Nightingale

by Juliet Waldron

  "Well, here we are."

  He smiled, took her hands into his. One at a time he lifted and kissed them.

  "You look frightened." His candid gaze met hers. "I know that this is not the most pleasant meeting place. I should not have suggested it, but I was desperate to be alone with you."

  "Oh, Akos!" Klara touched his chest, felt the warmth of him. Now that he was here, looking at her with those eyes, filled, not with lust or pride, but with love and caring, she felt a great deal better.

  "I was frightened until you came, but now," she looked up at him, and managed a shy smile, "now that you're here…."

  They kissed. At first it was tender, but it swiftly grew into a sweet, delicious exploration. Her arms slipped over his shoulders, and they swayed, young body to body. The scent of him was manly, so good! She felt such security in his arms that even the comings and goings in the corridor, the giggles and whispers, the murmurs of other lovers, faded away.

  How wonderful it was not to have to worry about Liese bursting in!

  The kisses grew fiercer. She opened her mouth, let him drink at will. When they paused for breath, she whispered, "I have never been in such a place before. Have you?"

  "No. Never."

  "What you must think of me." She murmured the words against his cheek.

  "Darling Maria Klara. I think that never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd be granted this favor, this joy." He kissed her again, hungrily, and she responded with delight. Kissing him was like a wonderful jam and cream torte, layer after layer of sugary delight … a taste of heaven! When Klara responded with a violent shiver, he drew back a little, and, full of tenderness, studied her face.

  "Would you rather that we only talked? To be alone and not look over our shoulders every two minutes for Liese is a luxury by itself."

  Klara saw the width of his pupils. She too was trembling. Never in her life had she felt so profoundly aroused.

  "I thought we would talk as well as kiss." She ducked to hide her embarrassment against his chest. "But now I think, I think – that all I want is to – kiss….”

  Together they sank upon the divan. Intoxication perfumed the chill, encircling air. Oh, how good to be in his arms, how good his body, his hair, his breath! There was an overwhelming lust for the sweets of friction which brought her back to his mouth again and again. He was caressing her breast through the jacket, so she opened, one after the other, the hooks which closed the bodice. In a response to her invitation, his questing hand slipped inside.

  Her round breasts blossomed at his touch. Akos pushed down one shoulder of the costume. An arm drew her close again and his shining dark head bent to kiss and tease until her nipples. Klara's auburn crown fell back, and she let him suck and tug. As he came down upon her, she arched, delirious with the frustrating tang of the release which happens when love is made only to the breasts. There was a pause, a readjustment, and then, from below, he lifted her dress. She made no move to stop him.

  From somewhere close came a half-smothered series of cries, a sound which, had they been cold, would have repelled them. Instead, Klara reached down and found his drop buttons. The lantern, as if on cue, choked and almost died. Fading to the tiniest yellow glow, the couch upon which they made love was cast into deepest shadow.

  What their hands discovered together, what he encouraged her to hold, was hot and hard. Not much later, his hand, too, found what it wanted, and he circled there, delicately probing. When his gentle fingers were slick with her excitement, he plunged into the yielding softness he'd created and played her, there in the silken shadows. With an all-encompassing kiss, bent over her, Akos muffled the crescendo of her ecstasy.

  His lips and tongue moved hungrily across her satiny throat, the lobes of her ears. He was between her parted knees, playing her, breathing her in. Klara knew what he was doing, that he was readying her, but her response had already exceeded anything she'd ever experienced.

  "Now. Please!"

  "Easy, sweetheart. I don't want to put you in danger."

  Still, he could only obey the imperious summons of her hand with an eager thrust. Bodies, together at last, arched, united at last. He strove to love her slowly, but her body closed upon him. For an annihilating moment, strong young bodies strove against each other, while a molten bloom fused them into a single, white hot metal.

  They collapsed together in the twilight, heart to heart, the noise of Carnival gamboling crazily on every side. Too weak to do anything else, they caressed the beloved, tear-streaked face of the other.

