Je T'aime. - Chapter 35: Chapter 35
You are reading Je T'aime., Chapter 35: Chapter 35. Read more chapters of Je T'aime..
My mother always awoke early in the morning, nearly rising with the dawn as if she herself pulled the sun from his slumber tucked in the horizon. Almost as soon as she woke she prayed, then for coffee before her morning government briefing. My father, being named officially but not practically as ruler in some places, was required to attend, yawning with bags under his eyes.
Some days, when the mood struck me, I would attend one of these briefings with all of mother's officials and advisors. I was not allowed to join the general assembly on the floor, but I watched from a small balcony usually meant for the Empress Consort, whose position had been empty for nearly twenty years. My mother sat on her gold-plated throne, the imperial crown atop her head and robes of state draped around her shoulders. It was always a great sight to see my mother there in the highest position, the only woman in the room.
To her right, a little below her, was my father. He rested his cheekbone against his fist, fighting against oncoming sleep. Scribbling notes to her left was Crown Prince Joseph. As per usual during a time of war, the first matters of business were updates on military campaigns and pressing matters of treaty. For five years now the first matter of business had been war.
Then after war came internal affairs, then imperial affairs, then international relations. The meeting itself usually took about three hours, but it was scarcely eight o'clock when the meeting adjourned. Another would be held after luncheon, then another before my mother retired to bed.
I began to leave the room just after the meeting concluded, coming down the stairs to depart with the politicians and noblemen, talking amongst themselves and shuffling papers. Joseph left with his friend Ernest, a budding imperial advisor, discussing something about the governorship of the Austrian territory in the Netherlands. Just as I was about to leave my mother called for me. "Mimi, dear."
"Yes, Mama?" I replied.
A slight smile crossed my mother's face, which I knew meant this was not a serious matter. "The weather seems to be cheering up. What do you say about a carriage ride? And do invite Isabella."
My mother, Isabella, Eleanore, and I began to load into a topless carriage on the south side of the palace grounds. Once we were settled, the coachman said, "A tour of the gardens, Your Majesty?"
"Ah, yes," replied my mother, "then to the street on the western side. Over a few blocks and then back through the gardens."
"Very well, Your Majesty."
The coach rocked a little as François propped himself onto the back of the carriage. "Oh, Lieutenant," beckoned my mother, "You don't have to come along."
François adjusted his crossbelt and replied, "Where the Crown Princess needs protection I follow, Madame. That was my specific instruction from the King of France."
My mother smiled. "Very well, then. Off, Haas."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The carriage began to roll through the paths of the garden, travelling under arches of brambles where the roses would grow once spring fully arrived. Though the plants were starting to slowly awaken- bits of green poked through the brown death of winter everywhere.
"So, Isabella," my mother began, "I met with your uncle and his wife. Very kind man."
A smile spread across Isabella's face. "He is, isn't he? I missed him."
My mother raised an eyebrow. "He said you can throw quite the party."
Isabella chuckled shyly. "Yes... I suppose so. We had a great time."
My mother leaned over and placed her hand atop Isabella's. "I'm glad. I used to be quite fond of parties in my day. It truly is a blessing that you can put life back into this court. You are a breath of fresh air."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Please. I'm your mother-in-law. You may call me by my Christian name. Theresa."
"Thank you, Theresa."
We rounded a corner and saw the double-storied gazebo where I had chased after Albert, and the tree that I used to drop myself over the garden wall. Each branch was starting to spurt little green buds now, new life forming from the old.
"How I wish spring would come faster," said Eleanore, leaning back into the crushed velvet seat of the carriage. "In Spain we would have been sweating by now."
"We're far from Spain," commented Isabella. "And we have been for quite some time. But I think I like Austria all the same."
Eleanore sighed, "There's no beaches in Austria, Isa."
I intercepted, "There's always the Danube. That's close enough to an ocean based on size."
Eleanore laughed. "Oh, darling. No it's not."
