Je T'aime. - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

I woke to someone shaking my shoulder. "Hey. It's go time."
My brain whipped into rememberance, and I pushed myself upright. "What time is it?"
"Half before midnight," said the whispering voice of Pia, tossing down a stack of working-class garments down onto my bed. "Put these on."
I put on the linen skirt and short jacket, tying an apron around my waist and stuffing my hair away in a cap. A simple black cloak helped to hide my identity from any Viennese residents up at this hour. I struggled to get my foot into the simple buckled shoes that Pia had given me. "I think they're too small."
"They'll work, won't they?" Pia hissed as she lit a lantern. "Come on, we don't have much time," I shoved my foot into the shoe, gathered a few things, and followed her down the service stairs. The stairs were pitch black, steep, and narrow. Pia was in front of me and held up the lantern, but it didn't help any. "Be careful, the stairs are tricky."
"Yeah, no shit," I said as I placed my palm against the wall for support. The service stairs spat us out into a crowded laundry room where garments and underwear alike were hung up on lines, dripping onto the stone floor. "Oh my God, I think those are my father's underbreeches."
Pia laughed. "If you look close enough, you can find Madame von Brandeis's garters."
"Pia!" I exclaimed, but we both laughed, and quickly made our way out of the laundry room.
From the laundry we emerged outside into the depths of night. Out in the city, the bells of St. Stephen's sang out the call of the midnight hour. I pulled my cloak tighter around myself, as a breeze was careening through the city streets. Tied up against the palace gates were our rides, two mules.
Pia and I mounted our steeds and rode out of the palace limits, venturing into the city. The night was only illuminated by Pia's lantern and the silvery light of the moon, casting onto the puddles in the cobblestones. I had trouble focusing on the road in front of me behind my mule's gigantic ears. "We couldn't use horses?" I asked.
Pia replied, "What kind of peasant woman rides around on an imported white gelding? That's just asking to be discovered."
"Where'd you even get these things?"
"I have my methods."
"Pia, please don't tell me you stole them."
"Well, not stolen per say..."
"You know what? I don't want to know."
We rode through the narrow streets of Vienna, eerily quiet at this hour except for the barking of dogs. One in particular called out ferociously from behind his yard's fence, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up. Though he was trying to look frightening, I couldn't help but giggle at his cuteness. From him I glanced up at the mountain, just beyond the city skyline, that was our destination.
Throughout the ride I could have sworn that several times I heard the sound of hooves behind me. But every time I turned, it was nothing. Maybe it was my own desperation that brought forth the imaginary noise. I strived to see her, hopelessly. Without restraint, without supervision. Without that artificial smile that Joseph painted onto her face.
Joseph. My fists tightened at one simple name. How could a name that used to contain so much adoration within me now fill me with anger? He was my big brother. For eighteen years I had looked up to him. Now it was all by the wayside. But he was never so cruel, so desperate to grow up. Something happened to him. He was my brother and I knew when he was keeping something from me. The question was, what was it?
The city began to thin and thin, until soon we were riding uphill on a single-file dirt trail. The Kahlenburg Mountain was before us, sprawling and beautiful, with grapevines traversing it. It was more of a large hill than a mountain. Every surface of it that was not used as a winery was coated with budding trees. At the opposite end of the peak was a silent monastery, cold and still, like it had been left empty. Amongst the grapevines was the little cottage, nestled back almost invisibly against the embrace of the mountain. All that I could see of it was a soft glow from the windows.
A gentle breeze came across the landscape, refreshing my senses. It fluttered the rough linen fabric of my skirt, and rustled the mane of my mule. My cloak carried a little on the wind, and so did Pia's. I glanced back up at that monastery. "We look like two rouge monks."
"Let's hope that's what they think we are," Pia commented. She turned around to look back at Vienna, and so did I. St. Stephen's stood out the most of all, but I could make out the glimmering white stone of Hofburg and its green dome roof made of corrupted copper. After admiring the view, we continued up the mountainside.
The path was narrow and twisting, made of worn earth in some places and washed out gravel in others. The way was framed by trees, mostly young beeches, sticking out of the earth like thin pencils. On the ends of their branches were the buds of a spring yet to come. That made me glad. If the weather cleared up soon enough, we could move back to Schönbrunn.
Near the crest of the hill, the trees thinned and thinned until they were gone entirely. A simple stone wall separated the forest from the sprawling vineyard atop the mountain. The cottage was now closer than ever, and looked even more quaint than before. Pia brought her mule to a halt. "Stop here. We're walking the rest of the way."
"What?" I tried to protest, but Pia was already swinging off of her steed. Reluctantly, I followed her, landing onto the dirt path.
Pia swung and smacked her mule in the rear. "Go on, get outta here!" With a whinny, her ride took off into the forest, mine taking off after it. Pia must have noticed the concern across my face. "They're mules. Trust me, they'll be fine."
