Leading Lady (7 page)

‘I failed,' said Martha.

‘But you'll try again. They know that too. It may have made you enemies, that stand of yours; I'm afraid it has, but it's solved our problems for us today. You'll see, highness.'

‘I wish you would call me Martha.'

‘Best not, I think, my dear. A dangerous habit to get into. In fact, I had had it in mind to give you a small scolding while I have the chance, if you will bear with me …'

‘Of course. What am I doing wrong?'

‘You're being too friendly, child. We Lissenbergers are a stiff-necked lot. If we are to be ruled, it must be by someone who behaves like a ruler. You and Franz are each as bad as the other. Hail-fellow-well-met to all your subjects! It won't do, and I wish you would tell Franz when the moment is ripe. It's playing into his father's hands.'

‘They'd rather be ruled by a tyrant who fleeces them, and seduces their daughters, and behaves like a prince, than by a democrat who thinks of their best interests and shakes their hands?'

‘I'm very much afraid so.' And then, with a smile. ‘The men, that is. Not the women, as you are going to see today.'

It was an extraordinary morning. By the time they had finished breakfast, the street outside was thronged with women, calling for their princess. When Martha appeared, she was greeted with enthusiastic cheers, and her carriage had to proceed at a walking pace to accommodate the loving crowd that
accompanied it. The houses of the men who had been injured at the mine were equally crowded with women who must be presented to their princess. It was all confusion, devotion, and even Martha was not quite sure which of the heavily shawled women who accompanied her carriage was in fact Franz, nor was she sure when he was whisked away to be wrapped in concealing bandages and smuggled into the coach.

Martha had sent a rider ahead to arrange accommodation at the palace for her ‘patient', and when the carriage drew up in the courtyard she was glad to see Anna in charge of a group of servants with a carrying chair. ‘Not a word now,' she reminded her husband before the door was opened. ‘We are afraid the blow to your head may have affected your brain.'

‘It has my speech!' He managed to mumble it through the bandages. ‘You're sure Anna knows which rooms?'

‘I'll make sure.' She had been more shocked than surprised to learn that Prince Gustav's suite of rooms, which she and Franz now occupied, had a secret stair and passageway communicating with another luxurious suite known as the Blue Rooms, in an opposite wing. She had objected, at first, to Franz's suggestion that she have him put there, for ease of communication. ‘It must be an open enough secret by now, surely?'

‘Perhaps. But not one that you would be expected to know. Or I, for the matter of that.'

Anna clearly knew. ‘You want him put in the Blue Suite, highness?' She made it more than a question, as Franz let himself be eased into the carrying chair.

‘Yes, Anna, and I want you to look after him there. Come to me, please, as soon as he is settled and, for God's sake, don't touch the bandages or try to get him to talk. It was a terrible blow to the head. The doctors are anxious for his reason. Take good care of him,' she turned to the men who were ready to lift the chair, ‘but don't talk to him. He needs absolute rest, the doctor says. Don't even try to put him to bed until I have seen him. Just leave him in the chair.' The patient let out a groan. ‘Ah, the poor man! Come and see me as soon as you can, Anna.'

The next problem was a doctor. She and Franz had discussed this the night before and come to no satisfactory conclusion. Much to their relief, Prince Gustav had taken his own doctor to Gustavsberg with him and they had not replaced him, sending to Lissenberg if one of the palace servants was ill. Who could she turn to now? Anyone who examined Franz must recognise him, and for once Frau Schmidt had had no suggestion to offer. And the only person she really trusted in the palace was Anna, who had been her ally back at the hostel the year before. She must wait and talk to her.

In the meantime she busied herself with the messages that had come in while she had been away; only a night, but it seemed much longer. Count Tafur had gone on a sightseeing trip to Brundt and would be away several days; Lodge and Playfair had called to take their leave before going to Gustavsberg; she was happy to have missed them. And an Austrian messenger had arrived asking for Prince Maximilian and been sent on to Gustavsberg. She was sorry not to have seen him, and it reminded her that she must send for Max.

But here at last was Anna, looking both puzzled and anxious. ‘Who is it, highness?'