I sat back in my seat, slightly irritated by the Countess's rash statement. "Well, then, I hope to be able to see the ocean one day." From across the carriage, my mother gave me a subtle look of understanding, almost as if she could read my mind.
As the carriage came towards the gate that exited the garden, the sentries posted saluted stiffly. We turned left onto the street, making our way alongside the back wall of the garden. A gentle breeze was rolling across the street, dodging between the buildings like a herd of a thousand mustangs.
Soon, as if by some kind of magical intuition, the people came out of their houses. The children chasing pigeons stopped in their tracks. The women doing house chores paused to stare. The men on the street halted and took off their hats, as if that made it easier to see. It was like they knew that their Empress had approached. Maybe the opulent open-air carriage and the royal guards helped.
Within a short amount of time, a crowd had begun to form. They lined the streets, waving and cheering, as if to get a glimpse of us. But I was unsure of who they actually aspired to see- my mother or Isabella. They certainly weren't chasing after me.
We turned onto another street where the crowd was packed even tighter. "Smile and wave, girls," said my mother, offering to the public a generous grin and a graceful wave. "It's what you're paid for."
Isabella, Eleanore and I complied, waving cordially with broad smiles to the gathering crowd. Eleanore, beaming with confidence, waved as if the people had come to see her. Names were called out by the sightseers, mostly of my mother and of Isabella, who was still fresh and new in the eyes of the people.
Isabella leaned over to whisper to Eleanore, "The Austrians are a determined people."
In the center of the crowd, I watched as the people began to part, but not willingly as they would for a soldier or someone more important. One woman was shoved into her friend, who caught her quickly before she stumbled. For a split second through the parting of the crowd I saw a man with a crop of dark hair wearing a gray coat. I turned to say something to Isabella; what it was I didn't recall. A male voice called out, "Independence for Croatia!"
There was a gunshot. Isabella and Eleanore screamed. My head turned so quickly that I nearly gave myself whiplash. Everything happened so fast that I didn't properly process what happened. I glanced over at where the man once stood, just a pile of guards and Samaritans now.
The guards ushered us out of the carriage and into a nearby building, which happened to be a bank. "Is anyone hurt?" asked Haas, my mother's equerry, frantically.
Somehow my mother was stoic. "No, I don't think so. Girls?"
I checked myself over, unaware of any pain or blood. "No."
"Oh, thank the Heavens," sighed Haas, "He missed."
Through the door came François. "Madame!" He called out, rushing towards Isabella. "Are you harmed?"
"No, no," Isabella replied. "But you-" she pointed to François's side, where a crimson stain was growing across his torso. He had his hand over it, as if he tried to hide it from us.
"But a scratch, it was only a penknife. He only used it when I took his gun away. I'm fine." Though François insisted of his good condition, his face grew pale.
"François!" The lieutenant fell, and we all rushed to catch him. We hurried to condition him, Isabella laying his head in her lap. "We need help!"
Herr Haas kneeled next to us and began to undress François to the waist, blood coating his hands. He tossed the Lieutenant's blue military coat over a nearby chair. "I'm sorry, Madame," François whispered to Isabella, looking up at her. "I failed you."
"No you didn't. You saved my life," Isabella replied, tears choking her voice.
"He wasn't after you," François said. "He was after the Empress."
"It doesn't matter. You still protected me."
François smiled weakly. "I think if I died doing my duty, I would be content."
Herr Haas took off François's undershirt, revealing the wound that crossed his chest and the smeared blood on his naked skin. It was a shallow but long slash between his third and forth rib. Haas was brought water and a cloth, and began to clean François's wound.
François winced with the touch, but maintained himself. "How's the damage, Haas?"
"I'm no doctor, Lieutenant, but I think you'll be just fine."
François closed his eyes and sighed with satisfaction. "Good," Footsteps approached, and François opened one eye. It was my mother, standing before us awkwardly, her hands folded in front of her. "I apologize for the indecency, Your Majesty," François said as Eleanore and I wrapped bandages around his torso.
