Nightingale by Juliet Waldron

this afternoon of gray cloud slabs suddenly entered the kitchen windows.
    Klara gazed at him in wonder. Her hand began a slow traverse along the bones of his cheek and jaw, deliberately, carefully, as if she were blind and learning to know him by touch. Akos' strong hand came to make an echoing tracery of her sad, sweet face. Tears stood bright.
    "You mustn't endanger yourself on my behalf. I must find the strength to do what I must alone."
    "I can take care of myself. And in this world, as you well know, by the rule of law, by the rule of church, a woman has no being but in a man. You will need help."
    Even through the tears, her blue eyes flashed. She had allowed herself to depend upon Giovanni, too, upon his promises of eternal love. As if he had read her mind, Akos said, "But, Frauelein Silber, another pledge I will make to you. It is not my intent to take you from one cage only to seek to put you into another."
    A sob rose. With those words he pierced straight to her darkest fear, the fear Max had taught her to know whenever she imagined the love of any other man.
    Was this truly the miracle she'd prayed for? Was there a man on earth not like Max, wanting only to possess, to control, to display?
    "Maximilian is not only a powerful nobleman, but he is a man who is said to take pleasure in killing. And you ah, sir ….”
    "A mere musician, but I too have secrets, Maria Klara, for that is but one of the roles I play. I do not deny that your Count is a formidable enemy, but I am more than he thinks. You shall be free. Yes, you shall be free. I swear it!"
    Capturing her hand, he brought to his lips. This time when he kissed, his mouth touched not the back, but made a tender salute to the palm. There was a thrill, not only in the warm caressing, but in his brave words, which had filled her winter dark heart with a spring-time of hope. She wanted to put her arms around him, to kiss him, but instead she said, "I cannot accept your help. I must do this thing alone. When Max comes back, I shall break with him for good and all. I shall leave Vienna.”
    Akos pressed his fingers to her lips, turned to the door. That was when Klara heard them, the footsteps.
    "What is this?"
    A sharp voice came as the door banged open. It was Liese, big hands resting on full hips as she took in the scene. Behind her came Messer, lugging a shoulder load of wood.
    "What's wrong, my darling?" In the next instant she’d thrown off her cloak. "Herr Messer says you have been crying."
    After one look at Klara's swollen pale face, Liese rounded on Akos. "And so she has! Why, who are you, you criminal? She has been crying terribly! It will surely hurt her voice!"
    "Be quiet, Liese. This is Herr Almassy." Klara paused to hold back a cough long enough to explain. "He is Concertmaster to Prince Vehnsky. He is curing my cold."
    "I told you he brewed medicine and rubbed the little mistress ’ feet," Messer said. "She was resting easy at first, but then she started to cry."
    "Idiot!" Liese turned toward Messer. "You never should have let him in here. Now, get into the parlor and get a good fire going. At once!"
    As Messer dutifully shuffled away with his load of wood, she turned back to Almassy, straightening her plump gray self. "You, sir, if you value your hide, will leave here at once."
    "I can't leave now," Almassy said. "The treatment is not finished."
    "If you don't go now, young man, I shall summon Count Oettingen's men and they will make you wish you had."
    "I am not here to make love to your mistress." Akos seemed neither awed by nor interested in her threats. "I belong to the household of Prince Vehnsky, and as his chamberlain will tell you, I particularly understand the healing of singers. Healing your lady desperately needs or she will not sing a note this Carnival season. If you stop me now, the consequences will be on your head."
    "Let him alone! Let him finish or or I think I'll die!" Klara’s body was aching, humming, buzzing. Since Liese had