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My father was a woodcutter in Kunraticky forest, only a day's journey from Praha, the principal city of the land of Bohemia. Less, of course, on horseback, but we seldom even saw a horse in the forest. Papa was the last of a long line of woodsmen. I have no memory of my mother, who died not long after I was born. My grandfather Podevin (after whom I was named), was a woodcutter, my uncle Janusz a charcoal burner. We were not poor folk, as such things go, but we were definitely not wealthy. We kept a couple of pigs, of course, that rootled in the forest and we sold enough bacon to buy good wheaten flour when we went to the village. The forest itself provided plenty of good food in season; chestnuts, blackberries, mushrooms. So we did well enough.

Papa was a good Christian man. I learned a good deal from him. I learned the different kinds of trees, and the legends and tales about them. I learned how to lift and carry safely, and how to cut wood from a tree so as not to harm it. I learned to shoot with the bow and arrows that he made for me, too, and from time to time we had a pigeon or two to add to our supper. I learned the footpaths through the woods, and which places were safe to enter, and which might harbour wolves, or witches.

But I remember the day as clearly as if it were yesterday, that Papa sent me to the Castle. I was just fourteen, well grown for my age, and folk said I was well-favoured, though with no looking glass I had to take this on trust.

"You have intelligence, my son," he said, "and strength, and good judgement, far more than most boys your age. You have learned all that I can teach you. I hear that they want good servants there in the Castle. Go, with my blessing; present yourself there and ask to be taken on trial. Do there whatever you are bid, and do it to the very best of your ability, and you are certain to succeed."

"But, Papa," I replied, "I want to stay here, with you and Grandfather."

"No, my boy. If you stay here, you will never become anything better than a woodcutter, living in the forest, with pigs for company. Go you to the Castle, and you may become anything your heart desires, provided you are willing to work for it."

And so the next day I rose, put on my best clothes (though they were far from new), took the bundle Papa gave me, with bread, cheese and apples, and set off on the journey. It took me by ways I had seldom been. A little after midday, as near as I could reckon by the sun, I sat upon a fallen tree to eat my meal, when an old woman came out from a cottage nearby with an earthenware jug in her hand.

"Good day, young sir. You are not from this part of the forest, I think."

"No, Grandmamma," I replied, using the term as an honorific, "I am on my way to the Castle, to seek employment as a servant there."

"Then may good fortune attend you," she said. "And would you like a cup of milk, to help you on your way?"

"Indeed I would, Grandmamma. Thank you."

She poured a cup of milk from her jug, which I drank gratefully.

"The Duke himself gave me the goat which provided that milk," she told me. "May God bless him, and may He speed your footsteps and give you good fortune."

"And may He bless you, and your home," I replied politely, and continued on my way. From time to time I paused to speak to one or another person that I met, and heard again of the kindness and generosity of the Duke.

Not long before nightfall I arrived at the Castle. It was larger and more fearsome by far than my imagination had led me to expect. It had a wide archway, broad enough to take three or four mounted men side by side; a tower to each side of it had lancet windows for bowmen to shoot from. There was a great tower in the centre which awed me (remember that until now I had scarcely ever seen any building larger than our cottage). But, emboldened by my father's words, I walked in through the huge portal – the archway must have been three times my height at the least - and found myself in a great courtyard. It was decorated with trees and shrubs, and in a lawn at the centre a little fountain played.

A well-dressed man approached me, desiring to know who I was and what my business. I explained, being careful to address him respectfully.

"Very well," he replied. "I will take you to see Kuchař Wassily. He is the Duke's Cook and will no doubt be in need of a kitchen boy. Follow me, now, and mind your manners."

I was getting hungry now, and the thought of a kitchen was a comforting one. The man I had met led me through passages of stone, some with lancet windows, some lit with candles or torches of wood in iron sconces. The kitchen was vast, steaming and hot. It must have been three times the height of the whole of Papa's cottage, and six times the length and breadth. I looked around, open mouthed. Great fires blazed at one end, and in the middle was a vast wooden table, with women and boys working at tasks I did not, as yet, understand. One boy caught my eye, and winked.

