Becoming Lola

by Harriet Steel

  ‘Why of course. Ludwig has an eye for a beautiful woman and he’s a great admirer of all things Spanish. I’m sure that if he knows you are here, he will be eager to see you perform. Shall I request an audience for you so you can talk to him yourself?’

  Lola beamed. ‘I’d be so grateful.’

  *

  Two days later, armed with von Maltzahn’s letter of introduction, she rose early and dressed in her favourite black velvet. She studied her reflection with satisfaction; the dark, sensuous fabric emphasised the perfect curves of her figure and heightened the beauty of her deep-blue eyes.

  The palace was close by and she could have walked there, but she ordered a carriage. ‘It would never do to arrive on foot like a beggar, would it, Zampa?’ she remarked, fondling the dog’s silky ears.

  At the massive doors on the Max Josephplatz, she handed the letter of introduction to the military adjutant on duty and watched him as he read it laboriously.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded after a few moments. ‘Are you going to keep me waiting all day?’ The adjutant was tempted to answer in the same vein but he was aware that von Mahltzahn was an influential man and the king’s interest in beautiful women was well known.

  He bowed stiffly. ‘If you would be so good as to remain here, I’ll enquire whether His Majesty will receive you.’

  He disappeared up the grand staircase leaving Lola to tap her foot and wait. While she did so, she ran through in her mind what she knew of the king. Maltzahn had mentioned he loved poetry as well as art and wrote a great deal himself.

  ‘And what of the queen?’ she had asked.

  ‘Thérèse? She was a princess of Saxe-Hildburgenhausen: very pious and noted more for her good works than her wit and education. She has born the king eight children. He is devoted to her but has often found love elsewhere.’

  The adjutant hurried back down the stairs, the spurs on his well-polished boots jangling.

  ‘His Majesty will see you now, Dona Montez, but he can spare no more than a few minutes.’

  When she entered the room, Ludwig was looking at some papers on his desk. He raised his head and she saw a flicker of interest in his grey-blue eyes. He was not such an impressive figure as she had expected, quite short with a long, pointed nose set in a thin face marked by small-pox. A large growth stood out on his forehead.

  ‘Dona Montez, Your Majesty.’

  The king stood up and greeted her in halting Spanish. She remembered that von Maltzahn had warned her Ludwig was becoming deaf, so she took care to speak clearly.

  ‘Your Majesty does me great honour. Baron von Maltzahn told me I would have the pleasure of speaking with you in my native tongue, but he did not tell me your command of it was so fluent.’

  ‘You are very kind. Now, how can I help you?’

  He listened to her politely before speaking.

  ‘Baron Frays deals with that kind of thing. Have you seen him?’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty, but he was not encouraging.’

  ‘Then why have you come to me?’

  ‘Because I thought you might wish to overrule him.’

  A wry smile came over the king’s face. ‘I am not in the habit of overruling my officials unless it is absolutely necessary. Why should I do so now?’

  ‘Because you love Spain and I am an accomplished performer of her dances.’

  He looked at her with amusement. ‘I’m sure you are and you also have a fine figure, although, if you will forgive me, I wonder whether you owe it all to nature.’

  ‘That is easily proven.’

  She snatched up a pair of scissors from his desk, jabbed them into the neckline of her dress and began to cut.

  For a moment, the king was too taken aback to speak, then he started to chuckle.

  Outside the door, the adjutant sprang to attention as his monarch peered into the corridor.

  ‘Fetch a needle and thread,’ he commanded. There was laughter in his voice and he looked years younger.

  ‘Your Majesty?’

  ‘Are you deaf, man? I said fetch a needle and thread.’

  ‘At once, Your Majesty!’

  ‘And tell Frays he’s to leave whatever he’s doing and come to me.’

  *

  The play on the night of Lola’s first performance was entitled The Enchanted Prince. She was impatient as the first act drew to its end and the cast took their bows. The curtain came down and workmen rushed to haul off the old scenery and replace it with a set showing a Spanish town. As the orchestra tuned up, Lola fastened her castanets and went to the centre of the stage.

