The Musician's Daughter (18 page)

Zoltán passed his hand across his eyes. “My sister received this letter. Unfortunately we cannot say exactly where it came from, although we have our ideas.”

He took a folded piece of paper from inside his waistcoat and handed it to me.

The release of the general will secure the release of the girl and her brother. We will contact you with details.

“They think I am still in the sewer,” I said.

“In the sewer!?”

Zoltán’s astonishment nearly made me laugh, despite my distress. I explained to him as quickly as I could exactly what had happened.

“I think we had better make them believe we have not found you,” he said. “You must remain here until I send word that you can leave.”

“Remain here!” I exclaimed. “I shall do no such thing.”

“You will be in danger, and you will endanger your brother.”

“Not if I am in disguise. Haven’t I earned your trust? I cannot just sit by and do nothing.”

Zoltán did not speak at first. “I won’t—it wouldn’t be—” He gave up and just shook his head.

I felt a little sorry for him. It crossed my mind briefly that I should do as he said and spare him any more worry. But I knew that if I did not persuade him to include me in what ever they planned to do, I would continue to search without them. I would never forgive myself if something happened to my brother. He was too small and timid to get himself out of difficulties as I was able to. “If you do not let me come with you, I will try to find Toby by myself.”

“You are hurt already,” he said, pointing to my bandaged hand. “It will be difficult to play the viola, and you might be injured much more seriously if you do as you threaten.”

“It will be difficult to play in any case. I have no instrument. My mother sold it.” I hadn’t meant my words to sound so peevish and complaining.

“Why did you not say so, my dear?” Haydn’s voice was kind, but I couldn’t take kindness just then. It made everything too complicated.

“Just tell me what you need me to do,” I said, not looking at either of them.

“We’ve persuaded the general to inform us where he thinks you both were taken,” Zoltán said. “He says the most likely place is in the house of your uncle.”

“That’s impossible—I don’t just mean for me, of course—but I went through my uncle’s house last night before I was trapped and did not find anyone.”

“But there is nowhere else,” Zoltán said. “We have people inside all the other houses of those Austrians who are in the councilor’s pay, and the Hungarians who make Vienna their winter home.”

Every time Zoltán told me something more about their cause, I saw its ripples widening far beyond the small world we inhabited, a world full of music and the tribulations and pettiness of court life.

The maestro interrupted him. “You have not hurt the general, have you?”

Zoltán paused before answering, leaving me wondering when he finally spoke whether he told the truth. “No, he is not harmed. Nor will he be—at least, not in any material way.”

“Provided this is so, I shall do this evening as you have asked me,” the maestro said. “I presume the concert is still to take place?”

Zoltán nodded. “Wolkenstein has not canceled. He is too sure of himself to consider the general’s misadventure more than a temporary setback. After all, he has almost as much power behind him as the emperor.”

Zoltán came to me and took hold of my shoulders, fixing me with his disturbing gaze. “You say you went all over his house. Do you think you can tell us exactly what you found in each room? Down to the tiniest details?”

“In truth, I had no light, so I cannot describe more than which rooms lead into which, and where the staircases are located. The only place I remember clearly is the cellar.”

“If you are willing to help, I have been authorized to ask you for one final favor.” Zoltán had let go of my shoulders and looked down at the floor. I waited for him to continue, but something held him back.

“Do you still doubt me?” I asked.

“Not doubt,” he said, looking into my eyes again. “I simply hoped you would see sense and protect yourself. However, as you are determined … We want you to go back to your uncle’s house. But this time you will not be alone. And you will be armed.”

“Armed—how?”

Zoltán reached under his cloak and removed a pistol. It was not an elegant, pearl-handled dueling pistol such as gentlemen sometimes carry, but an ugly, black monster. I wondered when it had last been used, and for what. “It’s mainly just to frighten,” he said.

“So I wouldn’t have to fire it, then?”

“I hope not,” he said. “But one of us will have to make some noise, and we need to ensure that we have the greatest possible opportunity to do so.”

“Noise?” I asked.

“The plan is to summon the guards to the councilor’s house at the moment when we have found what we are looking for. Since the guards are controlled by the military and the military is currently under the illusion that Wolkenstein is on their side, they will need some compelling reason to enter, especially during a party. A pistol fired inside the councilor’s residence would be something they could not ignore.” He placed the pistol in my hands. “Think carefully, Rezia. You may be called upon to act in a way that would distress you.”

The pistol was heavy and cold. For one tiny instant I pictured myself aiming it at my uncle’s heart and pulling the trigger. The image in my mind frightened me. “I’ve never held a firearm before,” I murmured. “Must I truly?”

“If you want to come, this is the condition,” Zoltán said. “It is too dangerous otherwise. And you will be in disguise. You will appear to be an innocent young fellow newly part of the orchestra. That way you are less likely to attract notice or be singled out to search. Besides, we dare not involve anyone who doesn’t already know what we are about.”

“What if I am recognized? My uncle may be looking for me.”

“We have thought about that,” Zoltán said with a smile. “I will tell you the rest later when we meet at my apartment.”

