Becoming Lola

by Harriet Steel

  Then an unwelcome letter arrived. It was brought to her one February afternoon as she and Berthe Thierry sat in the parlour at the back of the Barerstrasse house. Outside, a thrush pecked ruthlessly at the crimson berries on a holly bush and a light fall of fresh snow covered the grass.

  ‘How dare that man presume to lecture me,’ Lola raged after she had read the message.

  Berthe looked anxious. ‘Who is it from, Lola?’

  ‘Prince Wallerstein, the king’s new chief minister. He had better leave me be if he expects to keep his job. Fritz told me the Alemania asked him to give the speech for their first annual dinner - apparently it is customary for the chief minister to honour the fraternities in that way – but he would not. His refusal alone is an insult, but now that is not enough for him. He dares to accuse me of endangering the king by encouraging the Alemania. He says it will cause a revolt in the university.’

  She tore up the letter and threw it into the fire. The flames licked at the scraps of paper for a moment then flared up and reduced them to ashes.

  ‘Pompous old fool,’ Lola muttered. ‘These people are all the same, they don’t want anything to change. Well, they won’t get their way with me.’

  ‘Perhaps it would be better not to make an enemy of Prince Wallerstein, Lola,’ Berthe said. ‘He’s very grand.’

  Lola scowled. ‘I won’t crawl to a bully.’

  There were footsteps outside the door then a knock. Instantly, Lola forgot her anger. Her face brightened and she smoothed her hair. ‘It will be Fritz. He promised to come this afternoon.’

  She ran across to the door and opened it to find him outside. Berthe got up from her chair and smiled at him as he came into the room.

  ‘Good afternoon, Herr Peissner, I hope you will excuse me, I have some letters to write.’

  Fritz bowed. ‘Of course.’

  As soon as Berthe had gone, Lola flew into his arms. ‘I’ve missed you so.’

  He winced as she hugged him and, noticing it, she frowned. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Gently, he detached himself. ‘I took a tumble from my horse, that’s all. He slipped on a patch of ice. It’s nothing serious, just a few bruises.’

  ‘Oh Fritz.’ She laughed. ‘You are so careless. I expect you were dreaming of some philosophical theory or other. Where did it happen?’

  ‘In the Ludwigstrasse.’

  ‘But I was there this morning, I’m sure there was no ice.’

  He coloured. ‘Did I say the Ludwigstrasse? I meant the Feldstrasse.’

  ‘You’re lying to me. What are you hiding?’ She undid the buttons of his jacket and pulled his shirt out from his soft leather breeches. Over his left side, she saw a mass of bruises.

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Who did this? You didn’t fall from your horse, did you?’

  He hung his head. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you. I got into a fight.’

  ‘Come and sit down. I’ll send for some ointment and ice.’

  ‘No please, I don’t want a fuss,’ he protested, but he let her take his hand and lead him to the sofa by the window.

  ‘You must tell me everything. I’ll know if you’re hiding the truth,’ she said.

  He sighed. ‘Very well. We have been barred from lectures. When we went to complain to the rector, he said he could do nothing. Apparently, if any member of the Alemania is seen in a lecture hall, the other students will walk out.’

  ‘That is bad, but words do not cause bruises. What else?’

  ‘We left the rector’s lodgings intending to go to Rottmann’s Café and hold a meeting, but on the way there, a gang of students set on us.’ He grimaced. ‘I used to think most of them were my friends. Still, we gave a good account of ourselves, even though we were outnumbered three to one.’

  ‘I’ll speak to the king.’

  ‘No, I don’t want that.’

  She frowned. ‘Not this silly notion again that you and I are doing something wrong? I’ve told you more than once, the king and I are very close but we are simply dear friends. We have never been lovers.’

  That was not really a lie, she reflected, for ever since that first night she had pleaded illness or fear of pregnancy to avoid any more intimacy and it had not seemed to trouble Ludwig.

  She stroked Fritz’s cheek. ‘Ludwig would not grudge me happiness. It’s only out of delicacy that I don’t want anyone to know what you and I are to each other, but if you don’t trust my judgement, I’m not afraid to confide in him. Then you will see for yourself.’

