To hell with the agreement they had made with the Brandenburgs and which they fondly called The Golden Bracelet!

But a pretty princeling who is young and uncertain cannot say to hell with his ministers or his ministers may say to hell with him.

He must do as they wished but it should not always be so. One day they would have to obey him. In the meantime there was nothing he could do but depart for Leipzig.

Leaving Caroline in Ansbach with her brother, Eleanor travelled to Leipzig with her friends the Elector and Electress of Brandenburg, and with each stage of the journey grew more and more uneasy; and when she met her future husband her fears were increased. She had heard rumours of his passionate attachment to Magdalen von Roohlitz whom he had made a Countess and on whom he had bestowed rich lands, but she had not thought he would be so inconsiderate as to allow the woman to accompany him to Leipzig and attend his wedding.

In fact John George had not known it either but his satisfaction was immense when he discovered that Magdalen had been smuggled into his entourage. That was her mother's doing. He believed that indefatigable woman never gave up and had some idea that even at this late hour he might be persuaded to substitute his brides.

They were together during the journey. His ministers pretended not to see. They doubtless said to each other: Let him have a little sweetmeat before he takes his medicine.

He was determined to enjoy his sweetmeat. She railed against him at first in a half-hearted way, repeating the phrases her mother had taught her. "If you wanted a wife why should you choose her? Have you forgotten you promised me...?" No, he hadn't forgotten he soothed her, and he wished with all his might that it could be different. If it were possible he would marry his Magdalen and send that woman back to Ansbach or to the Brandenburgs wherever she belonged. All he wanted was his Magdalen. Nothing would be changed. She would see.

Magdalen was ready to be placated. In her opinion any time not spent in love-making was wasted time.

The days were filled with tension. It was feared that at the last moment the bridegroom would rebel. His ministers wrangled together. It had been a great mistake to allow Magdalen von Roohlitz to come. Who had been responsible for that? They blamed each other but they all realized that they would not feel safe until after the ceremony.

There had been that shocking episode when he had received his future wife with his mistress beside him. Coldly he had greeted her, plainly showing his dislike and then during the ensuing banquet had given his attention to his mistress. Fortunately the bride was of a meek disposition; fortunately the Brandenburgs were too eager for the marriage to take offence.

And to the great relief of all except the bride and groom the wedding day arrived and the marriage was solemnized without a hitch.

But at the banquet and ball which followed the bridegroom said not a word to his bride; and made it clear that he had no intention of consummating the marriage by brazenly spending the night with his mistress.

The Shadow of Murder

Dresden, where Caroline joined her mother, was very opulent; it was said to be one of the most licentious courts in Germany and since the Elector's marriage had become even more so. Having obeyed the wishes of his ministers by marrying a woman he did not want, John George made it clear, that as far as they were concerned that was an end of the matter. The woman they had chosen for him might live in his palace but he wanted nothing to do with her. It was only on state occasions that he saw her and then he treated her as though she were not there. At the same time he made no secret of his unflagging devotion to Magdalen von Roohlitz, and as her mother scarcely gave her daughter a moment's peace, instilling into her mind that she had been betrayed by her lover, that she should have, besides everything else her lover had given her, the supreme gift, the title of Electress—even Magdalen was beginning to grow ambitious for that one thing he could not give her, and he grew more and more resentful against his wife.

Caroline very quickly discovered that as the daughter of her mother she shared the resentment; and this knowledge made the court of Dresden an alarming place for an eight-year-old girl.

Yet it was very beautiful. The gardens were laid out in the French fashion with fountains, statues and colonnades; they and the court throughout were an imitation of Versailles; and the Elector behaved as though he were the Sun King himself. There were lavish banquets, balls, garden fetes and entertainments in the palace. It only had to be said that this or that was done at the French court and it was done in Dresden. And everything was presided over by a dark-haired woman whom Caroline's stepfather could not bear out of his sight and whom everyone said was the Electress in all but name.

At first she had been puzzled, for her mother should have borne that title. Of course she did; and on state occasions she would be dressed in her robes and stand beside the Elector; and then immediately afterwards she would go to her apartments, take off her robes, dismiss her attendants, lie on her bed and weep. Caroline knew because she had seen her do this. No one took very much notice of the child; she was expected to remain in the small apartments assigned to her, with her nurse, her governess and one or two attendants. No one was the least bit interested in her; she was merely an appendage of the woman whom nobody wanted. She was even less significant than her mother who was at least actively resented. She might have been one of the benches in the ante room, one of the flowers in the beds about the fountains. Not so useful as the bench, not so decorative as the flower—but any of them could have been removed and cause no comment.

The Electress Sophia Charlotte had talked of Dresden as though she would be very happy there. She could certainly never have been to Dresden. But since Sophia Charlotte had thought it would be so different surely it should have been if something had not gone wrong. Caroline had an enquiring nature. Passionately she wanted to understand what was going on around her—particularly when it concerned herself. Her mother's unhappiness worried her, for although she had never been a gay woman, although she had never been brilliant like Sophia Charlotte, she had never been as sad as she was now.

