“Now,” said Frau Graben comfortably, “that’s enough of that talk, Dagobert. The Prince is the Duke’s son and true heir and little Carl the heir to follow him. That’s how it’s been arranged. You’re getting more like your father every day. Oh look, here’s the beginning. My word, don’t the soldiers look fine in their uniforms.”
They did indeed—the brightly caparisoned horses with their waving plumes, the blue and gold uniforms and the glitter of helmets, the marching tunes of the band, the waving flags. The crowd was reduced to a momentary hush. Then the cheers broke out.
On came the brilliant cavalcade and behind it members of the church in the long black and white robes. A soldier on horseback held the Processional Cross. It scintillated in the bright light; the emeralds, rubies, and sapphires shone and the diamond sparkled with red and blue fire. This was the way in which to see it. I recognized Sergeant Franck riding on one side of it; there was another stalwart soldier on the other.
The silence as the Cross passed could only be construed as an awed hush.
After the Cross came the ducal coach. It was not unlike the pictures I had seen of our Queen’s coach, elaborately gilded and drawn by eight white horses. There was the Duke and on one side of him the Prince and on the other the woman whom I had seen at the pavilion and who had reminded me of Ilse.
I hardly saw the Duke, or the Princess. I felt as though I had stepped back into a mad fantastic dream. I stared; for there, seated between the Duke and the Princess, was Maximilian.
FIVE
Frau Graben was saying, “Are you all right, Miss Trant? My goodness, you do look queer. Is it the heat?”
“I . . . I’m all right,” I said.
The sound of brass bands seemed a long way off; the crowds below me seemed to sway; I looked at the goose-stepping soldiers without really seeing them.
I could never mistake him. I knew him too well. In his uniform he looked more splendid than he had in the woods. But I would have known him in any costume.
I sat there, aware of Frau Graben’s anxious glances which were somehow eager and excited. I was sure she knew that it was something more than the heat which had disturbed me.
The crowds were sweeping forward; the ducal party and its retinue had now gone into the church; the service was in progress.
Frau Graben had brought her smelling salts from the capacious pocket of her skirts.
“Have a sniff of these, my dear,” she said. “And, Fritz, run and tell the innkeeper to come to me.”
I repeated: “I’m all right.” But my voice sounded strange, shaky.
“I think you felt a bit faint, dear. Would you like us to go back now or would you like to wait?”
Dagobert’s mouth was a round O of protest. Liesel began to wail: “I won’t go home.” Fritz looked at me anxiously.
“I want to stay,” I said.
Indeed I wanted to stay. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to assure myself that I had been right. I kept saying to myself: “When you first saw the Count for a second or so you thought he was Maximilian. Perhaps you’ve been mistaken again. But no. I had not been. It was true I would know him anywhere; and the reason there was a resemblance between him and the Count was because they were cousins; they had been brought up together and it was not only their looks which were similar.
The innkeeper came and Frau Graben asked him for brandy. When it came she said: “Here, Miss Trant, sip this. It’ll do you the world of good.”
“There’s nothing wrong,” I protested.
“I don’t think you’re right, dear.”
She was smiling, faintly complacent. She didn’t seem to take her eyes from my face.
“There,” she said, when I had taken some brandy. “That’s better.”
I wanted to shout: It makes no difference. It’s not the heat. I’ve seen Maximilian and Maximilian is your Prince of Rochenstein.
The children were chattering. “I liked the Cross best.”
“I didn’t. I liked the soldiers.”
“I liked the drums.”
“Did you see Papa?”
“Papa was the best. He was the most handsome.”
And so on. I wished Frau Graben would not show such concern.
“Perhaps we should have left,” she whispered.
“No, no. It’ll be all right.”
“It’s too late now. The crowd’s growing more dense. They’ll all be there till after the return procession back to the palace.”
The service was over at last. They rode through the streets. Once more I saw him. At one moment I thought that, as he acknowledged the shouts of the crowd, he would look up at our window, but he did not.
I felt dizzy and bewildered; but there was a great singing gladness in my heart. I had found Maximilian.
I was silent as Prinzstein, one of the coachmen, drove us back to Klocksburg.
When we arrived, Frau Graben said: “I should go and lie down, dear. That’s the best thing after a turn like that.”
There was nothing I wanted to do so much as to be alone. My thoughts were in a whirl. I had to see him. I must let him know that I was here. Whatever had happened during those three days following the Night of the Seventh Moon I knew that it was the Prince whom I had met in the mist and that he was the father of my child.
Little scraps of Frau Graben’s conversation came back to me. Her boys had been “ones” for the women, they had seen them and fancied them and let nothing stand in the way of their desires. She had impressed that upon me.
I was suddenly reminded of the Princess Wilhelmina—the woman who had a look of Ilse. His wife! But how could she be if he were married to me? Unless, of course, they had been married before. No, I remember something Frau Graben had said. Four years ago the Prince had married . . . reluctantly . . . a woman who came from a more important state than Rochenstein. So it was a good match. They had a child, who had followed in one of the carriages. I had not noticed him. I could see nothing, think of nothing but Maximilian.
