‘Someone needs to persuade him to take some thought for the future, to lay in supplies, to try and make Lissenberg more self-sufficient. I am speaking to you as my trusted friend, Miss Peabody.’
‘You know you may, and I’m flattered, but, alas, we three have not a jot of influence with the Prince.’
‘But Lady Helen is a good friend of Princess Amelia, maybe the best she has.’
‘That’s true.’ Thoughtfully. ‘And I have sometimes thought that, disgracefully though he treats her, Prince Gustav listens to his wife’s advice more than he lets appear.’
‘Precisely. He may have a mistress in every capital in Europe – and very expensive they are too – but when his wife speaks, he listens. Can I persuade you to drop a word in Lady Helen’s ear?’
‘In the interests of not being starved to death? Certainly. Just tell me what to say.’
He made her a remarkably courtly bow. ‘If they are all like you in your United States of America, Miss Peabody, I think the new Emperor is wise not to tamper with them.’
‘I’ll certainly say something to the Princess,’ agreed Lady Helen. ‘It’s an unpleasant prospect, if true, but I am sure your Jewish friend is exaggerating the danger. For one thing, Lord Nelson’s navy will never allow an invasion of England. This parvenu Emperor will waste his strength there in vain. But in the meantime, I wish there were news from Prince Maximilian.’ Martha had thought something was troubling her. ‘These rehearsals of Cristabel’s – I had no idea – you should have told me, Martha.’
‘Told you?’
‘You know perfectly well what I mean! Throwing herself in his arms like that! What in the world would my brother say?’
‘What in the world has your brother to say to anything?’
‘He is her father.’
‘He’s never behaved like one. And Cristabel has played love scenes before.’ Was she arguing as much with herself as with Lady Helen?
‘Not like this one. There’s something about that Franz Wengel … He’s too handsome … They do it too well… I wish the professional would arrive.’
‘But Herr Wengel is a professional.’
‘Then he’s too good a one for me. He behaves … like a prince.’
‘He’s acting a prince.’
‘Too well, and I see no need for Cristabel to throw her heart into the scene the way she does. It’s only rehearsal, after all.’
‘She’d never agree with you about that.’ But did Martha?
She offered to chaperone Cristabel’s rehearsal next day, telling herself that she did so because she wanted to hear what Wengel thought about Bonaparte’s making himself Emperor.
She was shocked at his appearance. If he had looked tired before, he looked hag-ridden now. He actually missed his cue a couple of times, and Cristabel finally announced that she had had enough of rehearsing. ‘We must hope the tenor comes soon!’
‘Yes indeed.’ He agreed with unflattering emphasis. ‘Forgive me, Lady Cristabel, if I have seemed abstracted.’
‘Abstracted!’ Impatiently. ‘Not here at all. In Brundt I take it, where the action is.’
‘What did she mean by that?’ he asked Martha anxiously when Cristabel had left them.
‘Nothing, I think. Or, at least nothing that need trouble you.’
It was good to see him laugh. ‘You mean, she thinks I’ve got a girl there?’
‘I suspect so.’
‘You know better than that.’
‘Yes. I’m afraid this new move of Bonaparte’s has hit you hard.’
‘Hard! It’s knocked me out.’
‘You’ll come about. I’m sure of it.’
‘Thank you.’ His smile stirred her heart. ‘You’re a woman in a million, Miss Peabody. You have never said, “I told you so”.’
The tenor arrived the next day. ‘An Irishman,’ Cristabel reported. ‘Would you believe it? A young cousin of Michael Kelly’s. Prince Maximilian found him in Vienna, singing small parts and trying to learn German. He trained in Italy, so his Italian’s good enough, if he can only sing.’
‘You’ve not met him? What’s his name?’
‘Desmond Fylde. No, I have yet to meet him. He made the journey from Vienna in record time, arrived exhausted and went straight to bed. We are to have a first rehearsal in the morning. Martha, you’ll come, won’t you? I cannot begin to tell you what a blight my poor aunt cast on things today. I’m really a little anxious about her.’
