Mozart's Last Aria Part 11

"He decided not to impose his will?"

"Political matters extend beyond the drawing of borders and the deployment of troops, madame. Those who covet important jobs at court are much given to maneuvering. Musicians are no exception, although your brother was naive in such things."

I knew this to be true enough. On our travels, our father had always taken care of the flattery that gained our entrance to palaces and salons. Perhaps Wolfgang never learned the skill.

"I've been commanded to buy certain of Maestro Mozart's ma.n.u.scripts for s.h.i.+pment to Berlin," Jacobi said. "You'll understand this is a sign of the esteem in which your brother was held by the king. I'll visit the widow soon to make my selection."

I didn't question that Constanze would be willing to sell. I thought I might go through Wolfgang's scores first to claim a few of my favorites. I also recalled that he often wrote notes to himself in the margins of his compositions-reminders of issues and ideas unconnected to music. Having received no letter from him since shortly after our father's death, I wished to search in those scribblings for some of what he might have experienced in the years that were lost to me.

The singing concluded. Maestro Salieri conversed with Baron van Swieten while he improvised on a tune with a Turkish flavor.

Prince Lichnowsky bowed before me. Rising, the Prussian amba.s.sador shook the hand of the man he deemed a scoundrel. He sauntered to the punch bowl, where I noticed Gieseke putting away a goblet of wine in a single draft. The actor glared at me, his eyes and skin s.h.i.+ning as they had when I first met him.

Prince Lichnowsky's Tokay swirled, scarlet and amber, in his gla.s.s as he perched on the next chair.

"A fine performance, madame. I always admired the cla.s.sical symmetry of Wolfgang's music."

"I'd call that a surface appearance," I said. "Wolfgang creates a strain in each piece. Our pleasure is in his inspired resolution of that tension."

The prince rolled the Tokay in his mouth. I saw that I had contradicted him too frankly.

"It's not in looks alone that you resemble your brother. He, too, couldn't let a foolish remark pa.s.s on the subject of music."

"I didn't say it was foolish, just-"

"Wrong."

Fast footsteps approached and Gieseke stood over my chair. Close enough that I picked out the remnants of the stain he had tried to scrub from his coat.

"The Baron van Swieten urges that I accompany you to your lodging, madame." His voice was louder than necessary, as though he intended to quash any objection by the prince.

As Gieseke extended his hand to me, Lichnowsky shrugged and swallowed the last of his Tokay.

Chapter 14.

Gieseke's coat flew open as he crossed Library Square. In the twilight, his wide eyes were jaundiced by the lanterns in the palace windows. He reached for my elbow. "Madame, I beg of you to hurry."

He rushed me past the Augustinian Church, repository of the hearts of the Habsburg dead. I struggled for balance on the icy cobbles. On Dorotheer Lane, he dragged me into the entryway of an apartment house.

"I warn you, you're in great danger here," Gieseke whispered. "I told you how Wolfgang met his end."

His fervor scared me, but I forced my mind to slow down, to concentrate in spite of my nerves, as I did when I performed.

"You told me how you think he died, but not who killed him," I said. "For all I know it could've been Hofdemel, and he's dead, so he can hardly be a threat to me now."

Gieseke tightened his hold on my arm. "Why do you mention Hofdemel?"

I dropped my eyes.

"Oh, the affair with his wife," he said, distracted and somehow relieved.

I wriggled against his grip.

He watched the corner of the street, as though to see if we had been followed. His clammy hand rested on my wrist, where he had pulled me toward our hiding place.

"If you really think you're safe," he said, "why is your pulse beating like a frightened bird's?"

I wrenched my arm from his grasp and walked into the quiet street, heading away from the palace toward my lodging. He followed, staying close to the wall and keeping an eye on the spray of lantern light at the corner.

We turned toward the Flour Market. The street was narrow, unlit, and empty.

My foot slipped in the manure of a horse. Gieseke grabbed me to prevent my fall.

"Thank you, I-"

He pushed me against the wall. I caught the scent of the hot punch he had drunk at Baron van Swieten's salon. I cried out, but he covered my mouth with his hand.

He brought his face close to mine. Though it was obscured by the dull light of the day's end, I saw an imploring desperation there. If I was in peril, it wasn't from this man.

"Don't you care?" he whispered. "Don't you care that you endanger others?"

I pulled my face away from his hand. "Whom do I endanger?"

"Those who know the truth about your brother."

"Why should that be dangerous?"

"Don't play dumb. I explained it to you."

"All those ridiculous combinations of the number eighteen?"

I pushed at him, but he held me to the wall. The rough edge of a brick bit at my back.

"You pretend it's ridiculous, but if you didn't suspect something wrong in the way Wolfgang died you wouldn't be here," he whispered. "You didn't come to Vienna just to trot out a few tunes for his aristocratic patrons."

