The Swan King

by Nina Clare

  Herr Haller bowed to them, his look of weariness returning; she hurried away to the waiting carriage.

  Chapter 20

  A Carriage of Birds

  It was the day of the feast. Elisabeth lingered in the Winter Garden that morning, but not from pleasure—only from anxiety, for she could only find three swans.

  She searched every foot of the garden, pacing round the artificial lake over and again, hunting for the missing swan. She asked the remaining three where their companion had gone. They were flustered and scattered in their thoughts, sending hazy images of what looked like men with loud voices and nets.

  She searched the palace for Paul, but the prince was excessively busy that morning, and she could not get a word with him. The king was likewise engaged. She found the palace chamberlain, but he looked at her as though she were mad when she explained that she was looking for a missing swan.

  ‘I have no time, madam,’ he said, ‘to hunt for birds. The emperor is coming!’

  She found the Haushofmeister, but he had no interest in ducks—the emperor was coming!

  ‘Swan,’ she called after his retreating figure. ‘Not a duck,’ but he was gone.

  She searched the grounds, questioning every gardener she met. But no one had seen a stray swan.

  She returned to the palace, feeling defeated, and paused in the great hall, watching the preparations, and wondering where she could look next. She stood near a windowed alcove, out of the way of the hurrying servants, then soon realised she was not alone. There were voices behind her, and she turned to see the two elderly princesses, huddled together, their figures obscured behind the drapes of the window.

  ‘Look, Little Sister, see where they will dance,’ said Princess Marie, peeking out behind the drapes.

  ‘As we once danced,’ said Princess Sibylle. ‘Under the moon, with all the pretty lights dancing with us.’

  ‘And the music, Sister, recall the music, and the singing.’

  ‘Oh, the singing! They do not know how to sing here, they only warble and croak.’

  Elisabeth approached them. ‘Good morning, Your Highnesses,’ she greeted, giving a curtsey.

  They started at her voice; Princess Sibylle brandished her silver-topped stick as though to fend her off, but on seeing who it was she lowered it again. ‘How do you see us?’ she said. ‘We are invisible. Sister, it is her. The one who smells of the mountain.’

  ‘Come here,’ said Princess Marie, beckoning Elisabeth to her. ‘Do not let them see you, or they will take you away and lock the door.’

  ‘Who will take me away?’ Elisabeth asked, moving to their side.

  ‘Back!’ cried Princess Sibylle as Elisabeth moved near her. ‘Do not touch me, you will dirty me!’

  Alarmed at her sudden vehemence Elisabeth stepped back again.

  ‘Come by me,’ urged Princess Marie. ‘You know better than to touch my sister.’

  ‘Who will take me away,’ Elisabeth repeated, lowering her voice and stepping farther into the curtained alcove as four footmen filed past, bearing boxes of candles.

  ‘All of them,’ said Princess Marie.

  ‘Except our bright and beautiful boy,’ said Princess Sibylle, examining her white dress carefully, as though looking for a speck of dirt. ‘Did the footsteps of those footmen dirty my gown?’

  ‘Your gown is white as snow, Little Sister,’ Princess Marie assured her. ‘You come from the mountain,’ she said. ‘I know you have, for we can hear the flowers upon you, can we not, Little Sister?’

  Princess Sibylle ceased examining her gown and looked up to say, ‘Oh, yes. Yes, we can. We knew you were coming, for the moonlight told us.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘And you smell delightful, lightful, full of light Where is that scent coming from?’ She sniffed genteelly in Elisabeth’s direction. ‘It is coming from there,’ she declared, stretching out a wrinkled finger to point below Elisabeth’s throat. ‘What is it?’

  Elisabeth pulled out her swan pendant and let it rest against her gown.

  ‘Oh!’ cried both sisters, reaching out, so that she stepped back, putting a hand to her necklace to avoid it being snatched at.

  ‘Only let us look!’ begged Princess Sibylle.

  Elisabeth removed her hand, still wary of any sudden lunge.

