Written by Pt, September 1, 1998
(Ideas inspired by Stella Tan: The Attic)
Chapter One: Conduct
The hand picked musicians from beyond the borders of Bavaria sat in the greatest opera house yet built. Ivory, vaulted ceilings crisscrossing in arcing, golden beams supported a golden dome that shone like an inner sun on the patrons below. Thick glass and gold mixed in small but copious windows cut in the circle so natural light could penetrate within, and music sing without to the heavens. Angels and gods looked down from lofty heights on the late afternoon, sun burnished gathering, painted and sculpted there by artisans, some from as far as Italy and France. It was more a temple than a theater, and the music sometimes had to compete with the structure for dominance.
The orchestra tuned up, a caterwauling sound at times to the untrained ear. Each musician was a master in his instrument, and even they had to compete fiercely for a place this day. Rivalry was an expected plaything in a group such as this.
"So, we are to play up to the boy tonight, Maestro?" The ornate cellist smiled, groveling contempt creeping into his smirk as the seconds, and the looks, passed between orchestra and leader.
"When I need musical advice from an underling, I shall ask for it." The conductor noted the snickering masks of his lavishly clothed musicians, some with such long, drifting sleeves and puffed frills that they interfered with bow, drumsticks, and keys. They were all dressed like peacocks today, in iridescent greens and purples and reds, except the leader, who always made do with brown vest, coat, and dignity. The theater itself glowed with such brightness and colors that the house seemed ablaze, and there was promise of even greater gifts to come, just for his asking. His majesty wanted for him an even greater temple, his prayers for pure sound and structure, and the conductor dreamed his plans. The players on stage, in their own ecstasy and clothed in jeweled linens and flowing gold, awaited anxiously behind heavy, velveted curtains, the best, young voices to be found in all of Germany. They were performing for royalty, lustful competition only adding to their majestic songs. Even his great audience, tiered by importance, shined this eventful evening. All this was gladly given him at his mere say. He would give none in his jealous orchestra the satisfaction of any hint of apology.
A scant eight months earlier, eight months of his already long, artistically turbulent life, he was facing imprisonment for his politics and debts, and was chased by all manner of collectors. At 51, an age in which he should have been beginning his serenity, his possessions were sold off piecemeal like a common vagabond, and friends were turning from him faster than the yellowed leaves of that autumn's season. Today, he had the audience of kings. It was his genius that made this so, and not the wanton desires of a feeble monarchy, as was whispered about. He would not ever let those around him think that. "I will not have the sloppiness of the rehearsals!" he charged back at them. The musicians looked to their music.
The king of Bavaria sat stiffly in the plush, royal box, a much-accustomed place since the founding of his newest treasure. Despite the discomfort of the moment (he always attended these hours long operas much too early for his back) he was excitedly anticipating the evening. Since his first introduction to Wagner, a crinkled, beloved transcription of his magical work Lohengrin, memorized by heart at the age of 13 and still in his possession with many, many other copies, he longed for this possibility. His rule would be different from the dry, staid inheritance of his past, though his betters had tried to beat such passions from him. His own, bright entourage sat cheerily about him, inattentively lounging and chatting, drinking and eating whatever pleasures other servants brought them. They adopted not at all the formal, respectful attitude he put on during such performances. Such respect only made the events grander and more enjoyable. The monarch was disappointed in his underlings, though he would not scold them for their inattentiveness and merriment. Such revelry in life must not be rare, and in his reign he vowed to ensure that.
"Don't worry, my liege, everyone here is enjoying this as much as you. They just show it differently." Thomas had been in his company the longest, though for someone as young and easily distracted as Ludwig, this meant only a matter of a few years. Thomas was a soldier like many in Ludwig's companionship, vowing themselves to king and country, innocent to those demands. A few years older than Ludwig, he was much more insightful than the others, and had moved quickly up the ranks and in the king's attention. His yellow hair, commanding features, and alert eyes could not help but attract, and the vain monarch was often envious of his aide's natural beauty and strength. The king had on occasion watched his army in training, and there was a fluidity of movement and deftness with weapons that he knew he did not possess, and wondered why he was the authority of such might. (Everything I have is inherited, even to a degree my love of the arts. These men have purely built themselves.) Thomas did not know of this envy. He was sworn to his duty, and that meant the hard dedication of life, however short, to the demands of his land. Though his head still turned at the power in Ludwig's command, he was not afraid to offer advice even at the king's displeasure, and often Ludwig's desires and his responsibilities were more at war than the present state of Bavaria. The king did not want to send his precious, loyal, innocent soldiers off to fight, no matter the gifts of conquest, trying to keep his country in an impossible state of peace, and his power would predictably suffer because of it.
