The Accidental Empress (17 page)

“Look, Gunnar, fellow hikers.” The woman studied Franz and Sisi, placing her basket of mushrooms down beside the spring. “And of a noble sort, by the looks of it. Good day, sir and lady.”

“Taking some of the waters on this fine morning?” The old man chattered good-naturedly, bending over to take a sip for himself. When he had finished drinking, he looked up once more, directly into the face of Franz. Understanding spread across his face. “No.” He kept his eyes fixed on Franz. “Can’t be. Is it you?”

Franz smiled, looking to Sisi before answering. “That depends on who you think I am.”

“But you can’t be . . . His Holy Grace? The Emperor?” The old man turned to his wife, speaking at barely a whisper. “Marga, you think it’s really him?”

The woman shook her head decisively. “All the way up ’ere? And without his guards? Don’t be daft, Gunnar.”

But the old man was not so easily convinced of his error. Turning back to Franz he asked: “Are you . . . the . . . Emperor hisself?”

“I am,” Franz said; his smile was kind and unassuming, even shy, Sisi marveled.

“God Almighty!” The old man reached for his wife’s rough hand, clutching it as he lowered them both into a bow. “Marga, it’s him. Emperor Franz Joseph, in the flesh!”

“Majesty.” Marga crossed herself several times, bowing her head. “Forgive my rudeness. I’m not used to seeing kings up in these hills. Come to think on it, I’m not used to seeing kings
anywhere.
”

Sisi had to laugh at the guileless confession.

“Please stand, please.” Franz shifted, looking to Sisi as if uncomfortable.

“Your Grace!” Gunnar kept his eye fixed firmly on the forest floor between them. “I climb the mountain thinking I’ll get some firewood and a sip from the healing waters, and I get to see the Emperor hisself.” The man called Gunnar now had tears in his eyes, and he dropped his wife’s hand to cross himself. “Do you believe it, Marga?”

“Tell him about Rolphe. Tell him!” The old woman nudged her husband.

“Majesty, if you please, our son, Rolphe, he’s terribly sick. Would you mind saying a prayer for him?”

The old wife continued. “Only reason I come up ’ere anymore is to get these here mushrooms—they are Rolphe’s favorite, you see. I’ll do anything to give that boy a bit of comfort.”

“I’d be honored to pray for your son.” Franz nodded at the elderly pair, his voice courteous yet formal. “Rolphe is his name?”

“Aye, Majesty.” The old man nodded.

“And who is this pretty companion?” The old woman turned to Sisi, flashing a gummy smile. “I hadn’t heard of you taking a wife—’scuse me, an empress—yet. Course, news is slow to reach us up in these hills.”

“Oh, no.” Sisi lowered her eyes, shaking her head.

“This is my cousin, Duchess Elisabeth of Bavaria,” Franz answered.

“God Almighty, didn’t know they made them that pretty in Bavaria. I fancy I’m going to have to take me a trip to Bavaria when you expire, Marg.” Gunnar nudged his wife.

“Such bawdy talk! You can’t talk like that in front of the Emperor and his cousin.” Marga slapped Gunnar on the shoulder. “Manners, Gunnar.”

“No, it’s quite all right, I assure you.” Franz couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s true, she’s certainly pretty.” He turned to Sisi, prompting her cheeks to redden involuntarily.

“Well, we’re praying that you’ll find your empress soon, Majesty,” the old woman continued. “We all want a baby for Your Grace.”

Now it was Franz’s turn to demur, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, mumbling a quick response: “You are kind to pray for me.”

“I think this one would be a good choice,” Gunnar whispered to his wife, not at all quietly.

“Hush, Gunnar, they can hear you!”

Sisi and Franz looked at one another, sharing an embarrassed grin.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I was going to take my cousin Elisabeth farther up the hill. So we will be moving along.”

“Of course, Majesty,” Gunnar bowed low. “Marga, can you believe I just stepped aside to make room for the Emperor hisself?”

“My sister will never believe it.” Marga still stared at Sisi, crossing herself once more. “If only I could show her a picture of how beautiful you are, Madame Elisabeth.”

“You enjoy your day, Your Graces. And if you ever fancy some of Marga’s mushroom stew—it’s the best there is. She puts in the wild rabbit, and some of her spices.” The old man smacked his lips as he spoke. “We live just an hour’s way down this hill, less if you’re atop the horses. Come any time you like,” Gunnar offered, his face earnest.

Franz nodded. “Thank you. And we will pray for your son, Rolphe, and for his recovery.”