  ‘How I wish we could get back to the mountains, Sister,’ Princess Sibylle said in a mournful tone. Her eyes not leaving the pendant. ‘To see the swans, to follow them once again, into the cave—’

  ‘Hush, Little Sister,’ Princess Marie said sternly. ‘Do not mention the cave. It is a secret.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ whispered Princess Sibylle. ‘Such a secret. When shall we go?’

  Her sister did not reply, for at that moment the curtain they stood behind was yanked aside and Princess Sibylle squealed as Frau Müller appeared.

  ‘You naughty, naughty Highnesses, I have been looking everywhere for you! You will get me into trouble, you will get me fired—is that what you want?’

  Princess Sibylle nodded and brandished her stick. ‘Do not touch me! Not one speck of dirt, not one!’

  ‘Come along nicely, and I won’t touch you,’ Frau Müller pledged, ducking back to avoid Princess Sibylle’s stick. ‘Hit me again, Your Highness, and I will cast it into the fishpond, that I will!’

  ‘Let me touch it once,’ Princess Marie said in parting. She put out a trembling hand to reach for the pendant. ‘Just a touch.’ Elisabeth held up the carved swan so she might touch its surface. Princess Marie’s thin fingers suddenly closed tight upon it and a fierce look came into her eyes as she made to yank it from Elisabeth’s neck.

  ‘Stop that!’ Elisabeth exclaimed, tugging her pendant free.

  The fierceness drained from Princess Marie’s eyes and they filled with tears instead.

  ‘Come along, Your Highness,’ said Frau Müller, taking hold of her arm. ‘This way. It’s nearly luncheon, you don’t want to miss your broth, now, do you?’

  ‘Eat this, drink that,’ sang Princess Marie glumly as she was led away. ‘Sit there, be quiet.’

  ‘Never never go into the shining cave where the walls glitter and glimmer and sing,’ added Princess Sibylle’s quavery voice. ‘But we want to go, don’t we Sister? Oh, why can’t we go?’

  Elisabeth watched the little figures totter away under the close supervision of Frau Müller.

  ‘Fräulein Schwan,’ called a familiar voice. Paul was marching by with a group of young officers. He stood taller and broader and more handsome than all of them in his deep blue uniform with gold epaulets and braiding. ‘I hope the mad aunts did not trouble you?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Very good.’ He smiled and bowed his head and passed on, clearly busy with duties.

  ‘One of your latest, Paul?’ She heard one of the officers say as they moved away. She did not catch the prince’s reply, but she heard his voice and wondered at the laughter that rippled through the group. That did trouble her, and so did the realisation that she had not taken the opportunity to tell the prince of the missing swan, and now he was out of sight.

  The mystery of the swan worried her all day; she felt responsible for it, she had been charged by the king to watch over them. She was not of rank to be present at the grand feast, so she had no preparations of her own to see to. She felt adrift in the bustle of the palace, as everybody but her seemed to have something urgent to do. Even the prince, her one ally, had abandoned her; and why had he laughed with those officers about her? She felt very low.

  Herr Weimann arrived later that afternoon that he might discuss building plans with the king before the guests arrived. Elisabeth had not seen the king that day. She saw Herr Weimann strutting down the hall to the king’s apartments, his apprentice following, bearing an armful of documents. Herr Weimann was dressed in full evening dress with a white waistcoat embroidered in silver. She wondered if his flashing buttons were of real diamonds, if so, they were sizeable indeed.

  Later she wandered back up to the Win
ter Garden, hoping against hope that the missing swan might have somehow returned. But there were still only three fretful swans remaining.

  ‘Do I intrude?’ a voice called to her from the little bridge. Herr Haller turned towards her, his sketchbook in hand.

  ‘No, not at all,’ she replied. Feeling glad to see a friendly face after her anxious day.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked. ‘You look worried.’

  ‘There’s a swan missing. I’ve looked everywhere. I cannot think where it could be.’

  Herr Haller crossed the bridge to reach her. ‘Missing?’ he frowned. ‘There’s no way it could wander out of here. I assume you’ve searched every inch of this place.’

  ‘Many times. I think it’s been taken. But I don’t know by who, or why.’

