The Ludwig Conspiracy(70)

Maria . . .

Since our first meeting under the linden tree, I had been unable to get the girl out of my mind. It was as if her clear chime of laughter and her clever, merry eyes would liberate not only the king, but me as well, from the gloomy atmosphere that loomed like a poisonous cloud over Linderhof these days. So I would lie in wait for her at the servants’ entrance. I helped her to carry baskets of fresh eggs to the kitchen, or I carved pipes of willow wood for little Leopold, all just to get her to notice me. Maria laughed a great deal, and her eyes twinkled at me, yet she was always surrounded by a strangely dark aura that I could not interpret. In the middle of playing with me and her son, something empty and at the same time infinitely sad would suddenly come into her eyes.

Over the next few weeks we met more and more often, and once or twice Maria, without Leopold, went walking beside the little river Linder with me, although she always withdrew her hand as soon as I wanted to hold it for any length of time.

“Who does the gentleman think he’s looking at?” she once said playfully, raising a finger in pretended admonition. “I’m the king’s maidservant, so I answer only to His Excellency.” Then she smiled. “What’s more, you’re not for the likes of me. A doctor who has studied medicine and a woodcarver’s daughter—that would never do.”

“I’d happily learn the craft of woodcarving if it would bring me closer to you.”

Maria chuckled. “Dear heavens, Theodor! Don’t talk such nonsense. Anyway, you have two left hands—you’d only cut your own fingers off.”

She eluded my grasp and ran ahead, laughing. And lovesick fool that I was, I ran after her, in a starched shirt and a coat that was much too warm, until my brow was beaded with sweat and once again, out of breath, I had to own myself defeated.

It was at this time that jealousy began gnawing at me like an insatiable little animal. Some half a dozen times Maria disappeared, carrying wine, bread, and smoked meats, into the Grotto of Venus, where the king was waiting for her to bring him his dinner. I knew that Ludwig liked to have members of the ordinary folk around him, and it was his wont to ask how they were and give them small gifts. Maria was not the only one; grooms and coachmen also visited him at times—yet I was tormented by the thought that Maria was alone with Ludwig, and I once waited for her at the entrance to the grotto to call her to account.

“Well, and so how is His Illustrious Excellency?” I asked in as casual a tone as possible. “Do the two of you enjoy the wine? Is the marinated haunch of venison to Ludwig’s liking?”

Maria looked at me, surprised and injured, but soon she had control of herself again. “The king has toothache, as he often does,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I cut up the meat small for him so that he can eat it more easily. That’s all.”

“You could chew it for him first, to make it even more tender.”

Suddenly the angry frown that I had been privileged to admire at our first meeting appeared on her forehead again. “What in the world are you thinking, Theodor?” she snapped. “Who gave you the right to speak to me like that? You know neither me nor the king, yet you pour scorn upon him. Like all the others!”

“Suppose there’s a grain of truth in the scorn?” I asked coolly. My anger carried me unthinkingly away. “It’s not for nothing that people gossip about him. Believe me, I know from a reliable source that your beloved king is likely to find himself in the madhouse soon. And with all his escapades, with this grotto, with his ancient Germanic play-acting in Hunding’s hut, his nocturnal rides, he’s digging his own grave little by little.” My voice had risen enough to make me fear it could be heard inside the Grotto of Venus. “Don’t you see how he is playing into his enemies’ hands?” I cried. “And you even feed him as if he were an old dog!”

Maria’s face was white as a sheet. “Quiet!” she whispered tonelessly. “What do you know about the king? What do any of you know? Only yesterday they were saying, down in the tavern, that the king sups with his horse in the evening. What nonsense!” She shook her head indignantly. “You all pick up a few stories and make a great bugbear out of them. Just because you don’t understand Ludwig doesn’t make him a lunatic.”

She marched angrily away and left me standing there open-mouthed. Gradually I felt my hatred seep away, leaving me a pitiful picture of misery.

“Maria, I’m sorry!” I called after her, “I didn’t mean it that way. Come back!” But she had already disappeared among the trees.