A great desolation came to me. It was nine years since we had met. What place could I have in his life now?
But I must see him. I might mean nothing to him, but I must see him. I had to know what had happened to me during those six days of my life.
How did one see a prince? One could not, I suppose, go to the Schloss or the palace and ask to see him. Perhaps one asked for an audience. My life was once more taking a dramatically fantastic turn.
Frau Graben was knocking at the door.
“Ah, lying down!” she said. “That’s right. I’ve brought you some of my special wine.”
“You are very good,” I said.
“Stuff and nonsense.” She laughed as though something had secretly amused her. “This will do you good. I made it myself. It’s made with dandelions and a touch of the sloe, but I’m not giving any more secrets away not even to you, dear Miss Trant. Poor Fritzi’s very anxious about you. My goodness, you’ve wormed your way into that boy’s heart—no mistake. And he’s not one to give his affection easily either. You frightened me.”
I sipped the wine. It made my throat tingle.
“It’ll warm the cockles of your heart, as they say. There now, doesn’t it? What did you think of our Prince?”
“Very handsome . . .”
“Well, I’d say Fredi was the more handsome of the two but young Maxi had a charm of his own.”
“So you called him Maxi.”
“Oh he’s Carl Ludwig Maximilian like his father—so is the little one. They’re all Carls when they come to power but they have their own family names. The boy’s called Carl in the Family and in public like his grandfather. It did me good to see Maxi. He looked well, I thought, after his stay in Berlin. I’ll warrant he enjoyed that. They say the Berlin girls are very smart.”
“Did he go to see the girls?”
She laughed her loud abandoned laugh. “Well, he’d always do that; but it was this conference as well. He’ll have to show himself now round the coun
tryside. I’ll bet he’ll be off on a tour of some sort soon. He’s been away some time. It was a good procession, wasn’t it? Nothing like royalty to draw the crowds. And of course a young prince is always an attraction. Prince Charming, you know. The people like a young duke and they say his father’s not long for this world. He had a bad illness last year. It was a wonder he survived. Fredi’s a trial. He doesn’t want to see his cousin come into the title—the boy I brought up with him in the nursery.”
While she spoke she was watching me with her bright humorous but intent gaze.
I wanted to say to her: Go away. I must be alone to think.
She went to the window. “There’s his own flag flying from the tower. Blue on green with the eagle in the corner. That means he’s there. The Duke’s flag is there too.”
I got up and went to the window and looked out. There were the two flags as Frau Graben had said.
“Fredi flies his flag from his own Schloss and it’s very similar to Maxi’s. Fredi had the design altered slightly so that the difference between them is not all that easy to tell. Mischief!”
I stood at the window looking at the fluttering flags.
“He’s come home in time for the Night of the Seventh Moon,” she observed.
I spent a sleepless night and the next morning was determined to see him soon. If I wrote would the letter reach him? There were probably secretaries who screened his correspondence. Suppose I presented myself at the Schloss and said: “I must see the Prince. I am an old friend of his.”
It would not be easy. There were guards at the entry to the Schloss. They would not let me through. I could consult Frau Graben. If she were on such familiar terms with Maximilian as she was with the Count she would advise me; but she would ferret my story from me and I did not wish to speak of it to anyone.
I remembered how it had upset me when I had talked to Anthony. No one could have been more sympathetic, too much so perhaps.
Frau Graben came to my room before breakfast to see how I was. Why didn’t I take a day’s holiday? she said. Get into the forest with the children. It would do me good.
I said: “Is the Family accessible?”
She looked puzzled.
“I mean do they meet people?”
“They’re meeting people all the time.”
“I mean spontaneously. Do people call on them . . .”
“Call on them! Well, not exactly. They’d have to wait until they were asked, wouldn’t they?”
“I see. And I suppose there are secretaries and so on to protect them?”
“Well, would anyone be able to call on your Queen?”
I said I was sure that would have to be arranged too.
She went to the window. “Oh, the Prince’s flag is no longer flying. That means he’s set off on his tour already. I shan’t see him now until he gets back. I’ll give him a good talking to. He knows I like to see him when he gets back from his stays away from us.”
I felt a sense of frustration. I was on the point of telling Frau Graben that I was planning to see him; that I must see him on a matter of great importance to me. But I felt it was wiser to say nothing. In any case I could take no action until he came back. Perhaps in the next few days some solution would occur to me.
So I continued to fret and brood and yet sometimes I was so happy that my moods were unpredictable. I fluttered between despair and a wild unreasoning hope.
The children were excited. Soon it would be the Night of the Seventh Moon. They had pointed the moon out to me when it was no more than a slim crescent lying there in the sky seeming to hang over the ducal Schloss. When it was full there would be the great night.
There would be firework displays in the Schloss gardens and the whole town would be able to see them. Frau Graben had said that we should look from the turret room where we would get the best view.
“The children would like to go into the town,” she said, “but I’m not having that. As for you, Miss Trant, I’d strongly advise you to stay in too. I wouldn’t like to think of you out there. People seem to go quite mad on this night. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I think I do,” I said.