  Herr Haller frowned again and rubbed his forehead as though that helped him think more clearly.

  ‘There’s only one reason I can think of why someone would want to take a swan.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  He looked grim. ‘Follow me. I hope I’m wrong, but we’ll soon find out.’

  She followed Herr Haller through the palace, away from the king’s suite, down to the servants’ wings and into the maze of kitchen preparation rooms.

  ‘Why are we here?’ Elisabeth asked, as cooks and servers flew about her.

  Through the archway to the cold room she saw great pyramids of jellies on silver salvers. She and Herr Haller stood back against the wall as a pair of footmen passed out of the cold room bearing between them a great statue of ice carved into a life-size swan—the king’s royal symbol. After them came two footmen with an ice statue of an eagle, the symbol of the emperor.

  She followed Herr Haller farther into the kitchens, past the pastry room, the baking room, the fish room, into the main kitchen which was sweltering from the heat of the range. In an antechamber, great platters of roasted meat stood decorated in fanciful displays, served on columns and stands carved from white fat.

  ‘Grand Duchess Soup!’ hollered a chef in a tall white hat, red-faced from heat and exertion. ‘TAKE OUT THE SOUP!’

  Waiters hurried to take up silver tureens, filing out into the servery.

  ‘Queen-style Soufflé!’ bellowed the chef. ‘How long?’

  ‘Nineteen minutes, sir!’ shouted back someone from a distant part of the kitchen.

  ‘Prince’s Calves Ears on Torte! How long?’

  ‘Twenty-seven minutes, sir!’ shouted someone else.

  ‘Pan-sear of the Duke! How long?’

  ‘Ready to be seared, fourteen minutes before service, sir!’

  ‘Emperor’s Swan!’

  ‘Roasted and resting, ready to be served in two minutes, sir!’

  ‘Swan!’ Elisabeth said in horror, looking at Herr Haller.

  ‘I feared as much.’ He looked pained. ‘Sorry.’

  Elisabeth rushed into the preparation room. A roast swan sat upon a silver platter, re-clothed in its skin and feathers. It was a macabre sight.

  ‘Where did you get the swan?’ she cried, taking hold of the arm of the cook who was pouring liquid green jelly into the base of a platter. He swung round and glared at her.

  ‘Get out of here! I’ve got two minutes to get this done!’

  ‘Where did you get the swan?’ she cried again, feeling frantic.

  ‘It wasn’t on the menu,’ said another cook, turning his pyramid of carefully balanced roast quails to garnish the back of the platter. ‘We got word that roast swan is the emperor’s favourite dish, so we had to move fast.’

  ‘Who took it?’ Elisabeth’s voice was trembling with anger. ‘It belonged to the king!’

  The cook shrugged. ‘I don’t know who took it. I just decorate the things.’

  Elisabeth couldn’t bear to remain in the same room as the swan. She looked about for Herr Haller, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  She left the kitchens, desperate to get away from the heat and noise. She slumped against the wall of the hall outside. A hand was placed lightly on her shoulder.

  ‘Where did you go?’ she asked Herr Haller.

  ‘I asked around. The head chef had word early this morning that the emperor was to have roast swan served in his honour as his favourite dish.’

  ‘But why take the king’s own swan?’

  ‘He said it was the only one to be got hold of at such short notice. They thought the king would want to please the emperor. At least they left the peacock alone,’ Herr Haller said by way of comfort.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Those swans are important to the king. What will he say?’

  ‘Roasts to be taken out for display!’ sounded a loud voice.

  Servers swarmed in to take up the platters, Herr Haller pulled Elisabeth to one side to avoid being crushed.

  ‘We can’t let them take it out!’ she said, pushing Herr Haller’s hand from her arm.

  ‘We can’t stop them,’ he said. ‘We don’t have the authority.’

  ‘You don’t understand!’ She rushed after the men bearing the swan to the banquet hall. But it was not easy to follow them through the crowd of servers and cooks and scullery maids. Herr Haller pulled her to the side once again as she was almost mown down by a potboy carrying an enormous pile of copper pans to the scullery.

