Ivan parked the car and they walked the pathway, passing a row of ancient workshops and finally what remained of the damaged storehouse. The blackened brick exterior still stood but the tiled roof and interior timbers had collapsed, exposing the building to the cobalt blue sky above. As they passed through the guard tower, the walls of the five-story palace loomed above them. This was not like the Renaissance Zamek Castle, with it's pristine white plaster exterior carved with geometric scraffiti. This was a Gothic structure, domineering and festooned with small windows on every level. Castle Louka was a fortress.
It was only until the great carved wooden doors to the palace were opened that the real glory of Castle Louka was revealed. The ceremonial hall was as big as a playing field and its' alabaster white, alveolar vaulted ceiling rose three stories high. There was a fireplace one could stand upright in and the stone floors showed the centuries wear of noblemen and women, warriors, servants and now tourists that had trod them. Along the walls of the chamber were carved oak paneling and at the end of the hall was a leaded glass window two-stories high. On either side of the chamber were two wide staircases leading to the upper floors. There were no furnishings within the hall with the exception of a huge globe of the ancient world before the window. Diane had been in many European castles but this one felt different. It felt familiar.
As they climbed the staircase and passed from one wing to another, Ivan spoke of the Vindrich clan, the Moravian family that had owned the castle through the centuries and the changes they had made to the original structure as their fortunes grew. In 1948 the last descendant who had supported the Nazis was forced out of Czechoslovakia and had sold the castle to Mr. Paul de Meyer for a desperately low price. Now there were tours all year long with the exception of mid December when the younger Mr. de Meyer spent his holidays there.
Diane and Ivan crossed a covered wooden bridge connecting the palace with the tower, four stories above the main courtyard with a wonderful view of the river below. A small ferryboat was slowly shuttling tourist from the nearby village and depositing them at a dock from which they could climb the steep, wooded path that led up to the castle entrance. A group of ten or so people was gathered in the courtyard waiting for the next tour.
As they entered the tower Ivan said, "This wing is off limits to the tours so you won't be disturbed. It now houses guest quarters and Mr. de Meyer's private apartments. The light is good most of the day. You will be sharing the large studio with Maria but you each have your own bedroom. We men are in the other wing." Ivan opened the door to the studio which was a large converted sitting room flooded with light from windows on three sides. Maria Varias was in one corner working on a life size, Gothic marble sculpture of Christ on Mount Olive.
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