly head all through the rest of the morning; as much as Erzsebet could trust anyone, she trusted Gertrude when she said she meant only to help.

But of course, that could not keep new fears from springing up.

There was the obvious: whether or not she kept the pregnancy, the path was fraught with peril, both to her health and her position. It was a trail of fire she walked, with only Gertrude at her side to help her.

Beyond that, though, her newfound trust brought with it a new dilemma: could she see her plan through, knowing now who Gertrude was? If the woman carried her through this peril, could she still go on to steal the prince away?

Could she betray this trust that would save her?

Footsteps clattered from the hall beyond the door. Gertrude gave Erzsebet's hand a squeeze, then stood and stepped aside, leaving her sitting on the table alone.

A man of surprising bulk squeezed through the doorway, looking more a wrestler than a doctor. He was bald, his skull huge and pocked, and he wore a thick dark beard of middling length and uneven cut. At least his tunic was clean. "My ladies," was how he greeted them, a perfunctory tilt of his head to each. His voice was rolling gravel, his accent thick, though his diction was precise. "How may I serve?"

Not even an apology for his lateness, though it seemed Gertrude took no offense. "Thank you for coming, Heinrich," with the obsequious tone of a girl addressing her tutor. "It is the lady Erzsebet who requires your attention." She turned to Erzsebet, gave a nod of promise. "Go on. You can trust Heinrich."

"Indeed you can," he rumbled, pulling the door shut behind him before facing his daunting breadth towards her, a sturdier barrier than the oak door behind him. "My oaths of practice include a promise of absolute privacy. None could force me to forswear, be he king or pope–and if you wish for Lady Gertrude to leave us, it shall be so."

To these words Gertrude nodded agreement, though she clearly hoped to stay. Erzsebet found herself wanting the same. "That is some comfort," she replied. "As you may have guessed, this is a matter of some secrecy."

He nodded. "Describe it."

Erzsebet took a breath, looking briefly to where Gertrude stood, wishing she had stayed sitting next to her, holding her hand–with an inward flinch she caught herself in her weakness. She had managed on her own for some time, and yet now slid so quickly back to dependence? It would not do. Steeling herself, she looked back at the physicker. "I might be pregnant."