Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The Schweizertor, or Swiss Gate, the entrance to the Hofburg Palace, was heavily guarded. It was a russet-coloured Renaissance gate, with a golden imperial eagle gracing the top, frowning down on everyone who passed beneath.
Pippa clutched her trunk and stared at it with mixed feelings.
All her life she had longed to see this place.
She had heard so many stories about the glitter and glamour of Vienna: the palace, the emperor whom the Viennese affectionately called der gute Kaiser Franz, our good Emperor Franz, admired for his steady, fatherly manner; his charming but perpetually ailing wife, Empress Maria Ludovica; the countless children from his previous two marriages.
Pippa could not remember exactly how many offspring the Emperor had, but it must have been at least a dozen.
Her father had always promised to take her to Vienna, but somehow that had never happened.
Klemens had told her stories of the colourful parades, the grand ladies and gentlemen who promenaded along the broad, tree-lined avenues of the Prater, and the roses that bloomed in the Schonbrunn palace gardens.
“One day I will take you there,” he had promised, threading his fingers through hers.
They had been sitting on the little rickety wooden bench in front of the cottage, watching the sunset.
The light had bathed the meadow in shades of orange and pink, and in the distance, the Alps had looked as though they were on fire.
It had been one of his last promises. After that, he had abruptly returned to Vienna, leaving all her letters unanswered.
Pippa looked about, taking in the clatter of horse carriages on the cobbles and the press of people hurrying past her.
And now she was here, without Klemens, and without her father.
A stab of pain went through her heart. Where on earth was he?
Was he well? Was he ill? Was he even in Vienna?
Why had he not written all this time? She had left a letter for him at the inn but had not been able to include her new whereabouts, for that had been before she was taken to the Polizeihofstelle.
She would have to find a way to send another letter with the updated information.
But first she had to take care of herself and her situation.
Only after she had found stability and a roof over her head, could she search for Klemens.
A dark green carriage bearing a golden eagle crest pulled up in front of the gate.
“Gewehr heraus!” a voice shouted. Present arms! The guards snapped to attention; scabbards clinked and swords rattled.
The crowd came to a halt and turned toward the gate. A murmur rippled through the onlookers.
“That carriage belongs to the imperial family,” one man said, craning his neck. “It has the imperial crest upon it. It could even be the Emperor.”
“Not necessarily,” another replied. “Haven’t you heard?
The Emperor had one hundred and seventy of these carriages built specially for the congress, every one the same shade of green, every one bearing the golden eagle.
Now you know what they do with our taxes.
Imagine what that must have cost. Soon the streets will be choked with them. ”
He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “They say there will be two hundred and fifty crowned heads and princes, all descending on Vienna. Kings, queens, princes, dukes, ministers and more. This carriage could belong to anyone, the King of Prussia, or Tsar Alexander himself.”
“No,” countered a bearded man beside him. “The foreign sovereigns are to arrive later. It must be one of our own imperial family. The guard shouted ‘present arms!’ only once, that means it is an archduke. When he shouts it three times, it is the Emperor.”
“I know who it is,” said another, a baker with a basket full of bread under his arm. “It is Prince Lucifer, of course. Haven’t you heard? He is to return to Vienna today, summoned back by his father, the Kaiser, personally.”
A ripple of excitement swept through the crowd.
Pippa turned to the man who had spoken. “Prince Lucifer? Who is he?”
“What? You have never heard of Prince Lucifer? The ladies call him Der Blonde Lucifer. He is the most charming devil of the entire pack,” the baker said with a laugh.
“Too dazzlingly handsome for his own good, a worse womaniser than Casanova himself. They say the Hofburg walls tremble with his revels, orgies fit for the ancient Romans. Some whisper Kaiser Franz’s hair turned white because of him.
A wastrel, a pretty face, rebellious to the core, and feared by all.
Even Metternich loathes him, for he cannot bend him to his will. That is what makes him so dangerous.”
“He means the Emperor’s youngest son, the Archduke Leopold,” the woman beside her put in. “Of all the Emperor’s children, he is truly the worst. They say not even the palace maids are safe when he is about. Though I must say, I would not mind running into him,” she added with a giggle.
Pippa swallowed and tightened her grip on the trunk.
Well, these were bright prospects ahead of her.
She hoped she would never have to cross paths with Prince Lucifer.
She would probably punch him square in the nose if he ever tried anything with her, and then they would execute her for attempting to assassinate a member of the imperial family.
Pippa watched with misgiving as the carriage passed through the gate and vanished into the courtyard.
“Mind you, that is not where you go,” Agent August had admonished her earlier.
