Je T'aime. - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

It seemed as if all of Vienna had come out of their houses like earthworms after a rainstorm. Trumpets were sounding, and the call of drums sent a rumbling through the ground that set your stomach to tremble. There were flags and banners hanging all around. The Salm Regiment, of about a thousand enlisted men of foot, was departing for the front on the Prussian-Saxon border.
The soldiers themselves almost didn't look real. They were all in identical uniforms, in identical poses, with identical steps. But there were many kinds of men: battalion, grenadier, fusilier, artilleryman, musician. And of course, the officers, the more superior, ride on horseback along the sides of the lines. And with such grandeur and a controlled unison step, the regiment marched the streets just in front of Hofburg Palace.
Mama always liked to make a display of her large family. My siblings and I surrounded my parents' chairs underneath a purple canopy, surrounded by our most highly honored guards. The aura of a court affair was high in the air, and everyone kept their spines straight and their gazed fixed.
Though there was an uneasy mood about us all. Charles was still absent, up in his room with Doctor van Swieten, who kept his lips under lock and key as if he contained some kind of government secret.
Only the Empress and Emperor were allowed to sit. Everyone else, including Maxmilian, holding tenderly to Madame von Brandeis's hand, had to stand for the duration of the parade. My mother turned to whisper to my father. "What a grand sight, Franz, don't you think?"
"The grandest," my father replied. "The musicians are the cream of the crop, I must say."
As my parents were distracted with the military display, Liesl turned to whisper to me, "What a grand sight," my sister mocked, rolling her eyes. "I'm freezing. I want to go back inside. This is all so stupid."
There was an empty chill to the air, but there was no wind, and to me it was tolerable. "You should have worn another layer."
Liesl sighed, irritated. "Shut up, Mimi."
I ignored my sister's attitude. I had bigger things to worry about. I glanced out to the citizens of the city, wrapped in whatever warm article that they could find. They were an unbridled, realistic bunch, with dirty faces, pockmarks, and rotten teeth. For a moment I was glad they were forced back by the royal guards, far away from me. They were waving touch-pieces in the air, begging my mother to take them. Some people, I was told, believed that if they touched something that the Empress had touched, then their illnesses would be cured. I never understood this; to me my mother was nothing but a woman. A grand woman, a great Empress, but she was no saint and she was no goddess. But I supposed some people needed a little something to believe in.
The fifes played a marching tune as they came towards us, the drums serving as their great accompaniment. As the soldiers would pass by us, they would stop and salute to the Empress before continuing on the march.
The horses' tack clanged as they walked, wintry slush from the street being kicked up from under their hooves. In the air flew many flags, but the regimental had a double-headed black eagle on a yellow field, surrounding a coat of arms. The eagle was a symbol of the Empire. On each wing were the letters MT. Maria Theresa. There were flags from nearly every nation my mother ruled. Empress of Rome and of Austria, Queen of Hungary, Bohemia, Croatia, Dalmatia, Slavonia, Galicia, and Lodomeria, as well as the Duchess of Lorraine and of Burgundy, along with other flags, honors, and titles that I could not even begin to name. It seemed as if my mother ruled the whole Catholic world in one way or another.
A pitch black horse decorated in silver and gold came riding up along the ranks of the men. It was a glorious beast, with fog coming from its nostrils like the grandest of dragons. "Easy, easy," coaxed the rider, and the steed came to a stop, digging at the cobblestones with its foot. I looked up at the rider in all of his finery, even more so than he had before. The metal on his uniform gleamed in the winter sun, and at that moment he looked like the grandest thing on earth. Albert.
His gaze caught mine for just a moment, and he tried to keep a stern and professional look about him. He doffed his hat and raised it aloft. He declared with the most dedicated of voices, "God Save the Empress!"
The soldiers, the commoners, the court, and the imperial family seemed to all echo the words in unison, the sound bouncing off of the palace walls. It was drilled into us, as a matter of pride and a matter of state, and I held it in my heart to be true. "And Long Live the Empire!"
Albert got off of his horse and handed the reins to a nearby officer. He took a few steps towards us, and with all the formality that was possible, bowed to us. Then, almost as soon as he approached, he remounted his horse and began riding away.