Kuchař Wassily was a vast man with a huge booming voice. But he was a great artist in the kitchen, and no meal went to the Great Hall unless it was perfect. I learned quickly that if Kuchař Wassily were not satisfied with something done by one of his underlings, he would turn red in the face and curse them heartily. But I never saw him strike anyone. "How strong are you?" he asked, winking at the man who had brought me.

"I am strong, sir," I answered; "try me."

So Wassily pointed to a great basket full of vegetables, saying "take that over there, and lift it to the table so that the women may start to prepare the things in it."

I looked with some nervousness at the basket, but having been put on my mettle I determined to do my best. Remembering the way Papa had taught me to lift baskets of logs, I bent my knees, grasped the basket firmly in both hands and gave a steady lift. To my surprise, the basket came up more easily than I had expected. Wassily gave a great rolling laugh, but he said to the other man, "This lad is strong, no?" And he agreed to take me 'on trial' to see whether I would suit.

So I learned to turn the spit, to baste the meat with the great long-handled scoop, to prepare the meat with herbs, binding it with cords and metal skewers so that it would roast evenly. I learned, too, to knead the dough for bread, and was thankful for my woodcutter's muscles, for it was hard work. I learned to prepare the bread ovens with charcoal, to put in the loaves to bake when I had raked them out, and to remove the freshly cooked bread on long wooden paddles.

I made friends with two of the other scullions, Tomasz and Vojtěch. We fooled around, as boys will, keeping a careful eye out for Kuchař Wassily. At night we slept on straw palliasses under the kitchen table; only the women servants slept separately in their own room, to protect their virtue. But we ate three good meals a day, and slept warm on cold nights. I reckoned I was well off.

Then one day Bernard Marek, one of the footmen who took the food at a run from the kitchen to the Great Hall, fell and broke his arm in three places. Both strength and speed were needed for this task, as the kitchen was far from the Hall and the food had to be transported quickly before it got cold, and large quantities cooled more slowly than small ones.

Wassily called me over. "You! Podevin! Be quick!" he said, in that great voice of his, "Change clothes with Marek. You will have to take his place. When you get into the Hall, place this tureen upon the sideboard, bow to the Duke and come out. Make sure you do not turn your back upon His Grace, not even for one moment, but do not look directly at him; that would be regarded as very impertinent. If he speaks to you, bow your head and address him as 'Your Grace'".

In a few moments I was dressed in Marek's livery and given a tray bearing a vast cauldron of boiling hot soup. As I was not familiar with the castle beyond the kitchen, one of the women showed me the way as far as the service entrance to the Hall. Well, I got into the hall, deposited my cauldron upon the sideboard and turned to face the Duke. To my astonishment, he was scarcely more than a boy, not more than a year or so older than I was. He caught my eye, and smiled. I bowed low to him and backed away through the service door. Having looked directly at him I was afraid that I might have given offence and hoped that I would not be beaten or sent away.

Next, I was sent in with a dish so large I had difficulty in carrying it, containing what must have been one side of a roasted hog. Two more scullions, Georg and Josef, came behind me, one with the savoury sauce and one with loaves of fresh bread. This time I deposited my burden, as I had been instructed, directly in front of His Grace. I bowed again, when he said, "You are new here, are you not?"

"Y-yes, Your Grace," I replied, stammering in my nervousness.

"Welcome, then," he said, smiling kindly at my discomfiture. "I hope you find this a good place to work."

"Th-thank you, Your Grace."

He smiled again and nodded, and made a slight gesture of the hand which I interpreted as dismissal. So I bowed and backed away, returning to the kitchen. But I had seen the Duke close to. He cannot have been more than sixteen, very little older than I. He was richly dressed as befitted his rank, in a fur-edged mantle of robin's breast red over spotless white linen, woollen hose of midnight blue and softest leather slippers. And yet he had deigned to speak kindly to a mere serving boy. But I had noticed also that he was a very handsome young man. He was yet too young to have a beard; indeed, all he had upon his face was a faint down upon his upper lip. But he had curly, dark hair, resting upon his shoulders; soft, long-lashed brown eyes, a sensitive mouth and slender, long-fingered hands.