"No need," said my mother simply. It was if all royal stoicism had been wiped from her. "I'm just glad you're alive."
"I'm glad you're alive, Your Majesty. That's what's important, no?"
"I suppose so."
"Are you alright, Mama? Come sit down."
My mother came and sat on the chair where François's jacket was laid on the back. After a moment's silence, she finally said, "I should give independence to Croatia."
Eleanore turned around. "You want to let go of an entire territory just because some nitwit shot a gun at you and missed? If they want independence they're going to have to do it civilly."
Usually my mother would admonish Eleanore for her sassy tone, but for now she dismissed it. "You think so?"
"You've raised thirteen children, Your Majesty. You don't give the child what they want if they scream and cry and thrash about for it. They must ask kindly and then they will get it."
My mother looked to Eleanore and straightened her shoulders, making her an Empress and a Queen once again.
Isabella and I carried François back out to the carriage, one of his arms over each of our shoulders. We sat him down on one of the seats, leaning slightly back to avoid putting too much skin tension on the wound. "See?" said Isabella, "You get to finally ride in the carriage with us."
"But where will you sit?" asked François.
"On the floor."
We eventually came back to the palace through the front gate, where fellow guards were waiting to take François to his quarter in the guard house. Just before he left, Isabella placed her hand on his arm. "François."
"Yes, Madame."
Isabella looked François straight in the eyes, and made sure that he looked back at her. "Rest. I mean it."
"I'll try my hardest."
As soon as we stepped into the palace, Joseph came running down the stairs. As soon as he came to Isabella he swooped her into a hug. "Thank God," he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "Thank God you're alright. I heard Lieutenant Baptiste was hurt."
"Just a minor flesh would from a knife. He'll be fine. The culprit missed his target with the pistol," Isabella informed him.
Joseph glanced up to me, a kind of sad smile crossing his face, and he pulled me into the hug too. "I thought I was ready to be Emperor, but I'm not. I need more time."
"Mama is unharmed. You'll have the time," I replied.
Some days, when the mood struck me, I would attend one of these briefings with all of mother's officials and advisors. I was not allowed to join the general assembly on the floor, but I watched from a small balcony usually meant for the Empress Consort, whose position had been empty for nearly twenty years. My mother sat on her gold-plated throne, the imperial crown atop her head and robes of state draped around her shoulders. It was always a great sight to see my mother there in the highest position, the only woman in the room.
To her right, a little below her, was my father. He rested his cheekbone against his fist, fighting against oncoming sleep. Scribbling notes to her left was Crown Prince Joseph. As per usual during a time of war, the first matters of business were updates on military campaigns and pressing matters of treaty. For five years now the first matter of business had been war.
Then after war came internal affairs, then imperial affairs, then international relations. The meeting itself usually took about three hours, but it was scarcely eight o'clock when the meeting adjourned. Another would be held after luncheon, then another before my mother retired to bed.
I began to leave the room just after the meeting concluded, coming down the stairs to depart with the politicians and noblemen, talking amongst themselves and shuffling papers. Joseph left with his friend Ernest, a budding imperial advisor, discussing something about the governorship of the Austrian territory in the Netherlands. Just as I was about to leave my mother called for me. "Mimi, dear."
"Yes, Mama?" I replied.
A slight smile crossed my mother's face, which I knew meant this was not a serious matter. "The weather seems to be cheering up. What do you say about a carriage ride? And do invite Isabella."
My mother, Isabella, Eleanore, and I began to load into a topless carriage on the south side of the palace grounds. Once we were settled, the coachman said, "A tour of the gardens, Your Majesty?"
"Ah, yes," replied my mother, "then to the street on the western side. Over a few blocks and then back through the gardens."
"Very well, Your Majesty."