  When the curtain rose, her eyes swept the auditorium. In the half-light, she saw the king in the royal box. Beside him sat a dumpy woman in dark-blue silk and a diamond tiara who must be the queen. The rhythmic pulse of the bolero rose from the orchestra pit. In time with it, she moved with languid grace, becoming more animated as the music grew louder and more insistent.

  The king leant forward. The performance outstripped all his expectations. She was magnificent, full of fire and passion. When the dance ended, there was a moment of silence then he got to his feet and began to clap. The rest of the audience followed.

  Lola clasped her hands to her heart then stretched them out in a gesture of thanks before turning to face the royal box. Eyes lowered, she sank into a deep curtsey, but as she straightened again, she glanced up to judge the king’s reaction. To her satisfaction, he still clapped with gusto, a broad smile lighting his face. She dipped one last curtsey in the direction of his box then left the stage.

  *

  ‘You are to be congratulated, Lola,’ von Maltzahn smiled as they quaffed champagne in her suite at the Goldener Hirsch Hotel a few weeks later. ‘You mentioned you had an offer of work in Augsburg but looking at all this,’ he gestured to the luxurious room, ‘I imagine you are in no hurry to leave Munich?’

  ‘The king has implored me to stay. Augsburg will have to wait.’

  ‘I suppose that magnificent necklace is one of his gifts?’

  She fingered the heavy collar of sapphires and diamonds.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ She stroked the little dog in her lap. ‘See, Zampa also has a jewelled collar and Ludwig has promised to buy me another dog as well. I have chosen a mastiff. I shall call him Turk after Prince Heinrich’s dog in Ebersdorf.’

  Von Maltzahn raised an eyebrow.

  She laughed. ‘Do you disapprove?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not at all, I rejoice for you, just be careful. By nature, Ludwig is tight with money. Don’t push him too far.’

  ‘He says I may have whatever I want. I simply send the bills to General Heideck to be settled.’

  Von Maltzahn spared a sympathetic thought for the bluff soldier, one of the king’s oldest friends. He was reputed to be as frugal as his master. How he must grind his teeth at Lola’s extravagances.

  He tossed off the rest of the champagne in his glass and stood up. ‘Well, I fear I must leave you, I have an appointment.’ He kissed her hand then paused.

  ‘There’s something on your mind,’ Lola said. ‘You may as well tell me.’

  He shrugged. ‘Just one more piece of advice: please understand, it is well meant.’

  She squeezed his arm. ‘I know it is.’

  ‘Even though Ludwig expelled the Jesuits when he came to the throne, most of the men of influence are still of the High Catholic and reactionary stamp. They guard their privileges. If they think your hold over the king grows too great, they will try to bring you down.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but they’ll find that they have met their match. Anyway, the king has more power than any of them.’

  Von Maltzahn shrugged. ‘True, but these days with republicans everywhere plotting revolution, it would be unwise for him to wield it too bluntly. Just take care, Lola, that’s all I’m saying. The Bavarians love their king but no monarch can take that love for granted any more.’

  Chapter 24

  It was late Novem
ber and with her new friends Berthe and Mathilde Thierry, a dancer and an actress at the Court Theatre, Lola strolled through the bright, frosty streets of Munich. The air was lively with the aromas of gluhwein and spiced Christmas biscuits wafting from the street stalls they passed. They were on their way to see the house the king had bought for Lola.

  ‘I’m sure you will love it as much as I do,’ she enthused. ‘Old General Heideck suggested a few others, but they were far too modest. I wanted something elegant that would show how highly the king values me.’

  Turk, her newly acquired mastiff, stopped to sniff at a piece of discarded paper in the gutter and she paused. ‘I have so many plans. No one will recognise the place when I’ve finished. The workmen have already begun.’

  The mastiff finished his inspection and they continued on their way. After a few more minutes, they turned into the Barerstrasse and saw the house. The façade was pleasingly proportioned, with five tall windows on each floor that gave it lightness and elegance. A large, rather bare garden extended on either side.