‘You don't know?'

‘Well.' Doubtfully. ‘There's something about him … And you taking such care … Highness, it's not Prince Maximilian? Prince Gustav hasn't …?' She left the sentence unfinished, hurried on. ‘I didn't say anything to the men, of course. Or to him.'

‘Thank you, Anna. No. You're close! It's my husband; it's the prince. He's not hurt,' she hurried on to add. ‘He came back in secret. To Frau Schmidt. We don't want it known how he got here. We have to work something out. You'll help, won't you?'

‘You know I will! Oh, highness, I am so glad he is back safe.'

‘So am I! He is going to arrive, officially, tomorrow, but in the meantime where am I to find a doctor to help me? He has to be seen by a doctor tonight or people are bound to suspect something.'

‘Yes, I do see that. But they're such gossips, doctors. House to house, a word here, a word there. And anything that
happens here at the palace is news. But, of course! How could I be so stupid? The Holy Fathers!'

‘The Trappists?' She remembered that she and Franz had received a deputation from this silent order after their coronation the year before. There had been some problem about their land, which Franz had settled in their favour. ‘Have they a doctor?'

‘Yes, a new young one. They found him at their gate, one morning this spring, soon after the road was open. He was starving, threadbare … Never told them where he came from, but of course they took him in, fed him up, and found he was a doctor. A good one, they say. He's not taken the vow of silence, not been admitted to the order, but you know what they are like, highness, those Trappists. They won't gossip.'

‘They certainly won't.' They seemed strange enough allies. She had never, herself, quite understood the idea of withdrawing from the world.

‘And they are the nearest,' Anna pointed out. ‘Except for the hostel doctor, and we certainly don't want him. That's a gossip if ever there was one. You should just hear the things he is saying about Lady Cristabel.' She stopped, shocked at what she had said.

‘I would much rather not, Anna.' But ought she to ask what they were? Not now, at all events. She made up her mind. ‘Yes, do, please, send for the young doctor, Anna. I'll see him first. It's a chance I think we have to take. If I decide I can't trust him, I'll just have to think of an excuse to send him away again. Take some frivolous female dislike to him, do you think?'

‘It would be most unlike you, highness. Mind you,' the shared crisis had taken Anna back to the old confidential terms, ‘I sometimes think you might be better loved if you did behave a bit more like a silly woman.' And then, blushing furiously. ‘Forgive me; I didn't mean …'

‘I'm afraid I know just what you mean. I had a scolding from Frau Schmidt yesterday … but what are we doing? Gossiping ourselves. Send for the doctor, Anna. Say it's urgent.'

‘Any message from the palace is urgent. What about the arrangements for tomorrow?'

‘I think they must wait until I have seen the doctor, found out if he will help. Because, if he will, it might solve another problem – how to explain the wounded man's disappearing. We'll send him to the Holy Fathers.'

The monks had established themselves some years before in a ruined farm a little higher up the mountain than the palace. The farm had been too high up and too small to pay its way and when the last owner had died without heirs, it had begun gradually to crumble its way back to nature. When the little group of refugee monks had moved in, no one had come forward to object, and, ten years later, it had been one of Prince Franz's first decisions to legitimise their tenancy. Once again, no one had protested. The little farm was invisible from the road that led over the mountains to Lake Constance, and the silent fathers were only remembered when one of them appeared in Lissenberg market to sell the produce they were now getting from their unfruitful soil, and buy manufactured goods in exchange.

Doctor Joseph arrived late that evening, just when Martha was beginning to give up hope of him. ‘Thank you, Anna.' She dismissed her and looked somewhat doubtfully at the tall, cowled figure. Monks were something quite out of her American experience. ‘You are a doctor, father?' she asked in German.

‘But not a monk, highness.' He corrected her in fluent French. ‘Though the fathers allow me to wear their uniform.'

‘You're French then?' She wished he would push back the concealing cowl. How could she decide whether she could trust him when all she could see were heavy brows over deep set eyes, a beaky nose and a mouth that looked as if it knew how to laugh.