  ‘You don’t understand!’ she said again to him, as he held her safely out of the way. The hallways cleared as the servers left. She was tearful with frustration. Herr Haller regarded her with concern.

  ‘No, I don’t understand. What is so important about it? There are plenty of others in the king’s waters. Do you really think he would begrudge the emperor one?’

  She did not answer, but hurried down the hall, she had to stop the king from seeing his swan.

  ‘Fräulein Opel, it has been reported to the Committee that the king’s behaviour at the banquet that night was most disturbed. Can you confirm this?’

  ‘I was not at the banquet. I was not of rank to be invited.’

  ‘But you must know of what happened that evening. You were there, in the palace.’

  ‘I know that he left the banquet hall before the meal had ended, yes.’

  ‘In the middle of the soufflé course, was it not? He abandoned the table in the emperor’s presence, his most honoured guest. He brought the evening’s festivities to a sudden and violent halt, did he not?’

  ‘I believe it was the soup course,’ she said lamely. ‘But, yes. He did bring the feast to a sudden halt.’

  ‘Can you tell us why? Some report that he had an inexplicable outburst of rage. Some say he was drunk, others say there was no cause whatsoever, but was a moment of sheer madness. Perhaps the first sign of an impending lunacy. Would you agree?’

  ‘No. I would not. He was not mad, or drunk. And he had good cause to be upset.’

  ‘Pray, do explain.’

  ‘They had served his swan.’

  ‘His swan?’

  ‘It was said that the Emperor of Österreich’s favourite dish was roast swan.’

  ‘I do not understand. Why would this cause the king to act with such violence? He threw his glass to the floor in front of his guests. He threw back his chair in his fury, did he not? He raged and used the most violent of language. The Countess of Landsfeld fainted with shock. These are attested facts.’

  ‘They should not have taken his swan. He loved all his creatures.’

  ‘He loved his swan. Hmm, does that sound like the sentiment of a rational man? Would a rational man humiliate the Emperor of Österreich and tyrannise his guests with uncontrolled rage because he loved his swan? You do not answer, Fräulein.’

  ‘I have nothing further to say on the matter. They took his swan and cooked it. It was most distressing for the king. They should not have done such a thing.’

  ‘Perhaps they should not have plucked the pea pods from the palace vegetable gardens without the king’s express permission!’

  ‘Should you mock your king in such a way?’


  ‘We do not know if we still have a king. We have only a Protector until the king is found.’

  ‘Only a usurper!’

  ‘I see you share the quality of high temper with our missing king, Fräulein. Take care it does not lead you into trouble also. We will remain sensible here as we pursue the truth of the matter.’

  ‘Truth? You will not believe the truth.’

  ‘Enough! I will make allowance for your feminine hysteria to a degree, especially considering your recent trauma, but we must continue in a spirit of rationality. Pray, continue your account. What happened that night when the king stormed out of the banquet?’

  ‘He left. He returned to his mountain castle.’

  ‘And you left also?’

  ‘Yes. I received the order to leave. The carriages drove through the night.’

  ‘And is it true that one carriage contained birds?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You did not consider that odd? A gilded royal carriage with three pairs of horses to transport a peacock and three swans?’

  ‘I considered that the king did not think it safe to leave his birds behind.’

  There was a snigger from somewhere in the room, which quickly turned into a cough.

  ‘And what happened when you returned to Castle Swanstein?’

  ‘He began building his own castle. New Swanstein.’

  ‘Describe to us the events of that period, Fräulein Opel. It may shed light on some puzzling facts and strange reports.’

  ‘What do you wish to know?’

  ‘Everything.’

  Chapter 21

  Rumours

  Elisabeth only saw the king once the next day. It was very early in the morning, and the mist still hovered over the lake as she stood watching it.

  ‘Are they well?’ said the king, appearing suddenly at her side, looking more like a herald of moonrise than daybreak, with his luminous, pale skin and his deep-blue eyes.

  ‘They are glad to be back,’ she replied. The three white swans were ghostly outlines on the water as the mist swirled round them.