  He took her hand and kissed it. ‘My darling, of course I trust you, but I would still prefer it if you did not speak to him. I must deal with this.’

  ‘If you insist, then I’ll do as you say.’

  *

  One morning soon afterwards, accompanied by the guards, Turk, and her maid, Lola set off for her usual walk. The crisp, cold air made her cheeks glow but she felt snug in the white, fox-fur cloak the king had given her as a Christmas gift. At the corner of the Barerstrasse, a group of students stood talking on the pavement.

  ‘You are in my way,’ she called out. None of them looked at her. She raised her voice. ‘I said, you are in my way.’

  One of the students cast a glance over his shoulder and shrugged before turning back to his friends.

  ‘Do you expect me to walk by in the gutter?’ she shouted.

  Another student sniggered and nudged his neighbour. Turk growled and strained at his lead. The students closest to him backed away.

  ‘Cowards,’ she spat, ‘you insult a defenceless woman but you are afraid of a harmless dog. Just wait until the king hears of this. He will punish you all.’ She flounced away down the street, leaving them glowering after her.

  That evening, when she went to the theatre, she wore her most magnificent diamonds. Across the auditorium, she saw Prince Wallerstein sitting with his wife. In the stalls below, the red caps of the Alemanen bobbed like poppies in a windy meadow. She raised her lorgnette and fixed her gaze on Wallerstein. He returned the look, his patrician face a mask of disapproval as his wife whispered to him behind her fan. Lola chuckled. The elderly princess was obviously giving her opinion in the most emphatic terms. The black feathers of her headdress bobbed above her grey locks as she jerked her head about, for all the world like a hen deprived of her chicks. Well, the Wallersteins could stare all they liked. She, Lola, would not be the one to look away first.

  In the days that followed though, it became increasingly hard to dismiss the hostility that crackled in the very air of Munich. On every excursion from the Barerstrasse, catcalls and whistles pursued her.

  ‘Stay in the house, Lolita,’ Ludwig begged.

  Her brow furrowed. ‘Must I be a prisoner then?’

  ‘It’s for your safety. It won’t be for long. This will pass, I’m sure of it.’

  She nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

  But after he had gone, she let out a snort of anger. She wouldn’t allow anyone to curb her freedom. She hadn’t exactly promised the king. If she wanted to go out, what harm was there in it?

  *

  The following morning, she had planned to visit Fritz. Unwilling to abandon the idea, she slipped out through a back door while the day’s deliveries were arriving. On guard at the front of the house, Captain Weber and his men didn’t notice she had gone. Ten minutes from home, she met Ludwig hurrying towards the Barerstrasse, his old green hunting coat thrown over his dark suit. His face was flushed and the veins on his neck stood out like ropes.

  ‘Lolita, what are you doing here? Where are Weber and his men?’

  She smiled. ‘You see I have come this far and no one has molested me. You worry too much, Luis.’

  ‘I warned you it is not safe for you on the streets. Today is worse than ever. Lola, you must not defy me like this.’

  She ignored his anger.

  ‘Why? What has happened?’

  ‘The Alemania are hiding in Rottmann’s Café. A mob of students is baying for their blood. I’ve
called out the police but I must go back to the palace,’ - he indicated his suit - ‘when I heard the news, I was in the middle of a meeting of my ministers.’

  Lola felt a stab of alarm. ‘I must go to my friends at once.’

  He grasped her shoulder and brought his face close to hers. ‘No! I forbid it. I promise you will be the first to be told when they are safe, but you must go home.’

  She touched his cheek. ‘You are so good the way you care about me, my dearest,’ she said. ‘If you want me to go home then I will.’ Her sudden pliancy reassured him and with a swift goodbye, he left her to return to the palace.

  In the Barerstrasse, Weber’s jaw dropped as she hurried past him and into the house. She flew up the crystal staircase to her boudoir. There, she changed her plumed hat for a plain, dark-blue bonnet and wrapped herself in a dark cloak. Then she ordered her maid to call for her carriage.

  The girl hesitated.

