The Musician's Daughter (25 page)

“He must have discovered what Kappellmeister Haydn intended to do with the money from the contract with Artaria,” Zoltán said. “He has been jealous of Haydn for a long time. He felt he should have been given the position of Kapellmeister. Though I would wager he did not know the full extent of the deeds he had become entangled in.”

When everything that Alida and I had revealed was confirmed by the general and Zoltán, the archduchess sat in silence for a short while.

“It is time to dress for dinner,” she suddenly said, standing so that everyone else had to stand as well. “I believe that Councilor Wolkenstein must be approached with some caution. If he suspects he is about to be apprehended, he may disappear. It seems that he has powerful allies. I shall speak with my brother this evening. I cannot make any promises. Alida, you should prepare yourself for the worst.”

What was she saying? Even after all this, might Danior still die?
I looked from Alida to Zoltán and back again. This time I decided I had to heed her warning glance, especially now that the general was in the room.

“General, perhaps you would lead me in to dinner later? Fräulein Schurman and her friend—Mirela, is it?—may remain with you, Lady Liesl and Lady Rebekah. I give you permission, Lady Alida, to pass the evening in whatever manner you wish.”

The general and the archduchess departed arm-in-arm like old friends. From thinking that we were close to victory and saving Danior’s life, I found myself back in the depths of despair. Had all my efforts been for nothing?

Zoltán and Alida left. I didn’t have the heart to say anything. Mirela and I stayed and ate supper with the young maids of honor. I was too tired to do much more than listen to the stories Mirela told them, and unable to concentrate on the card games they tried to get us to play. I was relieved when the curfew bell rang and we all retired to bed.

CHAPTER 28

A
lida caught up with me just before we reached the room where the maids of honor slept. Liesl and Rebekah had been discussing excitedly which of them would share her bed with me and which with Mirela that night, and I was afraid it would turn into an argument. I think we were the most fascinating thing ever to occur in their quiet lives.

“Come with me, Theresa,” Alida said, and I thought my new friends’ faces would drop through the floor, they were so disappointed.

“No matter,” Mirela said, linking her arms through each of theirs. “I shall teach you a Gypsy lullaby, and Theresa already knows it, so she won’t miss anything.” This cheered them up quickly. I heard their giggles and chattering fade as they continued to their bedroom. I hoped for a moment that Mirela would not feel tempted to wheedle them out of a bit of jewelry, or show them a magic trick involving the convenient disappearance of coins. She had already won a tidy sum at cards, and I suspected she had used some sleight of hand to get it. Her movements were so quick, and her understanding easily leapt beyond everyone else’s. Mirela’s talents could be used to much better purpose, I was certain, although I couldn’t at that moment imagine how. After coming to know her and seeing all that the Gypsies faced, I could easily comprehend what led her to scratch out an existence by use of her wits and guile—doubtless her only possessions and all she had to depend on for her future well-being. I just wished it didn’t have to be that way.

Alida led me up to the servants’ quarters of the palace. “There’s someone who wishes to see you,” she whispered.

I said nothing, but I hoped she meant Zoltán.

We went through a door to an attic room, and sitting up in a cot by a window was not Zoltán, but Toby. I ran to him, only for the tiniest instant disappointed.

“Theresa, they’ve been so nice to me here,” he said. “I’ve had all the hot soup I want, and sweets after every meal.”

“I see you’re feeling better,” I said, ruffling my fingers through his hair, which had been washed and combed and felt as fine as a baby’s. He still had some bruising around his eyes, evidence of his harsh treatment at my uncle’s hands.

“Toby,” Alida said, “do you think you’re strong enough to help us if we need you to?”

His eyes flitted back and forth between us. “I’m strong. Why wouldn’t I be strong?”

“Would you be able to tell the emperor about your uncle’s cellar?”

Toby’s eyes clouded over. I thought for a moment he would cry. But he drew in a deep breath and lifted his chin. “Yes. I’m not afraid of my uncle. Not now.”

As Alida prepared to leave us, telling me that I could sleep on the other cot, which had been made up with clean linens after Brishen had left that morning, I took her aside.

“What next?” I asked, not daring to ask too directly.

“We won’t know until tomorrow.”

Tomorrow?
That would be too late. Perhaps after all, Danior would have to be sacrificed so that justice could be done.

“I’m rising before dawn,” she said, not explaining. No point in distressing Toby.

“Wake me,” I said.

Toby and I stayed up for a little while talking about violins and music. He asked about our mother, but I could only tell him that I believed she knew nothing at all of what had happened, and that I hoped she would remain ignorant of the entire episode forever.

Toby fell asleep quite quickly, but I could not shut my eyes. I wanted to stay awake, to sit a vigil for Danior, who did not deserve to be punished so gruesomely. But try as I might, as soon as I closed my eyes phantom visions danced in front of them. I saw Danior playing the fiddle; then he turned into my father. My uncle smashed a violin apart and birds flew out of it. I was on a boat in the middle of the Danube, and people were running along the banks calling out to me, but the current was too strong and I could not control the boat. The waves rocked me back and forth. I clung to the gunwales for safety.

