Disclaimers, acknowledgements, notes, warnings, etc: Please see Chapter 01.
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The Sound of Music Chronicles
Part I
The Twelfth Governess
Chapter 18
The Baroness and the pine cone
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"Now they knew that she was a real princess because she had felt the pea right through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down beds.
Nobody but a real princess could be as sensitive as that.
So the prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a real princess; and the pea was put in the museum, where it may still be seen, if no one has stolen it.
There, that is a true story."
Hans Christian Andersen
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"O fateful flower beside the rill-
The daffodil, the daffodil!""
Jean Ingelow, "Persephone"
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Captain Georg Ritter von Trapp had been the first to arrive at the dining room that evening. He was not particularly happy – not that he particularly remembered how happiness felt like – at least not for a number of years. That afternoon had been singularly distressing to him. The certainty and relief that he had felt after his audience with the Reverend Mother had evaporated as soon as he had taken his first look at the governess the old nun had sent to take care of his children. A few hours and several mishaps later he firmly believed that, if that was the respectable nun´s idea about a joke, she indeed had a poor sense of humor!
Granted, he almost felt sorry for the poor misfit, as for the two hours following her arrival, she had endured prank after prank after prank, without uttering a single complaint about his children – at least, not to his knowledge and not to him in person. Finally, to culminate everything, there was that incident with the tree…
No, no,no. He should not brood too much about that one. He would not.
When he went to inspect the dining room, as he usually did half an hour or so before dinner, he discovered something that the little Fräulein did not know yet: that her troubles for the day had not yet ended.
"I wonder what will be her reaction to this trick," he thought, as soon as he saw the pine cone in the governess chair. "I wonder if it will be this silly, harmless pine cone that will have the power to send the young postulant running back to Nonnberg Abbey before the day is over…"
Scowling, he took the offending object in his hands, examining it carefully. As far as pine cones were concerned, this one was a particularly nasty one. Whoever had the misfortune of sitting on it would not escape unscathed – at least not without a painful sting in his or her posterior.
He considered the possibility for the moment. So far, they had placed a frog in her pocket, hidden her shoes and hat in the highest tree and – from what his housekeeper had told him – had flooded her bathroom. The little Fräulein had undoubtedly been spooked, but so far the children had not physically harmed her. It was something they had never done before, in fact, a line they had never crossed. The practical jokes were designed to annoy, to anger. They were usually messy, sometimes disgusting, and slightly cruel on occasion. However, they had never resorted to inflicting pain, even a minimal amount of it, in any of their previous governesses. Not that sitting in a pine cone was likely to send the poor little misguided Fräulein Maria to the nearest hospital, but still, it was an unusual prank as far as his children were considered.
"Her backside had to be sore after falling from that tree," he thought, with a chuckle. "Twice."
Once again, he considered the new pattern in the children's jokes. He considered, for instance, the fact that lately, some of the tricks had been devised to remind him of Agathe…
The usual wave of memories washed over him.
"Damn!" he cursed.
It was happening again. How long would he remain a prisoner of his past? How long until the simplest of objects such as a single, ridiculous, pine cone would be enough to bring an uncontrollable rush of remembrances?
The story of the pine cone was part of the von Trapp family chronicles, and in the good old days, the late Baroness von Trapp loved to share it with her children. They loved it, and would ask her to repeat it night after night, because of its resemblance the princess and the pea fairy tale - only more interesting, in their opinion.
It all began as a joke between the Captain and his paternal grandmother. When Georg was trying to make up his mind about proposing to Miss Agathe Whitehead, there had been a few days when he had wondered if that was the right thing to do, if the woman he had chosen as a bride was indeed the best one for him to spend the rest of his life with, if he loved her enough to abandon the carefree lifestyle of a bachelor. More than that, although Agathe had lived among seamen all of her life, he wondered if it would be fair to the woman he loved to leave her from months at a time, never sure if he was ever coming back. Would he be able to do that to her, and to the children who would hopefully result from their marriage? Worse, in such dangerous times, would his duties with the Navy permit him to stay home long enough to actually produce a child?