“You’re too kind, Your Majesty.” Gunnar leaned forward and bowed once more, and his wife did the same.

“Good day.” Franz helped Sisi back onto Diamant before mounting Sieger and leading her toward the trail up the mountain. Gunnar and Marga stood transfixed, watching the retreating figures like a pair of pious supplicants.

They rode in silence for several minutes. Sisi felt humbled, suddenly, having witnessed the exuberant display of adoration for her cousin. Their awe at beholding Franz had reminded her of the weight of his position; they viewed him as a deity among them.

“That must happen to you all the time,” she remarked, breaking the silence. A bird trilled out in reply from a nearby bough. “People coming up to you and recognizing you. Treating you as if you are a god.”

“It does.” Franz leaned his head to the side, thoughtful. “But I rarely speak to them. They rarely have the chance.”

“Why is that?”

“If I am with my guardsmen, or my attendants, or Grünne or Mother, they aren’t allowed near. Mother would never have allowed such an exchange.”

Sisi frowned; in Bavaria, Papa was constantly mingling with the peasants and villagers. Perhaps more than he should have. But it made him a beloved ruler. “Don’t you crave contact with your people?” she asked. “To hear firsthand of their hopes and woes? I thought that was quite nice.”

Franz thought about this. After a pause he answered, his words sounding more like a recitation of an oft-repeated lesson than a statement of any true conviction: “One must keep to one’s station.”

Sisi let the subject go at that, retreating into her thoughts. She conceded that she could not truly know what it must feel like for Franz—being recognized and pursued everywhere he went. To be so instantaneously known and gawked at by every commoner he passed. To be set apart from every person who saw him, a living icon, aware of his own frailty, and yet invested with all the love, praise, pain, and suffering of every citizen. The burdens her cousin must have shouldered suddenly overwhelmed her. She was about to say so when Franz spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

“Mother has always made known to me the importance of my bearing. That there ought to be a certain distance between the ruler and the subject. A ruler ought to inspire awe, and even fear.”

Sisi considered this logic once more. It did not surprise her that Aunt Sophie advocated for a hard leadership style—that was, after all, the fashion in which she herself seemed to live her life. But she could not agree with her aunt’s opinion. Franz, Sisi suspected, had a more sensitive character than his overbearing mother. Sisi felt a strong conviction that, if he could shake his mother’s indomitable influence, he would be a magnanimous ruler, beloved by his people.

“You are lost in thought, Cousin Elisabeth.”

Sisi looked up at him, shaking her head, realizing that she had not heard a word of his latest remark. “Sorry.”

“Won’t you share them?”

“Pardon?”

“Your thoughts? Would you share them with me?” He stared at her, his eyes impossibly earnest. “Of course, that’s not a command,” he said, turning back to the path before them, twisting the reins in his hands. “More just . . . a request. If you would . . .”

“Yes, of course,” Sisi answered. “It’s just that . . . one who imposes fear can easily become hated, and worse, deposed. But love, that must be won, and once won, need never be lost.”

Franz thought about this, looking straight ahead at the path. He seemed unconvinced.

Sisi spoke, repeating a phrase she’d studied often:
“Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.”

“I like that,” Franz looked at her. “Where did you hear that?”

“I read it. It’s Goethe.”

“Goethe,” Franz repeated the name. “Perhaps I should read some more of his works. I can hardly recall them.”

“I think anyone would benefit from it,” Sisi said. “I’d be happy to loan you my copies, Franz.”

“Oh, no need, I’m sure we have dozens of copies in our imperial libraries.”

“Yes, of course.” Sisi reddened. How simple she must have appeared, offering her books to the emperor.

“So then, is that one indoor activity that you
do
enjoy? Reading Goethe?”

Sisi lowered her eyes, pursing her lips to prevent the smile that tugged on them. “Who said that one must read Goethe indoors?”

Franz looked at her, studying her features.

“But yes, I do love Goethe,” she said, shifting in the saddle under the intensity of his gaze. “I take his books, and my poetry books, and I go out of doors and I can happily pass an entire afternoon on a patch of sunny grass.”

“How lovely that sounds. I can just imagine you doing it, Cousin Elisabeth.” Still he looked at her. “I should very much like to do the same. With you.”

Sisi let that remark go unanswered, noting as she did so how her heart leapt in her breast. A companionable silence settled between them. They rode on, the only noise being the sporadic call of the tree lark, the gentle whisper of spring water slipping over smooth rocks.

