Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart ended his short, impromptu performance to polite and appreciative applause, which echoed around the grand ballroom.
Much as, to his annoyance, his music had.
He had never appreciated the acoustics in here, but one could not argue when the Holy Emperor made an unexpected request that you play for the guests... even though you were actually supposed to be a guest yourself, and not the appointed entertainment!
Getting up from the piano stool, Mozart straightened out his waistcoat as some of these other guests walked towards him, offering their praise; most of them doing their best not to appear overly fawning, which was obviously unbefitting for their status.
Mozart smiled graciously with every compliment given, while inside he was withering with boredom at the same words being thrown his way, yet again.
He had secretly rather hoped that he would be approached by two, young and well-dressed ladies he had spotted amongst the guests. They were by far the prettiest here, and had an air of aristocratic mystery about them. However, he noted that they had remained seated, next to a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman in the smartest attire he had seen this evening. Mozart had first noticed him when he had entered the palace earlier that evening… It was hard not to. The man's height and commanding presence meant that all eyes had been on him at some point.
On arrival, the gentleman had been wearing a long, black cloak, which he removed with one graceful movement when a servant approached him, and – within seconds – the two ladies had moved over to him. Mozart had smiled wryly at the time, thinking that they would no doubt throw a barrage of questions his way regarding his title, status and (in the most obviously transparent manner possible) whether his wife was also expected this evening. Instead of this though, they had both curtsied politely in front of him, then followed behind as he walked towards the gathering of guests, casually waving away a footman who had stepped forward with a tray of drinks.
The gentleman had seemed vaguely familiar, but this was not an uncommon feeling for Mozart to experience, seeing as many of the same aristocrats had attended his performances over the last 29 years, ever since he had been performing for such audiences from the age of 7… and this was his fifth visit to Prague.
… … … … … … … …
The guests who had gathered around Mozart finally petered out, and he turned to accept a glass of wine from a hovering footman, signaling to him in a subtle manner that he would likely require another one quite shortly.
As Mozart turned around to face the room again, he was slightly startled to find the mysterious, tall stranger himself standing right there, facing him. He hadn't even heard him approach!
"Herr Mozart", the gentleman said in a pleasantly smooth voice "Leopold seems quite excited about the composition he has commissioned from you. Many are looking forward to the premiere, I understand".
Mozart was a little taken aback by someone referring to the Holy Emperor by his first name, and tried his best to compose himself quickly, as this gentleman must surely be someone of extreme importance.
"That is good to hear", Mozart replied. "I have Signor Salieri to thank, for recommending me for the Holy Emperor's coronation celebrations".
Mozart looked across the room as he said the name of his fellow composer. The stranger followed his gaze over to an olive-skinned gentleman. Antonio Salieri was acknowledging Mozart's kindly nod with a very small, but not particularly friendly, smile - although this widened a little when he saw who Mozart was standing next to.
"So, tell me, Herr." continued Mozart "What brings you here to the castle tonight?"
"Well, it was by invite from Antonio himself" was the reply, "He knows how I like good company".
"…and good wine?" smiled Mozart, lifting his glass. "Exquisite! Have you tried this one?" he asked before he started to finish off the remainder of the claret.
"No." replied the gentleman. "I don't drink w…"
His sentence was interrupted rather impolitely by another guest, who had suddenly walked directly up to Mozart, her large bosom arriving a few centimetres ahead of her; practically thrusted under his nose.
"Herr Mozart. Do tell me" she said in an annoyingly squeaky voice, followed by an even more grating giggle "I was wondering when you will be enthralling us by performing in Vienna next, because I will be over there quite soon, and …"
"My dear…" it was the gentleman's turn to interrupt, and Mozart noticed that, although his brow was furrowed, the tone of his voice was calm as he leaned down to bring his face close to the woman's ear.
"…do not be such a needy thing. It is most unbecoming. Even for a woman as plain as you."
Mozart almost choked on his mouthful of wine, as he tried to suppress a laugh.
The woman's blushing cheeks were clearly visible through her powder make up, and she immediately snapped her head over to face the gentleman. Mozart was sure she was about to give him a piece of her mind. However, as soon as her eyes met those of the gentleman, she mumbled what he guessed was an apology, and almost tripped over herself in her hurry to walk away.
"Oh, that was just marvellous." exclaimed Mozart with a grin, as he dabbed with a handkerchief at some wine which had spilled onto the corner of his mouth.
"These sycophantic women are the bane of my life. Perhaps I should take you with me to all my performances."
The gentleman this time leaned down towards Mozart's ear and whispered confidentially "Perhaps you should, Wolfgang".
Now it was Mozart's turn to blush ..and he was not even sure why.
