Siber An Ode to Life

A queer historical romance
1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-3-347-31588-4
Verlag: tredition
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 517 Seiten

The gripping sequel to 'A Song for Ghosts' Dresden 1848 Just as opera singer Garvanos is at the cusp of success after months of struggling and plans his future with his lover Ivan, life finds a way to throw obstacles in his path. Richard Wagner returns and reclaims his position as head director of the Royal Court Theatre. With him, ghosts from the past come to haunt the opera and Garvanos helplessly watches Ivan retreat back into the shadows he dragged him from. Between Wagner's malign presence and Dresden more and more heating up in riots and commotions, will Garvanos be able to take his future into his hands?

Born in 1987 Manja Siber grew up in North-Eastern Saxony in an atmosphere some would describe as "slightly rural and idyllic", others as "pretty to look at in many places and way too small and quiet". After escaping the countryside Manja studied Literature, History and Comparative Religious Studies in Erfurt and later in Augsburg before finally moving to Berlin. Today she lives in the nice, quiet and green district Berlin-Köpenick in eternal servitude to the whims of her cat.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Siber, Manja

Leseproben

Chapter 01 “And my predecessor.” Ossip Kirsch's voice was strangely empty, eerily quiet. Garvanos had never heard him being anything gut gruff and on the verge or even outright booming. “Of course, most of you know Mr. Richard Wagner.” This was most definitely not alright. Mr. Wagner, thin and seemingly unassuming, looked around, a genial smile on his face. If Garvanos had never heard anything about this man before he might have been tempted to find him nice. As it was, after all he had heard, after everything he knew, the smile was nauseating. Richard Wagner. The man who had been responsible for Ivan living in secret. The man who still haunted him. He looked around. Strange. Just a moment ago they all had been laughing and smiling, chatting, congratulating each other on a performance gone well. The cheer had all but died. Garvanos felt as if the silence would drown him; it rushed and roared deafeningly in his ears. Their illustrious audience, Friedrich August II of Wettin, King of Saxony and his small entourage all seemed oblivious to the sudden shift in mood, still to engrossed by the performance they had enjoyed not even an hour before. Or maybe they deliberately ignored it. They had seen them perform Rienzi, an opera by Richard Wagner. Had they requested this opera specifically because they had already known the composer would be present? Why had nobody told them anything? Where was Ivan? Was he still around, hearing all this? Richard Wagner inclined his head ever so slightly, either oblivious or deliberately ignoring the stony silence he had elicited. As with the Royal family, it was impossible to tell. “Well, I must say, Mr. Kirsch,” he said in quite a pleasant voice, sonorous, full and self-assured, “You have worked wonders on them. I cannot remember ever seeing any of them so disciplined as they are here.” Garvanos saw Mr. Kirsch nod again. His broad shoulders were so tense, he feared they might burst. His grey hair seemed even more frizzed than usual. “Oh, my. Miss Bergmann, I haven’t seen you tonight. Are you well?” Mr. Wagner asked, a smile crossing his face as he walked over to Marianne and took her hands. Marianne Bergmann looked like she’d rather be elsewhere, her pale face blotched with an uncomfortable blush. It had almost the same shade as her red hair. “Well enough. Thank you.” She glanced at Deborah as if begging her for help. “We didn’t know you were in Dresden,” Deborah Santelli finally said. Garvanos noticed that her Italian accent was thicker than he had ever heard her. Her dark eyes flickered with something he would have almost dared to call hatred, but no, surely not. Not Debbie- “What a pleasant surprise. How long will you be staying?” She raised a hand to her temple and brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Oh, my dear,” Mr. Wagner smiled, “you make it sound like I am a mere visitor.” Garvanos ears were filling up with a rushing, ringing sound. “I am so sorry I had to leave my post for a while, but as I see, you all were in more capable hands than I would have thought. Nonetheless, I have delightful news for you. My absence is over. Starting tomorrow, I will resume my post and my work as musical director.” The ringing in Garvanos’ ears grew ever louder. Mr. Kirsch would lose his position? He had had plans for the whole remaining year. What would become of these? And what about him? He had just proven himself, he had just made the leap from chorus singer to soloist, he had just passed his probation, he- Mr. Wagner would not allow a Gypsy as a lead soloist, Garvanos was sure. “Of course, Mr. Kirsch will retain his position as director and instructor of the chorus – he has always done good work there. In my