Near Füssen
1868
Niels didn’t much enjoy tending to the horses. Ludwig directed him as best he could, and while the grooms would’ve done a far better job, the animals were at least fed and watered and safe for the night. Ludwig had decided it was too late to return to Hohenschwangau. Too late, too dark, too cold. They both knew this was a lie. The king was no stranger to nocturnal drives. The truth was, he’d never had so much privacy as he did just then. No servants, no family, only him and his friend.
They went back to the sitting room. Ludwig closed and fastened the windows while Niels lit a fire that took the chill out of the air. They sat on the floor in front of it, relishing the heat.
“We ought to eat something. I haven’t had a morsel since dinner last night,” Niels said.
“My poor man. I’ve tormented you, haven’t I? I don’t suppose you know how to cook?”
“I assume that’s a jest.”
They went down to the kitchen, where they found a loaf of bread. There was cheese and butter in the pantry and they picked a bottle of wine from the cellar. Niels gathered it all into a basket, along with plates, linen napkins, glasses, and a corkscrew, then headed for the stairs. Ludwig stopped him.
“Do you know, I’ve never before seen a kitchen. It’s a rather fascinating place. I’ve not the slightest idea what half these things are.”
“What, like the stove?” Niels asked, laughing.
“That I’m capable of identifying,” Ludwig said. “It’s a strange thing to be in this part of a house. It’s an entirely separate world from upstairs, a world whose residents slip in and out of mine at will, but a world where I’m not welcome.”
“More like a world where you wouldn’t ordinarily bother to go. I’m not convinced the average kitchen maid would meet your standards of beauty.”
“I hadn’t considered that. It’s an excellent point.” He shuddered and headed for the stairs.
They returned to the sitting room and ate in front of the fire, as if they were picnicking outside. Niels couldn’t recall a time he’d seen Ludwig so relaxed, so content. He told him as much.
“I hardly recognize you,” he said.
“To know that there’s no one here save the two of us gives me the most extraordinary feeling of freedom.”
“What are you going to do with your newfound freedom?”
“Sleep,” the king said.
“Sleep?”
Their eyes met. Neither spoke for what, to Niels, felt like an eternity. Then Ludwig broke the silence.
“Only sleep, but I shall do it beside you, undisturbed until the lark sings in the morning.”