  Usually Klara descended from the heights rapidly. After being the centerpiece of one of Max's ‘diversions’, all she wanted was to disengage, to bathe, to pray for forgiveness and try to forget, perhaps with a draught of wine mingled with a drop or two of opium….

  There was no shame tonight. Brimming with love, she lay motionless, abandoning herself to earthy sensation. Her heart still beat fast, but this time her mind, like her body, glowed, spilled over with joy. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she reached to caress the proud line of his strong high cheek.

  "I've never felt anything like that before."

  He bent his head reverentially to kiss her forehead.

  "Neither have I, my Klara."

  Chapter 11

  Time passed. They may have even dozed a little in each other's arms, the chill kept out by his cape. Meanwhile the business of the cabinets bustled on every side. Hurrying footsteps and urgent whispers mingled with the crisp sotto voce transactions of the public women followed by the unmistakable rhythms of love.

  Klara dreamed she was home, stretched out upon her parlor divan with Satz beside her. It was not right, though. People kept walking through the room. Why were they strolling through her apartment as if it was the street? Some were strangers, but also people she knew from the theater, the Adambergers, the Langes. Liese and Hermann passed by, shaking their heads disapprovingly. Then, suddenly, Oettingen was there, staring down with his icy eyes.

  "Why is that damned pissing animal in your good parlor? I told you what I'd do if I ever caught…."

  There was a moment of absolute terror as she and Satz scrambled to escape, but his hands, so strong, held her….

  "Klara! Klara!"

  Not the Count, but Akos held her. She subsided with a gasp of relief while he stroked the side of her face.

  "Easy, my angel. Easy."

  "Bad dream.” Memory convinced her that it would be best to let it fade.

  Akos nodded. She could barely see him in the faint light within their cabinet.

  "We must leave, my darling."

  "I know." She slipped her arms around his neck. "I wish we didn't."

  "Yes," he replied, kissing her fingers. "I'd like nothing better than to sleep all night in your arms, but for now we must take care that you are not compromised."

  They arose and awkwardly, shyly, made use of the basin and toweling, shook and smoothed their rumpled clothing. Klara was embarrassed by this all too ordinary aftermath of passion.

  She was slipping her shoes on when a voice beyond the billowing curtain wall queried anxiously, "Bird of Paradise? Bird of Paradise? Are you there?"

  Florian! A thrill of fear shot through her.

  "Here!" She hastily shrugged on her blue jacket.

  Florian, carrying a small lantern, yanked the curtain up and entered. Right behind him was Olympia, and she was dragging a short someone else by the hand whose identity was hidden inside a baggy brown hooded robe.

  "Thank God we found you! Oettingen is looking for you. Wolfgang was by the door and he overheard him talking to his men. They know you're wearing the bird dress."

  "Grosse Gott!"

  "Quick, take it off!"

  Klara and Almassy stared.

  "Yes, off! You get into Wolfgang's robe and he will put on your dress and the wig! For God’s sake, hurry!”

  Then the cabinet was swirling with action, as Olympia helped Klara out of the skirt and the blue and green jacket sh
e’d just slipped on. It was easy to throw the full robe over her underwear – stays, petticoat and chemise. As soon as she did, Olympia joined the others into getting Wolfgang into the more complicated skirt, jacket and bustle.

  "It's Olympia's crazy idea," Florian said, "but God knows, it's as likely to work as anything else."

  "I shall lead him on as long of a chase as I can." Wolfgang's nimble fingers were buttoning the top of the brilliant blue jacket while Olympia worked at the bottom. At the same time, Florian picked up the wig and tugged it onto the boy's golden head.

  "What a pretty girl you do make, Mozart." Olympia couldn’t resist teasing. "Just look at those cheeks," she added, pinching the cherubic roundness. Then, further down the corridor they heard a commotion, feminine shrieks and roars of male outrage.

  "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"

  "He's searching the cabinets!"

  "Hurry! He’ll be here in a minute." Florian took Klara by the hand and then tugged the hood over her head.

  "Go straight for the last door," said Almassy. "Duck through the next cabinet – I think it’s empty – and then out the other side. Maybe they won’t see you leave."

