The person Hunyadi headed toward was the woman who stood at the very center of the Milanese nobility: the Duchess of Belgiojoso.
Cristina Trivulzio de Belgiojoso. A heroine also called the Joan of Arc of Italy.
She came from the Trivulzio family, one of the oldest and wealthiest houses in Italy. Moreover, during the Revolution of ’48, she had been a rebel who organized an army with her own money.
Her pale skin and large eyes were worthy of being called the muse of Italian artists.
When Hunyadi said something to her, she looked at me without even bothering to hide her contempt.
So she was fine with insulting me last time, but she dislikes being insulted herself?
She walked up before me and bent her knee in greeting.
“Raise your head, Duchess.”
I folded my fan and smiled at her.
“Your attire today is truly impressive, madam.”
“…I was unaware that Your Majesty had such an interest in Italian fashion.”
“You should call it Lombard fashion rather than Italian fashion.”
I pointed with the tip of my fan at her black dress.
“Do you remember the final scene of Don Quixote that was staged today?”
“It was a tragic scene, in which the knight of La Mancha loses his dream and collapses.”
“A tragedy? I wonder. He awoke at last from the mad delusion that windmills were giants and flocks of sheep were armies, and finally found peaceful rest. Would that not be a cure instead?”
The duchess bit her lip hard.
Don Quixote’s charge must be noble courage against the Empire, not madness.
“Your Majesty. What appears to some as a windmill may be a real giant to those who are awake. Perhaps he was not mad, but the world was too cowardly to bear his dream.”
“Are you speaking of the knight of La Mancha who is trembling after being excommunicated?”
At my words, laughter burst out among the Austrian officers and Tuscan nobles.
Among the nobility, rumors were already widespread that Vittorio Emanuele II had shut himself up in the palace after being excommunicated.
“That is not courage, but a dereliction of duty toward his people. Do you intend to make innocent young men shed blood again, as on that day in ’48?”
The volunteer army she had organized by spending her private fortune. The memory of its miserable defeat. And finally, the family whose property had been confiscated.
You were pardoned because you were a noblewoman.
“So, madam. Is that dress you are wearing mourning attire for a funeral, in the hope that there will be no more such reckless sacrifices?”
It was the moment when all eyes were focused on her and me.
“Your Imperial Majesty, you are being rather mischievous. Duchess, would you dance with me?”
Whether Maximilian hoped his conciliatory policy would not end in failure, or whether he was truly that oblivious, he stepped between us and asked the duchess to dance.
Foolish Maximilian. That was why he had been a comfortable friend, but this choice was far from good.
“…Thank you, Your Imperial Highness.”
Perhaps she might even have become a martyr, a symbol of Italy’s resistance.
Watching Maximilian take her hand and lead her out to dance, Joseph murmured coldly.
“He is waltzing with a traitor.”
Maximilian really should have seen that look in Joseph’s eyes.
“Shall we dance as well?”
“Very well.”
Once my head cooled, there were things I could see.
Esterhazy and Königsegg were staring at me coldly… Their gazes clearly said, Have you already forgotten what we taught you only a few months ago?
“…Why must I speak so frustratingly?”
With one hand resting on Joseph’s shoulder, I waited for the music to begin.
“Do as you like. That is your charm.”
Right? Exactly. I am the Empress!
I tried to show Esterhazy a confident face, then gave up.
Esterhazy was still frightening.
When Joseph signaled to the court orchestra, the performance began.
Entrusting myself to Joseph’s lead, I stole a sideways glance at Maximilian.
A noblewoman in black mourning dress and an archduke far too good-natured for his own good.
What on earth were the two of them talking about—
“Focus on me.”
I laughed weakly, dumbfounded.
“Are you jealous?”
“You pay too much attention to that fellow.”
“I do?”
Surely not.
“You don’t think I come to Venice often because of Maximilian, do you?”
“No.”
As if. It was already written all over your face.
“To be honest, I like Hungary better.”
What did it mean for farming to be good?
First of all, it meant the weather was good.
“But if I went and stayed in Hungary, would you have come the way you do now?”
“…I would have.”
“Liar.”
“A liar? I even gave up a war and came to you.”
When did he do that?
“You really don’t remember?”
No…
Joseph let out a short sigh.
“When we were newlyweds. When you fled to Buda.”
Ah, back then.
“I think I remember.”
That incident had been what led him to join the war on Russia’s side.
“Thank you for choosing me then.”
“It was only what I should have done.”