All that week, while poor Marek lay upon his bed, fretting at his uselessness, I served meat to His Grace. On the third night that I did so he asked my name.

"Podevin, Your Grace, the son of Jakub the woodcutter, from Kunraticky."

"Good," he replied. "A lad from our lovely woodlands. Attend me after the meal, if you please."

So that night, I returned to the Great Hall, standing respectfully with my back to the wall, until the Duke beckoned to me.

"I need a new page," he said, "Novotný's father is sick, and needs his son to look after him and his mother. You seem to be strong and quick on your feet. It is in my mind that you might like to take his place."

I was overcome. Papa's words had come true, without a doubt.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I will do my very best to give satisfaction."

"I am sure you will," he said with a beautiful smile. "Go and see the Groom of the Chambers, and he will give you your instructions."

The Groom of the Chambers was a minor nobleman in his own right, and very haughty. I started by addressing him as 'Sir', and received a most frosty look. I tried 'My Lord' and that seemed to meet with his approval. I also had an hour withNovotný, my predecessor, in the Duke's bedchamber, so that I could find out where everything was kept. "Watch out for the Duke," said Novotný before he left, "don't let him... you know…"

I waited for him to finish the sentence, but he slipped out of the door and I heard his feet scampering along the passage. I wondered what it was that I was not to let the Duke do. But,I thought, it can't be anything bad; he is so kind and gracious, and everyone speaks well of him.

I learned from the Groom that when the Duke came to bed, I was to help him to remove his outer clothes, which I was to fold neatly and place ready to bring out with me when I left the room. Then I was to dress him in a big woollen robe, under which he would remove his linen, and then hand him a nightshirt, which had to be warmed first before the fire, and immediately turn my back while he put it on.

That didn't seem to be too difficult, and I managed well enough. As I left the room, he said, in that light, pleasant voice, "Thank you, Podevin, and good night to you." I bowed and slipped away, but as I left the room I felt his eyes upon my back.

To my sorrow, I was no longer allowed to sleep in the kitchen, but I now had a straw mattress in a room with the other pages and junior footmen. It was not nearly as warm as the kitchen.

In the morning I had to collect a big jug of boiling water from the kitchen for him to wash. It had to be boiling when it left the kitchen as by the time it reached the Duke's chamber it would have cooled a good deal. But I carried it on swift feet, and His Grace was pleased with it – and with me. I had to turn my back quickly as he took off his nightshirt, and I then hid my face in a fold of his dressing robe. But I couldn't help taking a peek from time to time. His Grace was very beautiful, smooth and slender and rosy pink in the firelight.

So things went on. Of course, during the day I had all manner of other duties to perform, which the Groom of the Chambers gave me; fetching and carrying, running errands for him and so forth. But it was, I think, on the fifth day of my new service that His Grace said to me, "Podevin, I am going to visit the woodlands soon. Will you be my guide?"

"Very willingly, Your Grace," I replied, nearly bursting with pride and excitement.

The appointed day arrived, and I found His Grace upon his horse, with a little pony for me to ride. Of course, I'd never been on a horse until I came to the Castle, but one of the Masters of the Stables had taught me what I needed to know, and Blossom was a very easy and well-behaved little mare.

And so we set off for the forest, my master and I. Along the way some people recognized him and bowed low, being rewarded with a wave or a gracious smile. Others knew only what they could see: that he was someone of enough consequence to be mounted and with a servant. They too bowed and received his acknowledgement. I reflected that earlier Dukes had not dared to ride out without a bodyguard of four armed men as well as a servant. But Duke Václav told me that he didn't care to be cumbered with soldiers when he was out riding. I did have a bow and arrows on my back, in case of trouble, but they were never called upon.

The forest looked very different from horseback, but I knew it well enough that I could keep my way. Several times the Duke dismounted; a couple of times to visit a cottage, once to relieve himself discreetly behind a tree, and to my surprise a couple of times when he removed his shoes and stockings and walked barefoot.