‘No, highness, thank God.' He was not laughing now. ‘I'm Swiss, from the Vaud. For what that's worth these days, since the French took us over. My grandfather welcomed them with open arms when they marched in after their revolution. He thought they were bringing us union and democracy at last. And now look at us! Satellites! Tributaries! Their taxes bankrupted us; it killed my grandfather. Forgive me, you don't want to hear all this, highness.'

‘But you are a doctor?' She found herself oddly in sympathy with this positive young man.

‘A good one. So they conscripted me into their army, the damned – forgive me – French. I couldn't stand it; it's not my kind of medicine. I'm a deserter, highness. I told the Fathers; they don't mind. I got away from the army of Italy, made my way north, found asylum here just in time. It's exhausting, being on the run. They've been good to me. Lissenberg has been good to me. You need a doctor, highness, I am entirely at your service.'

‘I am going to trust you.' She held out her hand and he took it in a warm and comforting grasp.

‘You can, I think.'

‘Good.' She liked him the better for the qualified answer, and explained swiftly what she needed him for.

‘A lie or two?' He summed it up with a surprisingly Gallic shrug of hooded shoulders. ‘Against the French? For Prince Franz? It will be a pleasure, highness. And there is something else I think I can do for you.'

‘Oh?' She was liking him more and more.

‘I found it just the other day. It's almost enough to make one believe in God.'

‘You don't?'

‘Forget I said that, highness. You're too easy to talk to. I hadn't realised how much I miss women. The thing is, just the other day I was down in the farmhouse cellar. It's a terrible place. Well, all of it is fairly spartan, they don't go in for comfort, the Holy Fathers, but they've done nothing at all about the cellar. It's dry, but that's about all you can say for it. To tell you the whole truth, which I want to, I was down there in the hopes of finding a forgotten cask of wine. Vain hope! But what I found was more interesting. A tunnel … solidly built, old, but the air was clear. It has to come here, to the palace. There's a door at the end, with a grille, into a cellar. I'd know it if I saw it.'

‘You mean we could get the prince out that way?' Anna's near recognition had been a warning.

‘Yes, while I'm pretending to take him up to the Holy Fathers, you will really be getting him up through the tunnel. I'll bring robes tomorrow early. He'll have no problem in that
silent house. Then he can meet you, by the road, come back as if from Lake Constance.'

‘Admirable. You're an ally in a thousand! Tell me, before I take you to your “patient”. Are you happy with the silent Fathers?'

‘Happy? What do you think, highness?'

‘I think that if the prince agrees you had better come here as our court doctor.'

Martha was hardly surprised to learn that there was a secret passage down from the Blue Suite to the tunnel that gave winter access between palace and opera house. The honeycomb of secret or semi-secret passages under the mountain had played a powerful part in last year's revolution in Lissenberg, and it was strange and yet somehow logical to be down there now with Franz. They found Doctor Joseph's door easily enough now they knew where to look. It was heavily barred on their side, she was glad to see, and stiff on its hinges when Franz finally got it open. ‘At least no one has used it for a long time.' She was hastily unwinding his bandages, which they had kept on as a disguise till the last minute. ‘Good God!' The last one came away. ‘You've shaved your beard. I like it.'

‘I don't. But my grandmother said there was no way I could pass as a woman with it, however hooded and shawled, and she was right, as usual. I'll get used to it, I suppose.'

‘It makes you look even more like Max. How strange,' she reached up to kiss him experimentally. ‘It feels quite different! But we mustn't be wasting time here. I must go back and see your double off to the Holy Fathers. Dear me, I shall be glad when we have got you officially back here, and you can take charge of things. There's been a new Austrian messenger for Max, by the way, they sent him on to Gustav, and I've sent a man after to ask Max to come back at once.' They quickly confirmed the meeting-place at dusk, on a lonely stretch of the mountain road.

‘Why will you be out so late?' he asked.

‘Because you sent for me, secretly, having confirmed your suspicions of the guards at the frontier post by Lake Constance. I am delighted to have this pretext to get rid of them. I've been sure for some time that they are in Austrian pay.'