Dinner with a King

Madame Rosamunde resettled the woven basket of neatly folded clothes on her hip after she finished the climbing down the stairs from her sewing tower to where the Bayreuth Swan Ship was docked. She paused outside the ship when she heard a muffled thump and the sound of falling furniture.

Pausing, Rosamunde called out, “Froderick? Are you all right?”

There were more muffled thumps before a voice finally yelled, “Just a minute!” The mechanic emerged from the ship with only a brightly coloured paisley curtain edged in thick fringe wrapped around his waist to protect his modesty. “Yes?”

 “Ah, I see you are testing how comfortable all the furniture is?” The older woman asked with a knowing smile. “I know you worked particularly hard on improving the collapsible bed.”

The tips of Froderick’s ears started turning a bright shade of red and Rosamunde, taking pity on the mechanic, handed him the basket full of clothes. “Here, I just finished getting a proper outfit together for Marguerite and I also brought a new waistcoat for you, your old one is getting rather worn. Also, you might want to hurry in getting dressed, the dinner is supposed to start in an hour and you don’t want to be late.”

Froederick, balancing the basket and the strategically wrapped curtain, thanked the seamstress and went back into the ship to Marguerite. The mechanic found her lounging comfortably amid a pile of blankets and cushions on the aforementioned large, ornate and collapsible bed. Marguerite stretched contentedly and slid to her feet, greeting Froederick with a kiss and a seductive pull at the curtain wrapped around his waist.

Laughing, Froederick kissed her and occupied her hands by giving her the basket. “I’m afraid we have to be dressed for the dinner and not undressed.”

 Rita sighed picking up one of the skirts in the basket, “Very well, as you help me get into this ridiculous outfit.”

After half an hour of much cursing and struggling with laces, Marguerite was dressed in a fine black and blue taffeta dress. The underskirts were heavily pleated sapphire cloth; the top of the dress was a fitted black corset with straps with a black over-bodice striped with blue cut to look like a man’s coat with broad folded tails that fell neatly over a small bustle.

Froederick was dressed black wool dress pants tucked into practical, but neatly shined, boots. He wore a crisp white shirt and a blue and black striped waistcoat, similar to Marguerite’s dress. Overtop, he wore a fine wool dress coat lined in black satin with gold accents. Despite Rita’s dislike of fancy clothing, she had to admit that the outfit Rosamunde picked from the castle storage was better than she had imagined being forced to wear. And she discovered Froederick looked as good in fancy dress as he did out of it.

Once Marguerite and Froederick had finished fidgeting with their clothing, they walked from the hanger and back to the castle. On the way, they discussed the “safe” topics that would be appropriate at the dinner table. “So, no talking about circus daily life?” Rita asked him.

“No, at least not unless the King asks specifically about it. I think your exploits in opium dens and bars might be a bit too exotic for him unless he really wants to hear about it. Do talk about your tamer experiments though, like your miniature animals. He loves to hear about that type of new science. It intrigues him, I think, as he can’t do any of it himself. And he enjoys listening to about unusual ideas.”

They arrived first to the grand dining room where the butler showed them to chairs on the opposite side of the table from the King’s throne, much to Marguerite’s relief. She warily eyed the opulent gilt picture frames and the heavy wooden furniture upholstered in jewel bright brocades that stood around the room.

Seeing Marguerite’s discomfort, Froederick squeezed her hand underneath the table and murmured, “Don’t worry, the dinner shouldn’t last much longer than a few hours. And there will be plenty of other guests here to entertain the King.”

The carved mahogany doors swung open to reveal the next couple to arrive: Asmodeus and Alexandra who both looked elegant and comfortable in their surroundings. The fortune teller and the scientist avoided each others gaze while the gentlemen nodded to each other as the couple was led to a pair of seats down the table to the left of the King.

Colette was the last one to arrive, dressed in her fanciest tail coat in the Cirque’s signature colours of red, gold and green. She was seated directly to the left of the King’s chair and the exchanged slightly nervous looks with the other family members of the Cirque.

A staff rapped three times on the marble floor as the ornately carved and inlaid wooden doors swung open and a herald announced, “King Ludwig Otto Friedrich Wilhelm of Bavaria.”

The King, the prince and favorite courtiers all processed in and took their respective seats. From his golden throne, the Ludwig proclaimed to the table, “Ah, leaders of the Cirque de la Vapeur! I am glad you have all joined me for dinner. My chefs have prepared a delicious feast for us tonight so let us eat and enjoy each other’s company!”

Chefs dressed in spotless white coats and hats wheeled in carts laden with trays covered in silver domes. They walked around the table setting small gold rimmed plates containing delicate hors d'oeuvres and oysters shining in liquid on half shells in front of each guest. Everyone eagerly started on the first course, especially the members of the Cirque who rarely got such luxurious food.

Chatter amongst all the guests started out slow mostly due to the language barrier until each found smatterings of French, German and English in common and the conversation started in earnest. The courtiers were fascinated by the Cirque members: their exotic clothes, their various circus acts and the stories of the many other cities they had visited. And by the time the second course, consommé Olga and cream of barley, was placed in front of them the Cirque family could barely keep up in answering the questions of the courtiers.

At first the King listened as Colette told one of the Barons about how they had to fight off bandits while doing a show in the wilds of mountainous north Italy with improvised flame throwers made from spare hot air balloon parts. But as the third course of poached salmon with mousseline sauce and cucumbers was removed from the table, Ludwig rose from his seat and held his wine glass up in a toast.

“Honored guests, thank you for joining me in my beloved castle and celebrating with me and my friends. I eagerly await your performances in the upcoming weeks and I hope you enjoy your time here in my fairy castle.”

The prince rose from his small throne to the right of Ludwig and held his glass high, “Prost!”

The entire room joined him, standing, raising their glasses and echoed the toast in a loud cry that echoed off the tall ceiling, “Prost!”

As they all returned to their seats, the fourth course of filet mignons lili, sauté of chicken lyonnaise and vegetable marrow farci came and went. Eating was interspersed with more excited conversation as the courtiers continued to ask about the Cirque’s adventures until the next was wheeled in on silver carts that creaked with weighty platters of lamb with mint sauce, roast duckling, apple sauce, sirloin of beef, chateau potatoes, green pea, creamed carrots, boiled rice, parmentier and boiled new potatoes.

Seeing the multitudes of platters Alexandra turned to Asmodeus, one hand pressed to her stomach, and murmured to him, “How many courses will there be? I fear if I eat much more my corset seams will burst.”

“Don’t worry,” the magician laughed, “only five more courses to go!”

“Ugh,” Alexandra resignedly sighed, “at least it’s all delicious.”

“There are advantages to dining with royalty,” Asmodeus said, eagerly digging into the delicate slices of duck on his plate.

As the chefs wheeled the carts of empty fourth course dishes away, the large mahogany doors swung open and everyone turned to look at the small figure that was silhouetted in the doorway.

“Oh good Lord,” Alexandra groaned dropping her head into her hands, “it’s Marie. And she’s wearing my clothes.”