Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Mama, Theo almost burned the house down today!"

"Mama, why is there horse manure on my violin case?"

"Mama, can we please go to the parade of emperors tomorrow, pleeeeease?"

"Mama, you won't believe what Hecki did today."

"Mama, Hecki smeared jam into my ear while I napped."

"I did not! It was Les. He was conducting an experiment!"

And then, all of them together: "I'm sooo hungry!"

"Goodness gracious!" Lena cupped her hands over her ears and laughed. "Let's see." She pointed to the tallest and oldest, a lanky twenty-one-year-old with dishevelled red hair. "Theo. Where is Marie?"

Theo wiped the violin case with his sleeve. "She had to leave suddenly to be with her father, which is why the brood is hungry. I tried to make potato soup, but I got distracted and it cooked a bit too long…"

"And it burned and now Marie's pot is ruined and the entire place almost burnt down! The potatoes turned into little black things, harder than rocks," said Achilles, a precocious, dark-haired boy of about ten, with thick spectacles that kept sliding down his small nose. "Hecki threw them up on the roof and they're stuck in the rain pipe but he also hit the neighbour's attic window, which is now broken, as is the pot. May I have it for my experiments?"

"Tattler!" Hector, the youngest, hissed at Les and elbowed him. "It was his idea to throw them on the roof! He dared me." Hector was two years younger than Les, and when together, the two were often up to no good. Theo called them the "wicked twins". Hector was a pretty boy with thick, dark brown curls and his mother's big grey eyes, which made for a striking contrast, but his angelic appearance hid a mischievous, lively personality. Les was usually the one who came up with the hare-brained ideas, while Hecki would carry them out without thinking twice.

Lena frowned. "Wait. You broke Herr Bauer's window?"

"It's just a tiny little window, it hardly matters." Les jumped to his defence.

"That's right." Hecki nodded emphatically. "He won't even notice. No one uses the attic anyway, and if you think about it, now the pigeons can use it to get in and out like a dovecote?—"

"Hector Arenheim!" Lena placed her hands on her hips .

"I'll fix it, Mama, I promise, I will," the boy said.

"For sure. With newspaper and cardboard and glue." Les grinned. "I'll help him create a new kind of window altogether. It will be indestructible."

"No. You're going to Karl Bauer immediately to apologise. Tell him you'll pay for a new window by helping him sell vegetables at the market."

"Noooo! Anything but that, Mama!"

"And you, Achilles, will help him." She crossed her arms.

Both boys grumbled. Turning to Theo, she asked, "What exactly is the matter with Marie's father?"

Theo shrugged. "She received a missive saying that her father was on his deathbed. Dropped everything to catch the next mail coach to Innsbruck. Left this letter." He handed her a crumpled, soiled letter, in which Marie had scribbled an apology for her hasty departure.

Lena perused it.

"Oh dear, oh dear," she muttered. "This is sad news, indeed." Marie was their maid, cook, nanny, friend, and part of the Arenheim family. Without her, things would fall apart, as they obviously already had.

Lena inspected the ruined pot. Another household item to dispose of. Mona sidled up to her and hugged her from behind. "I don't think the boys mean to be bad," she said. "Except when they decide to put jam in my ear." She glared at them. "It's not nice. Now my ear is all sticky and it won't come out."

"I was trying an experiment to see if the jam would prevent her ear from tearing when Hecki blows his trumpet in the same room. It's for a new invention, you see," Les said to defend himself.

"It's not the ear that would tear, but the tympanic membrane," Theo said, setting his violin aside. "I listened to a lecture on the anatomy of the internal ear ‘De Auribus' the other day."

Les shrugged. "Whatever, not-yet-Doctor Arenheim. My point being, it didn't work." His shoulders slumped. "When Hecki blared his trumpet in Mona's ear, she jumped up immediately and gave each of us a cuff. I daresay my tum-panic membrane is now damaged. I'll have to come up with another idea for earplugs that keep the sound out." His eyes brightened. "Do you think tar would work better?"

"Achilles Arenheim, don't you dare smear tar into my ears while I'm sleeping!" Mona picked up a broom and went after Les, who ran out of the room squealing, followed by Hecki, who egged her on.

"Children, children!" Lena didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Mona returned, sometime later, breathless. "I told them to go to Karl Bauer and apologise for the broken attic window, or else there would be no supper."

