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I was astounded, as was everyone else. This monologue had blown us away, the fact that King Georg had a secret life, his children the product of deception, painful manipulation, and heart-rending choices. How difficult it must have been to live in this web of lies, my head was spinning just trying to keep it straight. But there were still questions hovering in the air like fireballs waiting to explode.
Kato launched.
“So what?” he demanded. “This was all a fucking farce, but why didn’t you come and see us? Even if Mom screened all your calls, tore up all your letters, it’s not like there aren’t planes. You could have flown in and driven to our farm and showed up. She couldn’t stop you from doing that.”
And Georg sighed again.
“I get why you’d think that,” he said slowly. “After all I’m the King and have been for years now, the ruler of our small principality. But let me ask you, son – how much money do you think I have?” he asked.
Karl and Kato just shook their head.
“Who cares?” tossed off Karl, shaking his head, disgusted.
“A hundred million,” ground out his twin.
But their older brother was bolder, more matter-of-fact.
“I know for a fact that the Crown is worth billions,” Kristian said bluntly, “even that part which isn’t entailed to the estate.” I’d read enoughPride and Prejudiceto understand that it meant that a good chunk of money was tied to the throne itself, yes, but that they also had a nice income apart from the Crown.
“That’s true,” nodded Georg, “but how much do you think I personally control? Say I wanted to go out and buy a pack of gum, where would that money come from?”
Kristian paused for a moment.
“I’m sure you have your own accounts, maybe with five, ten million in them?” he guessed. “Something around that ballpark?”
And Georg laughed then, the harsh sound ringing off the stone walls.
“Son, you give me too much credit, because the truth is,” he said, taking a deep breath, “the truth is I have almost nothing,” he said, holding out his hands, opening empty palms. “I get a small allowance from the Crown each year, maybe a few hundred a month. It’s enough to buy a couple lunches, maybe a cup of coffee now and then. But I have nothing actually, and I couldn’t, and still can’t, afford a plane ticket to visit the States.”
Shocked silence. The King was a pauper? Who would have guessed? He certainly didn’t live like one judging from our lavish surroundings, the gala that was still going on downstairs.
“Who’s been funding your lifestyle then?” demanded Karl. “Who’s been paying for all your shit? Don’t tell me …”
But Georg was already nodding.
“Yes, Agatha. Ah, beautiful Agatha, still supporting me thirty years after our wedding. You didn’t think the Rothschilds were just going to give me free rein with their money, did you? Oh hell no. When they married off their dear daughter, they knew what they were getting into. I was a man with a broken heart and illegitimate son, no way were they taking any chances. So all the money was tied up, wrapped with a thousand legal documents, placed in multiple trusts, secured so that no Venetian could ever touch it. It was all worked out so that we got small allotments of course, enough to meet our personal needs, but everything else was off limits.”
He continued with a small smile.
“So my family was saved from utter financial ruin, yes, but in return, I gave up my freedom in every way possible. The woman I loved, an independent life, and even my sons.I gave upmy children for the Crown. Everything that meant anything to me. I was a puppet now, half-alive, controlled by the purse strings of a powerful banking family.”
And I was shocked, hearing this confession. How painful it must have been, to be manipulated to this extent, a broken man at best, living with no purpose, the dark secrets inside gnawing away. And was it true? Were the Rothschilds still controlling the Venetians, even to this day? Georg nodded slowly, as if reading my mind.
“Look around you,” he said, spreading his arms, gesturing to the objects d’art in the room. “Everything you see, nothing is as it seems. These tapestries, this antique furniture, that silverware over there, priceless,” he said. “And it all belongs to someone else,” he finished sadly.
“So what are you saying?” asked Kristian slowly. “That this stuff is mortgaged? That someone’s going to repossess it?”
“Worse than that, son,” he said. “This stuff … it doesn’t belong to you.It’s never belonged to you.You’re a prince in name only, you’re not going to be running the kingdom. Haven’t you noticed? All your duties are ceremonial, it’s a courtesy title only, the ribbon-cutting, the smiling babies, the pointless meetings that go nowhere. You and your position exist only at the mercy of a group of faceless bankers.”
And I looked at Kristian, then at Kato and Karl, our expressions startled. Was it true? Was the St. Venetian royal house merely a farce at this point, a shell corporation controlled by anonymous powers, with no real heft, no weight, no sway of its own? It seemed too far-fetched to be true, more like the ravings of a delirious madman. But the sinking feeling in my heart told me differently, and I knew our lives, and our ménage in particular, had reached a breaking point.
TINA
“We’ll make it work,” I said encouragingly from my seat on the bed. We were back at the apartment, Kristian, Karl, Kato and I, huddled after the events of the day. Because the revelations had been mind-blowing. Not only were they full brothers, but their very existence was upended, their positions in life. Evidently Kristian was nothing more than a straw prince, a puppet, and where did that leave Karl and Kato? The loyal soldiers of a straw prince?
I shook my head again stubbornly.
“We’ll make it work,” I said. “There’s more to life than this.”