“My goodness, ordinary decent Christians behave like barbarians. Something happens when the moon is full, they say. We go right back to the days before Jesus Christ walked this earth. Then there was a different religion here and this is Loke’s land . . . the land of mischief. I reckon it’s time this was abolished. The Duke tried to once, you know, but the people wouldn’t have it. Whether the night was recognized or not they were still out in their masks and costumes. There’s many a girl meets her ruin on the Night of the Seventh Moon.”
“I shall be content to watch from the turret room window,” I said.
She nodded smiling.
“I’ll feel happier to know you’re there.”
All day long there was a mounting tension. On the previous afternoon the Prince had returned to the Schloss. Before I went to bed I saw his flag flying from the tower.
I could not describe my feelings; they fluctuated between despair and elation, between frustration and hope. One thought filled my mind: I must see him soon.
In the afternoon the children, Frau Graben and I drove down into the town to see the preparations. Flags were hanging from the windows of the houses and I had never seen the flower boxes at many of the windows so colorful. Some of the shops had boarded up their windows.
The sun was hot; people were laughing and joking; they were all talking of “Tonight.”
“I want to come down here tonight and see the dancing,” announced Dagobert.
“You’re going to see the fireworks,” Frau Graben told him firmly.
“I want to come too,” said Liesel, who followed Dagobert in everything.
“Now now,” said Frau Graben comfortably, “the fireworks will be lovely.”
“I’ll come out and put on a mask and ride down,” cried Dagobert.
“I daresay, my lad, in your dreams,” laughed Frau Graben. “Now who’d like to go to the Prince’s for spiced buns.” She gave me a gentle nudge. “That sounded funny didn’t it. Go to the Prince’s for spiced buns. The inn, I mean, of course, not His Highness.”
She went on chuckling at her joke and I made up my mind that the next day I would come down to the town when the children were with Pastor Kratz and ride up to the Schloss and tell the guards that they must let the Prince know that Helena Trant was asking to see him. At least if I did not see him then I might discover how I could do so.
The children chattered over their buns and Frau Graben said we’d better be getting back. The crowds started coming in early, and we didn’t want to get caught in the crush.
The evening came. I kept thinking of that long-ago day, of going forth into the town—another town, it was true, but that afternoon I had been struck by the similarity between the two—of losing Ilse and plunging straight into fantasy.
The children were allowed to stay up a little later than usual to see the fireworks. “Providing,” said Frau Graben, “that as soon as they are over, there are no protests about going to bed.”
So when it was dark we went to the turret room—the children, myself, and Frau Graben. Candles in sconces stood on either end of the mantelshelf and on the polished table was a small candelabrum. The effect was enchanting.
We ranged ourselves round the window and the display began.
It was taking place in the grounds of the ducal Schloss which was an excellent spot as it would be visible from almost every point. The children shrieked with excitement as the fireworks flashed across the sky and when the display was over there were groans of disappointment but Frau Graben hustled them all away and as she did so, she whispered to me: “Stay here. I’ll join you later. There’s something I want to show you.”
So I stayed and looking round the room remembered the unhappy woman who was alleged to have thrown herself from the window and haunted the room ever since. In candlelight it did seem eerie. I won
dered how desolate one had to become before one took such a terrible step; I could imagine her feelings so acutely in those moments.
I felt a great desire to go to my comfortable room below; here I felt so remote from the rest of the fortress although only the spiral staircase separated us.
I turned away from the window and sat at the table. Footsteps were mounting the spiral staircase—two sets of footsteps. My heart began to beat wildly. I wasn’t sure why. I sensed that something tremendous was about to happen. Frau Graben was with the children—she could hardly have had time yet to see them in bed. There were just the two maids in the fortress. The steps were not light enough for those.
The door was thrown open. It was Frau Graben, beaming, her hair slightly ruffled, an unusual flush in her cheeks.
She said: “Here she is.”
And then I saw Maximilian.
I stood up, my hand touching the table for support. He came in; he stared at me unbelievingly. Then he said: “Lenchen! It can’t be! Lenchen!”
I went forward; I was caught in his arms. I clung to him. I felt his lips on my brow and cheeks.
“Lenchen,” he repeated. “Lenchen . . . it can’t be.”
I heard Frau Graben chuckle. “There. I brought her for you, couldn’t have my Lightning fretting so I went and got her for you.”
Her laughter broke in on our wonder in each other and we were only vaguely aware of what she was saying. Then the door shut and we were alone.
I said: “I’m not dreaming, am I? I’m not dreaming.”
He had taken my face in his hands; his fingers caressed it as though he were tracing its contours.
“Where have you been, Lenchen . . . all this time?”
“I thought I should never see you again.”
“But you died . . . You were in the lodge . . .”
“The lodge had disappeared when I went back. Where had you gone? Why didn’t you come for me?”
“I’m afraid you’ll disappear in a moment. I’ve dreamed of you so often. And then I wake to find my arms empty and you gone. You were dead, they told me. You were in the lodge when it happened . . .”