Death And The Maiden

5

Mayor Lueger was seated on a large leather armchair. His two guests, Leopold Steiner and Hermann Bielohlawek, were also comfortably accommodated, and all three were smoking cigars of prodigious length while quaffing pilsner. The remains of a ravaged apfelstrudel were strewn across a silver serving plate on the table.

It had been rumoured for some time that the mayor was not well, yet he showed no obvious signs of sickness or infirmity: quite the contrary, in fact. He appeared robust and his cheeks were glowing. In the ancient world he might have made a very acceptable philosopher king. His thick dark hair was brushed back off a high forehead and his full grey beard was cut squarely around the jaw. Women still referred to him as ‘handsome Karl’ in spite of his age. He cultivated a dashing and debonair image with assiduous care. The pomade on his hair glistened and exuded a citrus fragrance that cut through the pungency of the tobacco smoke. His clothes were bespangled with a treasure trove of decorative accessories: an emerald tiepin, the thick gold links of a watch-chain and large ruby cufflinks.

Lueger’s eyes possessed the penetrating quality often associated with greatness, but his gaze was not as stately nor as grave as it might have been, on account of a slight flaw. One of his eyes was turned out a little, giving the impression that many of his remarks were intended to be ironic.

‘It is not a matter of choice,’ said Lueger. ‘I must win the municipal council over. The construction of the second mountain-spring reservoir is of vital importance for the city. Moreover, if I succeed, I strongly suspect that it will stand as my greatest achievement in office.’

‘What about getting rid of the English Gas Company?’ said Steiner. ‘That was a fine achievement and gave me inestimable satisfaction.’

‘Or the electrification of the trams?’ ventured Bielohlawek.

‘And one cannot underestimate the importance of all the new schools,’ said Steiner.

‘Or the city brewery!’ said Bielohlawek, raising his stein. ‘A truly outstanding achievement!’

The mayor smiled indulgently at his friends who he suspected were, perhaps, a little drunk. They had been drinking for some time.

‘The existing water supply is wholly inadequate,’ Lueger persisted. ‘It not only fails to meet the basic human need but it is also insufficient to do justice to the beauty of our city. Think of our magnificent fountains. Tell me, how often do you see them working?’

‘I passed the Donnerbrunnen earlier today, as it happens,’ said Steiner.

‘Well?’

‘Dry as a bone.’

‘There you are!’ said Lueger, satisfied. ‘And when our fountains do produce water, they are singularly unimpressive. They spout so weakly that their ineffectual trickling makes the Manneken Pis in Brussels look like a cataract.’

‘I thought the Manneken Pis was in Geraardbergen,’ said Bielohlawek.

‘That’s a different one,’ said Lueger.

‘There are two?’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

Mayor Lueger paused to sip his pilsner. ‘The council don’t want to pay. I am ready to admit that the owner of the spring is asking a very high price. Even so, I will remind those dullards of the Roman king who sought to purchase nine books from the Sybil. He complained that she was asking too much and she responded by throwing three in the fire, before demanding the original sum for the remaining six books. When the king refused her, she threw another three books into the flames. The outcome was that the Roman king was forced to pay the original sum for only three books. I tell you’ — the mayor leaned forward — ‘if we don’t accept the owner’s terms of sale today then we will be creating problems for ourselves in the future. You mark my words. We will end up in a worse position than the Roman king.’

There was a knock on the door and a stocky bodyguard entered. He was dressed in the green ‘court’ uniform sported by the mayor’s inner circle: a green tailcoat with black velvet cuffs and yellow coat-of-arms buttons. He was carrying a tray loaded with yet more pilsners.

‘Ah, Anton,’ said Lueger. ‘Most thoughtful.’

The bodyguard collected the empty steins and replaced them with full ones before bowing and making his exit.

‘A good man, eh?’ said the mayor.

His companions drank to the bodyguard’s health.

Steiner wiped the froth from his upper lip with the back of his hand and said: ‘Oh, before I forget, Karl, I think you should know that I’ve received another one of those ever-so-discreet communications from the palace.’

‘About your comments?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who was it from?’

‘One of the emperor’s aides, Count Lefler. He asked me to consider whether my attack on the vivisection practices at the anatomical institutes was really wise.’

‘Did he now,’ said Lueger, adjusting his necktie.

‘It was worded politely enough but it was clearly meant as a warning. He said that certain members of the medical faculty were deeply offended. You can guess who, of course.’

‘Perhaps they’re not so stupid after all,’ said the mayor. ‘Perhaps they can see where this is going?’

‘Gentleman,’ said Bielohlawek, ‘I am a simple merchant, an honest trader. I am afraid that you will have to explain.’

‘My dear fellow,’ said the mayor, ‘it’s all very simple. If we can arouse a little public feeling, a little antipathy, then the hospitals will have to accept stricter controls. In due course, if we have more say in hospital affairs, we will be able to address the other problem. That is to say, the principal problem.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Bielohlawek. ‘Them.’

‘How did this happen, I wonder?’ said the mayor.

Steiner became agitated. ‘The Jewish doctors tell the Jewish bankers, and the Jewish bankers tell the emperor’s mistress!’

‘Now, now, Leo,’ said Lueger, holding up a finger in mock admonition. ‘I can’t have you saying anything too disrespectful about the money-Jews. It was Rothenstein, remember, who allowed us to use all his land, at no cost, for the reservoir.’ The mayor’s errant eye did unstinting service for the cause of irony. ‘You will recall, I hope, my fulsome praise last year: one of the best and a true citizen.’

‘Rothenstein,’ said Steiner. ‘As if he couldn’t damn well afford it!’

The company fell silent until the mayor spoke again — more softly this time, and more serious in tone. ‘The emperor has the empire. But Vienna is mine. When will the palace realise this?’