I ceased to resist him.

"I'm right, aren't I," he said. "What else do you know? Who else has told you of the way Wolfgang died?"

I thought of the baron and his book of Italian poisons. "What am I to do, Herr Gieseke? You tell me that Wolfgang was murdered, but you don't want me to stir things up?"

Low voices approached the corner. Two men turned into the street.

Gieseke pressed his hand to my mouth again. "Pretend you're a wh.o.r.e," he said.

I grunted a protest into his palm, but he thrust himself toward me and lifted me against the wall.

The men paused as they pa.s.sed us. One of them chuckled and voiced some encouragement to Gieseke, before he moved on. The other waited. He hissed to his companion and came closer.

Silhouetted against the pale walls across the street, he lifted his arm. A knife glinted, icy and gray.

I screamed into Gieseke's hand. He spun and went at the man low, taking him down.

Gieseke rolled and was back on his feet. He kicked at the attacker's arm. The knife tinkled across the cobbles.

The second man landed a blow against Gieseke's head, but the actor twisted and wrestled him into a doorway.

"Get away, madame," he called.

Gieseke groaned as the first man rejoined the attack, b.u.t.ting him in the small of his back.

I made to move farther along the street.

"Not to your lodging. They'll look for you there," Gieseke shouted. "Back to the palace."

I hurried down Dorotheer Lane and across the square. The door of the library was barred and the lights had been extinguished within. I ran along the wall to the carriageway beneath the imperial ballrooms.

Rus.h.i.+ng into the lamplight, I was sure I'd find guards who might come to Gieseke's aid. But I saw no one.

I went on, past the high, stained-gla.s.s windows at the rear of the palace chapel, fearing that I'd be too late. Then I heard a voice from the darkness.

"Madame, you're distressed."

I turned. Prince Lichnowsky came into the lamplight. He wore a high fur collar and a tall sable hat.

He frowned. "Madame de Mozart?"

I grabbed at his glove. "Do you carry a weapon, my prince?"

"A sword, but-"

"You must come with me."

I dragged him across the square. With the little breath I had, I explained that Gieseke was in danger. The prince picked up his pace, opening his coat and drawing his sword. I recalled the Prussian amba.s.sador's accusation against Lichnowsky. Yet he seemed brave and n.o.ble, neither a coward nor a scoundrel.

The street was empty. The doorway where Gieseke had fought the two men was quiet. Lichnowsky slid his sword into its scabbard.

I stood in the doorway and relived the moment in which I had glimpsed the knife. I felt sure it had been coming at me, not Gieseke.

"Allow me to accompany you to your inn, madame." Lichnowsky extended his elbow.

I recalled Gieseke's warning not to return to my lodgings. I wished to give myself time to think. "I'd prefer to walk awhile-among a crowd of people. To make me feel safe, not so isolated. It'd calm me down. Do you mind?"

His lips tightened with a hint of impatience. He bowed. "An honor."

I took his arm.

"I have a meeting I must attend. I mean to say, it's a social obligation, you understand," he said.

"I don't wish to detain you."

"Perhaps you may rest and recover yourself in an anteroom, while I conduct my business."

"I thought it was a social affair?"

His mouth hardened once again. "The Graben is a short distance this way," he said. "Even on an evening as cold as this, it'll be full of carriages on their way to the theaters. I'm sure you'll find it most diverting, and you'll be quite safe with me."

Chapter 15.

We came onto the Graben at the Plague Column. The lamps of pa.s.sing carriages flickered over the memorial to those who died of the Black Death. Nine carved choirs of angels ascended toward its gilded peak. To me, it seemed the cherubs were slipping down to h.e.l.l, grasping in vain for the elusive light of salvation above them. I prayed for the faith to see the sculpture as it had been intended.

The street was loud with the hammering of horses' hooves and the bellowing of coachmen, spurring on their teams and warning pedestrians. Lichnowsky kept close to the walls of the houses, clear of the carriages.

"I'm concerned for Herr Gieseke," I said.

He looked about to be sure that no one listened, though it was barely possible for me even to hear my own words over the chaotic traffic.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said, holding my arm close to his side as we walked. "Don't be fooled by an actor's fine diction. He's sure to be acquainted with many disreputable fellows. Believe me, he'd know just how to deal with them."

Had I turned and left the pavilion of the theater when I first encountered Gieseke, I might have allowed that the prince's a.s.sessment was true. The actor had seemed nothing more than a disheveled lout. But I had stayed. Now I couldn't forget what he had told me and with what genuine terror he had spoken. "Herr Gieseke believes-"

"What?"

"That Wolfgang was poisoned."

"The man's just repeating wild rumors."

"Wolfgang thought he had been poisoned, too."

Lichnowsky stared at the Holy Trinity on top of the Plague Column. "The poor man," he murmured.

"He never confided this in you?" I asked.