Free Zel by Donna Jo Napoli Page B

and countess spend their time trying to ease confrontations between the old church and the new.
    But this reprieve from his parents’ interference had to come to an end sooner or later. So today, when Konrad comes downstairs to find his mother awaiting him in the dark of pre-morning, he is not surprised.
    The countess stands with hands stretched toward him. “Tell me, Konrad. What ails you?”
    “Nothing, Mother.”
    “Your pain shows in every move.” Her voice catches.
    Konrad cannot bring himself to say Zel’s name. But his heart responds to his mother’s sincere entreaty. “I’m looking for something.”
    “What? Let us help you.”
    Konrad shakes his head.
    The countess lowers her chin and looks up at Konrad with eyes that implore. “And this search matters so much that everything else must be forgotten?”
    “Nothing else matters right now.”
    “What about your education, Konrad? You haven’t had lessons for months.”
    “Didn’t the minister say secular learning is an insolent conceit?”
    The countess takes a step backward. She looks amazed. “You’ve never quoted the clergy before.”
    Konrad gives a sheepish smile. “He said something useful for once.”
    “Useful to him, not to you.” Her disdain shows in her tone. She looks around the room quickly and moves closer. “Speak your own mind, Konrad.” The countess puts her hand on Konrad’s arm. “What do you search for with such frenzy?”
    “I can’t talk sensibly about it.” Konrad swallows the lump in his throat. “I don’t seem to understand anything.”
    “That’s hard for me to believe of the youth who rattles off mathematical formulas, making his tutors rejoice. You can do anything you put your mind to, Konrad.”
    Konrad gives a small laugh. He wishes it were that simple.
    “I’m worried for you.”
    “Youths my age take up arms for pay to fight in foreign wars. All I do is ride through the countryside. There is nothing to worry about.”
    “There might be.” The countess tightens her grip on Konrad’s arm. “One night this August I saw the constellation of Perseus burst into a shower of comets.”
    “What does Perseus have to do with me?”
    “He is the great horseman. He rides Pegasus. Please, Konrad, though you have your doubts, respect my beliefs. Even medical students study astrology. As you ride under the evening skies, watch Perseus. If that was a warning, you must heed it.”
    Konrad puts his hand over his mother’s. “I’ll take care of myself.”
    “It is not yet fully light out. Check the skies now.” Her tone is urgent. “Check them every morning. Every evening.”
    Konrad kisses his mother’s cheek. He ascends the stairs and throws open the doors of his balcony to the blast of icy air. The sky shows no stars. But maybe Konrad needs to be higher to see them. He jumps onto thebalcony ledge and climbs over the low roof. He swings himself onto an upper walkway, takes the stairs at a run, and he is in one of the four turrets. The sky is empty and pure.
    Konrad looks out across earliest morning on the lake. He tingles with anticipation. Though he cares little for the talk of Perseus, he feels strengthened by his mother’s belief in him. He races down the steps and outside.
    Konrad picks up a stiff-bristle brush and enters the paddock. The mare greets him. He brushes her well. Then he presses his cheek against the mare’s neck. She whinnies with a hesitant gentleness.
    Konrad thinks again, for the thousandth time perhaps, of how Meta pressed against Zel’s new breasts. The peasant girl should have been coarse as her bread, yet she was tenuous as a memory. She was not pretty. Still, there was something oddly pleasing about her looks. Will she recognize him when next they meet? Konrad saddles Meta and mounts.
    “Young sire.” Annette runs from the kitchen. She holds up a sack to Konrad. “The countess had me pack you a hearty meal.”
    “With much thanks.” Konrad takes the sack and leaves. He follows