Precious, lost youth was a theme the king gravitated toward in his favorite operas. Beauty and love often sacrificed for authority, in one form or another. Whether the principles survived or not, most often not, this sacrifice alone already meant tragedy. Thomas noticed Wagner incorporating these themes in his latest works, a strategy that easily worked on his Lord. He was also a master of many philosophies, weaving ideals and promises for his king that the human composer rarely lived up to. Still, those mirages held such sway. Even though the maestro was a hundred yards away, an old man, thin faced, frail, and faded, he could see the monarchy felt shy before such an influence. It was a unique, ethereal power, and the soldier did not know how to counteract it. He felt such responsibility for this one, and was always wary. As a soldier should, he justified.
"My King. Look. An admirer."
Below in the gallery sat a tall man in a richly furred coat, dark, emerald green, silken sleeves and vest accenting and softening his domineering frame. Medals twinkled at his shoulders and chest, and his suit would cost at least 6 months wages of those seated around him. He was not looking at the stage, but turned back to admire those in the royal box above him. His light eyes seemed to reflect the glimmering, silvered green of his clothes.
"I don't think that one is dangerous, Thomas." The king had noticed the dark man within a minute before his aide. He did not look the potential assassin to his eyes. "See, he has looked away. And he is alone."
"All that means is that he has been watching us, and noticed that we have noticed him. And perhaps he is good enough in his work not to need partners."
The king plucked at the sleeve of his bright uniform. Every movement he made set off the soft clatter of his many medals and decorations. "How many here would not notice me? If I stood up this very moment, how many eyes would not be upon me? Shall I, Thomas, to prove my point?"
"No, my Lord. That is not needed."
"Good, then. I think the darkness and the look of the man, and the richness of his clothes, say that he is some foreign dignitary quietly forsaking duty for a night of music. Would an assassin be so noticeably and gloriously dressed? He is too refined to be sitting down there among the rabble. I shall invite him to our company." He smiled slyly, eyes twinkling, and began to gesture to a servant to tell of his impetuous plans.
His aide was shocked. "No matter his place, or his charm, I do not think it wise to have a stranger with you for so many hours this evening, my King."
"I trust my many guards will protect me from any harm from this Dangerous one." His Lord was entering one of his moods, his forsaking of duty for some minor desire. If Thomas argued further, his leader would just increase his stubbornness, and chide him more just for the pleasure of it. Ludwig was much too young for the demands of governments and armies. They both were. They all were. As a soldier, as one used to order, command, rank and structure, he instinctively knew this. Yet, he was still enticed by the idealistic visions this young king so wanted to accomplish.
"You would put yourself next to a murderer if his manner pleased you," Thomas grumbled quietly.
Ludwig's dark eyes reflected merriment at his attendant's discomfiture, despite his somber manner. He had no real venom in him, and so kept loyalty, but playfulness he possessed in overabundance. "If you are so worried, my friend, you may sit between us. Or would you prefer on his lap?"
The foreign ambassador was indeed very dignified and charming. Because of his imposing height, he looked at first impression much older than he was, which could have been no more than his beginning 30's - more than a decade above his monarch. He had accomplished much in his time. The aide did not recognize the medals and decorations pinned on his richly furred cloak, and could not tell of their significance, but understood their impressiveness. Thomas made way for him as Ludwig insisted upon the seat beside him for the stranger. His guard barely spoke another word to his command for the entire performance.
"But I do not understand why this honor, Sir… my Lord." The ambassador's shy, slow smile and hesitant speech only endeared him more to Ludwig. This was clearly not a man used to awkwardness, and possessed such assurance and mastery that it shone off him like a second skin.
"I saw that you were alone, though prepared and dressed for a special evening about. How could I let someone like you waste such a great evening below among commoners?"
"Such as myself? I think you may be mistaken, my Lord. Is it common courtesy for the royalty of this country to assist lonely foreigners?"
Thomas interrupted. "And who exactly are you, Sir?"
"Manners, Thomas. We have invited him, not the other way about. This is my young guard, Thomas, whom I entrust with my safety. He takes his post very seriously."
