Anna came back into the room and held my hands. “I knew it would happen,” I said, fighting back tears. “He never wanted to get married. He didn’t want the baby. Why, why wouldn’t he let me make him happy? I tried so hard, Anna. I love him so much. He is a coward, a coward.”
We left the hotel as soon as I was able to get up, and we moved to a cheaper place, really a rooming house, on a crooked street near the opera house. There wasn’t much money left after I paid our bill at the Grand Hotel, but at least I still had my jewels, and I knew we could live for a long time if I pawned them. And after they were gone—I didn’t know what would happen.
Weeks passed. Winter deepened. My stock of jewels shrank. I decided that I should get a job. But I couldn’t read newspapers—I could hardly speak the language in Vienna—and I had no idea where to begin. One day I walked to the Prater, the park. I sat in the same chair, near the statue of the half-naked lady.
“Hello, Beauty,” said a voice in English.
I looked up. It was my friend, the little professor. He twinkled at me.
“Ah, it is you!” I greeted him warmly. “I am so happy to see you again, sir. You have been well?”
“Quite well. And you? You have had your baby! How is it? Everything all right?”
“Yes, fine, thank you. It is a fine boy. His name is Nicholas.”
“Nicholas.” The man nodded. “A good name, that. I have ancestors by that name, I think. And your husband?"
“He had to go away,” I swallowed. “Family business. But I’m afraid he didn’t leave me with very much money. I think I shall have to find work.”
“Work?” The man frowned and rubbed his nose with the knob of his cane. “Let me see. If I were a beautiful young woman living in Vienna in January, and had no particular wish to stay in the city, I think I would go to Bavaria, to Munich. Very nice place, Munich. Friendly. Less mad than here, if you know what I mean. Yes. I would go right to Munich, and I would go to the Royal Residence and ask to see the king. I hear he has an eye for beautiful ladies. He’ll help you. I’m sure of it.”
“Oh.” I tried to look interested, but I thought, poor fellow, he’s mad. “That is a very good suggestion,” I said. “Thank you.”
“I just happen to have a couple of railway tickets that I’m not using,” he said. “They’re for a train that goes in a couple of weeks and I have decided to go there tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow. Why don’t you take them?”
“Thank you.” I said politely. “That is so very kind of you.”
“Well, I am sorry I cannot offer you tea today,” my friend said. He beamed at me and rocked on his heels. Every now and then his eyes darted up to the statue. “But I am sure we will meet again. In München, as they say in German.”
“Yes,” I said. “In München.”
He bowed and bid me farewell, then strolled away, swinging his cane and humming to himself. I looked at the tickets, and I tried to picture myself in the presence of royalty. But I had nothing to wear! And no jewels! No matter. This man surely knew someone, or he wouldn’t have suggested that I go. It was miraculous, wonderful! I ran back to our room to tell Anna. How pleased she would be! And how glad we would both be to leave Vienna. Like London, the city now had bad associations in my mind.
But when I got back and saw Anna’s stricken face, my heart dropped to my shoes.
“What is it? What’s happened? Is he all right?” I looked at the baby. He seemed to be sleeping well enough, but when I touched his forehead I knew he was feverish. I left the house immediately and returned with a doctor.
“Influenza,” he diagnosed. “I’ve had a lot of cases lately. I hope it doesn’t turn into an epidemic. You’re looking a little pink yourself, Madame. You’d better lie down. He may get over it. Of course he’s still very young. Let’s just hope the fever doesn’t go up too high. Keep him warm, don’t force food into him. I’ll stop in again tomorrow.”
Three days later, my baby died in my arms. I prepared the body myself for burial, even though I was very sick with influenza. I pawned my last pair of earrings to pay for the funeral, at which Anna and I were the only mourners. Afterwards I grieved Gypsy-fashion. I touched no food for three days. I did not sleep. I did not eat. I did not touch a comb to my hair or wash my face or hands. I sat on the floor of our room, holding myself and rocking and weeping. Then when it was over, I slept soundly for a day and a night.
When I awoke I told Anna to pack our things.