Oh yes, he loved Agathe Whitehead, with every single fiber of his being. He never doubted it, but he also knew his role in life well, and what was expected of him. Marrying purely out of love was a luxury the von Trapp´s had not been able to afford for generations. Then his grandmother, whom he always knew to be a hopeless romantic, mentioned the fairy tale.
"Are you suggesting a pea under her mattress?" Georg had asked the distinctive old lady, irritably.
"Heavens, no! Naturally you need something more… obvious."
"You can´t be serious about this, grandmamma!"
"O-ho, but I am!"
"Such as?"
"Don´t sneer like that, Georg! I am serious. Just put a… let us say, a pine cone in her chair during a formal dinner party and watch her carefully as she deals with the situation. That should tell you everything you need to know."
"Do tell me, grandmother, how does a pine cone in her chair will prove Agathe´s suitability as the wife of a sea captain? Don´t you think I am too old to believe in fairy tales?"
"As I am too old not to believe them." Her witty response had made him smile. "You would be surprised, Georg. There is more to these children´s stories than you think. You´ll see," she winked.
He had thought his grandmother´s idea was too ludicrous, too… nonsensical to be taken seriously. But then, when the time came, he had found himself in the Vienna woods in the middle of the night, hunting for the thorniest, nastiest pine cone he could find.
The following evening, he had escorted Miss Agathe Whitehead to the table. How would she behave in a room full of aristocrats, dignitaries, diplomats, not to mention a couple of crowned heads when she realized that there was more than a comfortable, velvet cushioned pillow in the chair she had sat on?
He remembered holding his breath while she daintily sat down.
And then…
Except for a slightly raised eyebrow, she had not moved a muscle. Her eyes had widened a bit in surprise, but that might have been only his imagination. Then she had turned to him and gave him her brightest, most perfect smile. Agathe had reacted to his prank like the lady he knew her to be.
"This is ridiculous," he had thought afterwards.
The prank had only told him what he already knew, it changed nothing. The decision had already been made days before, he only had not been brave enough to go through with it. With his mind firmly set, he proposed to her that same evening, knowing it was the right thing to do.
The only thing to do.
He had never believed the silly pine cone incident had nothing to do with his decision to marry, but when he told his wife the story during their honeymoon, she thought it was so romantic that she chose to believe it had…
It was only when they were celebrating their 10th wedding anniversary that Agathe confessed that she had actually cheated. She had seen the pine cone, had seen him putting it there. When she sat down, she had brushed it aside.
"The look in your face was as priceless then as it is now," she laughed. "Cheer up, darling. That is the one secret I´ve managed to keep from you all my life. My only victory against that cunning, strategist´s mind of yours!"
They laughed about it. And the pine cone tale was forgotten for a very long time.
Until that evening, when the 12th in the line of governess first came to the house… Fräulein Maria, who looked nothing like a governess, who looked even less like a nun, but very much like a tomboy.
A troublemaker.
The Black Sheep of Nonnberg Abbey.
He had met her for a total of no more than ten minutes earlier that day, and already listed more reasons why he should not keep her as a governess to his children that he cared to number. Outspoken, loud, no respect for authority, no self discipline whatsoever, nosy, appalling taste in clothes - although he had to admit that might not have been her fault. He cringed when he thought about what kind of influence such a… such a wisp of a girl would have over his children.
Captain von Trapp stared at the pine cone in his hands for a long moment. He had been holding it too tight and it bit into his palms. Thinking about the new governess had annoyed him inexplicably.
He shrugged. It should not concern him so much. All he had to do was fire her, whenever he felt like it. Yes, he assured the Reverend Mother he would not do it until he returned from Vienna, but he was certain that, if he explained everything, she would sympathize with his motives and would not blame him for breaking his promise. He could do it, this evening, if he needed to. He did not have to be burdened with such a troublesome employee for no longer than it was necessary. He never had before, and never would. Maybe the little pine cone will serve him a second time, to make his decision quicker and easier to make.
