Schloss Hohenschwangau
1868
Upon returning to Hohenschwangau from the building site, Elisabet retreated into her studio. Ludwig and Niels retired to the Hohenstaufenzimmer, the music room, where Richard Wagner played the piano on his visits to the king. Ordinarily, Ludwig commented on this whenever he passed the instrument. He’d rhapsodize about his memories of the composer, a man he loved above all others, sometimes going on for nearly half an hour, repeating stories Niels had heard before, stories that had taken on the tone of great legends, as if Ludwig were Agamemnon and Wagner Achilles. Except that Ludwig would never, ever cross Wagner. Today, however, the king was focused on something else. He touched the piano gently, with reverence, as he walked by, but he continued without comment to a telescope he’d set up at one of the windows.
“It’s visible from here,” he said, “Neu Hohenschwangau. Can you conjure, even in theory, a more perfect location for a castle?”
“I cannot,” Niels said, peering into the eyepiece. He couldn’t get it to come into focus, but that didn’t matter. There was nothing yet to see. Not that he’d say as much to Ludwig. Better to let him enjoy his enthusiasm. Niels waited for a while before asking the question that had been nagging at him for hours. “What exactly happened between you and Sophie? I didn’t want to ask in front of Elisabet.”
“Whyever not?” Ludwig flung himself onto a settee. “Pour us some brandy, will you?”
Niels picked up the crystal decanter standing on a table against the wall and pulled out its stopper. “I—I suppose I thought she might be jealous.”
Ludwig laughed. Ferociously. With his whole body. Relief surged through Niels. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with their friendship. Couldn’t believe he’d become so close to the king. Couldn’t believe he was hiding it from his mother. From everyone. Not that there were many others. His father wouldn’t care, and he’d not stayed in touch with many of his friends from school.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Elisabet is not in love with me, nor I with her.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think I’d know, wouldn’t I?” He took the snifter Niels held out to him. “I’m exceedingly observant, you know, but even if I weren’t, it’s not too difficult to recognize when someone is in love with you. I saw it in Sophie. That’s why I had to end it.”
“She loved you.” Niels stated it as a fact, but a fact he’d not expected. Royal marriages and love, so far as he knew, did not often mingle.
“Why wouldn’t she? I’m handsome, charming, and endlessly entertaining when I want to be.”
“The last is the closest to being true.”
“This is why I like you, Niels,” Ludwig said. “You speak without the slightest thought for how it will make me feel. I do, however, object to your not praising my good looks. I’m inarguably handsome. Even so, I prefer you to nearly anyone else. I’m used to sycophants and hangers-on and I despise them all. I want something real, and you give me that.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. I’m sure to tire of you before long.”
Niels felt his face flush.
“You’re too easy to goad.” The king took a slug of brandy. “But to return to the subject of Sophie. You’d like her very much and would probably be much happier with her than I was. Of course, she requires a husband of higher rank, so you need not fear that I’ll force you into the match.”
“She loved you and you didn’t love her.”
“Not at all. I loved her—and still do—very much. She admires my Dearest Friend nearly as much as I. It’s what bonded us, our appreciation for his music. We would sit for hours discussing it. Reminiscing about productions we’d seen. Reading librettos to each other. I showed her the letters he’s written me. You do know I’m financing his work?”
“I didn’t.”
“You don’t pay much attention to the papers, do you?” Ludwig asked. “I’m told what I’m doing is a scandal.”
“I’m not much interested in the world.”
“Another reason I like you.”
Niels smiled. “So given all that—mutual love and shared interests—why didn’t you marry her?”
“The love was not entirely mutual, not as to its kind, that is. I had no proper affection for her. Couldn’t bear to kiss her. Her lips…” He shuddered. “She’s a dear girl, very dear, but she could never be more than a sister to me.”
“Many marriages are built on shakier foundations.”
“You’re quite right, of course, but her feelings for me were something else altogether. She wanted more, and I would never be capable of giving it to her. It would’ve been wrong to trap her in a relationship that could bring nothing but pain and disappointment.”
“A noble reason to throw her over, Your Majesty.”
Ludwig tilted the now-empty snifter in his hand back and forth, staring at it. “I doubt she saw it that way.”
“You’re a monarch. You’ve no choice but to marry, eventually, and provide your kingdom with an heir. Perhaps you could find a way to forge a life with her. It might not be too late.”
“Don’t start pressing me on the subject of marriage or I’ll fling you out and never let you back in. The hurt’s already done; she wouldn’t have me back, even if she weren’t marrying someone else. Further, there’s more to it than simply Sophie. Her sister Sisi has been the person closest to me from almost the moment of my birth. I’ve always been honest with her, and she with me. There’s no one I’ve ever spoken to so freely. She’s more guarded with me now, and that is a wound that causes existential pain, but it will not always be this way, precisely because I ended the engagement. Had I married Sophie and destroyed her chance at happiness, that would’ve been a betrayal from which Sisi and I might never have recovered.”
“Why did you agree to it in the first place?” Niels asked.
“I thought I should try to make it work. Marriage is expected of a monarch, and I assumed Sophie would be very like her sister. Unfortunately, she isn’t.”
They sat in silence for nearly a quarter of an hour after that. It was a comfortable silence, the kind that can be shared only by those who, on some fundamental level, understand each other. Then, at last, the king spoke.
“Sing for me, my friend. Something from Lohengrin, but not the Bridal Chorus. Anything but that.”