The Fiery Steed's Oath
Outside the knitting circle, gale-force winds of blood and iron howled, but the palace remained cozy.
Andrássy never brought up politics in my presence, even when he came to see me.
“I greet the Empress of Austria and our Hungary’s benevolent mother.”
Andrássy knelt on one knee before me and pressed his lips to my fingertips.
“Rise, Count. And you too, Countess.”
“You seem a bit thinner, Your Majesty.”
That was his first words upon standing—no demands for Hungarian autonomy.
“I fear the unrest in Pest has stolen Your Majesty’s flower-like vitality… It breaks my heart.”
Purple prose right from the start.
If it were Franz Joseph, he’d have quoted poetry at me or told me to adjust my diet.
I lifted my teacup to hide my smile, flashing him a playful grin over the rim.
“With your countess right there, aren’t you being a tad too affectionate with me?”
My light teasing didn’t faze Andrássy in the slightest.
“My wife supports me steadfastly like the earth itself. But Your Majesty is the moon in the sky, so we mere earthbound folk can only gaze up in awe.”
Even Katalin at his side didn’t show a hint of jealousy at the cheesy line—just an amused smile, as if to say she couldn’t rein him in.
If Franz Joseph said something like that to another woman, we’d be sleeping separately for at least a year.
“I can’t compete with flattery like that, Count.”
“You honor me.”
He straightened up and smoothly shifted the topic.
“The Gödelöe Forest is in full bloom right now. My wife has prepared a gift so Your Majesty can ride there after your confinement.”
Katalin smiled and showed me a small painting.
A pitch-black horse rearing up on its hind legs.
“What’s this one’s name?”
“Ordog.”
The devil.
“Quite a fierce name.”
“Its temper is so wild, they say three grooms can barely control it.”
“Perfect temperament for galloping across Hungary’s vast plains.”
“My wife says she thought of Your Majesty the moment she saw it.”
At Andrássy’s words, I turned back to Katalin.
“Thinking of me when you see a devil? Not sure if that’s a compliment.”
Katalin shook her head at my joke.
“Far from it, Your Majesty. He won’t let just anyone on his back. Only a true master he bonds with—like Your Majesty.”
She means: understand us a little more.
Wrapping a gift I’d love in symbolism like that.
“Where’s Ordog now?”
“In the Buda Palace stables. However…”
Andrássy furrowed his brow, looking troubled.
“The problem is his impatient nature. As if he instinctively knows his master is near, he kicks at the stable door and whinnies every night.”
“Oh dear.”
“But don’t worry. He’ll soon learn. A true noble steed knows to hold its breath and wait until its rider mounts the saddle.”
He gave me a meaningful look.
Deák and Andrássy have made up their minds.
We’re impatient enough to kick down doors, but we’ll gladly wait until you’re ready—that’s the vow delivered through this noble steed.
“Take good care of yourself, Your Majesty. My wife and I pray only for your health.”
Andrássy bowed deeply once more in farewell. That was it.
He took Katalin’s hand and elegantly backed away.
Any ordinary noble would’ve slipped in a petition at this point. “While I’m here…”
But Andrássy left with just those words, as if visiting me was his sole purpose.
He knows how to leave an impression.
“Esterházy.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Ordog, was it? Who’s tending to that horse?”
“Hungarian grooms are handling it exclusively.”
“Give it some carrots, at least. I don’t want rumors that its owner’s neglecting it.”
“As you command.”
He’s got me hooked after all.
Andrássy Gyula, truly a dangerous man.
If I tell them not to misunderstand, they’ll misunderstand even more.
Best to let the maids think what they will.
“Königseck.”
Hmm… I have to tough it out here until winter. Lying around doesn’t suit me, and I can’t ride while pregnant…
“I feel like knitting.”
Königseck flinched as if she’d heard something she shouldn’t, but maintained her composure as a lady-in-waiting.
“I’ll prepare it. Any preferred material?”
“The softest wool yarn. Color… hmm…”
I propped my chin, thinking, then added:
“Yellow and black.”
Match the Austrian imperial colors.
“I’ll confirm His Majesty’s measurements.”
Quick on the uptake.
I hadn’t said who it was for, but she clocked the recipient from the colors alone.
Königseck proved why Esterházy had marked her as successor, bowing crisply without excess.
“Vienna’s winter winds are fierce. Nothing blocks the draft in the study like wool.”
“Exactly. Franz Joseph won’t use anything I give him because he thinks it’s too precious, but a scarf? I can force that on him.”
The horse painting… better tuck it deep in a drawer for now.
The more I look at it, the more I want to ride.
