The Queen and her Ploughman

Part 6

 Libuše led the parade to the small, riverside town. She rode on a white horse, tall and imposing and crowned in a circlet of silver and jewels. Her sisters rode behind her, just by a heartbeat, on dark horses and with dark scowls. Teta, especially, mistrusted the choices of their youngest sibling. They whispered about it behind her back, but she was not unaware of it. All would be fine, she repeated to herself. All would be fine once the city was prosperous.

They greeted the townsfolk with open arms, each taking turns to bow to the sisters, knees bent into muddy grass. Libuše praised them for giving the location of their town up, and promised they would all be thoroughly compensated.

She did not look to the Ploughman standing up on the hill.

Then, she hired workers. Taking from people all across Czech, she founds stone masons and carpenters and blacksmiths and ironworkers and she got everyone working in time. The town grew greatly over the next few months, building by building, home by home. Libuše stayed with her sisters, tucked away in a makeshift tent and bed while the beginnings of a castle were built.

Then, everything was set to move in.

Months, years, there was no end in sight - they stood at the mouth of a beast and Libuše stood in front. Kazi and Teta both hesitated, they kept their distance. They could feel the breath of the thing.

It was the evening's that Libuše slipped away. Not all of them, but enough. She'd take her white horse, rarely used for anything more, and ride across the newly developed city, its buildings just beginning to reach the sky. She'd reach the edge, then pass under the threshold and into the outskirts. The pounding of hammers on iron and stone would fade, to be replaced with the sound of trickling waters.

And she'd find the farmhouse that was promised her, and she'd tie her horse up and step up the stairs and knock quietly, shawl pulled tightly over her face.

Přemysl would beckon her inside, taking her hand and telling her all that had transpired in the idyllic paradise of the farm. She would tell him all that had gone wrong in the chaotic stone castle far down the river. Never would she stay the night.

She would continue this pattern for days that turned into weeks, and weeks that turned into months, and Přemysl, every visit, without fail, would ask the same thing.

"And you're sure, my Queen, that this is the life you'd rather have? Sneaking around and playing pretend and tricking your people for what - a castle? Fame? Would you not rather have love?"

And she would reply, usually in the same way.

"I want to rule the people of Czech. Just be a good Czech man, and I assure you all will be well."

He still couldn't know entirely. He had to be just as confused as any other townsman, then it would have to work.

She would be gone barely an hour later, and back in the castle in time to direct the newest delivery of lumber down the street.