"She is outspoken and loud, she won´t be able to control herself. She will bring the house down. She will completely ruin a perfectly decent meal by yelling at the top of her lungs, then she will lash out at the children for their trickery, or at me for bringing up such hoydens. All I will have to do will be to fire her on the spot."
With a mischievous inner smile, he returned the pine cone to the same spot where his daughter had carefully placed it a few minutes before.
Who knows? It might help him to find a suitable governess…
Dinner was a unique experience that evening. Number twelve had not been fired yet, and he had no idea why.
The Captain went to the one place in his house where he could brood in peace – his study. It was his sanctuary, probably because it was the only room in the house where his wife´s influence was not so tangible. It was true that wherever he looked there were memories – of the sea, of war – but no visible reminder of the love he had lost. Those he kept locked in the first drawer of his desk.
He tried to concentrate on the problems with the French submarine. The idea was to make it adaptable to new, state of the art, sonar technologies. Silence was the key. Whatever he did with it, the boat had to be silent, in order to avoid detection by the enemy. That instantly made him think that even if they ever allowed women inside submarines, certainly no Navy in the world would want that Fraülein Maria in their crew – although it would be a fine way to sabotage them…
He chuckled at the thought.
Make her a double agent and infiltrate her in one the enemy submarine crews. Five minutes and they would have all the allied fleet chasing their U-boat, considering the impressive amount of decibels she had managed to produce when she had sat at the dinner table…
Suddenly, he wasn´t thinking about the sea anymore. He was most certainly not thinking about a certain so-called governess. At least he was trying hard not to.
The Captain was once again thinking about the important issue of pine cones.
He remembered that conversation with his grandmother, when she had suggested it to play the prank on his bride to be. She had been a very astute, cunning woman – a scholar, a fact that in itself was enough to make her one of a kind. She never said things gratuitously, without having a good reason for it. If she had suggested a pine cone, then there had to be something behind it, a small detail that made it meaningful. Otherwise it would be any other object – a fork, a sharp rock would do just fine, and easier to find in downtown Vienna in the middle of the night.
Following the train of his thoughts, his eyes then wandered to a small collection of books he kept in a separate shelf. Among them, there were his grandfather's books, about heraldry – the old man had a passion for the subject. The Trapp family crest held a special fascination for him, and Georg remembered when, as a little boy, his grandfather would talk about it for hours, explaining every tiny little detail, every symbol, every line. The Captain never guessed his grandmother shared her husband's interest; she never gave any indication of that – on the contrary, she would joke about it. Heraldry had everything to do with symbolism, so maybe…
Resolutely, the Captain walked to the shelf and picked up a particularly dusty volume. It was an old encyclopedia of heraldry, one of his grandfather's favorite books, and one which he carried everywhere and was always consulting. It contained the main symbols used in family crests in Europe. He opened it at the letter "P" and began his research.
Pansies…
"A colorful flowering plant. Pansy divination was said to be a method of fortune telling supposedly used by the Knights of the Round Table. It involved randomly picking a petal off a pansy and looking at its markings. Denotes love, freedom of thought and reflection, and also of good fortune."
He had always thought the colorful little flowers were too fragile and delicate for his taste, but… Freedom of thought, indeed! Interesting. That governess looked like him to be the kind who would love the silly flowers, judging by the inappropriate way she chose to speak her mind. If he had them planted in his garden, she would undoubtedly crown herself with them. That alone reminded him to tell the garden never to plant any pansies, at least while that Fräulein was around.
He cursed – why the devil was he even thinking about the silly creature?
He continued his search.
Phoenix…
"The mythical bird that lives for 500 years, builds its own funeral pyre, is consumed by the flames, and rises anew from the ashes. This bearing symbolizes the rising and setting of the sun, as well as immortality, resurrection, and life after death."
