One sky above me

The sky is blue. Incredibly blue. There is no cloud. Only the light and hopeful color. The sky doesn’t care about us.

I turn away from the window and instead focus on my father and mother sitting with me at the table.

“It’s an affront. How dare they treat us like this!”

My father’s face is red, and I know the expression all too well. His eyes are glistening dangerously and his hands are balled into fists. My mother is staring at the pamphlet in the middle of the table. Her eyes are moving, and I know she is reading the words she can make out. Unlike my father’s her expression is rather worried. I know this because her hands are flat on her lap, despite the huge belly making it difficult to place them where they usually are. Her lips are pressed together tightly so that they disappear in a faint bloodless line. Another expression I’m just all too familiar with.

“What happened?”

I dare to ask in a quiet voice. My father doesn’t like me asking questions, but I want the tension to disappear. It’s better to let him rant and then be done with it. I’d rather have him beat me a bit than see the worried gaze of my mother.

His eyes now focus on me, and I try not to shrink back in my chair. But to my surprise his grim face softens a bit. Muscles less tense. Back slumps forward a bit. He pushes the pamphlet in my direction and I’m even more astounded.

“Maybe you should know as well. It’s an attack on all of us. Our way of believing is in no way inferior to theirs. They promised us freedom. Even you should be able to understand!”

I read the pamphlet which has my father so aggravated. I stumble over words which I’m not familiar with, but my stomach coils tightly when I gather the meaning of the pamphlet. A quick glance towards my mother I understand why she is worried. A quick glance towards my father I understand why he looks like he wants to punch the wall.

“Is there nothing we can do? The emperor said this wasn’t right. We need to …”

Now my father’s gaze focuses its sharpness on me and my mother’s hands clench into fists as well. I’ve said too much again and I quickly look down, avoiding my father’s glare.

“It’s one thing you should know about it. It’s another to ask questions. I will talk to Heinrich about it. This can’t be happening. We can’t continue to avoid conflict.”

Now my mother and I almost synchronously look up. A gasp escapes me, but my mother reaches for father’s arm.

“Dear, don’t. Nothing good can come from an open conflict. First discuss it with the others.”

Brusquely, my father pushes away my mother’s hand, and the rigid posture is back. As if he was already facing an oncoming wall of soldiers. A dangerous hardness has entered his face, and I know nothing will convince him to calmly discuss the matter at hand with our congregation.

The sky is grey. Overcast. There is no gap to see a sliver of blue. A hopeless sky for a hopeless situation. The sky doesn’t care about us.

I stand in the courtyard. There is a light drizzle, and I look at the back of my father leaving the house. His back is straight and rigid, and I wish I could go with him. My mother is standing next to me, her belly even bigger now.

“Let’s go back inside, Mother. I’m sure he will be back before we know it.”

My mother doesn’t say anything, but she also doesn’t move and it takes me even more calm teasing and encouragement to bring her back inside. As soon as we are inside, I call over Alma who helps her to rest while I head to the small desk in my mother’s room. Going through the housekeeping books calms my nerves. The rows and columns filled with numbers and words need my sole attention and for a while I don’t think about what might happen to my father.

“I’m worried about what Heinrich will decide.”

My mother’s words make my head snap around and I realise that Alma has gone. Instead, my mother is sitting up with many pillows supporting her back. It looks uncomfortable, but I don’t bother to ask. My mother won’t complain but only smile and shake her head.

“It’s not only Heinrich there, Mother. I’m sure Leopold and Franz will be able to calm everyone down.”

After my mother doesn’t immediately agree I get up and sit at the end of her bed. Despite her huge belly she has lost weight and I am worried. So is father. I can see it the way he treats her. A few times I thought her condition might convince him to step away from supporting his brethren’s ambitions. But his fight for justice is stronger than his worry about his family. I am angry with him. Angry that he ignores mother. Angry that he continues to support the conflict. Angry that I am so helpless.

She reaches for my hand and I scoot a bit closer. Now, I awkwardly sit on a small spot next to her legs. Her fingers grip tightly around mine. Her knuckles are white but I can only feel her cold sweaty hand. There is no strength in them. I look at her while my thigh muscles cramp to not slide off the bed.