My godfather rested his gentle hands on my shoulders. “You do not have to go, Theresa.”

I turned, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed him on both cheeks. “I trust Zoltán. I shall be all right, Godfather. I’ve already managed to survive the sewers.” His smile at my pleasantry was halfhearted at best.

“Come. Danior is waiting for us. We’ll show you what to do.”

Haydn loaned me a warm cloak with a hood that was big enough to shadow my face against curious passersby, and Zoltán had come prepared with a mask in case I needed it. I turned to my godfather. “We must finish your scores. I shall come tomorrow and stay as long as you need me.”

He nodded. I saw a hint of moistness in his clouded eyes just before I turned to go.

CHAPTER 21

W
e all met at Zoltán’s lodgings—Danior, Maya, Zoltán, and I—to discuss the plan. The first things I learned were the details of my disguise as a young man of the orchestra.

“I think that in boy’s clothing, and with your hair hidden away beneath a wig, you’d pass well enough,” Zoltán said. I wasn’t exactly happy that he thought I could so easily hide my sex. I know I blushed, and I could not look at him as Danior continued explaining what we were all to do.

Although I had nothing on which to base my impression, the plan sounded as if it would be dangerous to everyone involved. It would all take place at my uncle’s house. He had invited some important guests to a concert to celebrate his victory over those who wanted to extend the reforms to Hungary. The council was supposed to vote against it that very day.

“It should never have come to this,” said Danior. “Your father should have brought the documents to Haydn, who would have shown them to the prince. Then the vote would have been postponed until after the additional evidence could be placed before the emperor. I have some of the documents your father obtained safely hidden, but not the most important ones, the eyewitness accounts of atrocities.”

“Someone must have known he had them,” I said, as much to myself as to anyone else.

“We have the general, which will prevent the other side from winning their vote,” said Zoltán. The vote was close enough so that one man would make a difference, apparently. Although my uncle had managed to secure a lot of support, he couldn’t corrupt everyone.

Zoltán had drawn a crude map of the ground floor and cellars of my uncle’s house, based upon my description. We clustered around his table as he moved hazelnuts around, explaining which one was who, and how we were to go about finding our way to the cellars in the midst of a party with hundreds of guests.

“Why is my uncle still having his celebration when the measure will not have passed?” I asked.

Maya, who had been sitting a little behind the others, now leaned forward. “The Hungarian ambassador is in Vienna. There are rumors that he intends to side with the reformists. Your uncle has apparently discovered that he has a certain weakness for the company of young boys, and intends to facilitate this for him. After that, simple blackmail is all that will be needed to ensure his cooperation.”

Toby!
I thought with horror. Surely my uncle would not do something so horrible to his own nephew. And yet, he had treated me as if I were so much currency to purchase the favors of General Steinhammer, and then had me locked up in the sewers, even if he did intend to let me out eventually.

Zoltán continued. “Maya will be among the kitchen help, and she will ensure that the pantry is unlocked. The four of you—Danior, two of his men, and you, Rezia—will look for Toby in the cellar. When you have found him and secured his safety, wait for a lull in the music from the dining room above and then one of you—whoever can manage it—fire off a pistol to summon the guards.”

“Why so much noise? Why not just take Toby away?” I felt a little troublesome asking, but I wanted to be sure I was doing the right thing and not putting Toby in any more danger by my actions.

“Because we need official witnesses. No one will believe you and Toby, I’m afraid.”

I had not thought of that. Of course my uncle’s word would carry more weight than mine. There was still one other part of the plan that disturbed me, though. No doubt Uncle Theobald had discovered by now that I had escaped from the sewer and would be looking for me. By walking right back into his house, I would be giving him every chance to apprehend me again. Zoltán had not really answered my question before, so I asked again. “What if,” I started, hardly daring to utter the possibility, “what if my uncle recognizes me, despite my disguise? What would I be doing there?”

“You will be doing precisely what he would least take notice of,” Zoltán said. “You will be performing music, and therefore number among the menial servants he has hired to entertain his guests.”

“I—performing music?”

“The third desk in the violas. The maestro has composed a work that requires an extra viola player.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Zoltán smiled. I knew that I, too, should be feeling only fear about what was ahead and disgust at my uncle’s illegal activities, but my heart leapt at Zoltán’s words. It had been only a few days since I had last played, yet so much had happened in that time that it felt like an eternity. I longed not only to hear music, but to feel an instrument come alive at the touch of my bow, feel the vibration flow like the river’s current down my arm, through my shoulder, and into my heart. And I would—that very evening. What was still more wonderful was that I would do so among the musicians of the most skilled orchestra in the empire. I realized that perhaps I would play only a little, but even a moment was more than I had ever dreamed possible. Ladies did not play in the orchestra. Ladies sometimes performed harpsichord solos, or sang in the operas. But they did not sit among the men like equals and play under the maestro’s direction.

“...if you are nervous about it, you don’t need to make any sound at all, you can just pretend,” Zoltán continued.

I nodded. He probably expected that I couldn’t really play. Of course. What else would he think?

“I must go now and start working in the councilor’s kitchen,” Maya said.