“It is over. I cannot go back. My child is dead and he will not return, Anna. I cannot mourn him for the rest of my life. It would only make him unhappy to see his mother sad, torn apart. We will go to Munich to see the King of Bavaria. I will make my fortune there, I am sure of it, Anna. But I tell you this: no man will ever treat me like that again. I gave my heart to a man who had no heart, who did not know how to love in return.
“I curse him,” I said hoarsely, clenching my fists. “He will wander the earth until he dies, and he will never know happiness or love. He will never find peace.”
Anna looked wide-eyed and scared. I smiled at her ruefully and hugged her tightly.
“Don’t worry, Anna, I don’t usually curse people! But he is a special case, that one. Now hurry. We have a train to catch!”
10
The Sport of Kings
“THERE SHE IS. The King’s new mistress! A Russian, no less. Don’t they look ludicrous together? Humph. She’s half a head taller than he is!”
I stiffened. I wanted to snap out a nasty retort to the two taffeta-clad harpies who were murmuring behind their fans; but the man at my side said calmly, “Don’t pay any attention to them, my dear. They are silly and mindless and their only joy in life is gossip.”
“I would like to thrash them,” I muttered. “Spiteful old bitches.”
“So would I,” King Ludwig sighed. “In fact, I would like to have them broken on the wheel and stuck up at the crossroads with a sign underneath their shattered bodies: ‘Punishment for gossiping about the King.’ But alas,” he sighed, “these are enlightened times. A hundred years ago one could use one's monarchical powers to frighten and intimidate, but no more. A king is just a puppet these days, a symbolic representation of— but there I go again, prattling on like an old woman! At least I’ve made you smile again, dear Rhawnie.”
“I don’t care for myself,” I said kindly. “But for you. They don’t know you as I do. I am so fortunate to have you for a friend.”
“And I thank all the gods of fortune that led you to me,” the King said. He kissed my hand. “Dear Aphrodite.”
We entered the royal box opposite the stage of the exquisite little theater inside the Munich Royal Residence. The audience was on its feet and when the King and I sat, they followed suit. A man wearing a white wig and the livery of the royal family of Wittelsback appeared in front of the curtain and pounded the floor three times with a long stick to announce the beginning of a tragedy. The curtain went up on Goethe’s Faust.
My command of German was still weak, but I fixed my eyes on the action on stage and ignored the curious stares of the other members of the audience. My attitude seemed to say, “I am here to enjoy the play; if you wish to gossip all night that is none of my affair.”
Wherever I went I attracted attention and prompted whispering. And why not? Six months ago, I was a bereaved mother, the abandoned wife of a heartless soldier of fortune. And now I was the intimate friend—some said his mistress—of Ludwig, the King of Bavaria. I had become a power to be reckoned with in Munich. The King, it was said, was a weak man. I dominated him. My enemies said that in a few years I would rule the country through him. It was all nonsense, but that is what they said.
When Anna and I arrived in Munich, I sent her with our luggage to a hotel and I went straight to the Royal Residence and demanded to see the King. I refused to give my name and would say only that we had a mutual friend. I was admitted to an anteroom and asked to wait. An hour passed and I grew impatient.
“I
want only a few minutes of his time,” I told a secretary in my stumbling German. “But I must see him. It is very important!”
“The King is a very busy man, Madame,” the young man said apologetically. “Perhaps you could return in a few weeks—”
“I will not return,” I said positively, “because I am not leaving. I will wait until he consents to see me.” I hadn’t the slightest idea of what I would say to the King when I did see him, but that was beside the point.
The secretary scuttled away. In a few minutes another man came into the room. This one, I saw, was no flunky. He wore a black uniform, and the jacket was richly adorned with medals over the left breast and a red sash that swept from his right shoulder to his left hip. He was quite tall and strapping, with closely cropped black hair and along, curling mustache. His nose was unusually long and thin and it dominated his face. His eyes were steel grey, without a trace of humor or kindness.
He said stiffly, “I am the Baron Wolfgang Karl von Zander, Madame.” He spoke flawless French. Apparently the secretary had told him about my bad German. “I am a friend and adviser of King Ludwig, and of his majesty the Crown Prince Maximillian. If you would tell me your business with the King, perhaps I could assist you.”
