The Devil's Opera(188)

Morrigan!

I, your ally, abettor, and adjunct

Do pray your aid

Against this fell foe!





The Morrigan, once again in the branches of the Dragon Tree, raised her wings and sang:





No friend of thine am I!

I live for strife,

And your foe brings strife home to you.





At that point, Nimue seemed to lose heart, and it was not long before Guinevere thrust her blade home to the sylph’s heart.

The loudest applause of the evening so far broke out, and the final cadences of the accompaniment went unheard by most. It was several minutes before it died down enough that the opera could continue. From the way that Guinevere’s chest was heaving, Friedrich suspected that was a benefit to her.

The final pearl of the evening was the final scene of Act Three. The planned-for rebellion had broken out, and there was no help for it but Arthur and his knights had to meet the forces of Medraut in battle. Most of it occurred off-stage, of course, but the sound effects of the battle were loud and alarming. On-stage, Arthur bitterly regretted that Guinevere and her captains had not followed him to the battle. His men were holding, but at a high price. And then the fateful breakthrough happened—Arthur’s front line broke, and Medraut and his champions came through.

It was almost a dance, Friedrich thought. The scene of Arthur battling one warrior after another, singing his rage against his half-brother, while Medraut waited, spilling his hate verbally, was powerful. Friedrich forgot to even criticize the fencing as the force of the scene gripped him.

The inevitable end came: the audience groaned and cried out when Arthur’s sword was trapped in the body of his last opponent, and Medraut seized his opportunity to lunge in and transfix the king. Arthur fell to his knees, bent over the sword thrust through him.

Medraut turned away from the stricken king, and launched into a victory aria, but seemingly halfway through it, the orchestra trumpets began to sound fanfare figures. Medraut looked around, but continued singing. A few measures later, the fanfares sounded again, and this time a flood of actors entered the stage, Guinevere at their head. She had brought her troops at last. As they put paid to the bedraggled remnants of Medraut’s army, she took in the scene before her, and even from his seat in the audience Friedrich could sense her drawing up, swelling, beginning to loom over the battlefield and the hapless Medraut.





Too late,

Alas, too late to save!

Then I will avenge!





And true to her word, Guinevere soon battered Medraut to defeat. He fell to his hands and knees facing upstage. Her sword rose, held in both hands, then fell swiftly. There was a chunk sound. The queen bent over, and when she straightened she was holding the head of Medraut.





Thus the traitor

Is paid his due!





Many in the audience flinched at the head, men and women alike. It was rather lifelike, complete with glassy eyes and ragged skin at the neck. But after a moment to feel properly horrified, they broke out in wild cheers and applause, including at least one roar of approval from the imperial box.

When the applause died down, Merlin appeared, singing an explanation that the defeat of Nimue had opened the Dragon Tree and released him, but that he had not been able to catch up with Guinevere and her captains.

And Merlin, singing to the melody that had been the Pater Noster in earlier scenes, drew the sword from Arthur, placed him in the barge that floated out from stage left, and in a final duet with Guinevere promised that Arthur was going to the Isles of the Blessed where he would be healed of his deadly wound and lie sleeping for the time of the people’s need.

Arthur raised up to sing a short farewell, promising to return when he was needed most, then floated off to stage right.

The final grand chorus began with a mass shout of Ave Arthur, Rex Quondam Rexque Futurus!, then reprised the great Alleluia fugue from the wedding scene, with Guinevere standing in front, sword lifted high, voice skirling over them all.

And with that, the final curtain dropped.

* * *

Ciclope had made his way across the western bridge into the oldest part of the city. After almost running into the procession of Marine guards and the emperor’s car on the Gustavstrasse boulevard, he stuck to the side streets, moving always in the direction of the Schardius warehouse.

He was still muttering about the loss of his kill. If the Polizei cost him his ten thousand dollars…

A noise intruded on his consciousness as he was walking by one of Old Magdeburg’s many churches, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder.

“You? What are you—”





Chapter 70

Friedrich found himself on his feet, beating his hands together as hard as he could, stomping his feet, and shouting nonsense at the top of his lungs. After a minute or two of that, he grabbed Gronow around the shoulder and gave him a fierce hug. “You genius!” he shouted in his friend’s ear. “I forgive you!” And he went back to clapping and shouting.