And she about you. But Martha did not say it. ‘Has Prince Maximilian returned too?’ she asked instead.
‘Not he. Enjoying himself in Vienna, no doubt, and will come back affianced to some eligible young cousin of the Emperor Francis.’
‘Without consulting his father?’
‘Why should he? Prince Gustav has been making it clear enough that he looks on the little Prince as his heir.’
‘In which case Prince Max is hardly likely to find himself a very eligible bride. I wonder which career he really wants, that young man. Prince or musician.’
‘I doubt he knows himself. He lets things happen to him.’
‘Instead of making them? Well, he’s grown up in a hard school. You ought to understand that, Cristabel.’
‘Because I did too? But I’ve escaped.’ She blushed. ‘Thanks to you. Do I thank you often enough, Martha?’
‘No need! Or, if you feel you should, try, for my sake, to be a little more sympathetic to poor Prince Max, who has no one to help him in his choice.’
‘What choice?’
‘Well, if he wanted to, he could simply end it all by withdrawing from the succession, just as you walked out on your father, but I think he’s not likely to do so, and you should understand why. It’s this sense of duty you aristocrats suffer from – the best of you. I wouldn’t say Prince Gustav was overly afflicted by it, but I suspect that if you could see into Prince Max’s heart, you would find that he feels obliged to be available so long as the little prince is so young – such an unknown factor.’
‘Yes, he is, isn’t he,’ said Cristabel thoughtfully. ‘Shut up in the Palace as he has been, an ailing infant, a backward boy by what one has seen of him.’
‘Devoted to his older brother,’ said Martha. ‘Did you notice at the prize-giving ceremony how he wanted to run to him?’
‘No, did he? Well, that’s to Prince Max’s credit at least. I wonder what his opera is like.’
‘You’ve not seen it?’
‘No one has. He took it with him. Good gracious, maybe that’s what he’s doing in Vienna!’
‘Trying to get it staged? I wonder which version?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Don’t you remember? There was talk that Prince Gustav disapproved of the original libretto because the heroine outweighed the hero. Another good part for you, Cristabel, by the sound of it. I wonder he never showed it to you.’
‘Well, the rules were very strict, the operas were supposed to be seen by no one but the Prince.’
‘For fear someone should question his judgment?’
‘Very likely.’
Anna came to Martha that evening. ‘Fräulein Peabody, the porter-women have asked me to speak to you. They are worried; they’ve been comparing notes, working things out, they don’t think fast, working as hard as they do, but some of the older ones, who have done the winter climb for many years, they got talking to each other. But it sounds crazy,’ she broke off.
‘What does? Tell me, Anna?’
‘They think twice as much as usual went up to the castle last winter. Beans, lentils … smoked meats … Things that keep a long time. When they got talking about it, they started to wonder why. They just hope that the supplies in the valley will be sufficiently made up this summer.’
‘And are they being?’
‘That’s why they asked me to come to you. It’s not the kind of thing you can be sure of, but they don’t think so. They thought, as you are such a friend of Herr Brodski, perhaps you could find out. B
ecause if they aren’t, we’re going to be in trouble next winter, and no mistake. If only the old Prince hadn’t died we’d have had a road through all year round by now. He had engineers talking about it, even decided where to blast through, then he died, sudden, and that was that. “Too expensive,” Prince Gustav said after he bought us, but we think he likes things the way they are. He’s almost God here, in the winter, when you think about it. I’m trusting you, Fräulein.’
‘You know you can. But I had no idea there had been talk of a road through.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. He doesn’t like it talked about, and what he says goes. But if you would have a word with Herr Brodski, Fräulein, ask him to contrive a look at the warehouses, both in Lissenberg, and in Brundt, make sure we’re not imagining things.’
‘And what if you’re not?’
‘Then something will have to be done, won’t it? Or we’re all going to be hungry next winter.’
‘But why?’
‘Probably just because no one thought of it. And, of course, everyone knows how deep the Prince is in debt. That’s another thing we don’t talk about. Why should he care if a few hundred starve to death in Brundt?’
