Lips Are Silent - 2

Even before the padding of paws on the gravel path came close Alexander and Zoltan had peeled apart. Alexander lit a cigarette while Zoltan adjusted his package.

‘Gentlemen!’ the Archduke Eugene greeted them. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ he said, but as ever he didn’t wait for a reply. ‘My aide thought you might be out here, walking’ the prince added, preening his beard with one hand. Turning from them, he patted his thigh and two Alsatian pups bounded up. ‘Lutzi!’ he called, pointing at the darker of the two leaping shapes. ‘And this good girl is Vutzi,’ he stroked the other affectionately.

‘The party seemed a great success,’ Alexander tried to make conversation.
‘Yes.’ The prince seemed to brush the evening off with dust from his sleeve. ‘These musical evenings give me a right stonking headache.’
‘It’s nice to get away from people sometimes,’ Zoltan suggested to no one in particular.
‘Quite.’ The Archduke agreed. ‘Do you lads fancy seeing the von Gloeden prints now?’

At first they didn’t answer, having become used to the Archduke using questions as mere comments. When they saw he was waiting for an answer, Alexander nodded, and Zoltan followed.
‘Good. We can go in through the chapel, it’s quicker than wandering back to the main door.’ The prince hailed a retainer, who was standing a few steps behind him. ‘Take the pups round to the kennels, there’s a good fellow.’

Archduke Eugene popped his hands in his tunic pockets and headed off along a winding path toward the palace. Zoltan shrugged at Alexander, and they both set off after him.
‘Of course, you do know most of these art studies are plainly pornographic.’ The Archduke spoke as he walked, taking it for granted that he was being followed and listened to. ‘The Holy See would place all the von Plueschow and von Gloeden stuff on the Index. So, no doubt, much of it will be destroyed, eventually.’ The prince slowed his pace to angle his head toward Alexander. ‘As a knight of a holy order, I consider them simply from the historical perspective, you understand.’
‘Do you find them distasteful, sir?’ Zoltan asked.
‘Taste is a sandy foundation,’ the prince mused.
‘The Faith alone is a sure Rock!’ Zoltan countered.

The Archduke stopped, turned, and stared at Zoltan. ‘You do understand, I think,’ he smiled before he turned again for the palace. ‘Just through here.’
They ambled up some steps, through a clanging door, and along an echoing tiled corridor. A further door was clicked open by the Archduke and they plodded into a world of candle-lit pools, islands of altars and pews, and air scented by incense and polish.

Even at this late hour the chapel was in use. Surprisingly bright and warm it sucked the prince and Zoltan in, but Alexander held back from its enveloping familiarity. As they crossed the aisles Zoltan and the Archduke genuflected in unison before the tabernacle on the High Altar, like well drilled altar boys. Alexander looked around at the women and the sacristans busily covering statues and crosses with purple cloths, he curtsied clumsily then chased after Zoltan.

The Archduke had been pointing out some key features of the chapel as they went, but when they reached the Lady Altar, Zoltan stopped, dropped a Corona in a votives money box, then lifted and lit a candle. Alexander stood behind him as he knelt, amazed at the simple ease with which he slipped into devout prayer. All Alexander could do was bow his head and hope it looked sincere.
‘Countess Szepesy!’ Archduke Eugene greeted an ancient dowager dressed in a widow’s black from erect head to pointed toe; her mantilla, silk weeds and court shoes gave the appearance of holding her faint, fleshless frame together.

From the corner of his eye Alexander had seen her come at them like a spectre emerging from a wall. He stood to attention and Zoltan too rose from prayer to show military respect.
‘Please, don’t let me interfer,’ the shadow whispered. ‘Dear, Gene,’ she accepted a kiss from the Archduke then told him to share lunch with her. With that she was gone, her companion and maid in her wake.
‘A formidable lady!’ The prince mumbled behind her back. ‘It was the Countess who had the chapel’s painting of Saint Sebastian removed,’ he said. ‘Generations have seen their offspring committed into her capable hands, now she’s here to oversee cousin Ludwig.’

The library too was awake, though mid-night was now long gone. ‘The Archduke Ludwig Victor, it is well known, keeps late hours,’ a sleepy, baby-faced junior librarian entertained Alexander while the prince arranged access to some of Ludwig Victor’s photographed nudes and Zoltan absorbed the vast array of military memorabilia, hardware and archives.

