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    â€˜There’s a messenger come, highness, from Prince Max, with apologies for the delay, but he hopes to be here this afternoon.’
    â€˜Prince Max? Apologies?’
    â€˜I told you you should read his letter,’ said Tafur.
    â€˜I don’t need to now. But I shall have to tell him about Cristabel.’
    â€˜I hope that proves the greatest of your problems.’
    â€˜Max! It’s good to see you.’ Prince Maximilian had left Lissenberg right after the wedding the year before and had been hard at work on his opera in Vienna ever since, so it was the first time the two of them had found themselves exploring their new relationship as brother and sister-in-law. It seemed very strange to Martha, and stranger still to be so passionately aware, now, of the likeness to Franz she had never noticed before they were discovered to be twins. This was partly because Max had aged a good deal; new lines on his face echoed the ones a hard life had etched on her husband’s. ‘But, your opera?
Daughter of Odin?
What of it?’
    â€˜A disaster. The first night was last week. The only night. They hardly heard it to the end. I thought it so timely, the German theme, the build-up to a new war against France, maybe an alliance with Prussia … They say my music is incomprehensible, worse than Herr van Beethoven’s. I’m a failure, Martha. I’m only grateful that Lady Cristabel did not find it possible to play my heroine, as I had hoped, and so is not involved in my disaster. How is she? How did the tour go? I thought her in tremendous voice when I heard her in Vienna this summer.’
    â€˜She’s married.’ There was no easy way to break this.
    â€˜Married? I don’t believe it!’ He had gone very white, thenew lines more sharp-cut than ever. ‘Not … Not to that Irish tenor?’
    â€˜I’m afraid so.’ What could she say? ‘It happened on the journey back … They got separated from the rest of the party … He felt he had compromised her.’
    â€˜Dear God! And she married him? Madness. There are stories about him in Vienna … Why did you allow it?’
    â€˜I told you. It happened on the journey. They were man and wife when they got here. What could I do?’
    â€˜Something. Anything! No, it’s not fair to blame you. I do see that. Ah, poor Cristabel, what a disaster. If only Franz had been here. When do you expect him? I have urgent messages for him.’
    â€˜I wish I knew. I’ve heard nothing since he reached Paris. Oh, Max, I am so sorry about your opera, but I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have come. I’m worried to death about Franz. Count Tafur says our letters are probably being intercepted. There’s talk – had you heard – that Napoleon wants him to divorce me and marry Minette de Beauharnais? You’re laughing?’
    â€˜I’m sorry, but you must see it has its comic side. First me, now Franz. And I don’t need to tell you he won’t do it, Martha. Do I?’
    â€˜Of course not.’ She was not going to cry. ‘But I’m afraid for him if he refuses. As he will.’
    â€˜This needs hard thinking.’ He was prowling around the room now, everything else forgotten in the face of his twin’s predicament. ‘He left you in absolute charge here, I take it?’
    â€˜Oh, yes.’
    â€˜So I must deliver my message to you, in his absence. The Austrians are mobilising for war; they ask for an undertaking that all Lissenberg’s mineral exports this year will come to them and to their allies.’
    â€˜An undertaking which, you must see, I cannot give. Not until Franz returns safely. And then it will be his decision.’
    â€˜You’re right, of course. Don’t look so anxious, Martha. Napoleon is not Bluebeard. Franz will be home any day now, with his tale to tell us. And I shall stay until he comes. It’s