J. Jones - The Third Place

In addition to his other roles at court, Werthen knew that Montenuovo also was in charge of the court theaters.

‘And Fraulein Greilin?’

‘She is a Schlenther protege. Quite talented, really. But not favored by Kathi. I fear Kathi has another favorite, young Fraulein Minter, born in Baden bei Wien and the daughter of a grocer, just like Kathi. The girl has become something of a surrogate daughter, and Kathi does campaign for her. She may be officially retired, you see, but she keeps her hand in the thespian ring. There was a public altercation between the two …’ Girardi sighed at the thought. ‘Very unprofessional on the part of Fraulein Greilin, but she is young and feels that her career is threatened.’

Werthen made note of both of these. ‘No others?’

A shaking of his head. ‘As you say, petty jealousies.’ He rose, putting his comical hat on once again, his features transforming before Werthen’s eyes. He was Kalman Zsupan.

‘And now, I fear, I must return to my rehearsal. There is a performance in three days’ time. Do give my best to Kathi. And if there is anything else I can do …’

‘You’ve been more than helpful,’ Werthen said, taking his cue to leave.

They arrived at the Ringstrasse apartment of Princess Dumbroski at exactly one in the afternoon, as arranged. Frau Mayreder used the excuse of a forgotten reticule from the Saturday seance for this appointment.

As they ascended in the elevator to the third floor, Frau Mayreder said, ‘I still do not know what you hope to accomplish by such a visit. You are being awfully closed-mouth about it all.’

Berthe smiled at her friend. ‘You’ll have to trust me, Rosa. It is a matter of state, but that is all I can tell you.’

‘What an exciting life you live with that investigator husband of yours. I assume it is some sort of private inquiry.’

Another smile. ‘And how do you know it is not my own case?’ Berthe said, which brought a shade of pink to the cheeks of Rosa Mayreder, the great proponent of women’s rights.

Berthe patted the woman’s forearm. ‘It’s quite all right, Rosa. I am guilty of the same. Remind me I have a doctor’s appointment and I imagine an imposing male figure in white coat.’

‘And if we do it, think how long it will take to change the world.’

The lift reached the third floor with a sudden jolt, rocking them as they stood by its door.

A maid answered the door of Princess Dumbroski’s apartment on the second knock. Rosa Mayreder supplied their names and the woman said, ‘She is expecting you. This way.’

The apartment proved to be rather cavernous, with a number of white lacquered doors leading off a main hallway. As they proceeded they could hear a metallic clinking as of small imperfect bells being sounded. The maid finally stopped in front of a pair of doors behind which the clinking sound seemed to emanate.

She threw open the doors to display a scene out of a mad painting by Bosch. There in front of them was Princess Dumbroski, attired in tights and fencing mask, a foil in her hand and nothing on her torso. She was circling a young woman in the same attire, or lack thereof. Blood streamed from a wound on this woman’s left bicep. Their bare breasts heaved as they circled and parried, taking deep breaths. The foils had no fleuret at the tip to blunt the sharp point; they were fighting, it appeared, for real. The princess made a sudden thrust which the other woman blocked, but it was merely a feint, for Princess Dumbroski quickly brought her blade to the left now, slashing at the woman’s upraised forearm, cutting and bringing more blood.

‘ C’est tout! ’ the princess shouted. ‘I have scored twice. Sufficient for today.’

She lifted her mask up; her face was filled with a fierce animal passion.

The other woman also lifted her mask. ‘My apologies, Princess. I lost my concentration.’ She glanced at Berthe and Rosa Mayreder standing in the doorway, slack-jawed as if to blame them.

‘Yes, but the first cut came before our visitors. Enough. Have those wounds attended to.’

She approached the other, gave her a formal kiss on each cheek and then, pausing, kissed her on the lips.

The other fencer passed by Berthe and Frau Mayreder, making a low, undecipherable sound as she did so. It was clear to Berthe that this woman did not appreciate their presence.

Princess Dumbroski made no attempt to cover her breasts as she turned her attention to them.

‘How do you like my little gymnasium?’ The princess, still holding her foil, swept it about the large room proprietarily.

It was indeed appointed as a room for gymnasts with its floor mats, balance beam, leather-covered horse and dangling rings. In one corner lay a set of dumbbells.

‘What’s good enough for the empress is good enough for me,’ the princess said breezily.

The Empress Elisabeth, assassinated four years earlier, had been an enthusiast of physical exercise, outfitting rooms at the Hofburg and at Schonbrunn with similar exercise paraphernalia.

‘And like the ancient Greeks, we prefer to take our exercise au naturel .’

Berthe, who had made a study of Greek, understood the implied joke, for the word was derived from gymnos , which meant naked: ancient athletes trained in that state. The irony was that the word gymnasium in German referred to a preparatory high school. Berthe could hardly imagine the young scholars at the elite Theresianum Gymnasium going about their Latin studies au naturel .

‘She was bleeding,’ Rosa Mayreder said, still somewhat shocked at the scene.

‘Just a knick. I know when to stop.’ She fixed her eyes on Berthe now. ‘And I know when to inflict pain.’

Berthe felt herself redden at the comment. She could never control this blushing that would start at her chest and blossomed up her neck. Fortunately, she was wearing a high lace collar today.

‘So, Frau Mayreder, you have misplaced your reticule. We are no train station maintaining a lost and found, but I am sure Elise will do what she can to look for it.’

The princess pulled a bell rope on the wall in back of her, next to a window looking out on the Ringstrasse. The maid who had let them in promptly came to the door.

‘Elise, perhaps you can assist Frau Mayreder. She seems to have misplaced a reticule.’

‘Madam,’ the woman said by way of response, nodding her head.

‘And while you are about your business, perhaps your young friend and I can get to know each other.’

It was what Berthe had been hoping for, but suddenly she was not so sure she wanted an intimate tete-a-tete with the princess. She felt out of her depth, on her guard.

But Rosa Mayreder did not sense this, leaving the two to their discussion as she searched for the fictional reticule.

Once the door was closed, Princess Dumbroski looked closely at Berthe. A towel hung from the back of a chair, but still the woman made no effort to cover herself. Berthe tried to focus on her face.

‘Now, Frau Meisner, perhaps you can tell me what this little farce is all about?’

‘Berthe, please,’ she said, still trying to follow her original plan of somehow becoming friendly enough with the princess to discover helpful information.

The woman tilted her head to the side as if to examine a rare art work.

‘I use Christian names only with those I am intimate with, Frau Meisner. And you should know that I really do not have friends. Allies, yes. Friends, very sparingly. Is that what this little ruse about the missing handbag is about? You want to be my ally?’

She took several steps toward Berthe, who still stood by the door.

The princess was now only a step away from her as she spoke: ‘Or do you seek something more intimate?’