“I wish to see the King at once,” I informed him. “I will tell him my business myself. Please tell him that I am here.”
“He is aware that there is a strange woman here, who refuses to give her name.”
“He wouldn’t know my name if I did give it,” I said. Annoyance flickered across the Baron’s dark face. “The monarch of a powerful country like Bavaria is not available to see every visitor who has a favor to ask. Just tell me—"
“I don’t believe that the King even knows I am here,” I said. “I shall tell him myself!”
I walked briskly to the doors through which the Baron had emerged.
“Come back here!” the Baron snapped. “Stop or I'll shoot you!”
I quickened my pace. I burst through the double doors and said breathlessly, “Please forgive me, your Majesty, but I must talk to you before this man kills me!”
“Excuse me, your Majesty,” said the Baron, right behind me. “But this woman forced her way in here without my permission!”
The King was standing in front of a tall window with his back to us. He was wearing a bathrobe and pushing a piece of bread through the bars of a birdcage. He turned and said calmly, “Put that thing away, Wolfgang. Since when do we brandish weapons at visiting goddesses. How are you, my dear?” He advanced towards me with both hands outstretched. “I am very happy to see you again.”
I just stared, open-mouthed. It was the funny man from the Prater in Vienna! I dropped a deep curtsy. “I beg your pardon, your Majesty! I had no idea—”
“Come, come, my dear.” The King held my hands and urged me to my feet. He chuckled. “You must forgive an aging monarch his little games. Oh, Wolfgang, are you still here? Please leave us.”
The Baron restored his pistol to a holster on his hip and clicked his heels together. “As you wish, your Majesty,” he said icily, with a shallow little bow. He gave me a sharp look that made me shiver. Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the room.
“I have made him angry,” I said apologetically. “And I have interrupted you. He said you didn’t want to receive me—”
“Don’t worry about Wolfgang,” said the King. He led me to a long couch in front of a blazing fire. “He is always angry with someone. He’s really rather a nuisance, but I can't get rid of him. He and my eldest son are close friends. You are looking more beautiful than I remember, my dear! I am so happy you decided to accept my invitation. And how is your dear little one?”
I said quietly, “He is dead. There was an outbreak of influenza in Vienna.” I looked away, into the flames.
The King pressed my hand. “I am so very sorry,” he said with what I believed to be genuine sympathy. “How dreadful for you. But you’re here now! You will live here, in the Residence, and I’ll appoint you—let’s see. I shall appoint you Official Inspiration to the Royal Poet. That’s me. Do you know, when I saw you sitting in the park, I was struck by the resemblance between you and the statue. Do you remember it? Aphrodite. A copy of the Roman copy that I own, and not a bad one. Such an exquisite face, fair and noble and as cold as stone can be. But there you were, right there, the statue come alive. You were crying and I thought my own heart would break on the spot. You were warm and vital and the most breathtakingly beautiful creature I had ever seen. I was very sorry when you didn’t accept my invitation to tea. But then we met again. Fate! You told me your troubles and I knew that I had to have you with me, always. Can you understand any of this? I am somewhat of a connoisseur of beauty. But let me show you!”
He took my hand and led me through a maze of corridors into a vast hall. His excitement reminded me of a little boy’s, and I knew he was going to show me something of which he was very proud. Busts and statues lined the walls: Roman generals, senators, matrons. There were Grecian boys and men and a pantheon of gods and goddesses. I didn’t know anything about these objects, except that they were very old and that I had seen similar pieces in the gardens around Florence and Rome.
“My collection,” the King said proudly. “Or part of it, anyway. I have worked for years to amass these items. Some of them aren’t even good, but here and there, a gem! This is my real prize. Do you recognize her? Praxiteles’ Aphrodite, but not like that pitted marble specimen in the Prater. See how the marble shines, how smooth it is. Isn’t she beautiful? And look at her face! She is you, my dear. You!”
The statue was very beautiful, but the only resemblances between us that I could see were anatomical rather than facial: she had nice hips and long legs and big, round breasts.