“Peaceful up here, isn’t it?” Franz looked to her.

“Lovely,” she agreed. And it was. They seemed entirely alone, entirely removed from all other people and all other places.

“We’re almost to the top now, just a bit farther,” Franz said.

They proceeded up the mountain. The trees grew thicker now, forming an impermeable wall of forest and shading them in a cool, damp cocoon. The breeze, gliding through the tree boughs, carried with it the sweet scent of pine and sap.

And then, suddenly, the steep ascent leveled off. The trees cleared, opening up before them. Sisi gasped as she beheld a view of cloudless blue sky at the top of the world. The horses, without orders, stopped, as if they, too, were overcome by the beauty sprawled out before them.

“Look at how high we are!” Sisi hopped off Diamant, quickly tying her to a thin sapling before running to the ledge. There, she surveyed the expanse of green and blue. “The entire world is below us.” She sputtered out a laugh, fanning her arms out as if to pull the whole scene into her embrace. Franz fixed the haphazard knot she had fastened for Diamant and tied Sieger as well.

Sisi skipped along the edge of the precipice, looking down on the lower mountaintops and the fields far below.

“Please be careful, Cousin Elisabeth.” Franz approached, stepping cautiously toward her.

“Come see this view!” She waved him forward.

“It is something, isn’t it?” Franz was beside her now, bracing himself with the support of a flimsy branch. “Look, there’s the Kaiservilla.” Franz pointed at a minuscule shape far beneath them, a dollop of yellow surrounded by green.

“I can barely see it.” Sisi looked down, marveling at how tiny the massive complex had become.

“And that’s the farm we rode past. Can you see the kite flying over the girls?”

“No, I can’t see it at all.” Sisi marveled, squinting her eyes.

“And that’s the village of Bad Ischl.” Franz pointed toward a cluster of buildings that sat nestled into the valley, the church spire now the only identifiable structure.

“We are above the world,” Sisi exclaimed, spreading her arms wide. “This must be the view of God.”

Franz was beside her, close now. “Or the emperor.”

“Or Gunnar,” Sisi quipped, edging forward even closer to the ledge. “Only he climbed this on foot, while you and I, we needed our horses.”

“I think you might make me jealous, the way you praise Gunnar.” Franz was so close to her now that she felt his breath on her cheek.

“How could a duke’s daughter make an emperor jealous?” She turned to face him. Her heart stumbled involuntarily, as if careening over the edge on which they stood, when she noticed how keenly he looked at her.

“You’d be surprised,” Franz answered, cracking a smile as his light eyes held hers. She was aware that they approached a dangerous precipice. Their words, their glances, their physical closeness were taking them somewhere that she knew they ought not to go. How easy it would be to flout the border of friendship, to step headlong into some unknown territory that, while frightening, felt natural. Inevitable, even.

They stared at one another in silence, this unspoken thread weaving between them, pulling them closer in this wordless moment. But before one of them could do something they might both regret, Sisi turned, snapping the thread. She edged away from the ledge and walked toward the spring. Her tone light, she said, “Let’s have a drink.”

Franz followed her with his gaze, but did not reply.

Sisi fixed her eyes on the pool of water. “Pity that Helene missed out on all of this.” She swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “Next time you’ll bring her here.”

“Not if she doesn’t like to ride,” Franz answered, joining Sisi beside the stream.

“You’re the emperor,” Sisi answered, turning to hold his gaze. “You’ll find a way to get your bride up here.”

“I suppose.” The manner in which Franz shrugged his shoulders confused Sisi. She was grateful when he changed the topic. “It’s terribly hot. Do you mind if I remove my coat?”

“Only if you don’t mind that I remove mine,” Sisi answered. Had she been riding alone in this summer heat, or with Papa, she would have shed her outer layers hours earlier.

“It’s settled then.” Franz tugged on his jacket sleeves, slipping out of the heavy riding coat. Sisi unbuttoned her silk riding jacket and removed it, enjoying the breezy lightness of only the white blouse on her skin.

“Much better,” Franz sighed, placing his jacket beside him on the ground. He looked at her, seeing Sisi in her blouse. His eyes remained fixed on her. She fidgeted. It occurred to Sisi for the first time that she was not wearing a corset. Not only was it impossibly uncomfortable to wear one under a riding suit, but the presence of one would render her favorite activity, riding, completely miserable. Having shed her riding coat, all that stood between her and Franz on her upper body was a thin blouse and her skimpy undergarments. She crossed her arms.