In a comfortable annexe to the library they were presented with a pile of leather and velvet covered photo albums. ‘This group has, it is generally accepted, the most innovative and artistically rewarding studies,’ the senior, but still baby-faced, librian instructed. ‘These are the latest,’ his face screwed into a sneer, ‘and these contain many of the very early works.’

They were left to look at page after page of nude youths photographed in a variety of ersatz but intriguing classical poses. Far from being erotically charged, this plush prison made the images look almost coy. Only the massive genitalia on many of the peasant models, and the fact that male nudity was a crime or at least considered disgusting, and to be covered up, offered real fascination.
‘A few of the series in album two do capture something of the innocence assumed to be at the heart of modern naturism,’ the librarian returned to offer more explanantions. ‘Others touch on the darkness that besmirched ancient views on love, pederasty.’

Archduke Eugene, Alexander and Zoltan had had enough, they thanked the librarian as one voice, and left him to the photographs and their excuses.
As they walked out along a link taking them into the body of the palace, another party was well under way. Leery, partially dressed Prussian officers lolled on the corridor to Ludwig Victor’s appartments, bottles of champagne close to hand.
‘Sir, why have you been doing this with us?’ Zoltan asked.
The Archduke shrugged. ‘We are all on trial here, in one way or another.’
‘A test?’ Alexander quizzed. ‘Testing what? How are we to be judged?’
‘We are soldiers, gentlemen,’ the prince answered. ‘The military mind must be ready to act or react, and always keep a cool head - whatever the puzzle presented. I make myself plain?’
‘As mud,’ Zoltan lamented.
‘Good.’
‘Not all battlefields occur during wars,’ Alexander pondered. ‘The most important can be the struggle against oneself.’
The Archduke and Zoltan appeared stunned and waited for more.

Alexander smiled a small smile. ‘The first battle is against the tongue, especially in politics.’
‘Self discipline? Well, gentlemen, it’s getting late. I’ll bid you both a good morning and hope you sleep well.’ Archduke Eugene stood squarely between Zoltan and Alexander. To his left the back way to the guards’ billet, ahead the servants’ entrance to the administration quarters. Only when he saw Zoltan follow one path and Alexander the other did he walk along his own.

No one was alseep even in the wing housing the small administration unit. Alexander had tip-toed through the servants’ quarters partitioning door, but he needn’t have bothered. Raucous laughs mingled with flithy army songs and floor-quaking dances.

‘This place is truly wild,’ a familiar voice called out to him with the light of an open door. It was the corporal from his unit at the Hofburg. ‘I’d never have said I’d do half the things I’ve seen tonight!’ He enthused before rough hands dragged him into the room with calls of ‘Strip, strip!’
In his spartan room Alexander took off his tunic and leaned against the rail of his bed, tears welling with an invisible band of metal slowly constricting his chest, notch by notch.
‘It’s me,’ Zoltan mumbled knocking gently on Alexander’s door as he opened it and walked in. His arms invited and enfolded Alexander who had plunged toward him.
‘What are we going to do, Zolte?’ Alexander wept.

Zoltan hugged him then held him away slightly, ‘What are you saying?’
‘Tonight!’ Alexander sobbed, exasperated. Pushing Zoltan from him, he walked to the tiny window of his room to look up at the cloud darkened sky.
‘The Archduke Eugene?’ Zoltan asked, coming closer to Alexander, embracing him with a light hold and resting his chin on the back of Alexander’s shoulder.
‘Him, yes. But more than that.’ Alexander’s body became rigid.

‘Oh! He’s all right, Ally. Really he is. The blokes who served with him at Innsbruck were telling me about him this afternoon.’ Zoltan rocked Alexander with a tender pitch. ‘They know him well enough. They say he comes across as a pious old prick. But he is genuinely touched by love of God. That sort of thing. He actually does love other people, look at the fantastic work he’s done in providing well trained nurses.’ Zoltan squeezed a huffy shrug out of Alexander. ‘But it’s more than that, he’s a great commander of men. He knows his stuff. He knows men, Ally. Even men like us.’ Zoltan turned Alexander to face him. ‘There’s something else bothering you.’

‘This place.’ Alexander railed. ‘It’s a prison, a pretty prison, but a punishment no less.’
‘For Ludwig Victor, or us?’
‘It’s a warning Zolte, can’t you see? A sleeked politician’s warning for all of us. You, me, Archduke Eugene, this whole stupid gang. It’s court code: You’re being watched - Don’t fail!’