Josef Skoda withdrew from the empress’s bedchamber with Countess Esterházy and headed for the small drawing room.
Only after he heard the door close behind them did he speak.
“This is madness, Countess.”
His voice was raw and unvarnished.
“Her Majesty the Empress needs absolute rest right now. To make her ride in a carriage and appear in public in that condition is no different from driving a patient to the edge of a cliff. What will you do if she vomits on the road, or loses consciousness again? Do you not realize that would be an even greater disgrace?”
But Countess Esterházy showed not the slightest sign of agitation.
If anything, a faint satisfaction lingered in her eyes at the empress’s appearance moments ago.
“For the first time today, Her Majesty the Empress thought first not of her own well-being, but of her duty to the empire. That is not a disgrace. It is the first virtue she must show as the empress of Habsburg.”
She looked straight at Skoda.
“And your duty, as a physician of the imperial household, is to make it possible for Her Majesty the Empress to fulfill that noble duty. Not to say that it is impossible.”
For a moment, Skoda was so dumbfounded that he lost his words.
‘To this woman, the empress is not a person, but merely an actress.’
And he was the supporting player who had to inject that actress with medicine so she would not collapse onstage.
Realizing that further persuasion was pointless, he let out a short sigh.
He took out a small brown glass bottle and held it before Esterházy’s eyes.
His furious voice had once again returned to that of a cold, dry physician.
“Laudanum. It is the strongest medicine for stopping pain. But it is dangerous in equal measure.”
Without opening the stopper, he warned Esterházy.
“In exchange for easing the pain, it may cloud the mind and dull her judgment. I will mix exactly three drops into a glass of water now, so give it to Her Majesty the Empress yourself.”
Skoda did not hand the medicine to Esterházy.
He personally called a maid to bring water, then dropped exactly three drops into it.
“Countess, keep this in mind. This is not a cure, but something no different from a poison that lets one forget pain for a short while.”
He handed the teacup to Esterházy and advised her.
“I respect Her Majesty the Empress’s will, but let me make it clear that all medical responsibility for what results from this lies with Her Highness Archduchess Sophie and with you.”
Esterházy accepted the teacup without a word.
‘Does she care about nothing except the goal of a successful afternoon event?’
After giving Skoda a brief courtesy, the countess returned to the empress’s bedchamber without hesitation.
Skoda looked at the closed door, then down at his empty hand. Before the specter of Semmelweis, he had once again bent his convictions.
***
Countess Esterházy returned holding a small teacup.
“It is medicine to ease Your Majesty’s pain. The painkiller Your Majesty spoke of.”
A painkiller?
Do they not have solid ones like Tylenol yet?
I slowly drank the water Esterházy had brought.
Hm. It doesn’t feel like anything has changed.
My stomach still feels like someone is stabbing it over and over with a needle.
“It does not seem as though anything has changed.”
“Please set aside your worries, Your Majesty. According to the physician, it takes a little more time for the medicine to take effect. It will certainly show its efficacy shortly.”
Can’t I take a little more?
Thirty minutes had passed on the clock, but apart from feeling a little drowsy, it didn’t seem like anything had changed.
“Chief lady-in-waiting.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I am concerned there may be a setback to the afternoon procession.”
That’s right… right?
I changed “I’m in pain” to “there may be a setback to the event,” and “the medicine isn’t working” to “the pain shows no sign of subsiding.”
“Please wait a moment, Your Majesty.”
Without hesitation, Esterházy headed toward the door and gave an order to the maid outside.
“Bring the physician again at once. Tell him Her Majesty the Empress must not feel even the slightest discomfort during the afternoon procession.”
After giving the order, Esterházy returned to her place.
“Since Your Majesty is devoting your heart so earnestly to the empire’s great task, surely God will aid you as well.”
While I rested and listened to the schedule, Skoda came to visit again and approached me.
“Your Majesty, I heard you summoned me.”
“Yes, court physician. I followed your prescription, but the discomfort in my body has yet to fade.”
Seeing that my whole body was still soaked in sweat, he gave a stern warning.
“I will add only one more drop. But beyond that, even if His Majesty the Emperor himself gives the order, it is absolutely impossible.”
…Why is he talking so frighteningly while giving me a painkiller?
“Judging by your expression and words, court physician, this medicine does not seem to be an ordinary thing.”
As I said that, I gazed steadily at the court physician.
“Forgive me, but laudanum is a powerful analgesic. There is no stronger painkiller than this.”
So what does that mean? Give me the conclusion first!
“It is extracted from opium into a tincture—”
I desperately held back the retching that surged up to my throat.
Opium? He means that drug, doesn’t he?
This isn’t a battlefield. They’re feeding me narcotics for a mere case of indigestion?
“It seems there will be no issue with the afternoon schedule.”
Hurry up and leave, you quack.
To think he administered narcotics to my body, which should be treasured like gold and jade.