  ‘The garden needs to be improved, but I have already spoken to the king about that. I think roses would be charming at the front, don’t you? I have lots of ideas for fountains and classical statues as well, in the finest marble of course.’

  Berthe smiled. ‘It’s lovely. I’m very envious.’

  Lola squeezed her arm. ‘You and Mathilde have been so kind to me when I needed friends. You must promise to tell me if there is anything you want and I’ll talk to the king.’

  They went inside the house and Lola began to show them around the spacious rooms, but the dust and the noise of sawing and hammering soon drove them out. They were halfway back to the Goldener Hirsch when a dray piled high with beer barrels came level with them. As it did so, Turk noticed a cat on the other side of the street.

  His hackles rose and he tugged on his lead. Lola tried to hold him but he was too strong for her. Breaking loose, he lunged after the cat with a volley of barking.

  Alarmed by the commotion, the dray horse shied and backed into the shafts. The dray lurched and two barrels rolled off, crashing onto the cobbles. One split, and a stream of beer gushed out. The drayman jumped down to calm his horse then turned on Lola.

  ‘Why don’t you keep that damned dog under control?’ he shouted.

  She laughed. ‘I could ask the same about your horse. It’s not poor Turk’s fault if you don’t know how to handle it.’

  The man reddened and shook his fist. ‘When I catch him, I’ll teach that dog of yours whose fault it is.’

  Lola stopped laughing. ‘Don’t you threaten my dog, you oaf,’ she snapped. She looked around for Turk who had given up hope of catching the cat and trotted off to sniff some rubbish outside a nearby café.

  ‘Turk, come!’ she shouted. He ambled back to her side.

  The man fingered his whip and took a step forward then saw her ferocious expression and hesitated.

  ‘Mathilde, Berthe,’ she said calmly, ‘shall we be on our way?’

  They turned to see that a small crowd had assembled behind them blocking the end of the street. Mathilde clutched Lola’s arm. ‘What shall we do?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Do? Why we shall go home as we intended. These people would not dare hurt us.’

  But it soon became obvious that the crowd intended to stand their ground. A few yards in front of them, Lola halted. She would show these common people she was not afraid.

  ‘Let us pass,’ she commanded.

  A swarthy man dressed in workmen’s overalls and heavy boots spoke up. ‘Not until you pay Matthias for the damage done.’

  ‘I don’t carry money. You may apply to General Heideck if you wish. Tell him I sent you.’

  ‘Lola,’ Berthe said nervously, ‘I have some money we could give them.’

  The man frowned. ‘Lola? Lola Montez? That’s who you are, is it, the Spanish doxy?’

  Lola fingered the dagger at her belt. ‘If you don’t stand aside this minute, you will pay for that and have your king to answer to.’

  A murmur rose from the crowd. A homely woman in a blue apron who stood beside Lola’s opponent pulled on his arm. ‘Leave them be, husband,’ she pleaded. ‘We can’t afford to have any trouble.’

  Glowering, the man backed down and the crowd parted to let them through.

  ‘Walk slowly,’ Lola hissed as they reached the other side. ‘I won’t have them think they frighten us.’

  Mathilde whimpered. ‘I wish we were at the hotel.’

  Lola squeezed her arm. ‘We will be soon. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.’

  Berthe cast a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. ‘They aren’t following us.’

  ‘I should think not. They know that if they did, I would have the lot of them punished.’

  *

  The house in the Barerstrasse would not be finished for some time but Lola was already busy making plans for the grand balls and receptions she would hold there.

  ‘The whole of Munich society will be fighting for invitations,’ she said to von Maltzahn as they bowled along in the carriage he had brought back from Paris for her. It was light and square, with spanking navy-blue paint and canary yellow wheels. He had assured her that he had rejected ten others before he picked it.

  ‘I can’t wait to show you the house,’ she went on. ‘I think you’ll agree it’s exquisite.’ She laughed. ‘How people will envy me.’

