The Purification Ritual
"I can't go into detail, but Radetzky said something in Milan."
Franz Joseph shifted me to the side and slowly climbed onto the bed. He slipped off his slippers and lay down beside me.
"Do you remember the letter from last time?"
The letter from last time...?
"You mean the one from the empresses?"
"Yes. England sent one formally, at least, but France ignored yours."
"Because of me?"
Because I went to Hungary, Franz Joseph got bad information and had to hastily redirect the army, turning England and France fully hostile?
Franz Joseph shook his head at my suspicion.
"Grüne and Buol advised hostile neutrality toward Russia, and that carried Mother's wishes. On the other hand, Radetzky and the military saw it as a chance to forge a solid alliance with Russia."
So why change it?
"You bear no responsibility at all, so don't worry."
It is my fault. The fact that he brought it up means I bear at least some blame.
"You know I have about two weeks left?"
This life will soon be over.
"I'll be back soon."
"Okay."
An emperor can't stay by my side forever.
"Be careful."
That day, Franz Joseph departed for Venice. And time flew by until the end of the churching. The day the 40 days of confinement ended.
Sophie Esterházy-Lichtenstein brought the formal court dress. No more patient gowns and thin soup.
The maids tightened the corset around me. My breath caught in my throat. It felt like donning the empress's armor again.
I walked out of the bedroom. The corridor felt suffocatingly vast. The sunlight pouring through the windows blinded me. Sunlight after 40 days.
"Your Majesty, please walk slowly."
Sophie worried, but I didn't stop. This freedom, this air. It wasn't missed.
"Isn't it a joyous day?"
Not at all. I preferred the confinement. Comfortable clothes, no headache-inducing politics.
Hofburg Palace court chapel. Sophie Archduchess had arrived first and was waiting for me. Her gaze scanned me from head to toe. Inspecting my attire and posture meticulously.
"Empress."
"Archduchess."
I felt the surrounding nobles watching us with concern.
"Congratulations on completing the churching unscathed."
"Thanks to the Archduchess's warm consideration, I spent it comfortably."
We exchanged formal felicitations and walked to the priest. The priest began the churching ceremony. Gratitude for surviving childbirth's perils. And purification from the impurities lingering on the mother.
The rite was nothing special. Latin prayers echoed, and the cardinal sprinkled holy water over my head.
"Purify our empress from all stains of sin..."
Embarrassing, but I don't know Latin. I had no idea what the blessing meant. When it ended, the cardinal declared:
"Now, Her Majesty is purified under the Lord's grace and is proclaimed able once more to perform all duties as a member of the holy church and mother of the empire."
It was over. My steps leaving the chapel felt a bit heavier.
"Chief lady-in-waiting."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"It's quite warm. Have sorbet prepared in the drawing room."
Nothing beats sweet desserts for a mood boost.
"Court chamberlain." A voice that shouldn't be heard in my chambers rang out.
"Her Majesty has just emerged from childbed and is not yet fully recovered—how could you allow sorbet, which might harm her precious health, without stopping her?"
Sophie's gaze turned to me.
"Empress. You rested comfortably for 40 days to resume your duties as mother of the empire. Your first duty is maintaining a healthy body for the next heir. The churching ending doesn't mean postpartum recovery is complete."
Sophie's eyes shifted back to Sophie Esterházy.
"Archduchess. I know my own body. I have the physician's permission. Do you know more medicine than the doctor?"
Sophie ignored me and ordered Sophie Esterházy.
"Her Majesty's judgment seems clouded, so you must correct it. Remove the sorbet immediately. Instead, prepare warm chicken soup to restore her strength."
"Chief lady-in-waiting. This is the empress's palace."
Attempting to violate an established rule.
"Archduchess, as Your Majesty said, this is the empress's palace."
Sophie Esterházy's voice was as flat as ever, but the refusal within was steel-hard.