Lena set aside the pot she'd been inspecting. "Poor Mona. Did you have a hard time with the boys today?"

"As the only woman in the house? Yes." Mona was the second eldest at almost seventeen. She was a sweet, gentle girl with straight brown hair and dreamy eyes. She was a passionate musician and played the viola better than anyone Lena knew. Because she was a young woman, people had begun to frown upon her public performances. When she was younger, she had been considered a prodigy. Now that she was a young woman, it was considered unseemly for her to play a stringed instrument in public. "She should be married, not exhibiting herself on the public stage. It is indecent," people said. Lena's heart ached because Mona wanted nothing more than to become a professional musician.

Female professional musicians? In private, by all means. But on the public stage? That was unheard of. Yet they existed, these women. They were rare and overshadowed by men, but they existed.

"I can think of three female musicians easily," Mona liked to declare. "Maria Anna Wilhelmina von Neipperg was one of them. She was an Austrian composer and music theorist. Or Mozart's sister, Nannerl. And then there was Maria Theresia von Paradis, also a pianist."

"The problem is that they all played the piano, not the viola. The viola is considered a male instrument," Theo argued. "Not that I have a problem with it, mind you. It is the way society thinks."

Mona had angrily retorted that she did not give a fig for what society thought.

Now, Lena showed her the sheet music that had been trampled in the mud.

"It's a string quartet by Schubert in E-flat. It's quite new."

Mona took it eagerly and studied it. "I can copy it easily, Mama."

"Have you found us a patron?" Theo sat down at the table and peeled the skin off one of the burnt potatoes.

Lena shook her head. "No. There were too many people waiting outside the palais. The queue was so long, it went around the building. It was impossible to get inside. Then the rumour spread that Metternich's parties have been planned months in advance and that everything has already been decided down to the last detail. All the musicians have already been hired, and pieces they are to play have been already chosen. I'm afraid this is it, Theo." She shrugged. "I've reached the end of my wisdom."

"I went to the inn in the Seilergasse," Theo said. "You know, where all the musicians meet. To talk to Herr Beethoven and ask him for a letter of recommendation." He rubbed his neck.

Lena looked up. "Was he there?"

"Yes, but he was in a terrible temper. He was spooning his soup when I went up to introduce myself, saying I studied under one of his former pupils, Adam Klein. He claimed he didn't remember him, but judging by the way he was cursing, I suspect he remembered him all too well. I thought he was about to throw the soup bowl at me. When I asked if we could perform for him in order to receive a letter of recommendation, he said it would be pointless because he could no longer hear well enough to judge the quality of our performance." Theo frowned. "Yet he has a big performance of his newest symphony coming up soon. I wonder how he will fare then."

"You mean Beethoven can no longer hear his own music? Poor man. What a terrible fate." Mona's eyes softened in pity.

"He could barely hear what I was telling him. He was lip-reading most of the time and lifting a ridiculous ear trumpet to his ear." Theo tugged at his right ear. "I wonder whether it is an impedita canalis auditiva —a blockage in the ear—or some sort of nerve damage. I don't think it's an imbalance of humours, as some doctors claim. I wonder what Papa would have diagnosed." A shadow of sadness flitted over his narrow face.

Lena reached out and rubbed his hand.

Mona tapped on the table. "Back to the issue at hand, Doctor Arenheim. We were discussing our performance opportunities, which are non-existent."

Theo shook his head as if to clear out his thoughts. "You are right. You know what I think, Mama? We are probably going about this the wrong way. If only we had someone of influence to guide us and make the right introductions…"

Lena rubbed her forehead. "Yes. Adam Klein is doing his best, you know."

"Bah. He knows nothing." Theo banged his fist on the table in frustration. "They play music everywhere, but nobody wants us. It's not fair. Klein thinks he's helping, but the truth is, his only claim to fame is that he was once Beethoven's student—hardly his best, either."

Lena sighed. She knew there was some truth in what Theo was saying—Klein did not hold much influence in the Viennese music scene. Nevertheless, she was grateful for his support. Their relationship was friendly, but she knew it could develop into something more if she encouraged him. Yet, she did not, always ensuring to keep a friendly distance between them. As a schoolteacher, he was well read and enjoyed reading as much as Lena did. However, he seemed to live in a world much smaller, narrower than the one the Arenheims inhabited. Simon Arenheim had been a visionary, a giant, a towering intellect. He had been a talented doctor, fluent in six languages, hungry for travel and adventure, and one of the most interesting men Lena had ever known. By comparison, Adam Klein seemed bland and somewhat dull.