The coach rocked a little as François propped himself onto the back of the carriage. "Oh, Lieutenant," beckoned my mother, "You don't have to come along."
François adjusted his crossbelt and replied, "Where the Crown Princess needs protection I follow, Madame. That was my specific instruction from the King of France."
My mother smiled. "Very well, then. Off, Haas."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The carriage began to roll through the paths of the garden, travelling under arches of brambles where the roses would grow once spring fully arrived. Though the plants were starting to slowly awaken- bits of green poked through the brown death of winter everywhere.
"So, Isabella," my mother began, "I met with your uncle and his wife. Very kind man."
A smile spread across Isabella's face. "He is, isn't he? I missed him."
My mother raised an eyebrow. "He said you can throw quite the party."
Isabella chuckled shyly. "Yes... I suppose so. We had a great time."
My mother leaned over and placed her hand atop Isabella's. "I'm glad. I used to be quite fond of parties in my day. It truly is a blessing that you can put life back into this court. You are a breath of fresh air."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Please. I'm your mother-in-law. You may call me by my Christian name. Theresa."
"Thank you, Theresa."
We rounded a corner and saw the double-storied gazebo where I had chased after Albert, and the tree that I used to drop myself over the garden wall. Each branch was starting to spurt little green buds now, new life forming from the old.
"How I wish spring would come faster," said Eleanore, leaning back into the crushed velvet seat of the carriage. "In Spain we would have been sweating by now."
"We're far from Spain," commented Isabella. "And we have been for quite some time. But I think I like Austria all the same."
Eleanore sighed, "There's no beaches in Austria, Isa."
I intercepted, "There's always the Danube. That's close enough to an ocean based on size."
Eleanore laughed. "Oh, darling. No it's not."
I sat back in my seat, slightly irritated by the Countess's rash statement. "Well, then, I hope to be able to see the ocean one day." From across the carriage, my mother gave me a subtle look of understanding, almost as if she could read my mind.
As the carriage came towards the gate that exited the garden, the sentries posted saluted stiffly. We turned left onto the street, making our way alongside the back wall of the garden. A gentle breeze was rolling across the street, dodging between the buildings like a herd of a thousand mustangs.
Soon, as if by some kind of magical intuition, the people came out of their houses. The children chasing pigeons stopped in their tracks. The women doing house chores paused to stare. The men on the street halted and took off their hats, as if that made it easier to see. It was like they knew that their Empress had approached. Maybe the opulent open-air carriage and the royal guards helped.
Within a short amount of time, a crowd had begun to form. They lined the streets, waving and cheering, as if to get a glimpse of us. But I was unsure of who they actually aspired to see- my mother or Isabella. They certainly weren't chasing after me.
We turned onto another street where the crowd was packed even tighter. "Smile and wave, girls," said my mother, offering to the public a generous grin and a graceful wave. "It's what you're paid for."
Isabella, Eleanore and I complied, waving cordially with broad smiles to the gathering crowd. Eleanore, beaming with confidence, waved as if the people had come to see her. Names were called out by the sightseers, mostly of my mother and of Isabella, who was still fresh and new in the eyes of the people.
Isabella leaned over to whisper to Eleanore, "The Austrians are a determined people."
In the center of the crowd, I watched as the people began to part, but not willingly as they would for a soldier or someone more important. One woman was shoved into her friend, who caught her quickly before she stumbled. For a split second through the parting of the crowd I saw a man with a crop of dark hair wearing a gray coat. I turned to say something to Isabella; what it was I didn't recall. A male voice called out, "Independence for Croatia!"
There was a gunshot. Isabella and Eleanore screamed. My head turned so quickly that I nearly gave myself whiplash. Everything happened so fast that I didn't properly process what happened. I glanced over at where the man once stood, just a pile of guards and Samaritans now.
The guards ushered us out of the carriage and into a nearby building, which happened to be a bank. "Is anyone hurt?" asked Haas, my mother's equerry, frantically.