As I saw him depart my heart twisted. This couldn't be the last that I ever saw of him. I wanted to run but it felt like my feet were cemented to the ground by duty. The last of the parade went by, and the regiment would soon be gone from the safe cradle of Austria, and into the bloodied battlefield beyond. As soon as this had started it was all over. I watched the parade turn up the street, heading around the side of the palace. As my family was packing up to go back inside, I gathered my skirts and began to run around to the west side of the palace.
I heard the pounding of footsteps after me. "Your Highness!" called out a familiar French voice. "Mademoiselle! Please!" it was François, chasing me. But I could see Albert just before me, and I wasn't stopping now. The gardens, I realized. The gardens! There was a shortcut!
I hopped the knee-high wall into the gardens, and began to run down the path towards the gazebo at the end of the gardens, just before the fence. Though the pebbles were crunching underneath me, it felt like I hadn't touched the ground at all. I reached the gazebo and nearly flung myself up the stairs to the upper level. I turned, panting, to see François and a few other guards coming after me. I looked the other direction to see Albert on his black horse just around the corner. Building up my courage, I grasped the branches off a cherry tree and swung myself over the iron fence, bending the branch until I was able to hop to the ground.
I looked up to see François on the gazebo, staring at me with his mouth wide open. I grinned at him before continuing to run. I darted between tourists and cart-sellers, shoe polishers and food vendors. Finally, Albert was within reach. I ran towards him, shouting his name. "Albert!"
Albert turned to me, wide-eyed. "Christina, what are you doing?!"
I dropped my skirts and reached out my hand. "I wanted to say goodbye."
Albert smiled earnestly and grasped my hand. He leaned down from his horse and kissed it. "Goodbye, Christina. You'll write, promise?"
"Promise."
Albert chuckled and cupped my cheek in his hand. "Good. I love you."
"I love you too."
As soon as his touch registered to me he was gone, riding off towards the north, and to the battlefield beyond. Silently I stood and watched him go, my heavy breathing moving the sections of my hair that had come undone. François and a fellow guard grasped me by the arms, but I didn't even flinch as they began to lead me away. My heart was still aflutter with his affections and weighted with fear for him.
I was dragged into the palace by François, who had a grip on both of my shoulders, as he had dismissed his fellows. "With all due respect, Your Highness, what were you thinking?"
"I wanted to say a proper goodbye to my fiancé," I replied. "You're a soldier. You should know about leaving your loved ones behind."
"I'm not allowed to discuss my personal life with the royalty that employs me, Mademoiselle."
"Your commission is paid by the King of France. I'm not French."
"I'm also not allowed to argue with the royalty that employs me, Mademoiselle."
François led me up the stairs. My heart immediately dropped as I realized that my destination was my mother's apartments. But on the way there, we passed the bustling site of Charles's place, where more people moved in and out than before. Then, from up the hall, I saw the familiar black robe of a certain Jesuit. His face was solemn, and he seemed to whisper something under his breath. "Father Lachner?" I called out to him. My teacher did not reply. "Father, what's wrong with my brother? Is he alright?" Still, there was no answer, though now we had locked eyes. "Please, Father, does my brother have the pox?" Father Lachner looked to me with pity before stepping through the door. "Father!" but he was already inside, and François was leading me away.
François led me into the apartments of my mother, shutting the door behind me, leaving me in there all by myself. I stood in the opulence of the grandest room in the palace, the only sound was the howling of the wind against the window frames. It was strange to stand here, so empty and so quiet, a room that was usually bustling with servants, ladies-in-waiting, government officials and chatter.
There was a painting of me on the far wall. There were paintings of all of us, actually. If a visitor to the palace today were to gaze at that painting of me, they would hardly know who it is. I was a toddler then, maybe about two or three years of age. I wasn't the prettiest thing as a babe, as the painting admitted, with my high forehead and buggy eyes. I was seated on a throne wearing a blue and gold silk gown, holding a garland of flowers in my little hands. Even in that kind of youth my hair was veiled. That style of gown was horridly out of style anyways.
Today I would hate to see a little toddler dragging around such a heavy silk garment. The moves of fashion were heading towards lighter fabrics for children anyways.
My mother's apartments were empty, I concluded. Nobody was here. Nobody was here. Turning, I made a beeline for the apartments of my brother, Archduke Charles.