  "Good idea."

  "But not you," Florian commanded, as Akos lifted the curtain for Klara to pass under. "He knows his precious bird is with a stag, and he must have learned by now that all the stags are Prince Vehnsky's musicians."

  "Yes," Olympia said, catching Akos by sleeve. "You and I will create a diversion."

  "But I am responsible! I should be with her, defend her…."

  "No," Florian growled. "I am trusting you to protect my wife, sir, and you must trust me to protect our Klara."

  This went against the grain, but, with the whole corridor in an uproar and danger close, Akos decided he was right. A moment later, Klara, Wolfgang and Florian scrambled into the empty neighboring cabinet and then out again.From within the cabinet, Akos saw a brief flash of light through the silken walls as the farthest door opened and closed again.

  "I shall be your assignation, Herr Concertmaster." Olympia put on her black mask.

  "Is this necessary? I mean, I do not wish to involve you in such a thing."

  "Oh, they won't see my face, dear." Olympia reclined upon the couch. She pulled up her skirt and exposed a gartered leg and a white expanse of plump, dimpled thigh. "That is definitely not Klara's!” Olympia laughed ruefully as she looked down at herself. “And, if I know men, it's all they'll see. Now come here, young sir, and play the outraged gallant." Akos had just got down beside her when the curtains were thrown open and a lantern threw light upon everywhere.

  He jumped to his feet at once and turned upon the intruders, angry enough already to kill them with his bare hands. Olympia rolled away with a loud squeal, making sure that their raised lamp shone full upon her plump naked legs.

  Standing between a pair of burly liveried servants stood a tall man with a severe white wig, an aquiline nose and a warrior's stance. Here was his rival!

  Maximillian wore a half mask, and was entirely dressed in black velvet. A scarlet lined cape hung from his broad shoulders. His long jaw and the cold blue eyes blazing behind the mask left no doubt that Habsburg blood ran strong in his veins. It was clear he too was angry; the air crackled with contained rage.

  And why else would a nobleman risk his reputation on such a display, forcing his way into cabinets at a low public ball? It was an act so desperate that it could only be done by a father in pursuit of an errant daughter – or a proud and angry man in search of a mistress! Knowing something about Klara's relationship with this man, Akos understood that in a way, tonight was both.

  Looking into those eyes, it was not easy for Akos to master his own fear.

  No wonder, he thought, that Giovanni Lugiati had run for his life!

  "Excuse me, sir," the Count spoke, evidently feeling that he had sufficiently taken in the situation. He and his men backed out of the cabinet.

  "God damn your impertinence!" Akos leapt up and dashed through the curtains after the retreating figures. "What the hell do you mean?"

  He was instantly seized by two large pairs of hands as the Count’s guards sprang into action.

  "Never mind, Hungarian." The larger had Akos by the shoulders. Pushing him fiercely back between the curtains, he tossed a glittering something into the air.

  "Forget it! Go back to your fun."

  Akos deftly caught the coin, while stifling a desire to follow the motion through with a punch aimed straight at the fellow's hard gut. In the next instant, he was blinded, for the Count, his servants behind him, had rushed away through the same lower door the others had used to reenter the ballroom. Light blazed into his eyes as the door swung open and then, just as swiftly, closed.

  Inwardly boiling, Akos turned. Olympia was sitting upright on the divan, smothering frightened laughter in her fringed gypsy shawl. Outside, chaos ruled. On every side people were cursing, screaming and running.

  "Blessed Mother!" She reached for Akos' hand. "I'd give a lot to see that Aristo bastard's face when he grabs Wolfgang out there.”

  "Let us hope he does not plunge a knife into that very talented young man’s heart before unmasking him."

  "Even he wouldn't dare that in a public place. And remember, Herr Concertmaster, she is at least as precious to him as his Chinese tea service."

  Almassy muttered a curse under his breath. Being rescued by such a grimy subterfuge was not to his taste.

  "Where has your husband taken Klara?"

  "Back to her apartment, where she will tell Liese that she changed clothes with little Mozart in order to play a trick on a fellow who was following her."