She had seemed older since she had come to Dresden; dark circles had appeared under her eyes; she had grown pale and thin. '

It was disturbing to be so young and so defenceless; but Caroline knew that before she could do anything to strengthen her position and that of her mother she must understand what it was all about.

She had alert eyes and sharp ears so she decided to put them to use. When servants and attendants whispered together she listened and often scraps of conversation not intended for her came her way. She was secretly amused that grown up people could deceive themselves into thinking that firstly she was deaf and secondly she was stupid; for often they would glance her way, warning each other with a look that they must watch their tongues in her presence; but the desire to talk was almost always—fortunately for Caroline—irresistible.

"They say he has never yet shared her bed."

"Not he! He can't spare the time from his Magdalen."

"Well, she can't say she didn't know before. He made that clear."

"Oh yes, she knew he had no wish to marry a widow with a couple of brats."

A couple of brats! Caroline's natural dignity was offended. She wanted to confront the gossipers and demand to know how they dared refer to a Princess of Ansbach as a brat. As for her brother, he was the heir presumptive to Ansbach, for if their stepbrother had no sons he would be Margrave one day; this was the reason why he remained at Ansbach, otherwise he would be with her to help her fight her mother's battles. And the servants dared refer to him as a brat!

She was on the point of calling to them when she hesitated. What use would that be? She knew exactly how they would act. First they would swear that she had been mistaken; then they would take great care never to say anything in her hearing again which would mean that she would be completely in the dark. So how foolish it would be just for the sake of temporarily asserting her dignity, to lose an opportunity of understanding this peculiar situation.

Meanwhile the voices went on.

"I wouldn't be in Madam's shoes for all the wealth of Germany."

"Nor me, poor soul. Why it wouldn't surprise me what those two got up to ... with Mamma in the background."

"There's one I should want to watch. No, it certainly wouldn't surprise me either. She's capable of anything to get rid of Madam Eleanor and set up her darling little Magdalen in her place. If I were Madam Eleanor I'd be watchful ... very watchful indeed."

Caroline put her hand over her heart which had begun to leap uncomfortably. What did they mean? Her mother must be watchful. Could they mean that she was in danger? And if so, did she know it?

Caroline had already begun to realize that her mother was somewhat ineffectual and would never be capable of looking after herself. Someone then would have to do it for her. Who? Her eight-year-old daughter?

How could that be when she was only a child, when she was only vaguely aware of the meaning behind the intrigue which was going on about her.

How careful she would have to be! She would have to stop being a child immediately, for children could make so many mistakes. Suppose she had rushed out and protested just now, as her first impulse had directed her to do. What she would have missed! She must remember that in future. Before she did anything rash she must stop and think.

During the months which followed Caroline learned more of the state of affairs between her mother and step-father. She knew that it was a miserable marriage, undertaken with reluctance on both sides—on his because he had been forced into it for state reasons, on hers because she had been obliged to seek position and security for herself and her daughter.

In a way, thought Caroline, I am responsible; for perhaps she would never have married him but for me.

There were lessons to be done, but no one cared very much whether she did them or not. Her mother was too much engulfed in her own misery; and why should servants care whether the little girl from Ansbach grew up an ignoramus or not. She would ride a little with her few attendants, taking care to keep well out of the way; she would walk and sit in the magnificent gardens, slinking away when she heard the approach of a party; from the window of her bedchamber she would watch the open air entertainments; she would listen to the music from the ballrooms, going as near as possible but always making sure that there was a way of escape should she need it.

She kept well out of the way of her stepfather whom she regarded as an ogre and he naturally never noticed her absence; in fact he had forgotten her existence and only remembered it when, on those rare occasions when he was in the presence of his wife, he wanted to taunt her with her uselessness; and those occasions were growing less for she bored him so much that he found no pleasure even in quarrelling with her.

Caroline found little enjoyment in her mother's company either for Eleanor was in such a state of nervous tension that she could not pay much attention to her daughter; her mind was dominated by her own depressing situation and as she did not believe she could discuss this with her daughter had nothing to say to her.

A whole year had gone by since Caroline's arrival at Dresden, but she felt more than a year older. Nine years old but very knowledgeable in the ways of men and women. She had seen her stepfather with his mistress revelling in the gardens at some fete; she had watched their crude caresses. She had to grow up quickly for there was no one else to protect her mother from a fate which was none the less horrifying because her daughter did not fully understand it.

There was one at the Dresden Court of whom Magdalen von Roohlitz was in awe and that was her mother. She would never forget that it was her mother who had first put her in the Elector's way and who, once the liaison had started, conducted it so cleverly from the shadows that she had made what might have been a fleeting affaire into what it was at this time.

The extremely ambitious Madam von Roohlitz was the widow of a Colonel of the Guards; not a position in which she could have had high social ambitions if she had not possessed an outstandingly beautiful daughter. She had been the first to appreciate Magdalen's charms and assess their value. She had always known that Magdalen's brains did not match her beauty; but since she had a very clever mother this was not an insurmountable difficulty—in fact, it was proving an asset. Magdalen could make full use of her erotic genius while her mother planned calmly behind the scenes.