In the end, do I have to endure it while I’m sick?
It seemed that was the only way after all.
“Chief lady-in-waiting. The sunlight is especially strong today.”
Esterházy drew the canopy and carefully stepped inside the bed.
Maybe I’ve gotten a little used to this?
“What is the matter, Your Majesty?”
“I would like to prick my hand a little….”
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. I believe I misheard you.”
“I think if I prick my finger with a needle, I will get better.”
What she took issue with seemed less my tone and more the fact that I apparently believed in medicine of the past.
“Bloodletting treatment has already been refuted.”
No, no.
“Not bloodletting. Just drawing a tiny bit of blood from my thumb.”
Barely shedding the expression of someone holding something back, Esterházy said,
“…First, let us bathe you again and help you dress.”
Okay… fine.
If she won’t do it, there’s nothing I can do. It’s not something I can manage alone.
Judging the conversation to be over, Esterházy immediately pulled open the canopy.
And then the bath began again, followed by the dress, the jewelry, and the makeup.
Reflected in the mirror, I looked like a slightly haggard, sickly beauty…?
“Your Majesty’s condition will already have been reported to the others. As I informed you, the route has been shortened, and Your Majesty need only wave your hand.”
I engraved Esterházy’s final advice in my mind and climbed into the imperial carriage.
Since it was an extension of the wedding ceremony, it was an open-roofed landau meant to show us to the public.
“Are you all right, Sisi?”
Whose hand had I been holding when I climbed in?
Had it been Joseph’s?
Sounds rang dully, as though from far away, and my view of the crowds was slightly blurred.
When the swaying of the carriage was added to that, the effects of the medicine became more of a burden instead, and the nausea did not stop.
I have to endure. If I vomit or collapse here, it’s over.
I held my back stiffly upright and barely managed to hang a soulless smile on my face.
Slowly, I gave the greeting I had practiced all morning.
The citizens of Vienna burst into cheers toward the emperor and me.
Flower petals fluttered down from balconies, and the music of the military band and the ringing of bells continued to shake my head into confusion.
Feeling something against my back, I turned and saw that Joseph had moved closer to support me.
Seeing his brow narrow slightly when he met my gaze, it seemed he had realized my condition was a mess.
“We are almost there. Please endure just a little longer.”
In the brief moment when the carriage turned a corner, Joseph squeezed my hand hard and whispered.
If you were going to worry like this, why did you go and tell Archduchess Sophie everything?
At last, the carriage stopped before the western door of St. Stephen’s Cathedral.
Still holding Joseph’s hand, I got down from the carriage almost as though being dragged.
“You did well, Empress.”
Through my blurred vision, I saw the enormous main doors at the end of the red carpet.
What kind of cathedral is this…?
Since my stomach had settled a little, maybe I also get carriage sickness.
I drew in a deep breath, waved my hand, and walked forward step by step.
Thinking all sorts of absurd thoughts, starting with what would happen if I ran away now, I walked toward the mouth of hell.
Is this already my second wedding?
At the first wedding, I collapsed midway through.
Socially, the agreement had already been concluded, but religiously, the marriage was still incomplete.
Only when one made the vow of one’s own will before God and all the saints, and received the priest’s final blessing, would the ritual at last be completed as a sacrament.
When the doors closed and we were cut off from the outside, the heat from moments ago vanished as if it had never been.
The flickering light created by thousands of candles, the heavy scent of incense drifting through the air, and the solemn music played by the enormous pipe organ.
It all felt as though it were pressing down on me alone.
“This way, Your Majesty.”
A voice that was not Joseph’s sounded beside me. It belonged to an old man dressed in splendid vestments woven with red and gold thread.
The Archbishop of Vienna, Cardinal Rauscher. Was that who he was?
He led us to the front of the altar.
When we stood before the altar, the organ fell silent, and the cardinal’s voice began to echo through the cathedral in Latin. They were words I could not understand, but their meaning was clear. The resumption of the interrupted ceremony.
The nobles and delegations gathered from all across Europe held their breath and watched us.
Joseph, standing beside me, tightened his grip on my hand slightly. A warmth as if to say, “I am by your side.”
Don’t make me laugh.
I sneered inwardly.
If you had been on my side, I would not have needed to suffer this pain now.
How much time had passed? The cardinal looked at me.
“Elisabeth, Empress of Austria. Do you swear before the Virgin Mary and all the saints that you will love and obey His Majesty Franz Joseph I, your husband, for all your life, and remain with him in joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness?”
…Swear?
Love? Obey?
This mama’s boy, who made me tremble with betrayal and abandoned me to Archduchess Sophie’s abuse?
I turned my gaze to the side and met Joseph’s eyes.
Seeing that innocent face, my mind instead became clear.
In any case, I cannot avoid this.
“Ja, ich will (Yes, I swear).”
I will create my own freedom.
Through a perfect performance as Elisabeth, to the very end.