  Von Maltzahn frowned. Since his return from Paris, he had heard it all over the city that Lola was not popular with many people. The gossips also said she had spent more on the new house than many government ministers earned in a year. He adjusted the button on one of his fawn, kid gloves and gave her a sideways glance.

  ‘Be careful, Lola. Don’t forget what I once said to you: spend too much of the king’s money and you will make enemies.’

  Lola yawned. ‘Oh, don’t be a bore. The king loves beautiful things. He doesn’t grudge the cost. In fact, he has promised to give me an allowance so I will no longer have to go to old Heideck for every trivial purchase. He has even hinted he plans to change his will to provide for me.’

  She lowered her voice. ‘I have another promise from him too. He has agreed to make me a countess. I’ve spent hours in the royal library. It’s full of the most fascinating maps and old almanacs, you know. I’ve chosen what my title will be: the Countess of Landsfeld. No such place exists but it has a grand ring to it, don’t you think?’ She caught his expression. ‘You look surprised. Am I not worthy of a title?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said hastily, ‘but it would be unprecedented. The king has never raised a commoner to the rank of countess. It would be even more of an obstacle that you are not a Bavarian citizen.’

  She dismissed the objection with a wave of her hand. ‘Then the king can make me one.’

  Von Maltzahn laughed. ‘You have an answer for everything, Lola. I wish you luck and I hope you get what you desire.’

  Later, when she was alone at her hotel, she went to the bureau and took out the design for her coat of arms. It featured a crowned lion, a silver dolphin, a sword, and a red rose on a red and white quartered ground. At the top was a nine-pointed crown. She had already ordered her dinner service from the Meissen factory. The crest was to be emblazoned on every piece. It would also be stamped on the silver buttons of her servants’ new blue and white livery.

  No one would dare look down on her once she had her title. They would have to treat her with the respect she deserved. She would be the most important woman in the land: more important even than the queen. She clasped her arms around her and felt a frisson of delight. Not bad, she thought, not bad for a little girl who wasn’t wanted.

  At the theatre that evening, Ludwig left the royal box in the first interval and came to see her. She was deliciously aware of the jealous glances directed at her by the courtiers in the audience. She ignored the murmurs of disapproval and talked gaily until she noticed that the king was making odd, insist
ent gestures.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  ‘Up, Lolita, up,’ he muttered. ‘You must stand when I address you in public.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ she whispered back. ‘I had forgotten.’ Gracefully, she rose from her chair and their conversation continued. When he had gone, after warmly kissing her hand, her eyes swept the auditorium. She touched the jewel at her throat - a ruby as big as a quail’s egg. The faces around her betrayed a mix of emotions: curiosity, envy, dislike and grudging admiration. She lowered her eyelashes with a satisfied smile. Why should she care what they thought? She was safe in the king’s love.

  *

  A few days later, she watched from the drawing room window of her suite for his arrival. The afternoon was almost at an end and he was late. A steady rain washed the cobbled street and a few passers-by hurried along, huddled under black umbrellas. At last, she saw his slight figure. He was dressed in one of the shabby coats and hats his frugality made him unwilling to discard. He didn’t look like a king, she mused. It was no wonder no one acknowledged him as he passed. In their haste to get out of the rain, they probably didn’t even realise who the forlorn figure was. She felt a rush of affection for him.

  She went to her bureau and took out the slim, handwritten volume of poems he had sent her the previous day. To please him, she often wrote a poem of her own in return, but for the last few days, there had been too many other things to think about.

  ‘You shouldn’t have walked in this weather,’ she scolded when he came in. ‘Give me your coat and hat. I’ll call my maid and have them dried. Come and sit by the fire. You must be more careful. The thought of you becoming ill terrifies me. What would I do if we could not see each other?’

  He smiled at her solicitousness and held out his cold hands to the fire. They tingled as the blood flowed back into his fingers. The comforting scent of wood smoke mingled in his nostrils with her spicy perfume.

  ‘I’ve been reading your poems. They are so beautiful that I was moved to tears. Will you read some of them aloud? I would love to hear them in your voice.’