The Kingdom of Back(22)
Woferl stared at me for a long time. When he knew that he could not sway me with his defiance, he flopped back down in bed. “I do love you,” he declared grudgingly. “So I promise I will never tell.”
I settled down into bed. We drifted into silence, but Woferl’s teasing brought back the undercurrent of fear, my muted excitement from when I wrote the music down. What was Hyacinth up to, coaxing me into this? God will punish me for hiding such a thing from Papa. It would mean that I was the kind of girl who disobeyed her father, who would go on to disobey other men—her husband—in her life. So many stories already circulated about us. What would this story become, if it began to spread?
They would say that she was the kind of girl who did not listen. She was the kind of girl who had her own ideas.
I pulled my blankets higher until they reached my chin, and then imagined the princeling turning his head this way and that, his bright eyes watching me from the other side of the room. I hoped he was.
I clutched my notebook closer to my chest and stared, searching the darkness, until I drifted off to sleep with the image still branded in my thoughts.
THE PRINCELING IN THE PALACE
The next morning dawned with a flurry of activity.
I forced myself to nibble on some bread while Woferl played with the cut meats on his plate. After our quick breakfast, we hurried to the tailor shop to collect our new clothes. I sucked in my breath as my mother helped me pull the boned corset of my new gown tight until I could barely breathe. When she finished, my waist tapered thin and straight in the mirror.
Beside me, Woferl shrugged on his new coat and shoes. We looked less like the brother and sister who arrived to the shop huddled and whispering together, and more like the rumor of us that had been circulating the city. We looked like the Mozart children, musical prodigies. Fit to play for a king.
By the time we arrived at the Sch?nbrunn Palace, I was trembling slightly from my nerves, and a cold sweat had dampened my hands. The palace stretched for what looked like miles in each direction, white and gold, with countless rows of framed windows and stone pillars. A guard greeted us at the front of the courtyard. I walked carefully, so as not to ruin my new gown, but Woferl flitted in front of us like a restless bird, chatting with the guard, asking him his name and how long he’d worked at the palace, until Papa finally gave me a stern look and I hurried over to pull Woferl back to my side.
We walked through halls of towering pillars and carved banisters, walls covered with sheets of gold. The ceilings were painted in every room, and in every room, I felt as if God were looking down at me, laying bare my secret page I’d written. I kept my head down and hurried forward. My leather shoes echoed on the marble, and I felt oddly embarrassed. My steps did not sound graceful. I reached for a moment into the pocket of my petticoat, where I’d stashed my pendant. My fingers found its smooth surface. I tried to let it reassure me.
Finally, at the last doorway, we paused to let the guard walk ahead of us. He bowed to someone I could not see.
“Your Majesty,” he said. “I present Herr Leopold Mozart and Frau Anna Maria Mozart, and their children, Herr Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Fr?ulein Maria Anna Mozart.”
The first thing I saw when I entered the chamber was the clavier.
Larger than ours in Salzburg and certainly larger than the one from the inn, it had white keys instead of dark and was covered in baroque art. It looked like the clavier I’d seen in the trinket shop, surrounded by a cavern of moss. The sight struck me so dumb that I nearly jumped when they announced my name.
My eyes swept the room. The marble floor was decorated with thick rugs, and the half a dozen men who comprised the emperor’s council sat facing the clavier, with the emperor and empress themselves centered between them.
The emperor sprang to his feet at the sight of us. “Ah! Herr Mozart! Frau Mozart!” he called out. Beside him, Empress Maria Theresa gave us a warm smile.
“Your Majesties,” Papa said, bowing low to the ground. Of course he would do so, but the sight startled me—I had always seen my father with his head held high, the master of our household. It never occurred to me that he would behave differently in front of those with greater power.
Mama joined in with her curtsies, and Woferl and I followed their lead as we were each introduced to the emperor and the empress, then to their children.
It was only at the very bottom of my curtsy that I noticed the hooved shape of the emperor’s shoes. I blinked. When I looked again, they looked normal. My eyes darted to the rest of the audience. For an instant, I thought that one of the seated men appeared thin and willowy and blue.
I tried to get a better look, but then the emperor knelt to look at my brother. My attention shifted back to them. “And this! Ah!” the emperor said. “This boy must be the one we’ve heard so much about! How old are you, Herr Mozart?”
“Five years old, Your Majesty,” he said loudly. Though his skill was impressive enough, Papa had still instructed him to take two years off his age.
“Five!” the emperor said, rubbing his chin in mock wisdom. “I suppose you must be too small a boy to play the clavier, ja?”
At that, Woferl puffed up in defiance. “I am not, Your Majesty,” he declared. “I can reach all the keys, and if I stand I can reach the pedal, and I can play the violin as well.”
Behind him, the others in the audience chuckled. I caught the eye of the emperor’s smallest daughter, Princess Maria Antonia, who smiled at me. When her eyes darted to Woferl, she blushed and looked away.