"If he ever develops a romantic tendre for you, he will have to deal with me first." Theo pulled himself up and puffed out his chest. "As the head of the Arenheim family, it is my duty to protect you." Lena was only eight years older than Theo, but he had always been precocious and liked to pretend like it was the other way round.

A smile tugged at the corners of Lena's mouth. "What nonsense, Theo. We are merely good friends, Adam and I, and there is nothing more to our relationship." She ruffled his hair. "And what about your flame? Any progress?"

He had been smitten with the blacksmith's daughter for two years. It was only recently that she seemed to be responding to his advances. Theo was in high spirits. His face brightened. "I have decided to ask Rosalie to go for a walk with me next Sunday after church."

Lena nodded and watched with a smile as Theo left the room with a cheerful whistle on his lips. Now, as for cooking. She pulled up the sleeves of her dress and stared at the empty shelf in the kitchen.

A cabbage, an onion, flour, raspberry jam, and dried bread.

Cabbage soup it would be. And for dessert, some plain sugar biscuits with the homemade raspberry jam.

‘Twould do.

The next morning, Lena had planned to stay at home and make jam preserves. There was much work about the house with Marie absent. It bothered her that they had not been able to secure a single performance. She slapped her hand on the wooden table. " Ach ! This can't be such an impossibility, can it?"

She put on her bonnet and draped her shawl across her shoulders. She would try one more time to secure an introduction to one of the noble families. Count Razumovsky, a Russian nobleman and music lover, was a patron of Beethoven. Perhaps, if she could manage to get an introduction to him...

But, as on previous days, she was turned away at the gates of the vast palatial complex.

"The count is not at home," was the lackadaisical answer.

Discouraged, she turned away.

As she turned to leave, a man in a nondescript brown suit approached her.

"Frau Helena Arenheim?" His eyes were shaded by the hat he wore low over his face.

"Yes?"

"I understand that you are seeking to be hired as a musician."

"How did you know that?" She looked at him suspiciously .

The man's eyes gleamed. "There is very little that we do not know. It is almost impossible for someone without a patron or a member of the music guild to get a commission. Especially not from them." He jerked his chin up to nod at the splendid palais in front of them. "Yet you have tried knocking on the doors of all the great ones, at all the noble families, not only Metternich, but also Arnstein, Esterhazy and Kaunitz—alas, all in vain."

Her fingers gripped her reticule tightly. "Who are you?"

"You may call me August."

Lena moistened her lips. "August. Are you a secret agent?"

She couldn't see his eyes, but his thin lips curled to an unamused smile. "I see you are quick. That is admirable."

"Are you?"

His teeth gleamed. "My employer is Baron von Hager."

Everyone knew that name. The head of the Viennese secret police. She exhaled. "Von Hager reports directly to Metternich," she muttered. Even she knew that.

August inclined his head.

Metternich had set up the most sophisticated and elaborate spy network in all of Europe. The city was swarming with spies and agents, now more than ever before all on account of the Congress, of course.

Lena tightened her grip on her reticule. "Agent August. What do you want? I don't have much time."

"Because your children are waiting for you." He smiled again and she couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine .

"I'll get straight to the point. We can help you get the commission you want. We can help you get any commission you want. Anywhere. Do you want to play in the Hofburg? It shall be done. No more futile knocking on closed doors, begging to be heard. All that will be a thing of the past. Because Baron von Hager—or should we say Metternich?—himself will be your patron."

Lena's heart beat heavily against her ribs. "In return for my spying for him."

He flashed his teeth at her. "That's a given."

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Her breathing increased.

It was impossible, of course. Immoral. Unethical. She could never do it. She could think of a hundred, no, a thousand reasons why she should immediately turn and run away from Agent August as fast as possible and forget she ever talked to him.

"You and your family shall begin with a performance at Metternich's soiree next Wednesday," August continued talking. "If you so wish. We can arrange it in the blink of an eye. It won't matter that there are two women in the orchestra. You'll be protected. We can ensure that in the future, you will not lack any musical commissions, either. In return, all you have to do is be our eyes and ears."

