The Ludwig Conspiracy(80)
“An idea?” I hesitantly asked. I remembered what Maria had been trying to explain to me on the train.
“You’ll see. This very night you’ll see.” The king beckoned over a second overseer, who approached only with reluctance. “This evening all the candles in the Hall of Mirrors are to burn,” he ordered in a loud voice. “For me and for my dear companion here.”
“But that’s almost two thousand candles,” the man cautiously objected. “I don’t know whether we . . .”
“This evening at eight, and I’ll suffer no contradiction.” Ludwig took my arm and drew me away from the building work. “Come with me, Marot. We will take a simple meal in the monastery. I need a friend now.”
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By winding, narrow pathways we approached the old monastery of the Augustinian Canons, which had housed a now-defunct brewery. On the floor formerly occupied by the canons and princes, Ludwig had had a few rooms furnished in Spartan fashion, and from this vantage point he intended to supervise the building for the next two weeks. I myself was given one of the rooms on the second floor, but the king told me to accompany him at once to his meal, which we took in one of the magnificent halls of the old monastery. Reluctantly, I followed him. I had really hoped to eat down in the kitchen with Maria and Leopold.
It was a ghastly dinner. The king did not eat; he gorged. Gravy and crushed green peas spattered his beard and his coat, but it did not occur to Ludwig to clean himself up with a cloth. He tipped great drafts of wine down his throat, and the red liquid ran over his chin and down to his collar. Only on rare occasions did the king dine in a company of any size, and if he did, he would hide himself behind mountains of plates and glasses. He shoveled everything down his throat like some Bacchanalian god of ancient times, as if the food would extinguish an inner fire.
“Help yourself,” he said between two mouthfuls. “You’ll need your strength for the sight I am going to offer you tonight. You are my chosen one.”
“Very good, Your Majesty.” I nodded and went on pushing my peas around with a fork. I briefly considered speaking to the king again about the ministerial intrigue but decided against it. This did not seem to be the right time. Ludwig appeared very much in danger of slipping away into his dream world. I would have to wait for one of his more reasonable moments.
“Is something the matter, Marot?” asked the king, and in his surprise he stopped eating. “You know you can say anything to me. I am your king.” He smiled, and I saw the festering blackened stumps of teeth between his full lips. “Your king and your friend,” he repeated with gravity.
“I know how deeply to appreciate that, Your Majesty,” I replied, and felt myself breaking out in a cold sweat. “But I assure you it’s nothing. Merely weariness after the long journey.”
Inwardly, I shuddered. Ludwig had proclaimed me his close friend several times before, but I knew that his choice of friends never lasted long. Ludwig liked to have handsome men around him. At the same time, the king had never yet made unseemly advances to me, nor could I imagine that he was even capable of such desires, whether for men or for women. He had separated from his fiancée, Princess Sophie of Bavaria, a sister of the Empress Sisi of Austria, after only a few months’ engagement. But now he seemed to have taken a fancy to me, and I didn’t know what to think of it.
“If you are tired, then I have something that will cheer your heart again.” The king rose, breathing heavily, and his chair fell over. “Let us go over to the castle, my dear Marot. It’s time we did in any case. Let’s hope those lazy dogs have already lit the candles.”
We left the monastery down a narrow flight of steps and walked in silence over to Herrenchiemsee Castle, accompanied only by two footmen in costume and powdered wigs. In the west, above the canal, the fiery red globe of the sun was just setting.
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It was an amazing sight. In the darkness of the wood, something bright and incredibly large shone like a monstrous lantern. As we left the trees behind us, the castle suddenly emerged. The whole of the second floor was glittering; the windowpanes sparkled with warm light that shone all the way down to the fountains and the flower beds.
“I see all has been prepared,” said the king, and an emotional note came into his voice. “Good. Very good. Then follow me, my faithful paladin.”
He gave the two footmen a sign, and they bowed low and stayed where they were. The two of us walked on through the entrance hall, which was lined with marble statues, and up a broad staircase to the second floor, where the king had his own apartments. On the way, I saw many unfinished rooms, bare and unplastered, which seemed to exhale a curious chill. The rooms to which we now came struck me as all the more fantastic. The walls were covered with gilded stucco, marble, and paneling in precious woods. Chandeliers sparkled as they hung from the ceiling, and the floor was made of oak, polished until it shone like a mirror, with ornate inlays of Brazilian rosewood. Pictures of the Sun King of France in all his glory hung everywhere. In battle, at court, larger than life in a sweeping royal cloak. Busts and small statues of the French king greeted us from every corner. Louis XIV was everywhere; he seemed to hover over us like the sun itself.