Schloss Hohenschwangau
1874
“A child?” Ludwig’s head snapped around. “You have a child? How is that possible?”
“I believe you’re familiar with the general mechanisms,” Niels said.
“I was under the impression that you’re not intimate with your wife.”
“I’m not, not usually. You know how difficult it’s been. When she left here, all those years ago, she was in something of a rage. She fled to Mainz and then returned to Munich, where she set up housekeeping outside the family home.”
“She should do whatever she wants within reason,” Ludwig said. “Keep her happy, so she’ll leave us be.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve done. When I saw her and my mother at Christmas she told me she wanted a child.”
“I said within reason. A child doesn’t meet that qualification.”
“She told me a heartbreaking story about something that happened before we married. She’d had a lover and lost their child.”
“Well, that’s most careless of her. She should’ve hired a nurse to look after it.”
“Don’t be obtuse,” Niels said. “She wasn’t allowed even to see the infant after its birth. It was taken from her and sent away. Shortly thereafter, our marriage was arranged. I always thought she’d been in love with someone her family considered unsuitable and assumed—hoped, rather—that their connection might be rekindled after our wedding, but he’s nowhere to be found.”
“That’s hardly our problem.”
“No, but we do need to keep her content. It’s the right thing, to let her have a family. It is expected, after all.”
“It’s expected of me as well, you know, but I haven’t given in to the pressure.”
“You’re a king. I’m not.”
“You’re a baron and I’m your feudal lord.” He smiled and Niels breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been dreading this conversation since he’d opened the Valkyrie’s letter announcing their daughter’s birth. She’d named the infant Sigrid and explained that this time it was Lohengrin who was guilty of betrayal, not his wife.
Niels paid little attention to his wife’s censure. Instead, he resigned himself to compartmentalizing the bits of his life, shutting away those that brought him no joy. Sigrid did not fall into that category. He adored their child, but the rift in his marriage meant having scant time with her. Most of the time, he accepted this as the cost of sharing the king’s world. Was the choice a wise one? Over the years he questioned the decision, for although he had a piece of Ludwig’s heart, he’d never have it all. There were months of loneliness, times when he was cast aside, subject to his lover’s whims and increasingly erratic moods. He’d remember Elisabet’s warnings and wish he’d taken heed. Until Ludwig returned to him. Then, for a while, doubt would vanish, but not forever. Tying his happiness to the king guaranteed stretches of bliss, but they would always be interspersed with searing pain.