“Wake up! Theresa! It’s me, Alida!”

Alida was rocking me gently by my shoulder, trying to wake me without making any noise. As soon as I realized where I was, I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my face. I had not undressed, so it was a quick matter to be ready to go. I took the cloak she gave me and followed her through the twisting corridors and out onto the predawn streets of Vienna.

Crowds were already gathering in Stephansplatz. The carpenters had been hard at work overnight constructing the gibbet, a rack, and a wheel. Alida clung to me and I to her. I thought if we had not been able to borrow strength from each other, both of us might have collapsed.

The faces that surrounded us were grim and tired.
What macabre entertainment to begin a day,
I thought.

As the cold air woke people out of their half-sleeping states, conversation began. “Think anyone will get the wheel?” one young boy not much older than Toby asked eagerly. Once he started, speculation about the horrible punishments that awaited the criminals on display that morning enlivened everyone. Would a thief be whipped to the point of flaying? Would a usurious moneylender be able to withstand the pain of thumb screws? I wanted to stop up my ears. The more I heard, the more impossible it was to keep from imagining Danior’s dark eyes wracked with unspeakable pain.

I looked up at Alida and saw her gazing out over the heads of the crowd. She appeared neither to listen nor to care about what anyone said. She was still hoping. I knew it. Just as I was.

We heard the ominous beat of the drums before we saw the cart in which the prisoners stood, chained to one another. Several looked broken already. A woman had had her hair torn out of her head, and her scalp was partly scabbed over and partly still bleeding. Others had clearly been beaten or whipped. All were aware enough to be terrified, though, of what awaited them in the square.

The bells in St. Stephen’s tolled seven. Dawn came late in midwinter, so it was still necessary for torches to illuminate the scene. Their light cast constantly shifting shadows on the icy ground. The stone buildings that surrounded the square loomed dark and massive against a flat, predawn sky. I gripped Alida’s hand as the cart rolled near enough for us to see Danior. His face was set, eyes just dark, blank indentations not looking at anything.

The executioner and his assistants began readying the prisoners. I felt Alida tremble.

All at once confusion arose in the crowd. The attention shifted from the black-hooded executioners’ activities to something behind us.

Horses.

A detachment of about two dozen mounted guards cut a path through the people. The executioner didn’t stop strapping some poor woman to a rack until they were almost upon him. I wondered if perhaps he was a deaf-mute—convenient for him not to hear the screams of his victims.

The commander of the guards pulled a sealed document out of his saddlebag, opened and unfolded it without hurry, then read aloud to the crowd.

I couldn’t understand it. It was in Latin! The executioner rubbed the top of his head. He didn’t understand it, either. He pointed to his ears, confirming that he was deaf, shrugged and turned away to continue his work. The guard drew his sword out of its scabbard and poked it in the executioner’s back. The crowd laughed. The executioner turned around, mouthing and gesturing that he hadn’t any idea what the fellow had said.

I looked to Alida. “Did you understand?”

“Yes.” She breathed. “Clemency. By order of the Holy Roman Emperor.”

So it was Joseph II, not Maria Theresa, who had listened to their case. “But what if he cannot make the executioner understand?”

One of the guards had dismounted and showed the paper to the deaf fellow, but he only gestured that he could not read. Finally they pointed out the imperial seal, then went to the cart. “Release the prisoner Danior to me.” One of the executioner’s assistants took Danior by the shoulders. His expression had not changed, perhaps because he did not want to believe in his good fortune.

The crowd by now was laughing uproariously. This magnificent act of imperial power over the life of one individual became ridiculous before our eyes. But I didn’t care. Just so long as Danior was safe.

Eventually they succeeded in extracting Danior from the others. His luck subdued the rest of them, who looked even more hopeless and defeated than they had before. I felt so sorry for them. I hoped they had done terrible things to deserve the fate that awaited them. But I suspected they were only caught in the act of trying to survive a cold winter by stealing firewood or selling their bodies.

Alida and I had already started toward Danior, whose chains were being removed one by one by an officer of the guard. When he saw us, his face washed over with joy. Alida ran forward. The guard raised a sword in her way and she stopped abruptly.

“He is granted a temporary stay only, and must now appear before the emperor,” said the guard.

They hoisted Danior onto a horse and surrounded him. We followed along behind, all the way into the courtyard of the Hofburg where the guards and Danior dismounted, then through the corridors to a part of the palace I had not yet seen. It was grander and more austere than the archduchess’s quarters.

No one stopped us. Alida was known to all. I felt as if I were watching from a great height as events unfolded down below. The sensation of unreality was complete when we walked into the emperor’s audience chamber and saw Zoltán, the general, Toby, the archduchess, the other maids of honor, my godfather—and my uncle.