  "Hmm. That may deceive Liese, but what about yon gentleman? The eyes I just looked into were not those of a fool."

  "You are correct, Herr Almassy. Oettingen will be suspicious, but until he understands the situation, he won't act. For one thing, this evening is not like Klara at all. She's … well, sir," Olympia shot him a defiant look, "In spite of whatever has gone on here tonight, you must understand that in an odd way, our Klara is still an innocent. She's far too modest to come to a melee like this. Certainly she never would do – whatever it is she has done – lightly."

  They left the cabinet and walked the long corridor to the door where the main entrance was. Music and the noise of the crowd came from the other side of the wall.

  "I am in love with the lady, Frau Adamberger," Akos said. "My honor is engaged."

  "Signor Lugiati said much the same thing. Florian and I pray you will deal with Klara honestly, Herr Concertmaster. And, by now you must know that is going to take some real courage."

  "I shall marry her, with or without that gentleman's permission."

  "Can you take care of her? Can you take care of yourself? We love Klara very much, and, I tell you frankly, we're both afraid. I do admit, though, I have an awful feeling that something terrible will happen to her if things stay as they are. For the past two years she has been sick in late winter, and every time it takes her longer to recover."

  "The opera that Mozart is writing for Prince Vehnsky must – will – win her freedom."

  "And if it does not?"

  "There is a world outside the empire."

  Olympia sadly shook her head. Clearly the thought of any artist leaving Vienna was almost impossible for her to imagine.

  "Frau Adamberger, you have said it yourself. She must get free of this vampire, or she will wither and die. I could feel it when I touched her during her illness … I knew it the first moment I looked into her eyes.'

  They were outside now, going down the steps into the swirling snow, arm in arm.

  "Now, Madame," Akos said, fingering the coin he'd been tossed, as they "Let me use this gift from the Count to call a chair to carry you safely home."

  ***

  "And then what happened?" Everyone was intent upon putting together the pieces of last night's perilous adventure

  The next afternoon, Klara, the Adambergers a
nd Akos arrived into the Mozarts’ rooms. Wolfgang had gravitated to his natural perch, a seat at the small fortepiano, where he restlessly swung a skinny white-stocking-covered leg. Akos had gone straightaway to Klara’s side. The feathered dress, beribboned bustle, cape, plumed mask and the rest of the costume were present too, all of it draped over a chair.

  "Well, I got one of your stag friends to dance with me, Herr Almassy," Wolfgang said. "It's fortunate I'm such a good dancer. It wasn't as hard as I thought to dance in reverse.”

  "Wolfgang, dear, we are certain you are a wonderful dancer,” Olympia said, “but please don't keep us in suspense for an instant longer."

  "Well, no longer than it takes to tell, the Count burst onto the dance floor with his servants and grabbed me. He pulled me up against his chest." Here Wolfgang paused, and flushed bright red. "Believe me, I was scared. His eyes are like glaciers." He shot a glance over his shoulder at Klara, his quicksilver mind doubtless filling with a hundred conjectures. "His men seized my partner and they unmasked all of us."

  Yet another violation of the rules of masquerade committed by the furious Count!

  "You were dancing with my friend Ferenc," Akos said to Wolfgang. "He said he was frightened, too, ready to wet himself, so not an ounce of shame accrues to you, little Kapellmeister."

  Wolfgang nodded gratefully and then went on with his story. "When he saw my face, Count Oettingen growled, 'And who are you, blue eyes?' I thought he would strike me, but he didn't. He never raised his voice, tho’ he was in the blackest rage. I didn't stall a moment. I didn't dare. I confessed straightaway that Fraulein Silber was playing a trick on a man who had been bothering her and that she had changed clothes with me. 'Once more I shall ask who you are,' he said, 'and just why Fraulein Silber would do such a mad thing.' So I explained I had been composing a piece for Fraulein Silber to sing for Prince Vehnsky, and that was why she was knew me. One of his men scoffed," Wolfgang said with a grin, "He said that I couldn't be composing anything for Fraulein Silber, a boy like me, but the Count recognized me."