"Empress. What is this rude jest? Have you taught your chief lady-in-waiting to serve her mistress poorly?"
She skipped me and ordered Sophie Esterházy again.
"Didn't you hear me? Remove the sorbet at—"
"Archduchess."
I cut her off. No more room to retreat, no reason to.
The moment Franz Joseph left, she was trying to seize the empress palace's authority again.
"The chief lady-in-waiting is only doing her duty. The one she serves is the Empress of Austria—me."
"Over a mere dessert? With the smell of milk still on you?"
"It's not about the dessert. It's my will as empress to taste it."
I recalled the purification rite just ended.
"The priest declared my sins washed away, reborn as a new being."
Sophie Archduchess said nothing more. The jailers of her prison were now my people. She glared at them in turn, bit her lip, and turned away.
"When His Majesty returns, he will hold you accountable for this insolence."
"Gladly."
I watched her retreating back. If Franz Joseph had appointed her to the regency council, she'd have been satisfied. Even skipping the experienced, capable Sophie, he wouldn't ignore Buol and other politicians to give me the regency.
"Reading lady-in-waiting. I want to hear today's news."
I indulged in foods I hadn't eaten in ages while learning the world's tidings through Wiener Zeitung.
"First news. Victory on the Balkan front."
I listened with a spoon in my mouth.
"The Imperial First Army under Windischgrätz Duke has succeeded in crossing the Danube in joint operations with the Russian southern army. The Ottoman Turks suffered massive losses around Belgrade and are retreating south."
Victory report. I paused my sorbet mid-spoon.
Ida Ferenc's voice dipped briefly before continuing.
"Second news. Yesterday afternoon, His Majesty arrived safely in Venice."
Continuation of the Crimean War saga.
"His Majesty immediately convened a military council with Radetzky, Viceroy of the Lombardy-Venetia Kingdom. Newspapers say it was to boost imperial army morale against Sardinia-Piedmont's cowardly provocations. Meanwhile, rumors say France is preparing to sortie its fleet from Toulon."
So that's why Franz Joseph went to Venice. The moment Austria allied with Russia, our enemy Sardinia is gearing up to attack Italy with French backing.
"His Majesty will be fine, right?"
"Radetzky is aged, but he has devoted his life to the empire."
Sophie Esterházy tried to reassure me. But that wasn't my worry. As emperor, even if captured, he'd return unscathed. The issue was Sophie's faction regaining strength. Our mistake meant her power growing.
"Yes, we can only trust Radetzky."
What could I do for the emperor?
"Your Majesty, how about hosting a salon?"
A salon? I'd done tea parties, but salons were before I adapted to the palace, when issues arose.
"Just exchanging greetings like the last tea party?"
"No."
Sophie Esterházy whispered like sharing a secret strategy.
"A tea party was duty to confirm hierarchy. A salon is where you gain people—power."
Power. I wanted freedom, not power. But if Sophie kept encroaching on my freedom with her power, I'd have to build my own.
"Your Majesty just heard of Windischgrätz Duke's great victory from the papers—but how much truth is in it?"
I set down my spoon, thinking. War news is always sugarcoated.
"The regency council censors all papers officially."
"Yes. Newspapers show the truth the Archduchess wants the imperial subjects to see."
Sophie Esterházy took the paper from Ida Ferenc and spread it before me.
"But a salon is different. It's an unofficial court. Nobles opposing Sophie Archduchess await your invitation."
Build a shadow cabinet.
"Through information, Your Majesty can judge and prepare ahead of Sophie Archduchess. Plus, invitation to your salon is power itself. Artists and thinkers under your patronage will spread your fame across the empire."
"What are the salon rules?"
"First, the most important: never discuss politics."
Talk in circles tiresomely.
"If a diplomat debates an opera's tragic end, it hints at the front's grim state. If a banker asks wise painting investments, it's about war bond success. Key is who speaks on what topic."
Wow—just hearing about it is already tiring.