Together, though silently, we made our way towards the cottage. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, and the sound of our footsteps was the only constant noise. We walked along the grapevines. Though at this time of year there was no fruit, the plants' twisting vines and broad leaves certainly were a pretty sight.
The cottage, now that I could see it better, was even prettier in person. It was a simple stone construction, with a thatched roof and a red Dutch door. It was an old place, maybe even as old as the monastery. Thick ivy coated large sections of nearly every wall. Pia hung her lantern up by the door, although there were already a few lit inside.
I heard footsteps coming up the hill from the other direction. It was impossible to ignore the clacking metal of Francois's military gear. The woman standing beside him took off her cloak's hood, picked up her skirts, and ran towards me. I followed and we crashed into each other. I wrapped my arms around her waist so tightly that I nearly picked her up off of the ground.
I placed my hand on the back of her head. "By God, it worked! Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
"He would never," Isabella whispered with her arms around my neck. "I'm just fine."
I pulled back and looked into her calf-like eyes, all kinds of wonders hidden behind her chocolate irises. "Are you sure?"
Isabella scoffed, a smile beginning on her face. "I'm here with you now. I don't think I could be any more fine."
Behind me, Pia cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, um-" she pointed behind her, "Francois and I will just wait down here." Isabella and I laughed, and went into the house.
It was a tiny little place, and was no more than two rooms. In one room was an open hearth fireplace, a small table, two chairs, and a bottle of wine. In the other room, without a door, was a bed and a few chests. Isabella and I took off our cloaks, hanging them up by the door.
Isabella sighed, lowering herself down in one of the chairs. Reaching for the bottle, she said, "At a winery this beautiful, we might as well take a few samples," Effortlessly she popped off the cork. She must have noticed my widened eyes, and she said, "You're forgetting that I lived in Italy for five years of my life."
"I don't see any cups-" I began to say, but as I turned back to her Isabella was drinking straight from the bottle. "Well, that's one way to do it."
Isabella pulled the bottle away from her mouth, laughing as she did so. "It's delicious, you have to have some," I followed, taking a swig of the sweet yet stinging alcoholic drink. As I did, Isabella sighed. "I think I needed that," she propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin on the heel of her hand. "I missed you." She reached forward and placed her hand atop mine.
"You're husband is an asshole," I exclaimed. "I don't know how you even stand him."
"He does love me, and that's all that I can ask for. He's... been through a lot. We were talking last night, and I do care for him. I don't love him, trust me. But I do have a sense of dedication to him as my husband. We have to get along. It's for the benefit of everyone," she glanced down thoughtfully, "And those who may come in the future."
"Is he still hounding you about the heir thing? I swear, I'm going to punch him straight in the-"
"But he has a point," Isabella interrupted. "I should just get it over with. And if I die in childbirth, then I die. And by God, I hope it's a son. We can spare another girl from the misery of being a princess."
"Let's not think about that now. We'll cross that bridge when we get there," I replied. "More melancholy topics can be reserved for the palace. In this quaint little place," I motioned to the cottage surrounding us, "The palace is a whole other world."
Isabella smiled warmly, reaching for the bottle of wine. "How I wish it was," she glanced out at the vineyard just outside the window. "Couldn't we live here forever? Have a little farm, selling wine and milk and butter, growing our own food? All to ourselves," Isabella sighed dreamily. "We can keep sheep up on that mountainside and have shepherd dogs. I loved to watch them work back in Italy."
I thought over Isabella's ideas. "No more silk, no more court balls, no more jewels, no more hair powder, no more... anything."
Isabella leaned forward, beaming, and whispered, "We'd go out for a ride, get 'robbed' by highwaymen, and never be heard from again."
I grinned back. "What a terrible tragedy." I took another sip of the wine.
Isabella seemed to glance between my eyes and my mouth as I drank from the bottle. "We'd live here and just... taste the wine." As soon as I pulled the bottle away from my face, Isabella tenderly placed her lips on mine and kissed me, tinged slightly purple from the drink.
As she pulled back I whispered, "We can pretend that we do. For now," I took the cap off of my head and let my hair fall down over my shoulders. Isabella did the same.
Seeking the simplicity of country living, as we had seen only in passing and in art, we undressed to our stays and petticoats, letting our hair fall untamed over our shoulders. "You look fresh out of a Boucher painting," Isabella commented as she worked a tangle out of my hair with her fingers. "I was thinking about inviting him to Vienna to paint me."
"A pastoral princess. Wouldn't that be magnificent," I replied, admiring the simple beauty of the woman that stood before me, just in white linen and a pair of powder pink stays. "More magnificent than you are already."
"Oh, you stop that," Isabella chuckled. She drew her arm around my waist, and pulled me in for another kiss. Something about her kiss was so addicting, and the faint taste of wine on her certainly wasn't helping to curve any cravings. It seemed as if we both thought the same; we both drew heavily into the kiss. We broke, but her fingers still toyed at the lacings of my stays. "You know, he could paint you too. We could be painted together."
"What," I replied, "And get into more trouble then we already are?"