“So don’t be jealous. Max is merely an administrator who manages the Empire for you, but you are… my master.”
Ugh… So cringeworthy.
It was so cringeworthy I could die, but there was no medicine more effective than this for Joseph.
One only had to see the corners of Joseph’s mouth rising uncontrollably.
Such a simple emperor.
A tale of pure devotion… perhaps not quite that, but he was at least an emperor devoted to one love.
“Sisi?”
“What is it?”
“No, you suddenly looked dejected.”
Me? What nonsense.
“Could that possibly be? I am in a good mood today.”
Unlike the last imperial progress to Milan, I had even taken my revenge most satisfyingly.
In any case, now we truly had to secure the subjects on our side.
“The reason there are so many people on this imperial progress is the coronation, right?”
“…We must do it. We did it for Bohemia too.”
For Joseph to wear the Iron Crown and hold a coronation in Milan was an act of proclaiming to the entire world that this land belonged to us Habsburgs.
Much like how Prussia would later proclaim the German Empire at Versailles.
Moreover.
“Do you think the legend of the Iron Crown is true?”
“The legend that it was made by melting down a nail from the Cross of Jesus?”
“Yes.”
“Even if it was false, the passage of time must have made it true.”
…That answer had far less romance than I expected.
Joseph was about to add something.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You were about to say something cringeworthy again.”
The music was nearly over now.
He glanced at Maximilian, whom he had told me not to look at, and asked,
“What do you think of nations?”
Well, they exist. Even if they are illusions, they are real.
“You cannot deny nations that have already come into being.”
And Habsburg culture could be seen as the guardian of Catholicism and as a multiethnic empire, a Vielvölkerstaat.
Abandoning that identity was even more unthinkable. The moment it was abandoned, the Habsburg Empire could not exist.
“Our Habsburg culture is like children beneath a father, after all. It is our role as parents to care for each child, though each is different, isn’t it?”
Joseph stared at me blankly for a moment, then tightened his grip on the hand he was holding.
“I see. With so many disobedient children, the head of the household must have heavy shoulders.”
“Perhaps that is why they say, let happy Austria marry.”
With my joke, the first piece of music came to an end.
Arm in arm, we headed toward the edge of the floor, and Joseph’s expression hardened as he saw Maximilian returning with a bright, carefree smile, oblivious to the world.
The patience Joseph had shown until now was remarkable. If not for my mother-in-law and me, Maximilian would have been dismissed long ago.
A liberal policy of appeasement… As words alone, it was certainly a fine method.
But unlike Venice, Lombardy was the land of traitors who had swallowed all the benefits Maximilian gave them, then even deserted to join Sardinia’s side.
And now he was laughing and dancing with the ringleader of an armed uprising who had spent her private fortune to raise an army? Right in front of his elder brother, the Emperor of the Empire?
Charlotte’s face had also gone deathly pale as she shook her head at her husband, but the oblivious archduke was smiling like a puppy hoping for praise.
I saw Joseph’s lips press into a firm line.
“Joscha.”
I quickly grabbed Joseph’s arm and led him to a corner of the ballroom.
“Wait. Please, let’s just catch our breath for a moment.”
“…Let go of me.”
“I won’t.”
There was no rise or fall in Joseph’s voice. It was so calm that it was all the more frightening.
“Our coronation is not far away.”
If he dismissed the governor-general or humiliated him now, it was more likely to cause trouble. The Milanese nobles would rejoice, saying the Austrians were tearing one another apart.
For now, we had to leave that empty-headed Maximilian as he was.
“Look at the archduchess. She is running herself ragged trying to cover up Max’s mistake.”
She too must have realized through this incident that scattering money about was no longer of any use.
Charlotte was a woman of tremendous pride. It would be difficult for her to endure the sight of her husband being treated like a fool and played with before his elder brother and sister-in-law—and in front of me, toward whom she felt a sense of rivalry.
Joseph’s cold gaze rested for a moment on Charlotte, whose face had turned ashen.
He let out a short, very deep sigh.
“…Foolish bastard.”
It was less a curse than a lament.
As if suppressing the urge to seize his younger brother by the collar at any moment, he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.
“Thank you, Joscha.”
I stroked his stiff forearm, trying to soothe his anger.
Just then, in the distance, I saw Charlotte snatch Maximilian by the arm and drag him off toward the terrace.
There would probably be quite a commotion—whether she struck him on the back or poured out a scolding.
They would handle their own affairs.
I led Joseph out to a deserted balcony.