Life after death… No, no, not now, he muttered to himself, banishing the disturbing thoughts from his troubled mind.
Pigeon, pike, pillar, pineapple, pincers…
Pine cones!
There it was.
"The tree of life and humanity. A pine tree in the forest symbolizes long-suffering, steadfast friendships, and enduring fame."
Well, so far, it all seemed harmless enough. He was already wondering if he wasn´t reading too much into his grandmother´s idea when his eyes fell upon the next phrase.
"According to Virgil, early Romans decorated pine trees with little masks of Bacchus (a fertility god). As the wind blew the masks around, Bacchus was believed to grant fertility to every part of the tree the masks faced. It is said to symbolize immortality, resiliency, longevity, and rebirth..."
"Hah!"
He closed the book with a loud thud. There was a smug look in his face, because he had deciphered another one of his grandmother's enigmas. So there was a reason why she had chosen that particular object. Knowing his grandmother he knew it had not been picked at random. He read the entry over and over again. Clever woman, his grandmother – not that he had ever doubted that.
Fertility gods!
Well, Agathe ended up giving him seven children, hadn´t she?
Still trying to keep a scientific approach, he looked at entries in similar books, and the words he read danced in his mind.
Inflammable nature… fire… an emblem of…
Of what?
He had to read the word twice. His eyes widened, and he threw the small book away, shaking his head, but smiling mischievously.
"Grandmother!" he exclaimed aloud.
Well, he should have guessed, shouldn't he? He reached for another heavy volume.
Union of positive and negative forces… a talisman of abundance, fecundity, good luck… a symbol of Artemis, among the ancient Greeks…
Closing his eyes, he made an effort to recall what he knew about Greek mythology.
Artemis, or Diana, goddess of light, protector of the vulnerable… The moon goddess… Maiden divinity…
Sitting back in his chair, he allowed the flood of information gathered in his memory t flow freely.
Protectress of the young… Quick to defend the powerless… Allowed by her father Zeus to live without having to be distracted by love and marriage… Granted permission not to have to dress like a lady… Had the task of bringing light into the world… Was given all the mountains on the earth to live on… Untamed spirit… Able to bring down the most terrible of beasts… Fierce in the protection of gentle creatures… Impulsive… Punished those who tried to thwart her commitment to reaching her goals or invaded her privacy…
It had little to do with Agathe, he had to admit. Some parts just did not match at all. Never dressed as a lady… his late wife had always been known in their social circle for her elegance and poise. Untamed, impulsive… Who, his Agathe? No, never.
However…
He had met her only for a few hours, but he believed himself to be a good judge of character. And what he remembered of Artemis, the moon goddess, was a perfect description of…
"Well, maybe not," he smiled.
For some reason it was easier for him to picture the little Fräulein not as an eternally virginal Artemis but rather as an unsuspecting Persephone, wandering in the meadows picking flowers…
Daffodils, if he remembered correctly. Not a very happy flower indeed!
But then, as the ground opened up and the god of the underworld himself, Hades, came to abducted her and make her his wife…
He paused for a moment, frowning. The scene was perfectly clear in his mind, like a painting with bright, vivid colors. Yes, he wasn´t sure if he disliked it entirely or of if he liked it a little bit too much. For a fleeing moment he found himself ridiculously, but insanely envious of the king of the underworld, and in the next he was contemplating the possibility of picturing himself in the role. Well, it would be a fitting role for him, at least, the darkest of all Greek divinities!
He never knew if it was the unexpected direction his thoughts had taken, or the noise he heard, coming from upstairs, that made him stand up, with a jolt.
Irritably, he ran towards the source of the inopportune sounds. Laughter, singing… He had to deal with it at once.
And yet, something told him, deep inside, that it would not be the last time he would find himself brooding about the curious little connection between pine cones, daffodils, Greek goddesses… and a governess!
A/N: All "quotations" in this chapter were extracted from the website "Armorial Gold Heritage Dictionary".