Isabella bit her lip. "I don't know, I think being in trouble is kind of fun. Don't you think?"
"I mean...yeah," I pulled her into my chest, causing her to giggle uncontrollably. "A good kind of trouble. They always said that I was quite the handful."
"Being a handful and an Archduchess is never a good thing, don't you know?"
"I think I turned out just fine," I said, glancing out of the window. "Come on. Let's take advantage of a place like this."
I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the cottage, nearly as quickly as we ran in. For as far as the eye could see around us grapevines covered the sloping landscape, even within a brisk walk's distance from the cottage. And that's where Isabella and I went, two princesses darting through the vineyard.
The early spring breeze was crisp on my exposed skin, and it fluttered my undone hair into my eyes. Though normally I would shiver in these conditions, somehow I felt totally comfortable. Maybe it was the freedom. I inhaled deeply, letting the fresh atmosphere saturate my sinuses.
Isabella squeezed my hand. I glanced over at her, expecting her to say something, but she only smiled at me proudly. The moon cast a silvery glow to her skin, and the wind seemed to brush her chocolate curls away from her face with its own hand.
There was a tree just in front of the house. It was a little tree, an old, knotted one, but it still stood there dutifully anyways. As if we had the same idea, Isabella and I collapsed underneath it. There was a beautiful view of Vienna itself, stone buildings and soft light all to show for it.
Isabella laid her head in my lap. She exhaled as she did so, her hair cascading over my thighs. She looked up at the stars, their reflections swimming in her pupils. "Isn't it funny," she began, "that we all look at the same moon and the same stars? Before we were born, on any place on earth, and long after we're gone?"
"The same moon?" I inquired, not because I misunderstood, but because I wanted her to keep talking.
"Mmm-hmm," she said, reaching out for the moon, as if she could capture it in the palm of her hand. "Earth changes every second but the moon is forever."
Gingerly, I toyed with a section of her hair. "Forever."
"You know, you're much more of a poet than your brother," she said sweetly, still gazing at the moon. Whatever that sentence was supposed to become, it seemed to taper off. The next thing she said, delicately in a whisper, was "When you look at the moon, will you think of me?"
"You know that I will."
Isabella's dark eyes were like a swimming pool full of stars, and her pale skin glowed with lunar light. "Even when I no longer live among you?"
My heart twisted. "Don't speak like that. You are immortal."
Isabella reached up and tangled her fingers with mine. "Your thoughts are so wishful."
"If the moon withstands eternity, then so will you. You are the moon."
Isabella brought our intertwined hands to her lips and kissed my knuckles. "Is that what the poets say?"
"If I was one I would know for sure."
"You should be."
"You think so?"
"Most certainly."
My exposed skin was blissfully chilled by the windy night, but the places where her warm body lay across me were wrapped in comfort. "God, I'm so in love with you," I leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her jawline.
Isabella giggled, bringing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into her. "Oh, how you spoil me."
"Anything for you, Princess," I leaned to kiss her on the same place, but she turned her head and met her lips with mine. She still tasted like wine. She wrapped both of her arms around my neck and pulled herself up to meet me. Suddenly with her weight, I fell backwards, and she lay on top of me. Unfazed, she placed one leg on either side of me, her hips hovering just above mine. I broke the kiss for air, as I was suddenly out of it. "Isa-" I panted.
Isabella's eyes searched my face. "Are you alright? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"Don't be sorry," I replied, still breathless but happy to be so. "That was...great," I chuckled awkwardly. "Can you do it again?"
"With pleasure," she said, already lowering her hips on mine, dropping her weight onto me as our lips locked again. Suddenly touch-starved, as if we couldn't get any closer, my hands attached themselves to Isabella's waist, my fingers tangling in the waistband of her topmost petticoat. The tip of her tongue flirted at the edge of my lips.
In the distance, the sound of a whinnying horse echoed against the mountainside. Hooves and clacking metal followed. As quickly as it had all began, Isabella and I pushed each other off and headed towards the house. We tumbled into the cottage, and I shut the door behind us. I leaned my back against the door, listening for any other sounds. Only silence followed. I exhaled with relief, bringing myself away from the door. "God, that was close."
"Too bad it's all over," spoke a voice from the kitchen.
I could have leapt out of my skin at that moment. "Jesus Christ, Pia!" I exclaimed, "You scared me."
Pia laughed, then said, "Come on. It's time to go home. The sun will be out soon."
With the faint beginnings of sunrise behind me, I walked Isabella out to Francois and her horse. Isabella put her hood up and gathered her skirts. "Until I see you again?" She clasped her hand with mine, giving it a tender squeeze.
"With all good hope, yes you will. And soon," Isabella replied. She mounted her horse, smiling down at me. "You have a safe travel. I love you."
"I love you too." Isabella's fingers slowly slipped from mine until the touch was gone completely. I watched her as she turned her horse around, following Francois down the mountainside and into the golden rays of spreading sunrise.