"You are both very young, if I may be allowed to say so, my Lord, to have such power and responsibilities - unlike myself. I do not have such credentials to offer." The ambassador's smile brightened, but instead of remitting his nervousness only seemed to increase, along with Thomas's. To the guard, he likely was hiding some details. "My name is Gowden, Louis Gowden, and I am a… political advisor to my own country's crown. My country has many advisors, though, which is why it is in such a state of confusion."
"Ahhh. Then our lands have some things in common."
"My Liege…." Thomas could not believe how quickly his leader was taking this stranger into confidence.
"Political counseling, Thomas. Nothing to concern your rank."
"Wagner is a rediscovery of yours, my Lord?" Gowden turned the conversation back to the event at hand. "I had not heard much of him of late until he was taken under your royal wing."
"Yes. It seems he would have died in poverty and prison if not brought into our royal presence. That would have been a great loss. Now I can claim him as a Bavarian treasure."
"This evening is so exciting for me. A new opera, untried and unfettered. I have been told his music is powerful and soaring, yet not beyond the tastes and understanding of the common man. I was afraid it might have been. My work and travel does not afford me much opportunity, though I endeavor to be a student of the Arts. More likely, I allow the music to greatly influence me than I to scholar it. And now this has happened to me, and I can view this new opera from a reborn master from within this company. This evening is already beyond me."
"So, I am already successful this eve." Ludwig was delighted in the surprise and passion elicited from the stranger, emotions he suspected rare in him. Thomas only continued his silence.
The opera was beginning, and both men took their seats and attended to the music. To Ludwig, the exquisite singers seemed to be directly courting him, and he could not take his eyes or ears from the performance, though he never forgot the presence beside him. Music rolled over them as a wave, the drama of Wagner's strains as much of a whole, living, forceful character as the players on stage. They dared not speak over the work, but occasionally commented quietly during short interims about its wonders and his impressive friendship with Wagner. He told of being enchanted with his music since adolescence, not many years removed, and how he felt it was his divine duty to save him from the obstacles that prevented his work. Louis also hinted at stories of other, past masters, sometimes described in such vivid details and nuances that they seemed like personal friends. Ludwig was wrong about this man's passions. He hid them well, but they were evident to those with similar loves. At the end of the performance, Ludwig could not let the discussion end.
"Sir Gowden, please, you have added so much to tonight's performance that I must repay you in some small way. Would you come with me and meet the master of the opera?"
The ambassador gasped slightly. Ludwig was pleased.
Wagner paraded up and down the castle's marbled floors as if all around him were his own. To others' eyes, the majesty of the palace would almost over dazzle the sun, and most would feel faint-hearted within its tapestried and ivory walls. Countless servants maintained the radiance of the abode, and it was as if living in the midst of a small, bustling city to be within the fellowship of the king. One could understand Louis's almost instinctive desire to hide from the unaccustomed, frenzied activity and brightness surrounding him. Yet, Richard's familiarity to the place, always open to his whim visits, and the reception of the night's performance made him pompous, and talkative, and Ludwig enjoyed every moment of it. Though his eyes often drifted over to another's company.
Thomas looked at his king sharply, though veiled. This was an absolute stranger invited into the royal home, and there was something too cunningly charming about him, and this meeting. He felt it was well planned, though Ludwig would discount his suspicions as mere jealousy. Another worthy counsel added to his court, Ludwig would tell him, and diminishing the importance of your own. He even insisted the weapons of his post removed from him this night. The soldier would have made a stronger show of refusal, except that he had taken to hiding some advantages from his king.
"So, I have prattled on about the play and stubborn but acute orchestra you have given me, my King. Should I ask for other opinions, or just bask in the applause and compliments I have received thus far?" The conductor radiated good will, buoyant on wine and flattery. He expected even more praise from that particular company tonight.
Gowden spoke. "You have a great gift, Sir. I wish I could even understand the mystery of such creativity. I, perhaps, should be glad enough to recognize and enjoy it. Still, I would ask many other questions of you, if you would allow the intrusiveness?"
The night had already wore on several hours in the richly wooded and warmly close parlor even after the late performance. Wisps of fragrant smoke wafted from the blazing hearth as well as Richard's pipe. It was strange to think that even this slight acridity irritated both the young aide and the king, their inexperienced lungs more used to the air of the strong outdoors than the fumes and habits of aristocracy. Thomas took the opportunity to end the evening before even more discussion seemed about to take place. It was time to finally get on with the ruling of a country, not more indulgences. "My Lords…"
"Yes, Thomas?" Ludwig looked at him with a warning in his smile.