In the hall I passed a woman, weeping into her handkerchief. By her walk I could recognize her almost immediately as my father's mistress. "Oh, Christina, you poor thing," she said, wrapping me in a hug. "I'm so sorry about your brother. It really is a pity, it really is. Your father is inconsolable."
"What has the doctor diagnosed him with?" I asked, nearly pleading. "Nobody will tell me anything."
"I'm so sorry, my dear, the doctor thinks it's smallpox. He's almost certain. But he doesn't want to panic anyone. That's why there's silence. Just in case he recovers. He's young still, and your sister Anna recovered from the worst illness I've ever seen in a girl so young-"
I stopped Wilhelmina's rambling. "If Father Lachner is here, then the prognosis can't be good."
"Well, sometimes the doctor needs a little holy interference, that's all. A little help from the heavens. I don't think praying ever hurt anyone."
"I think the mystery is hurting everyone more than the truth, Wilhelmina."
Wilhelmina's puppy-like eyes watched me curiously. "I wished I could tell Franz that, but he just can't seem to listen! He just keeps pushing medicine on the poor boy. Treatment after treatment, thing after thing. He's just exhausted. Physically and mentally. But you must understand, they're trying their hardest. They want to save him, they do, but nature just can't seem to cooperate."
"Maybe nature knows best," I finally suggested, though the thought pulled at my heartstrings bitterly. "Where is the Empress now?"
"In Charles's room. She's been there since the end of the parade. I think it's best you not disturb her."
For the first time in my recent memory my words to the Princess of Auersperg were honest and positive. "Thank you, Wilhelmina."
Wilhelmina smiled graciously. "You're welcome. This must be a hard time for you, between Charles and your Captain friend and all of that. If you ever need anything I'd be happy to help."
"I'd like that."
It was only three in the afternoon, but I was exhausted. I wandered back into my chamber, kicked off my shoes, and threw myself down on the bed. My nose was squished against the mattress, and I just wanted to melt into it. I heard the door open. "Pia," I murmured into my blankets. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright," Pia replied. "I knew you'd come around," she sat down on the edge of my bed. "I heard you went on a grand chase of Albert today."
"My feet hurt," I admitted. "I shouldn't have ran in those shoes."
Pia chuckled quietly to herself. She pulled out one of my hands and placed a cold metal object in my palm. "He wanted you to have this."
I opened one eye and saw that the item was a miniature. Painted on it in full military dress was Albert, gazing off with wanderlust to the side. I grabbed the miniature and pulled it tight to my chest, shoving my head into the covers again. "Oh, God, I'm going to miss him."
"I think he'll miss you more," Pia commented. "You practically threw your life at him."
"I'm an idiot," I admitted. "Running around in the garden like a lunatic. And then out of the garden and into the street! I'm no archduchess, Pia, I'm a fool."
"A dedicated fool."
I couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose," but the lighthearted mood fell from me. "They say Charles has smallpox. Father Lachner is here."
"I know. They said so downstairs. The laundry-maids are ruffling all of their feathers. He's staying over tonight."
"That can't be good."
"It can't."
Pia and I just lingered there silently, waiting for the world to change. It was such a heartbreak, all of this waiting. Waiting for Charles. Waiting for Albert, though he had only just left. Waiting for myself. But somehow this was better than waiting alone. Waiting for your fifteen-year-old brother to fight off the pox was something you didn't want to wait for alone, even if it was with your handmaiden and your father's mistress. We were an assorted bunch, that was for sure.
Pia broke the silence. "Do you want any tea or anything?"
"Yeah. If you have some of that Chinese kind with the raspberry, I'd like that. It's even better with lemon."
"Will do. Hopefully the kitchen isn't a pigsty."
Pia left the room, the door clicking gently behind her. That was much better than the slamming. My bedroom didn't smell like smoking ink anymore. Just like oil paint and wood fire, with a touch of rose and sandalwood.
I swung out of bed and kneeled on the floor, placing my elbows on the mattress. I folded my hands and closed my eyes. This was never my first instinct, but for some reason it was now. Maybe it was the aura of Father Lachner's presence, or the cloud of misery that hung in the air. But I began to whisper anyways, pointed at the ivory cross that hung upon my bed.
Our Father, who art in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy Kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
On Earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver us from evil
For thine is the Kingdom,
and the Power,
and the Glory
Forever and Ever
Amen.