“Rezia, you stay here and rest. Here is your musician’s uniform. I’ll return to fetch you at six of the clock.”

Danior and Zoltán departed with Maya, leaving me alone in Zoltán’s apartment. It was very plain, I noticed. Without him actually in it, I would hardly have known he lived there. Except, of course, for the violin and viola cases on the table. Although I was tempted to do it, he had not given me leave to try out the viola, and in truth, I was very tired. It was hours until the evening. For once I decided to do exactly as I was told and climbed the two steps into the curtained bed to lie down.

I think I must have fallen asleep almost immediately. When I awoke, I found myself in the dark except for the glow of the fire in the stove. I was still tired, but the thought of what I had to do that evening soon made me leap out of bed. If all went according to plan, we would find Toby, expose my uncle’s treachery, and vindicate my father’s death. Soon after I finished dressing in the simple uniform of a musician, a plain black coat, black satin breeches, and white hose, I heard steps on the stairs to the apartment, and then the grinding of a key in a lock. Zoltán came in, accompanied by Alida carrying a wig box.

She took my presence there as a matter of course. I was heartily glad to see her, I must say. She had an air of serenity about her that was very reassuring. Perhaps it was her practical side that gave that impression. She always seemed to know what to do, no matter the circumstances.

“We must get your lovely hair out of the way,” Alida said. She had made me sit on a chair and stood behind me, brushing my hair and sweeping it back into a knot. But I was blessed with a long, thick mane, and no matter how she tried, she could not hide it beneath the bob wig she had brought with her. Eventually she had to send Zoltán out for a bag wig. It solved our difficulty, my hair tamed into a thick braid fitting neatly into the black taffeta bag that hung down at the back.

Before we left the apartment, Zoltán loaded and primed the pistol I was to carry and showed me how to aim it and fire. It was heavy. I was afraid I would not be able to manage it.

“Use two hands,” he said. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around mine, his hands clasped over my fingers, completely covering them. I felt his breath on my ear as he explained how to look through the two prongs of the sight. The sensation of his closeness made my own breath quicken a little. I wished that if I ever had to fire the pistol, it could be like this, with Zoltán supporting me and holding me steady. “Aim for the middle of your target, and at least you’ll have a chance of hitting some part of it,” he said. “Although you will probably hardly be aiming at all, just away from us.” I noticed that he avoided referring to a “target” as a person. I didn’t really want to think about the remote possibility that I might have to use the pistol for something other than making noise, that it might just as easily be a means of defending myself from some unforeseen harm.

The concert was to start at seven of the clock. Musicians were therefore expected to arrive shortly after the vesper bells tolled from St. Stephen’s. I was glad of the early darkness as I strode along next to Zoltán toward the Graben, my hand gripping the brass handle on the top of the viola case. I felt naked without the weight of petticoats anchoring me to the earth, but it was an exhilarating nakedness, full of freedom and danger.
Papa, forgive me,
I thought, wondering if he could watch the coming events unfold from his vantage point in heaven. I tried not to think about what was to come, instead concentrating on the sight of Zoltán walking slightly ahead of me, admiring the way his confident step and upright bearing cut a path through the evening crowds in the center of the city.

My stomach was doing battle with itself by the time we reached my uncle’s house. I couldn’t find it in me to enjoy the spectacle of the guests arriving in their elegant carriages and being handed out by footmen, and then ushered in through the door by the same valet who had blithely shut me up in the sewer. Zoltán and I followed the other musicians around to the back of the house, to a door that led in through the kitchen. I wondered if Haydn would have to take that same route, or whether he would be accorded the respect due to him as an officer in the prince’s house hold and be allowed to mingle with the guests before taking his position with the orchestra.

We didn’t say a thing as we shed our coats and cloaks and lifted our instruments out of their cases. I wasn’t sure what everyone knew, or how many of the orchestra members would be familiar to me. I was acquainted with just about everyone in Prince Nicholas’s orchestra by sight, and friendly with many of them. I knew I had to be careful not to let them recognize me. Not only my boy’s clothing, but the press of the cold, hard pistol tucked into my waist beneath my coat made me feel especially conscious of myself. I thought all eyes must be staring at me as I followed the general movement of the players through to the dining room. A few of the musicians had already taken their places. Among these I noticed Schnabl, and turned my face away immediately. Seeing him reminded me that I had said nothing to my godfather or Zoltán about his unexplained presence near this same house two days before, carrying a folio of music.

The spacious chamber had been cleared of its table, a low platform erected on which we all took our places, and the remaining area filled with several rows of delicate wooden chairs for the audience. Some seats were already occupied by elderly ladies and gentlemen, whispering quietly to each other or sitting in silence with their eyes closed. The murmur of more lively guests reached me from another room.

When I finally worked up the courage to look around at the other members of the orchestra, I was surprised to find how few faces I recognized, apart from Zoltán and Schnabl. Many of them nonetheless seemed a bit familiar, but in that manner of people one knows from somewhere else appearing where you don’t expect them. A few smiled in my direction. I quickly looked at the music in front of me and pretended to be finding my cues. They must not suspect who I was.