“You have the same classic beauty,” said the King enthusiastically. “Your faces are divided into perfect thirds. Forehead to nose, length of nose, and nose to chin, all equal. Perfectly proportioned! You can see it for yourself.” He dragged me to a mirror. “Straight nose. Classic! Wonderful cheekbones. Fine chin. Ah!” He sighed rhapsodically and clasped his hands in front of his chest. “All my life I have been a lover of beauty. I live for beauty, and I surround myself with beautiful things and beautiful women.”
“So you want to add me to your collection,” I smiled.
“Yes. Quite right.” The King nodded approvingly. “You will think that is a fairly selfish reason for asking you to come here, but all men are selfish, are they not? Why should a king be any different? I will take good care of you, I promise you. And anything I can do for you—anything at all!—just ask.”
“I would like to learn how to read and write,” I said firmly. “I am half-Gypsy, and I never learned.”
“Wonderful! Splendid!” The King beamed and rubbed his hands together. “I shall teach you myself. German and English both. Can’t read, eh? My word, this will be a new experience for me. A challenge! How can I write verses for you if you can’t read them? Now we will have some lunch. I’ll have an apartment prepared for you. The one next to mine, I think. I’ll ask Wolfgang to move out at once.” We made our way back to his chambers. He chattered and skipped and laughed, just like a pleased little boy with a new toy, and right before we went into his room he paused with his hand on my arm. “There is one more thing, my dear.” He grew a little red in the face. “I won’t ask, ah, anything of you, ah, other than, ah. Other than what I have already, ah, outlined. You are to be my sweet inspiration, nothing more. With perfect beauty one does not need to, ah, meddle. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
"Perfectly,” I said. “You do not wish to sleep with me.” He blushed and stared at his shoes. I held his hands and said gently, “I am very grateful for that, your Majesty. Grateful that you wish to be my friend. We will be good friends, I know it.”
‘‘Dear friends,” the King agreed happily. ‘‘As well as teacher and pupil, goddess and humble admirer. Come, dear Venus, let us celebrate your arrival
with champagne. This has turned into a beautiful, glorious day!”
My little suite of rooms was elegantly furnished, bright, and comfortable. Anna couldn’t get over our luck at being there, in the royal Residence, just steps away from the King’s own rooms. The King came every morning to have breakfast with me, and he visited me in the evening before he went to bed. He always brought something: a piece of jewelry, a vase, a delicate figurine, works of art from his vast collection of statues and paintings. He frequently referred to me as ‘‘Venus” or his “glorious Aphrodite,” and sometimes I thought that he really believed that I was the goddess of love and beauty, incarnate.
Almost immediately he ordered the court painter, Herr Stieler, to do a portrait of me for his Gallery of Beauties, that notorious collection of portraits of the most beautiful women in Europe,including a Munich shoemaker’s daughter and assorted ladies of noble birth from all countries. The King was so pleased with the small portrait that he commissioned Stieler to paint me as Aphrodite, dressed in a Grecian chiton that displayed my shoulders and one breast, as well as one long shapely leg and sandal-shod foot. He attended each sitting of this masterwork, and when it was finished he ordered it to be hung in his own bedroom. Needless to say, that picture created a scandal. But the King didn’t care.
“You are always with me now,” he sighed rapturously. “Sleeping and waking.”
But not in between. I was puzzled. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women—in fact, he adored them. Why would he not go to bed with me?
We spent hours together. I applied myself to my lessons and studied as hard as I had when Seth was teaching me to cheat at cards. By learning to read I would eliminate the last advantage a gorgio man could have over me: I would be as accomplished and learned as any of them, and never again could a man leave me a note that I couldn’t understand.
King Ludwig was not a conventional monarch. He felt truly uncomfortable with the trappings and ceremonies of royalty, and he loved to walk among his people, stopping to chat with shopkeepers and students and washerwomen. He was a familiar sight in the streets of Munich, walking alone, preoccupied, shoulders hunched against the cold, looking not like a king but like a university professor— exactly my first impression of him.
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