The Queen and her Ploughman

Part 9

 The horse was confused when the old man clambered onto her back. She snorted and stepped back, trying to shake the pest off. He hissed and kicked his heels in and she took off. She passed her regular rider, the Queen, who smiled.

With nothing to go off of, and certainly not obeying the man riding her, she took off along her regular route, the one place she was ridden to.

~~~

Přemysl was working on the garden for his new home. The iron plough dug deep rivets through the dirt, requiring his entire body weight to shove it forward another inch. He'd invest in a donkey or a mule to do this work once he'd saved up enough, but for now, it was just him.

It was almost done, too. The house was built and stable, the land cleared. All he had to do was plant the crops, grow them a bit, and then Libuše could join him. Maybe. She hadn't joined him yet, which was throwing him off, but from the news he got from the town, she seemed to be doing alright. Things were certainly going well.

He paused, brushing mud and dirt from his hands and taking a look at the sky. Just past noon. He should probably have something to eat if he was going to work the rest of the afternoon. Unfortunately, being a ploughman without a prospering field, his options were limited.

He filled a flask with water and was heading towards his cabin when a figure appeared over the hill. At first, he was overjoyed - Libuše's horse! She had come to visit him, and so soon after the last. The white horse was faster than he'd seen it before, but he realized why soon enough.

It was not Libuše riding it.

Dread clawed into his stomach. What had happened to the Queen? Had there been an accident at the castle? Or was this just a messenger? Were they at war?

He waved his arms, and the horse slowed to a trot to finish the distance. He rushed inside to grab whatever he could offer - unfortunately, only salt crackers. He returned to his fields at the man dismounted from the horse. He was aged looking, which was unusual for a messenger. His worry grew.

"How can I help you, sir?" Přemysl called, tipping over his plough and setting the crackers on top. "Please, join me."

"You!" the man shouted, which for Přemysl was even more worrying, since the last time that had happened, a city had been built around him.

"Yes, me, I apologize for being wary, but why are you riding the Queen's horse?" Přemysl asked.

"How do you know it's the Queen horse?" he asked.

"Doesn't everyone know the Queen's horse?" Přemysl tried, biting his cheek. He had to be careful.

"My name is Ctik," the old man said, sticking out a hand. Přemysl took it, still watching him carefully. The man grabbed one of the crackers and bit into it fairly aggressively. Přemysl took a step back. "Now that you've served me salt crackers, I'm glad to announce you're the next King."

"I'm sorry?"

"Salt crackers on an iron table! You sir, are the next King of Czech, the successor to the greatness of Krok and Cech themselves!" Ctik went on excitedly, leaning over the table.

"What about Queen Libuše?" Přemysl asked. "Or Teta and Kazi?"

"You are to marry our Queen and take your place as King! The Queen has prophesied it! Leave this place behind, you will live in the grandest castle in Czech."

"Okay, but I just built this house," Přemysl said, pointing behind him.

"You will live in a castle, my friend," Ctik said. "You will be the rightful ruler of this land - the long-needed King."

"Libuše has ordered this? Me?" Přemysl tried, gathering his stuff together. "For what purpose? How?"

"Well, not you by name, my King," Ctik said. "But you are the one Queen Libuše will marry. Please, won't you come with me?"

To marry Libuše? Přemysl was stuck - he couldn't believe this, surely. It was ridiculous to believe some farmer peasant was sent to find him, but not him, to marry the girl he loved but who was also the Queen... it was too much. Too unlikely.

But he also had heard the rumours - and Libuše had been particularly strange the last few months. She was devious when nobody trusted her. She could probably make anything happened when the world believed she was a prophet.

"Alright," Přemysl agreed. If it was a trap, he would see it through - surely Libuše wouldn't let anything actually terrible happen to him, right? "Let me do something real quick."

"Anything for the King," Ctik said, bowing and returning to the Queen's horse. Přemysl moved to the cabin he had worked so hard to build, wondering if he'd ever get the chance to live in it now. He moved slowly around to the back, reaching into his pocket to pull out a hazelnut. He dug a hole and planted it carefully, splashing water from his flask into the earth. If he wasn't going to live here, he at least would finish his design.

He returned to Ctik.

"Ready," he said. He saddled his own horse and followed the man's lead away from his cabin.