I was good at riding, so I’ll be good at knitting too.
Every woman in this era knows how, right?
I took the knitting set from Königseck and got to work.
Nailed it!
Loop the yarn, poke the needle, pull it through.
“I’m good at anything that takes effort.”
That’s why Franz Joseph likes me.
I sped up, buzzing with excitement.
Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.
The maids started knitting too, keeping me company.
About an hour later.
“Your Majesty.”
Königseck cautiously broke the silence.
“What is it?”
“The weave is remarkably sturdy.”
You like it too, huh?
I proudly held up my creation.
A scarf of yellow and black interlocking, exuding imperial dignity.
“Vienna winters are as brutal as they are cold—this’ll keep the wind out.”
I patted the scarf firmly.
Hm, a bit stiff, maybe.
“Better sturdy than floppy—Franz Joseph will prefer that, right?”
“…Yes, quite.”
I turned to Ida, who was reading the newspaper aloud beside me.
“Ida, what do you think?”
“Ah, yes…”
Ida glanced around briefly before answering.
“It looks… arrow-proof sturdy…”
“Arrow-proof?”
I burst out laughing.
“Ida, you’ve got jokes. Anyway, Franz Joseph will love it.”
“His Majesty will be deeply moved. Your strong love shines through.”
“Right? You’ve got an eye for it.”
I hummed a tune and dove back in.
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
My needle strikes sounded a bit different from the other maids’…
Just rusty from not doing it in ages.
Next time we meet, I’ll wrap it around his neck myself.
He might love it so much his neck stiffens up.
But the joyful time was short-lived.
“…Finished faster than I thought.”
Half a day, done.
“Bring green and red next.”
Time to make one for me.
“Green and red, Your Majesty?”
Königseck’s hands froze midair.
“What, no such colors?”
“We have them, but…”
Königseck looked perplexed, averting her eyes.
“Königseck, I know what you’re worried about.”
I stretched out my arms with a smile.
“The emperor wears the empire, the empress the kingdom. Side by side, we become one empire. What couple look could be more perfect?”
“Couple… look?”
Wish English were the lingua franca already.
“Matching colors for husband and wife. In French, it’s ensemble.”
“Understood. I’ll prepare it at once.”
With fresh yarn, I charged back into battle.
Dark green base with red rose patterns—but my ambitious design didn’t last.
“Your Majesty, regrettably, knitting time is over.”
Esterházy showed the clock pointing to evening.
“You must attend Mass and dine.”
Ah…
Dinner’s fine, but Mass…
“God will hear my prayers just fine from here.”
I grumbled as I rose.
Donning the veil Esterházy placed over me, the path to the chapel was…
Buda Palace is just like Hofburg.
If Bohemia has a freer vibe thanks to the late emperor, this place pretends otherwise but is the same.
I arrived at the chapel and knelt at the empress’s private prie-dieu before the altar.
Velvet-padded, sure, but still just a wooden plank.
‘Lord, behold my bended knee…’
And please make the Hungarian nobles earn their keep.
My prayers were utterly worldly, but whatever.
The Old Testament’s plenty worldly.
Honestly, I prefer the Old to the New.
The New’s too lofty and dull. Where’s the Old’s fire? Genre drift turned it into a moral textbook.
‘Love your enemies’? Love Bismarck, who’s eyeing the empire?
‘Turn the other cheek’? If Hungarians kill the budget, offer Bohemia’s too?
Ridiculous. Such ideals are poison to an empress.
Compare to the Old: practical and badass.
David smashed Goliath’s skull with a stone and won. Solomon asked for wisdom; God, pleased, threw in wealth and glory. ‘To those who follow me, a land flowing with milk and honey.’
Yes, that’s the way.
Clear give-and-take.
I’m a 21st-century capitalist, baptized in conservatism and realism.
‘Lord, I seek Solomon’s glory over Jesus’s suffering. Let my husband smite his foes like David, and fill my coffers to overflowing.’
Amen.
Time dragged tediously, and November arrived.
Winter was near.
I saw the world through Ida.
She read the front page of the Wiener Zeitung in a tense voice.
As expected. It blew up.
“German Confederation Parliament Outraged. Prussia’s Bismarck declares ‘Violation of London Protocol Means War,’ Hints at Immediate Military Intervention…”
Bismarck. That cunning Junker has set the board.
Using Denmark as bait to stoke German nationalism, dragging Austria into the battlefield. “Let’s hit Denmark together.”
As chair of the German Confederation, Austria can’t sit this out. War with Denmark is just the lure.
The real war—the Austro-Prussian War—is counting down.