Somehow my mother was stoic. "No, I don't think so. Girls?"
I checked myself over, unaware of any pain or blood. "No."
"Oh, thank the Heavens," sighed Haas, "He missed."
Through the door came François. "Madame!" He called out, rushing towards Isabella. "Are you harmed?"
"No, no," Isabella replied. "But you-" she pointed to François's side, where a crimson stain was growing across his torso. He had his hand over it, as if he tried to hide it from us.
"But a scratch, it was only a penknife. He only used it when I took his gun away. I'm fine." Though François insisted of his good condition, his face grew pale.
"François!" The lieutenant fell, and we all rushed to catch him. We hurried to condition him, Isabella laying his head in her lap. "We need help!"
Herr Haas kneeled next to us and began to undress François to the waist, blood coating his hands. He tossed the Lieutenant's blue military coat over a nearby chair. "I'm sorry, Madame," François whispered to Isabella, looking up at her. "I failed you."
"No you didn't. You saved my life," Isabella replied, tears choking her voice.
"He wasn't after you," François said. "He was after the Empress."
"It doesn't matter. You still protected me."
François smiled weakly. "I think if I died doing my duty, I would be content."
Herr Haas took off François's undershirt, revealing the wound that crossed his chest and the smeared blood on his naked skin. It was a shallow but long slash between his third and forth rib. Haas was brought water and a cloth, and began to clean François's wound.
François winced with the touch, but maintained himself. "How's the damage, Haas?"
"I'm no doctor, Lieutenant, but I think you'll be just fine."
François closed his eyes and sighed with satisfaction. "Good," Footsteps approached, and François opened one eye. It was my mother, standing before us awkwardly, her hands folded in front of her. "I apologize for the indecency, Your Majesty," François said as Eleanore and I wrapped bandages around his torso.
"No need," said my mother simply. It was if all royal stoicism had been wiped from her. "I'm just glad you're alive."
"I'm glad you're alive, Your Majesty. That's what's important, no?"
"I suppose so."
"Are you alright, Mama? Come sit down."
My mother came and sat on the chair where François's jacket was laid on the back. After a moment's silence, she finally said, "I should give independence to Croatia."
Eleanore turned around. "You want to let go of an entire territory just because some nitwit shot a gun at you and missed? If they want independence they're going to have to do it civilly."
Usually my mother would admonish Eleanore for her sassy tone, but for now she dismissed it. "You think so?"
"You've raised thirteen children, Your Majesty. You don't give the child what they want if they scream and cry and thrash about for it. They must ask kindly and then they will get it."
My mother looked to Eleanore and straightened her shoulders, making her an Empress and a Queen once again.
Isabella and I carried François back out to the carriage, one of his arms over each of our shoulders. We sat him down on one of the seats, leaning slightly back to avoid putting too much skin tension on the wound. "See?" said Isabella, "You get to finally ride in the carriage with us."
"But where will you sit?" asked François.
"On the floor."
We eventually came back to the palace through the front gate, where fellow guards were waiting to take François to his quarter in the guard house. Just before he left, Isabella placed her hand on his arm. "François."
"Yes, Madame."
Isabella looked François straight in the eyes, and made sure that he looked back at her. "Rest. I mean it."
"I'll try my hardest."
As soon as we stepped into the palace, Joseph came running down the stairs. As soon as he came to Isabella he swooped her into a hug. "Thank God," he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "Thank God you're alright. I heard Lieutenant Baptiste was hurt."
"Just a minor flesh would from a knife. He'll be fine. The culprit missed his target with the pistol," Isabella informed him.
Joseph glanced up to me, a kind of sad smile crossing his face, and he pulled me into the hug too. "I thought I was ready to be Emperor, but I'm not. I need more time."
"Mama is unharmed. You'll have the time," I replied.
End of Je T'aime. Chapter 35. Continue reading Chapter 36 or return to Je T'aime. book page.