  ‘Do as I tell you,’ Lola snapped.

  A short while later, she swept past Weber once again. Humpelmeyer, her coachman, hovered by the carriage. ‘Quickly, help me in,’ she ordered. ‘We’re going to Rottmann’s Café.’

  At the café, a large crowd had gathered outside. The din alarmed the horses and they jibbed at moving on. Humpelmeyer climbed down from his box and tried to calm them but they continued to toss their heads and flecks of spittle frothed around their nostrils.

  Lola leant out of the carriage window.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘They won’t move, countess. We will have to turn back.’

  ‘I’ll walk the last part of the way. Oh, don’t look so scared man, nothing will happen to me. Take the horses home and see to it they are rubbed down and fed.’

  Her decisive tone silenced his protests. He watched as she strode off into the throng, then got back on his box and turned the carriage around. He hoped he would not have to answer to the king for what he had done.

  Outside Rottmann’s, the crowd was even denser than before and in spite of the cold, the heat of packed bodies was tremendous. A thin rain had begun to fall and the smell of sweat and damp wool made Lola gag, but she pressed on. A roar went up as people recognised her. At first, she managed to shake off the hands that reached out to grab her, but step by step, her progress slowed until she was hemmed in by a heaving mass of men brandishing sticks and hurling abuse.

  They are like gargoyles, she thought, so vicious that they seem inhuman. All at once she knew there would be no reasoning with them, no chance of holding them back with the force of her scorn. She looked around for someone to help her. She wished now she had not left Weber and his men behind.

  Some of the men beat the ends of their sticks on the cobbles, chanting her name as if they were performing some sacrificial rite - ‘Lola, Lola, Lola.’

  ‘I am the Countess of Landsfeld,’ she screamed, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. ‘Let me pass.’

  All at once, she heard a familiar voice at her side. She turned and saw it was an upholsterer named Wegner who had done a great deal of work on the house in the Barerstrasse. She had recommended his son-in-law to the king and obtained him a well-paid government post. With a surge of relief, she thought that he was probably one of the few men in Munich who would still help her.

  ‘Herr Wegner! Thank goodness you’re here, but where can we go?’

  ‘The Theatriner Church is nearby. They won’t dare to follow us there.’

  He stumbled as a swarthy man the size of an ox tried to push him aside but quickly regained his balance and drew a dagger from his belt.

  ‘I’ll use this on any man who tries to stop us,’ he growled. ‘The king has commanded me to keep the countess safe.’

  The front rank of the mob hesitated. Wegner lowered his voice. ‘Walk slowly, countess. Don’t meet their eyes.’

  Lola stayed close to his side as they stepped through the mob. The angry roar had turned to a low grumble.

  ‘Good, that’s good,’ Wegner whispered, ‘just a few more paces and we’ll be safe.’

  But the walk seemed to take a very long time. The rain was heavy now and her thin shoes skidded on the wet cobbles. She was soaked by the time the imposing, Baroque façade of the Theatriner reared up in front of them. The broad, stone steps looked reassuringly solid as, clinging to Wegner’s arm, she mounted them. Then they were inside, but she soon realised it would not be easy to escape. The sound of hundreds of heavy boots ringing on the steps followed them. She froze.

  An elderly priest in his black soutane rushed down the nave. ‘This is a house of God, not a beer hall,’ he thundered as the leaders of the mob reached the threshold.

  Overawed by the solemnity of the vast church, the invaders halted. Other priests appeared from the shadows. Together, they faced down the attackers and drove them out then swung the great doors shut.

  Lola let go of Wegner’s arm and stumbled down the aisle. She shivered in her wet clothes and shoes. At the altar rail, she threw herself on her knees, buried her head in her hands and began to pray. It was some time before her composure returned.

  She stood up and made the sign of the cross then walked back to where Wegner sat slumped in a pew, overcome with exhaustion. She gave him a shaky smile. ‘The king will reward you for this,’ she said.

  ‘I fear it’s not over yet, countess.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for you, it might have been.’