"It is espionage. It is despicable."

"But when it comes to putting food in the mouths of the hungry hordes, a parent will do anything, even spy on high and mighty aristocrats who don't care a fig about us. We must help ourselves. The welfare of my children comes before safeguarding the political secrets of the arrogant nobility. Trust me, I have four little ones myself." He leaned forwards and whispered. "As one parent to another, I would seize the opportunity."

Spying on people was abhorrent to her. "I cannot reconcile it with my conscience." She shook her head. "The very idea disgusts me."

August smiled. "You have a strong conscience, a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong. That is good. Think of it this way: what are these foreigners to us? They will be gone in a few weeks. You'll never see them again, and there won't be any harm done."

Lena picked at the little flakes of dry skin on her lower lip. He had a point. What were those foreigners to her, anyway?

Nothing at all.

"In the meantime, you'll have done our nation a great service, and you'll be regarded a true patriot. The financial rewards are not to be scoffed at. You want the opportunity to perform regularly in the salons of the toffs? It shall be done. All you have to do is find out who says what to whom and where. Metternich, the Emperor, and the entire Austrian empire will be in your debt."

"I don't care a whit about the Emperor and whether he's in my debt or not," Lena said truthfully. "It's just not right."

"Very well. I see you won't be swayed." August tipped his hat up and she looked into a pair of shrewd, pale green eyes. He was younger than she'd expected. He straightened his cuffs and made a gesture as if to leave. At the last moment, he changed his mind. "It's just that I know what happens to young widows and their children when they can't afford to keep their livelihood. Have seen it with my very own eyes. Although—forgive me—you're not exactly a widow, are you?" His jade green eyes bored into hers.

She licked her dry lips. "What…what happens to them?" She ignored his reference to her not being a widow.

"They end up in the poorhouse. You have no idea what they are like, do you? A while back I saw a whole family of six—a mother and her five children—dragged out of their house because they could no longer pay the rent. They were carted to the poorhouse. Heard there was a cholera outbreak there only yesterday. Half the people are dead. Are you certain you won't be facing the same fate when your landlord finds out you can't pay the rent and that you're not really a widow? He won't be in a charitable frame of mind once he discovers the truth of your particular circumstances."

"I have no idea what you mean," Lena stammered.

He looked at her almost pitifully. "We know that you never married Simon Arenheim."

She clenched her hands so tightly that her knuckles whitened. "What are you saying now? Are you blackmailing me?"

He shook his head and raised his hands as if to reassure her. "You misunderstand. I would never do anything so dastardly. I only sought you out because I was aware of your particular circumstances. I thought you of all people, would appreciate the opportunity rather than continuing to march down a road that ends in the poorhouse. I merely wanted to offer you a way out of this predicament."

The picture August had just painted was terrifying. She imagined her children, her beautiful children, Theo, Les, Hecki and Mona, cooped up in the squalid quarters of the poorhouse with disease ravaging the place. The poor, when they died, ended up in mass graves outside the city walls of Vienna. She'd seen it. It was horrifying beyond words.

August continued talking. "But since you're not interested and there are many other people who are?—"

"Suppose I agreed. What would I have to do?" She wrung her hands.

He did not appear surprised by her change of heart. "Not much. Do what you do best. Perform. Enjoy it, without the worry of having to secure another performance afterwards. Observe who is there. If you can, keep an eye on who is talking to whom. It's not that difficult. I'd be your contact, and you'd pass your messages to me." He paused. "What do you say? Will you do it?"

Lena massaged her temples. Her mind was spinning.

Here was a golden opportunity impossible to refuse.

All her dreams would come true.

Their financial woes would be solved at a stroke.

Their rent would be paid.

If she worked for Baron von Hager, she would no longer have to fear exposure. She would receive commissions in the upper echelons of society.

They would not end in the poorhouse. Their future would be made.

"I—I—I, oh heavens." She paced up and down, wringing her hands. Then she stopped in front of the man and pulled herself up. "I am probably selling my soul right now. You are right. I will do anything, anything at all for my children and their safety."

The man gave her a piercing look. "You'll do it?"

Lena let out a big breath that sounded like a sigh. "Very well. I'll do it."