‘Monstrous! And it’s half way through the summer already,’ she realised. ‘Wait a moment, Anna, I’ll write a note to Herr Brodski, ask him to come and see me. I do hope he’s in Lissenberg.’
‘Oh yes, he is, Fräulein, that’s why I came to you today.’
Brodski called next morning and listened impassively to what she had to say. When she ended by saying, ‘But, surely, Herr Brodski, it’s impossible; they must be imagining things,’ he looked at her gravely.
‘Nothing is impossible here in Lissenberg,’ he told her. ‘And, in fact, I had heard rumours myself of warehouses that are not so well-stocked as they should be for the time of year. But as I knew that the normal amount of supplies had been coming in, I am afraid I shrugged it off as just anti-government talk, of which lord knows there is plenty, in private. But what I did not know was that twice the usual amount was taken up to the castle last winter. I don’t think anyone knows that. On that basis, there most certainly is cause for alarm.’
‘But what’s to be done?’
His smile transformed the dour, handsome face. ‘I like the way you go to the heart of the matter, Miss Peabody. First, I shall confirm the facts of the case. Then I shall talk to some of my friends.’
‘Not to the Lord Chamberlain?’
‘What use would that be? He would listen politely, and push paper around, so that nothing got done for three years or so. Your nameless friend is quite right about Prince Gustav’s debts. If I told you what he owes, just to me, it would shock your father’s daughter to the bone. No, no. The merchants of Lissenberg will have to take their own action. I hope I shall be able to persuade them to do so. After all, if it does come to a crisis, they should be able to command their own prices – on paper at least – for what they manage to bring in. But just in case I am less successful than I hope, I think you should urge your porter-ladies to make what arrangements they can for their own families. A little tightening of the belt this summer, to lay down more than usual of their own produce for the winter. A little more poaching, maybe, than the menfolk usually risk, so that there shall be some salt meat too.’
‘Their belts are pretty tight already,’ she had been thinking while he talked. ‘Herr Brodski, I insist on being allowed to help. You will put the most you think I can afford into the fund you are setting up, and I mean the most. I don’t see why the poor should be the only ones to tighten their belts. Could you find a buyer for my diamonds, do you think?’
‘Not in Lissenberg, nor do I propose to try. But I will gladly let you contribute what I think reasonable. And there is something else you could do, could you persuade Lady Cristabel to write to her mother?’
‘But, why?’ And then. ‘Stupid of me … Count Tafur.’
‘Just so. A powerful man. We need value for money in this operation, Miss Peabody. A word from him would help us to get it.’
‘Then you shall have it.’ How strange it was to know that Franz Wengel’s planned revolution might change everything. But she tried hard not even to think about this for fear of betraying him.
‘Write to Mama?’ Cristabel had returned from a rehearsal of the whole company flushed with excitement. ‘If you like; it’s about time I did, but to say what, Martha?’
‘Just a short casual message to Count Tafur. But, tell about your rehearsal, Cristabel. How is the new tenor?’
‘Admirable! His Italian’s not too good, but our Lissenbergers won’t care about that, and his voice is just right for mine. And as for his looks – you just wait until you see him, Martha. We’ll have the chorus swooning over him in droves … And Irish charm until you hardly know where to look!’
‘No Irish brogue, I do hope?’
‘Only when he wants. It’s all part of the Irish charm, huge black eyes and hair worn a little longer than usual. And just the right height for me; Herr Wengel was a little tall, I had to play our big scene on tiptoe. Do you know, I really begin to have hopes for this production, Martha! He’s a quick study, too, he tells me. We’re to rehearse our scene this afternoon. You’ll come and be our chaperone, won’t you?’ She smiled brilliantly. ‘I might even need one, now it’s Desmond Fylde and his Irish eyes.’
‘Lady Helen rather thought you needed one with Herr Wengel,’ said Martha a touch drily.