Presently he said to me, "Podevin, does your father live near here?"

"Yes, Your Grace, quite near. Perhaps a half-hour's ride."

"Take me to him, then. I should like to meet him."

It was actually a little less than a half hour when I heard Papa's axe, and his voice. He nearly dropped his axe with astonishment when he saw me. Then the Duke rode up behind, and Papa fell to his knees. But His Grace dismounted, giving his horse to me to hold, and raised Papa to his feet, and greeted him courteously.

Papa said to the Duke, "I trust my son gives satisfaction, Your Grace?"

"Oh yes," replied the Duke. "In every way. Podevin is a good boy, a very good boy, and I am glad to have his company. Tell me, honest sir, could you find me a cup of ale?"

In all my wildest dreams, it could never have occurred to me that one day my father and I might find ourselves sitting outside our little cottage, entertaining Duke Vaslav, ruler of all the province of Bohemia, with our home-brewed ale. But it was so, and the Duke talked to Papa, asking him about his work, and his family.

"And," said the Duke after a few minutes of this, "how about young Podevin? Is there a maiden somewhere who has caught his eye?"

"Oh, no, Your Grace. Podevin is much too young for that kind of thing. Though I recall," he continued in a reminiscent way, "that I was not much older than Podevin is now, when I fell in love with Marika, the daughter of old Andrej the shepherd and married her. But she died, not long after Podevin was born, and I never cared to look for anyone else."

The Duke said nothing, but laid his hand on Papa's arm. Before long the time had come for us to return to the Castle, so we re-mounted and rode away, Papa waving to us until he was out of sight.

That night when I attended His Grace's bedchamber, he said to me, "Podevin, don't go yet. I should like to talk to you. Tell me, do you think about girls? Is there a young person about the Castle who has caught your eye?"

"No, Your Grace," I replied. As far as girls and women were concerned I couldn't see what all the fuss was about. But there was someone who had caught my eye: it was the Duke himself. It was partly that he was so gracious and kindly, and partly that he was so handsome. And in truth I had seen more of him than I ought to have done, as he could be a little careless with his dressing-robe, and once I had seen him naked behind, and it was as neatly rounded as that of any of the serving-boys whose beds on the kitchen floor I shared. It was my duty, too, to handle his under-garments and take them to the laundry to be washed, and I had found that unlike the young scullions in the kitchen, his body had but a faint, pleasant odour.

"That's good," said His Grace. Come and sit by me, on the bed."

Nothing loath, I did as he commanded. He put his arm around my shoulders, and drew me to him. Me, a common servant boy! But I did as my nature made me, and leaned upon him, dropping my head briefly upon his shoulder. His other hand sought mine and clasped it, and he said "Podevin, you are a pearl among boys. You and I will take further journeys together, by and by." We sat thus for a few minutes, and then he sent me about my duties. But I treasured the feeling of his arm around me, and his hand clasping mine, in my heart.

Weeks went by, and Summer ended. His Grace and I did indeed take more journeys together, some to the woodland, some to other castles. There was one castle, where dwelt his uncle Sigismund, whom I did not trust in the least. His smile used to leave his face too soon, when the person smiled at looked away. His Grace knew this, I think, for he asked me to sleep in his chamber, lying upon a palliasse across the doorway. But he was as always, gracious and kind, not only to his equals but also to those beneath him, whether gentlefolk or commoners. If we ever passed a poor man or woman on our travels, he would stop and talk to them, and he always carried – or I carried for him, for it could be quite heavy – a purse of silver coins, and he would give one or two to those he talked to, if they seemed to be in need. And once we passed a lame man whose walking stick had broken, and he gave the man his own stick, saying, "Podevin here can always cut me a new one, but your need is greater than mine, friend."