  The sound of one of the great doors scraping open made them both start. Wegner jumped to his feet and drew his dagger again, but it was a group of uniformed men who came in. Lola put a reassuring hand on Wegner’s wrist. ‘We won’t need that,’ she said. ‘Those are my guards.’

  Captain Weber hurried over to her and saluted. ‘I have orders to escort you home, countess.’ His voice was impassive but she saw the anger in his eyes. For once, she felt a measure of contrition.

  ‘Thank you, Captain Weber,’ she said. ‘I’m very sorry to have caused you so much trouble.’

  Surrounded by Weber and his men, they left the church and walked to a waiting carriage. Moments later, they were inside it and on the way to safety.

  *

  A week later, she sat alone in the small parlour at the Barerstrasse. The room was very warm and the pungent smell of oil of eucalyptus sharpened the scent of the beech logs burning in the grate.

  After the incident at the Theatriner Church, she had caught a chill that had rapidly turned to a feverish cold which confined her to bed for five days. When she felt well enough to get up, the king had insisted she follow her doctor’s orders and remain indoors until she was completely recovered.

  He had come to visit her every day to ask after her health but there had been no sign of Fritz. She sent messages to his lodgings but there was no reply. Anxiety and longing troubled her: had he tired of her, or was he afraid of meeting the king if he came to her house?

  When Mathilde Thierry arrived, her friend’s worried expression made Lola’s heart miss a beat.

  ‘What’s the matter? He’s not hurt or in trouble, is he?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but he may have left Munich.’

  ‘Without seeing me first?’ A lump came into her throat. Did he really care so little for her?

  ‘The king has closed the university. Any student whose family doesn’t live in Munich has been ordered to leave. Most of them have already gone. The theatres are all shut up and Captain Weber told me all army leave has been cancelled.’

  Lola considered this news. So Wallerstein had been right that unrest was coming, but she would not take the blame for it. Unless it was a crime to be Ludwig’s confidante, the one who tried to help him to rule his people wisely and well, she had done nothing wrong.

  She pressed Mathilde’s hand. ‘If Fritz is still in Munich, will you try and find him for me? I must see him.’

  ‘I could go to his lodgings, I suppose, but I’m afraid to walk far on my own.’

  Lola reached for the bell pull. ‘I’ll send for Hum
pelmeyer. He’ll drive you there.’

  The daylight had faded by the time Mathilde returned. Her teeth chattered and Lola took her to sit by the fire.

  ‘Warm yourself then tell me what happened.’

  Mathilde shivered and stretched out her cold hands to the flames. ‘He wasn’t at his lodgings. The landlady says he’s paid his bills and left. She doesn’t know where he’s gone. When I pressed her, she slammed the door in my face. I didn’t know what else to do, so I thought I had better come back here. I’m sorry, Lola.’

  Lola squeezed her hand. ‘It’s all right, Mathilde. It was brave of you to try. I’m very grateful. Go home now and rest. Humpelmeyer will drive you, but you will come again soon, won’t you?’

  Mathilde stood up and kissed her cheek. ‘Of course. Try not to worry. I’m sure Fritz will send a message when he can.’

  It was raining heavily as she left the house. Captain Weber saluted smartly but she noticed that the rest of the guards looked surly and disconsolate.

  ‘I wouldn’t be out in this weather if I didn’t have to be,’ one of them muttered, loudly enough for her to hear, ‘but we’ve got our orders. Even if the swans from the palace lake swim down the street, we’re stuck here, catching our deaths for the sake of the Spanish whore.’

  Mathilde bridled. ‘You had better not let your captain hear you say that.’

  The man scowled. ‘Friend of hers are you?’

  Mathilde held her head high. ‘Yes, and proud to be.’

  Chapter 30

  The week of disasters had exhausted Ludwig. It was an additional strain that, out of concern for Lola, he bore his worries alone.

  Had it been a step too far to close the university? So much of Munich’s prosperity depended on it. The result had been rioting in the streets every day, police headquarters attacked, window smashed and the Town Hall invaded by a mob. The Minister of War had refused to intervene and announced that if he was ordered to use his troops to defend Lola, he would take his pistol and blow out his brains.