With that, the gentleman stood up straight again and (with what Mozart considered to be a mischievous glint in his eye) gave a brief nod before walking away into the busy room, where he blended in with the crowd and seemed to 'disappear' amongst them.
Mozart uttered a quiet snort of a puzzled laugh to himself, and placed the handkerchief back in a pocket. He was surprised to notice that his hand was shaking a little. A bit more drink would sort that out!
He gestured at the hovering footman who rushed towards him with another glass of wine. Mozart swiftly swapped his empty glass for a full one, hoping the alcohol would distract him from the brief encounter with the stranger, and in particular the annoying fact that he had failed to discover why he found him somewhat familiar… or even learn his name!
… … … … … … … …
It was not much later in evening – once he tired of the usual endless, polite small-talk one had to endure at such gatherings - that Mozart decided to call it a night.
After saying some necessary goodbyes to anyone of importance, he chose to walk through to the back of the castle, towards the coach and stable yard where the carriages were kept, rather than to the usual front entrance, in an attempt to clear his wine-addled head a little before his journey home.
A servant and a groom were standing around aimlessly by the back door, but jumped to attention on seeing Mozart approach. The servant brought over a chair for Mozart, before hurrying off to retrieve his cloak, while the groom dashed off outside to arrange his carriage.
Mozart had been sat down for all of 5 seconds when a great ruckus could be heard starting up outside in the yard. He raised an eyebrow quizzically as he saw the groom rush back inside, looking quite dishevelled.
"Oh" the groom stopped in his tracks in front of Mozart, gasping for breath. "I apologise, Sir, but there may be a small delay for a carriage."
Mozart stood and moved up to the door, cautiously peering outside. There were a line of carriages ready to take guests to their respective abodes, but the horses appeared to be in a terribly agitated state - rearing, and neighing in such a high-pitched manner that they sounded not unlike screaming children. Various grooms and coachmen were frantically trying their best to calm the beasts, but to no avail.
Towards the far end of the yard, though, there was one carriage, fronted by two, sleek and muscular black horses, both of which were staring straight ahead; the picture of calm.
Mozart took a step outside now, peering over at them. "What about that carriage!" he exclaimed.
Pointing at it, he demanded. "Bring that one here".
"B-but, Sir…" the groom stuttered nervously. "That one belongs to Count Dracula."
"Count Dracula?" Mozart queried. Where had he heard that name before?
"Count Dracula."
This time the name was uttered by the man himself, who Mozart had now caught sight of, inside the building, walking purposefully towards him.
A flustered servant was trailing behind, doing his best to keep up with the Count's long strides; struggling to hold a long and seemingly heavy cloak above his own shoulder height, to avoid its hem from sweeping along the ground.
Without breaking stride or moving his gaze from Mozart, Dracula took his cloak from the servant and swirled it over his shoulders, effortlessly fitting it onto his tall frame.
Stepping outside the door now, Dracula stopped; his eyes took in the slight chaos going on there before turning them back to Mozart, to whom he said with a small, congenial smile.
"Perhaps I can offer you a ride home in my carriage?"
Mozart felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. An unsettling wave of déjà vu was washing over him; the strange feeling that he had seen this very face before - not just on this evening.
The moment was fleeting and, in his head, he admonished himself for drinking too much wine.
He found himself nodding briefly in polite acceptance.
Dracula then directed his gaze towards his horses, which had moments before looked like perfectly-carved onyx statues. They immediately sprung into life, pulling the carriage effortlessly over to where Dracula stood, so that it stopped with its door within centimetres of him.
A servant rushed over quickly to open the carriage door. Dracula stepped in and sat down in one fluid movement.
Mozart paused for a couple of seconds of nervous hesitation, but he felt sure that this was successfully masked by the arrival of his own cloak, which was now being placed on him by a red-faced, out-of-breath servant. He stepped onto the carriage and sat down opposite Dracula as the door was shut firmly and the servants backed away.
Dracula looked over at Mozart… very briefly taking the sight of him in from head to toe and back again, before lifting a hand and knocking twice on the side of the carriage.
The horses responded instantly and, with the sound of hooves clattering on the hard ground, they swiftly started making their way out of the yard.
They had not yet reached the yard gates when Mozart jumped out of his seat and exclaimed "The coachman!"
He leaned his head out of the carriage window and craned his neck upwards to verify his concern that they had left the coachman behind. He could not clearly see anyone up there in the dim lighting of the yard.
What he did see, however, was that the other horses, as suddenly as they had started, stopped their rearing and neighing, and they now stood calmly; watching silently as Dracula's carriage sped past them, out of the gates and into the darkness of the night.