As Autumn drew on, the weather became colder and the nights longer and darker. Ever since we had returned from his uncle Sigismund's castle, the Duke had had me to sleep in his chamber across the doorway. There was nothing in this, except that I was within the chamber rather than outside it, as was more usual. But there was one night, when a bitter North wind blew, and whistled under the door of the Duke's chamber, when I shivered so much that my teeth chattered.

Then, to my amazement, I heard the Duke's voice, very softly, saying, "Podevin, come here, lie beside me and keep me warm."

Hardly knowing what I was doing, I got up from my palliasse, crossed to his bed and got in beside him. He put an arm around me, drawing me close, and was soon asleep. That was the first night that I shared his bed. I have never since then slept apart from him.

I knew enough of court life, of course, to keep my mouth firmly closed about all this. As far as anyone in the castle knew, I was sleeping across his doorway in case of attempts upon his life. Only he and I knew better. And then came the night, not long before Christmas, when his betrothal was announced, to Princess Elisabetha of Saxony.

"Dear Podevin," said the Duke, as we snuggled down together, "I wish I could marry you. I don't like the Princess. It's not only that she is fat, and squints. But I think boys are much nicer than girls anyway."

So this was whatNovotný had warned me about! But the difference was that what the Duke was offering, I very much wanted. There had been many nights when I was still a kitchen lad, when Tomasz and Vojtěch and I had found comfort and pleasure in one another's bodies. Yes, I knew exactly what I wanted – and also I knew what the Duke wanted.

Greatly daring, I turned towards His Grace so that our noses were nearly touching. I could feel his breath, sweet-scented with his herbal mouthwash, upon my face. And then it happened. We clasped each other, mouth to mouth, belly to belly, now with his thigh between my legs, now with mine between his. It began with a kiss, but somehow it seemed to go on from there, with mouths and tongues and hands and our virile members, until we reached the point together which men call the 'little death', that point in love which is of such sweetness that one's whole being is caught up in it.

I fetched a cloth and cleaned the seed which we had spilled from our bodies and from the bed, then I lay again next to His Grace, feeling that at last I had arrived at the place where I belonged. We drifted in and out of sleep; once I got out of bed to throw some more wood upon the fire, which had burned low.

"Dear Podevin" said the Duke softly, his arms around me and our bodies touching along their whole length, "out there, beyond that door, we are Duke and Page, master and servant. But in here we are just two boys, Podevin and Václav. Do you love me, Podevin? For I love you, very dearly."

"Yes, dear Václav," I answered him. And set to work to demonstrate just how much I loved him.

Advent came, and St Nicholas-tide, and the weather grew steadily colder. Occasionally when sleeping across the Duke's door I had wished myself back in the kitchen, tumbled together with the other boys under the great table, warmed by the cook-fires which never went out, summer or winter. But now that I was sharing Václav's bed I envied no-one. For not only was it warm, but I had his exquisite boy's body next to mine, and the sweetness of our love. And never a night went by but that we showed our love to one another.

Christmas came, and the weather was bitter. The sky was so clear that you could count a million stars, if you had only patience enough, and men huddled close to their fires. On Christmas Day there was a great feast, and the Duke had sent out a proclamation that any poor man, woman or child who cared to do so was to come to the Castle and share in it. Well, a good many poor folk did come, and to each and every one the Duke gave a silver penny, as well as a meal the like of which he had never seen. But the next morning he said to me, as we lay in bed, "Dear Podevin, I wonder how many poor folk there are in the woodlands, and in the villages round about, who did not hear my proclamation. We must set out, as soon as may be, and see who we missed."

So the following day, the day dedicated to the first Christian Martyr, St Stephen, we set out, the Duke on his tall chestnut horse Klusák, I on little Blossom by his side. Two other servants had come along as well, on donkeys, carrying a burden of food – it was just some of the left-overs from the Christmas feast, but it was a huge load for them to carry.

And one by one, as we came to cottages along the way, we gave to their delighted occupants roasted beef, and plum pudding, and wine or ale. Deeper and deeper into the forest we went. We came to my father's cottage, and he and Grandfather were not forgotten. We sat there by a bright fire, while the Duke asked my father about my childhood. And then outside the door we heard a shuffling, and the cough of an old man.