"After such a triumphant production, perhaps the master of it all is quite exhausted. I, too, have questions, but should be content enough with the memory."
"You have questions, Thomas?" Ludwig smirked, a bit too much goading in his expression.
The guard continued. "And because of the importance of the ambassador's position, I am sure he had many plans for his hours, stolen as they may be. As my Lord has plans. We must not overtax the generosity of either." Thomas felt the gaze of both powerful men on him.
A servant brought more champagne for the guests, and Richard gestured expansively with his glass, unaware of the awkwardness. "Nonsense. Ask anything you like. I am probably as energetically giddy as a school boy."
"Perhaps your aide is correct," Gowden conceded, "I will hold most of my questions to be answered another day, for I am sure your works will continue and be played as long as there are musicians. But I must ask you one question tonight, for who would know when I may again. What is it that first inspires you? What begins the work?"
"What inspires me lately has been his Lordship, and his generosity." Here, the composer bowed his head slightly to Ludwig before continuing with Gowden. "You look like someone who has never known want. Sometimes need can be a great inspirer, but because of my great friend and his friendship to the Arts, I have found there can also be creativity in some leisure. You would have no idea how inventiveness is aided when not constantly pursued, harassed, and in want."
"Perhaps I know a little about it," Gowden said, and smiled. His steel eyes flashed for a moment, stealing fire from the hearth.
"Is this a hint to some past criminality?" Ludwig inquired, quietly amused.
"Criminality, or cunning, my Lord?" Louis answered. "What is the difference between the two? And do I look so the innocent? Remember the mold of my profession." The others laughed at the reminder. He continued. "Your work is so passionate, yet calculated, controlled. Like a mammoth beast under a masterful leash. When do you know the time to set it free?"
"Ahhh, that is the secret, is it not? To know the nature of the beast - when it will soar, and when it will destroy. That is the taming of the work. Without it, you have nothing but a raging animal that is useless to all, even itself."
"Creativity destroys? I do not understand this, Richard." Ludwig could never grasp this concept.
"I was almost destroyed pursuing my profession, Ludwig, until you plucked me to safety. It destroys. Many things can."
"I still don't understand, my friend. To me, the pursuit of this has saved my soul. I don't think I could live without these passions, though those before me both encouraged and greatly dissuaded me from these marvels."
"I hope you never have to realize my meaning, Ludwig." Richard fell silent a moment, despite the wine. "You do not have to live as the common man, my King," he sighed. "Your life is set, your riches foretold. Yet, you are one of the few, perhaps in many histories, with the power and insight to pull these wonders into reality." For another moment, Wagner's arrogance also fell silent.
"So your work speaks about the taming of life, then, Sir?" The others were amazed that even Thomas was beginning to follow the conversation, and dared add to it, interrupting the awkward pause.
"Taming life? An interesting comment. I don't think such a thing is possible, but Bravo, son, Bravo." Richard softly applauded the aide. "Listen to this one, Ludwig. His observations are worth the time, and delightful."
"Thomas is useful, at times." Ludwig looked over at the guard, reminding him of his place.
"Some have more control over life than others, certainly to influence. Left alone, I do believe this new Bavarian king will show us many things. The same for you, Sir Wagner. I expect many remarkable events from both such as, but eventually outdistancing, tonight's. And if I value my life, I should probably leave them to their work. Thank you, sirs, for a most incredulous day. I don't think it will ever be repeated, especially the generosity. I should begin my journey back, to oversee my own uncreative work. Perhaps I may pass through again, to see how the lives of my betters are proceeding?"
"It is late, and there are many guest rooms in this place. You may be safer here, for the night. Even Thomas would see to your protection."
"I can avow for the hospitality of his Lordship." Richard pointedly sipped his glass of champagne.
"It is probably unwise to turn down such geniality, but I feel I have neglected duty far too long."
"Tell Thomas what you need for this return journey. All will be arranged. Perhaps we will meet again when the business of our country's cross?"
"I am ashamed to admit how low of rank I am among my colleagues, so it is doubtful that I would be involved directly in such business. Thank you for not overly inquiring into my station. As I said, I doubt this day will be repeated."
"Thomas will make all the arrangements for you."
"Thank you again, my Lords, all. I am still not over the shock of this meeting, so forgive any strange comments or inquiries. Sleep and be well, for this place needs the equal of men like yourselves. Goodbye, my Lords."
If you have any comments, you can email Pt at ptech@usa.net.
In the meantime, return to the main Fan Fiction page...