“It’s already gone too far. Heinrich is … Zuza, I’m worried for your father. I wish …”

Using my pet name squeezes my heart in pain. I know what she wants to say. I also wish for the same thing. I wish I could be at my father’s side. Make sure that he doesn’t follow Heinrich in his vision. Make sure that he doesn’t start something which will cost us everything.

The sky is black. But there are no stars. It’s as if the darkness wants to swallow everything. My mother’s hope for a peaceful solution. My father’s expectations of equality. My wish to not have any worries about my family.

I hear Alma breathing softly next to me. We are both sleeping in a small room directly next to my parents’. My mother might give birth any day now. My father might start a revolution any day. Alma doesn’t know about any of this or maybe she doesn’t care. That’s why she can sleep so soundly next to me while I want to toss and turn. But I can’t. Instead, I lie awake staring into the darkness. Trying to catch even a glimpse of a star outside the window.

My father came back home today. His unhappy expression made me copy my mother’s clenched fists. There was a discussion behind closed doors. I wasn’t allowed to be present. I worried it was about me. I worried it was about Heinrich. I worried it was about all of us. But after the door opened again my father waved me over. I was scared. His eyes were so fierce. His expression grave. To my surprise he shrank in front of my mother’s gaze.

“You promised.” It was the only line she needed to say. He nodded and then shooed her away. As if to signal that he was still the one in power. My conversation with him went in a completely different direction than I had expected. He gave me my uncle’s name. Tomorrow I will be Jakob. It’s his promise to my mother.

After this my mother gave me different clothes. They are resting on the chest in the corner of my room now. I can’t see them but it’s almost as if I can sense them. I put them on earlier. Without Alma seeing it. Nobody is allowed to see it. They smell different from the clothes I usually wear. In my mind they smell like freedom. But maybe for my mother they smell like security.

“Make sure that your father is safe.”

I made this promise to her. Her heavy but frail body in stark contrast to the gravity in her expression. I promise. But I also know that I have no power. She knows it as well.

I can’t see the sky. There are heavy curtains in front of the windows and blocking the view. The air is filled with tension. My father is standing next to his friend Heinrich. But here he isn’t Heinrich. Here he is Count Thurn. My father isn’t just Wenzel either. But I’m still just Zuzanna.

It’s my mother’s doing that I’m here. Hiding in the shadow at the door. Trying not to draw attention. The complete opposite to Franz who is standing a few steps next to me. His chest is puffed up and his posture screams nothing but confidence. For a short moment I wish I could be him. Maybe then I could have stopped father from coming.

I try to focus on the conversation. Heinrich is talking. No, he’s shouting. The three other men look at him with shock in their wide eyes. This is not how a nobleman should behave. That’s also what one of them says. His remark is swallowed by my father’s rather aggressive retort. The discussion grows more and more heated. More of Heinrich’s men push towards the three opponents near the window.

“It seems like they don’t want to listen.”

It’s Franz who’s addressing me and I look up. His eyes gleam with aggressive zeal. I know this expression. Recently, my father had this shine in his eyes almost every day.

“What will happen?”

It’s a whisper which escapes, and my father might scold me later. Or he might not. He might never hear about it as there is a scuffle. All of a sudden there is light streaming in the stuffy room. I can feel a breeze on my cheeks.

Grown men are fighting. There is a short flash of metal blades reflecting sunlight. There is pushing and shoving. There is shouting. There is anger. There is desperation. It’s all mixing in a chaotic cacophony. I try to make out my father. But there are too many people. I don’t dare to step closer. I promised my father to stand back. To not be recognized.

Suddenly there are people rushing towards me. I tense. I try to melt into the door frame. But they don’t bother with me. They run past me. Another breeze reaches my cheeks and I peel myself off the wall.

Everyone is gone. Even Franz. There are shouts coming from the distance and slowly I make my way towards the open window. I look down. Three men are lying on the ground. I only recognize one of them. Count Martinitz is rolling and groaning in pain. There is blood streaming down his face. There is a crowd around them. Shouting. Pointing. Nobody is helping. I can’t find my father among them. Maybe he’s still running. Maybe he’s heading back to me. Maybe he has completely forgotten about me.

My gaze wanders from the crowd on the ground almost twenty meters below me to the bloodstains on the window latch. Then I lift my head towards the sky. The sky is blue. Incredibly blue. There is no cloud. Only the light and hopeful color. Let it be the color of salvation.

(Second Defenestration of Prague - 1618: Marking the beginning of the Thirty Years' War in Europe)