"Who is that outside?" asked the Duke.

"It'll be old Martin," I replied, "He lives right on the edge of the forest, near the old well. He'll be on his way home now."

The Duke looked concerned. "Does he have any family?"

"No, Your Grace," replied Papa. "His wife and son died in just such a winter as this, maybe forty years ago. He has been on his own, ever since."

"And where does he live?"

"His cottage is at the edge of the forest, Your Grace, at the foot of the mountain. It's close to the old well. But it's a fair distance, maybe three miles."

The Duke stood up. "Then we will visit him. Give me a basket of that food there, and a bottle of wine. No, put it in a sack so that I can carry it upon my back. And, Podevin, do you bring along some firewood for him too. We'll bring the feast to him since he couldn't come to us!"

We set out from Papa's cottage, leaving the other servants behind to keep warm. By now the way was too snowy for the horses to manage, so we went on foot. My word! That was a bitter night. The wind howled like a demon from some frozen hell, the snow blew freezing in our faces, but still the Duke walked on steadily with me by his side. I became colder, and faint-hearted, and colder still, and more faint-hearted. The remaining daylight had gone, and under the trees even the light of the moon and stars was flickering and uncertain. I suddenly felt I could bear it no longer.

"Your Grace… dear Václav… I cannot go on. It is dark, and the cold is eating into my bones. Let us turn back, and stay the night at my father's cottage, and visit Old Martin in the morning."

The Duke, my beloved Václav, said to me, "Stop for a few moments." He removed his shoes, as he had often done before in the woods, leaving just his stockings to cover his feet. "It's easier without shoes," he said, "the woollen cloth gives a better grip in the snow. You do the same, dearest Podevin. And look, see where my footsteps are. Follow my tracks, tread where I have trodden, and I believe you will find even this fearsome winter less daunting."

I did as Václav told me, and I was astonished as never before. Of course, his body shielded me from the worst of the wind's wintry fury. But as I trod in his footprints, it seemed as if some heat were left in them from his feet; my own feet were no longer numb with cold and I strode out boldly, where before I had felt that my very blood might freeze in my veins, now it flowed with renewed vigour, bringing warmth and courage to every part of my body. It was a true miracle, wrought by a young, saintly Duke out of love: love for me, love for those of his subjects who were too poor to fend for themselves.

Before long we were at old Martin's cottage, and he was delighted with the Christmas gifts we brought. I brought out my tinder box and lit a fire for him, and we heated up the food and even mulled a good cup of wine. Since it was now dark as well as freezing we spent the night there. Old Martin had lived on his own there a great many years, and spent much of them in quiet thought and prayer; gaining in wisdom what he had lost in bodily vigour. I told him about our journey, and how treading in the Duke's footprints had brought me comfort and courage. He thought for a while, and then said, "I think that in years to come, someone will hear of your journey, and perhaps make a song about it. And Podevin, think on this: you set out with His Grace to bless a poor man; but you yourself were blessed upon your journey."

Well, the Duke , my sweet Václav, did eventually marry Elisabetha, and he did his duty by her, but I remained his beloved companion by day as well as by night. He was greatly loved by all the people of Bohemia, despite which there were attempts upon his life, including – it seems incredible, but it is true – one made by his own brother. He had been right when he said that he needed no soldiers to guard him when he visited the poor. It was the great and wealthy who were the threat to him.

When Grandpapa died and Papa grew too old to work, Václav had him brought to the Castle and installed in his own little room. And old Martin had been right, Papa did make a song about our adventures on that bitter night, and the song was copied and re-copied and went to monasteries and libraries not only in our own dear Bohemia, but abroad. One copy even made its way to far-off Británie, that the Romans of old called Britannia, where it was translated by a scholar into the Brythonic tongue. But though he was quite a poet, Papa was never very sure about his spelling. And so he used a very old-fashioned way of spelling the name of Duke Václav of Bohemia, as well as giving him the title that all the poor folk knew him by:

"Good King Wenceslaus looked out,On the Feast of Stephen…"