“Only members of the imperial family, courtiers, and high-ranking officials are allowed to pass through the Schweizertor. As for you, you will head straight for the servants’ entrance on the other side.
Someone there will take you to the central court office, where you will be officially registered as a palace maid. ”
Pippa clutched her trunk in one hand and in the other the envelope of documents August had given her. She gazed at the door which, though meant for servants and deliveries, was at least twice her height and guarded just as heavily as the main gate.
“Come now, courage,” she muttered to herself, and straightened her shoulders.
She presented August’s forged documents, issued under a new name, Anna Braun. After a cursory examination, the guards waved her through to a clerk who barely glanced up before summoning a maid.
“Take her to the Hofstubenamt. She is to join the cleaning department,” the clerk said briskly to a girl who’d quietly entered and curtsied. She wore an ankle-length dark woollen dress with an apron tied neatly at the waist and a plain linen cap that restrained every strand of her copper hair.
“Yes, sir. Come along.” She led Pippa through a maze of echoing corridors. She introduced herself as Marie.
As they walked, Marie eyed her curiously.
“So you are to join my department. That is good, because the Hofstubenamt is grievously understaffed and cannot keep up with the work, especially now that the congress is about to begin.” Her steps faltered.
“Let me warn you right away. The person you must watch out for is Frau Benedikt. She is the real dragon of the palace.”
“Frau Benedikt? Who is she?”
“She is the Chief Housekeeper in charge of everything here. We call her the real empress behind the scenes because she is feared more than Emperor Franz himself. She has power over us all.” Marie stopped in front of a door.
“You do not want to get on her bad side. I am to take you to her now. My advice is to keep your eyes on the floor and not to talk back, otherwise she will dismiss you on the spot.”
Pippa was about to retort cheekily that she did not care a whit about getting on her bad side, when Marie rapped on the door and ushered her inside.
A tall woman stood next to a table, inspecting a pile of silken napkins.
“This is the new maid, Anna.” Marie curtsied.
Marie had been right. The woman was terrifying. She had a sharp nose, cold eyes, and hair pulled back so tightly that the skin at her temples looked strained. She regarded Pippa from head to toe, then lifted a finger and twirled it.
Pippa blinked at her, uncertain.
“Turn,” Marie hissed.
Oh. Pippa turned on her heel until she made a full circle and faced Frau Benedikt again. A wave of humiliation swept over her.
She lifted her chin defiantly and met the woman’s steel-grey gaze, only to remember too late Marie’s warning not to.
Well, she refused to be afraid. She was her father’s daughter.
He had taught her that all men and women were created equal and that the distinctions of class and rank were inventions of man. She would not feel intimidated.
Frau Benedikt seized her chin firmly and lifted it.
“A girl with spirit, I see,” the woman said.
Pippa shivered. The housekeeper turned her face from side to side and tightened her grip when Pippa tried to pull away.
“It remains to be seen whether that will aid or hinder you. If you let your temper rule you, you will be dismissed, and it will be noted in your papers that you are unfit for employment anywhere else. Is that understood?”
Pippa swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
The woman released her. “Marie, take her to the servants’ quarters. She will receive a uniform, the cost of which will be deducted from her pay.” Her gaze lingered on Pippa. “Well?”
“Curtsy,” Marie whispered urgently.
Pippa dropped into a reluctant curtsy.
“I see this one needs to be taught proper etiquette. Marie, that will be your responsibility.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Marie replied, curtsying again. Frau Benedikt left the room.
“You must curtsy every time,” Marie said.
“Why?”
Marie stared at her as if she had grown three heads. “Because we are at the bottom of the social ladder. We are maids, and cleaning maids at that. Everyone else is your superior. Including me.”
As they walked through the endless corridors again, Marie continued, “You will receive your assigned tasks and working hours. You are to remain invisible at all times. If you happen to meet a noble, you must turn to face the wall. The high and mighty rarely notice us, anyway.”
Pippa frowned. “So I do not enter any rooms at all?”
“Oh no,” Marie said. “We clean the corridors, polish the grates, and empty the fireplaces in the common areas. The archduchesses’ private apartments have their own maids. Such posts are highly coveted and nearly impossible to obtain. You will never set foot in the archdukes’ apartments.”
That would be a problem. How was she to spy if she could not even reach the rooms?
She squared her shoulders, gathered her humble bundle of clothes, and followed Marie to an attic room she would share with four other maids. Her narrow cot sat wedged beneath the window.
She would simply have to outwit them all.
Quickly.
It was the only way for her to survive. To escape this place. To find Klemens.