‘No! Idiotic. My poor aunt must be going out of her mind. Herr Wengel indeed! Oh, he’s got a brilliant future in front of him if Crusader Prince is the success I expect, but look at his past. What’s known of it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You didn’t know? There are some very curious stories about his birth. Oh, that formidable old grandmother of his carries it off with a high hand, but so far as one can make out her daughter was no better than she should have been. A very huddled-up affair of a wedding, and the baby born much too soon after it. No wonder he has a chip on his shoulder and some revolutionary ideas to go with it, that Franz Wengel. And my aunt was worrying about me and him!’ Her tone was one of honest amazement. ‘She should have known me better.’
So should I, thought Martha. ‘My grandmother was a servant girl,’ she said.
‘Ah, but dear Martha, you are an American.’
And a rich one. Another of the things she did not say. There were getting to be too many of them. ‘Who told you about Franz Wengel’s mother?’ she asked. ‘And what became of his father?’
‘I don’t know.’ Shrugging. ‘As to who told me – one of the chorus, I think. They don’t have much to do when they are off stage but gossip, and more of them than you would expect are native Lissenbergers.’
‘Didn’t Prince Max make a point of giving them the preference, where it was possible?’
‘I believe he did. Franzosi grumbles a good deal about their Italian. That’s why I don’t think it’s going to matter about Desmond Fylde’s accent not being exactly perfect.’
‘I look forward to meeting him,’ said Martha.
Fylde was everything Cristabel had said, but Martha could not quite like him just the same. Because she knew she lacked it, she had always fought her instinctive distrust of charm, but as she watched Desmond Fylde say exactly the right thing, in just the right tone, to Cristabel, to Lady Helen, even, occasionally, to herself, she felt increasingly that there was something about him that was altogether too good to be true.
But Cristabel had been right that he was the ideal partner for her. ‘I begin to think we have a winner in Crusader Prince,’ Franz Wengel told Martha one hot July afternoon at the end of a last act rehearsal. ‘I owe Prince Maximilian a great debt for finding Herr Fylde. I look forward to telling him so.’
‘If he ever arrives,’ said Martha. ‘But you’re right. Fylde and Lady Cristabel are extraordinary together. It’s quite unbelievable how his voice brings out the best in hers. But, Herr Wengel…’ She paused,
searching for words.
‘Yes? Something is troubling you?’
‘It’s the last scene of all. Forgive me, but I have the curious feeling of something not quite right, something missing. It builds so high, and then, nothing. Forgive me,’ she said again, conscious of a rare, infuriating blush.
‘Forgive!’ With one of his quick, keen glances. ‘For being too acute a critic? But don’t worry, Miss Peabody, it will all come together on the night, I promise you. And, in the meantime, as my friend, I beg you not to mention this to anyone else. Lady Cristabel and Herr Fylde are too absorbed in each other to notice, and I doubt anyone else will.’
‘No.’ She agreed with him so heartily that she did not sleep that night. Just what was he planning for the first night of Crusader Prince?
14
The anniversary celebrations were to begin at the end of August, and culminate in the first performance of Crusader Prince, on the seventh of September the day Prince Gustav had actually entered Lissenberg, twenty-five years before. By the end of July preparations were going on furiously. Every inn in Lissenberg was fully booked, and a small army of women from the town were up at the Palace, scrubbing and scouring neglected wings that were to be filled with the Prince’s guests.
‘If they come,’ Ishmael Brodski told Martha.
‘Is it in doubt?’
‘It must be, since Prince Gustav has not yet made peace with the Emperor. And the latest news is that Napoleon himself has started on a tour of the Rhineland and invited his allies to pay court to him at Mainz. If you were one of them, Miss Peabody, would you go there, or come here to Prince Gustav’s little celebration?’
‘The Prince will be furious.’
‘Much good it will do him. Baden will send a high level representative, I expect, because of Princess Amelia, but I have no doubt that the Prince himself, and his grandson, will be at Mainz with the rest of the Rhineland princes. And even Prince Gustav will hardly expect the Holy Roman Emperor to come to little Lissenberg.’
‘I wonder who he will send.’
‘And whether Prince Maximilian will return with news of an Austrian alliance. You have heard the rumours that Prince Gustav will finally name his heir during the anniversary celebrations?’
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