absence he even managed to discover some new talents.” Mr. Wagner’s eyes wandered over Marianne, Andreas, and Thomas, lingering on each of them. Notably, he didn't spare Garvanos a glance. Garvanos’ stomach sank. No. He wouldn’t suffer him in his position. “I see, young Mr. Beljajew has positively blossomed in the last few months.” Alexej Beljajew blossomed now as well, cheeks flushing from the praise. “Miss Santelli, I hear you are as well as ever? What a pretty work you delivered tonight. Lovely as always.” Deborah looked like she was biting down a scream and Garvanos could see Marianne move closer to her, reaching out. Deborah moved her hand, but she didn’t take Marianne’s’. And now, finally, Mr. Wagner turned to him. He had pale eyes and equally pale brown hair and hard lines around his nose. He pulled up the corners of his mouth in an of a smile. “Our Rienzi. What was your name again?” “Scimia,” Garvanos answered, “Garvanos Scimia.” He was sure that Mr. Wagner would have known his name already. But it was probably for the best to humour him. “Ah. Yes. An interesting choice for my lead, indeed.” He nodded, fixating Garvanos with his gaze. “We will see.” Garvanos’ stomach dropped and then started to churn. The ringing in his ears grew almost unbearably loud. Mr. Wagner, still smiling, bowed. “Tomorrow will be an early start and a long day for me, so with your permission I will retire now.” “Please.” King Friedrich August smiled pleasantly and the ladies of his small entourage – his wife, queen Maria Anna, and the Lady Lola Montez nodded along with him. “My good man, have a good night's rest, who knows when you will have it again.” He waved his hand in a friendly gesture of dismissal. Mr. Wagner smiled, bowed, and then left. Garvanos watched him walk away as the king and his relations came closer now. He wanted to vomit. He couldn't. The king, his brother Prince Johann of Wettin and their wives inspected him, he noticed. Remembering his good manners, he smiled and bowed. “Mr. Wagner is right,” Princess Amalie, sister to the queen and wife to the prince remarked. Seizing him up and down like one would with a horse on the market, she remarked, “I did not think of it during the staging, but it is an odd choice, isn’t it.” “Interesting was the word,” Prince Johann reminded her. “An apt one, too. It is impressive how he learned the words so well.” As if Garvanos was a circus animal to gawk at and comment on. “It is easier to learn your lines when you understand the language,” he said before he could think. The princesses and the prince stared at him. Damn. He had spoken out of turn, without being addressed first. The prince stared at him. The princess and the queen were staring at him. Finally, Lola Montez commented from the side, “Isn’t it lovely how language can civilize and unite us?” Her voice was a rich, molasses-sweet alto and probably had received some training in her youth, but not enough to turn her into a singer of note. Mostly she had learned – whether by training or by experience – to speak exactly the way she wanted to speak, to form each and every word very carefully, putting just enough inflection on it to suggest the hint of an idea. Her dark grey eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Thank you, madame,” Garvanos said, bowing his head. The Montez, apparently satisfied already, nodded, and turned then her attention to both Deborah and Marianne. The queen and the princess still occupied him with their curious looks and occasionally questions about how different life here, always in one place must be from roaming the world? Garvanos could only shrug for an answer. How would he know? He had grown up in Milan. He had been educated and trained at the Scala. But wasn’t he a Gypsy, the princess asked, her voice distant to his ear. He barely even noticed. Yes, he answered, but he had been raised in Italy, by an Italian. He barely even noticed. But didn’t he feel the urge to wander and roam, that was inherent to the Gypsies, the queen asked. He barely even noticed. The prince and the king engaged into some talk with Johannes Erhard, nodding and smiling eagerly and again looking to Garvanos when Johannes Erhard pointed to him with a big smile on his face. He barely even noticed. Ludwig of Wittelsbach and Lola Montez talked to Deborah and Marianne for a while before they turned and left. He barely even noticed. Shortly after the king, the prince and their wives bade them a good night as well and finally they were alone. He barely even noticed. He barely even noticed how Alexej Beljajew kept chatting on in excitement, his bright green eyes sparkling. Garvanos could only half-heartedly listen to him. How much earlier had Ivan realized who was there with the king, waiting to be introduced? How was he doing right now? Alexej finally sighed, his fair, pretty face drawn into a frown. “You know, you can tell me to shut up and let you leave, it's alright.” Garvanos blinked. “And people always complain I am rude.” Again, he shook his head, his bright, blonde hair fluttering around him. He sighed....