The Spy Wore Petticoats

"Keep your secrets then," he said after a long pause.

Charlotte looked up then and smiled sweetly at the scowling Russian.

"I intend to."

Charlotte was bored. She had finished her book many days ago and the snow covered landscape had become monotonously familiar. Even that small diversion was available only when she could bear to have the shutters open, which was depressingly rarely. The cold was simply too much for her if the wind was blowing.

The fur lined cloak baron Gosse had purchased for her had gotten continuous use, but even it wasn't enough to keep her from shivering when the night fell and frigid drafts swirled about the coach. She had taken to sleeping curled up with Ivan, usually with her head in his lap. The big man was like a fireplace, radiating a fierce heat even when not exerting himself. Having her legs up and off of the floor of the coach prevented the drafts from getting under her skirts. If the arrangement had any drawback, it was that she usually awoke to find Ivan's erect cock in her face.

It wasn't that she objected too much to beginning her mornings with oral sex, merely that it wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing thing to see first thing in the morning, every morning. Perhaps too, she was vaguely uncomfortable with the idea he had come to expect it. She had come to the conclusion, however, that the price was worth it, after spending a couple of nights with her teeth chattering.

They were deep in Brandenburg now, having left Westphalia far behind. This day had started like many others, servicing Ivan's demanding prick before relieving herself and then bundling up against the cold. With little else to do, she took up Aurelius and began to read.

"What do you find within those pages that keeps you coming back to them?" Ivan asked.

She was prepared with an acid reply, but it died on her lips when she saw he was in earnest.

"This book, in particular? Or just any book I happen to be reading?"

"That book. You seem to find something there that is fascinating."

"It contains the meditations of a Roman Emperor. Some of what he thought has application to my current situation."

"Oh, like what?"

"Consider yourself to be dead, and contemplate your life up to the present time. Live according to nature, that time which remains to you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means different things to different people, as do most of his writings. To me, it means if you should die today and look back on your life, decide what you would change and change it now, so that you may enjoy the change for the time you have left."

"And what would you change?"

"Many things," she said quietly.

"I would not change anything," Ivan said after a long pause.

"In some men, that would be considered arrogance. In others, an inability to think. In your case, though, I think it is simply the truth."

"Obviously, you have much you would change, like the things that brought you to be wearing a dress rather than breeches."

"You might be surprised," she said thoughtfully.

"It would not be the first time you surprised me."

She was about to reply when there was a shout outside and the coach came to an abrupt stop. Their time together had built a level of understanding between them and they reacted quickly. Ivan drew his saber and vaulted out of the coach, while Charlotte armed herself with the pistol from underneath her seat. It would be unseemly for her to come spilling out of the coach, armed like a man, if the intrusion was not a threat, so she remained within. But she was on her guard and should Ivan shout, she would join the men in defense of the coaches.

Tim passed slowly and she relaxed as she heard no sounds of combat. Eventually Ivan came back to the door.

"There are soldiers here. You must come and translate, as his French is far worse than my German."

Charlotte nodded and pulled on her cloak. She took Ivan's hand and gracefully descended from the coach. When he said soldiers, he hadn't been joking. There was an entire detachment of Prussian cavalry, Hussars by the look of them. The officer Ivan had been trying to talk to was a major, and this aroused some suspicion in her. His was far too great a rank to command such a small group of men.

When he saw her, he came to attention and bowed.

"Fraulien."

"Major."

"It is with regret that I must insist your coaches come with us."

"Why?"

"By command of the king, you are to be brought to the court at, Sanssouci" he said, managing to mangle the beautiful word.

"Am I to know why?"

"To answer charges of spying. I am sorry, Fraulien."

"There is nothing to be sorry for, there is no accounting for the suspicions of kings. You are an officer and are discharging your duty."

"Thank you for understanding," he said, bowing again.

Charlotte curtsied and returned to the coaches. She explained the situation to the servants and Ivan, then joined him in the coach. Neither spoke until the coaches began to roll. The horsemen rode on either side, so Charlotte drew the shutters and then curled up in Ivan's lap.

"I do not like this," he said.

"Nor do I. Of all the places for us to end up, Fredrick's court is the worst."

"Yes, he, of all the European kings, has the most to fear from the proposed alliance."

"And the odds favor him already knowing our purpose. His spy network is said to be superb."

"And yet..."

"What? What is it Ivan?"

"It occurs to me that he would not have sent a line officer to escort us to court if he were sure of our purpose. He was himself nearly executed by his father for spying and was forced to watch his friend beheaded. I think perhaps doubt still remains in his mind, despite whatever evidence he has."

"Then we must do whatever we can to increase that doubt."

"Agreed, but in this case, I can think of little we can do. I can only think to make sure you have hidden Louis's letter in some place that it shan't be found?"

"It is safe. Is there nothing else we can do?"

He laughed and easily turned Charlotte's body to face him. Without words he undid his pantaloons and freed his prick.

"What was it your Roman emperor said? Enjoy the time we have left?"

They arrived at night and were spirited into the palace. The men were polite but firm, leading them thorough labyrinthine passageways and across empty courtyards until finally they were admitted to an audience chamber.

Here, Fredrick, King of Prussia, and several advisors waited. Charlotte took in her surroundings. Several men, some in uniform, others in fashion popular at court a year or more ago, surrounded a youngish man in white. The room was large, and there were several armed guards posted. Apparently, doubts or not, Fredrick was taking no chances. She curtsied to the king and he inclined his head.

"I apologize for the manner in which you have been summoned here and earnestly hope you can refute the charges levied against you, mademoiselle," he said in understandable but grammatically incorrect French.

"It would help, your majesty, if I knew exactly with what I have been charged."

"You are charged with plotting against the Prussian state, spying and espionage."

"How preposterous! What possible reason could I have for wishing harm to Prussia?"

"I have been informed you travel to the court of the Tsarina and that you have in your possession a letter from Louis offering alliance against me."

"How utterly absurd. Any diplomat would be a better choice than I to carry such a letter."

Charlotte was doing her best to keep her cool and play the outraged party. She had never been a very good actress, but either her skill was improving or the king was far less well informed than she would have surmised from the depth of the conspiracy she had encountered.

"It is late in the year. I wonder why you choose to travel in such weather. Surely your errand must be of great importance. What business could you have that is so important, unless it was to forge an alliance before the campaign season begins?"

Charlotte was watching him as he spoke. She saw the tightness around his eyes, the too casual body posture. And so warned, she caught herself before she fell into the trap.

"Campaign season? I know nothing of such things. My brother is held prisoner in the Tsarina's dungeons for some misunderstanding. He has begged me to come and plead for his release. He is not a man of great constitution and I fear he will not fare well in confinement."

"It was reported to me that you departed from France after meeting privately with the Duke De Fleury."

"Of course I did. The duke is a great man and my family has known him forever. I asked for his help, but he could not prevail upon the king to officially ask for Paul's release. The best he could do was arrange for me to stay with friends and to procure the release of my companion."

"I am sorry, but certainly you must see your mission would give you ample opportunity to present such a letter."

"I care not for politics. And I have little love of Louis. Why on earth would he trust a woman such as myself with such a mission? Surely he could find more fitting messengers?"

"I agree, it would be foolish to trust a woman with such a mission, but the Marquis de Vere arrived only two days ago. He charges that you are no woman, but a man in disguise."

Charlotte felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. A cold welling of fear in the pit of her stomach was accompanied by a sinking feeling. Yet she knew she was being watched and she knew she had no choice but to carry on. With Herculean effort she forced a laugh.

"The fact that I do not care for his company or his bed hardly marks me a man, your Majesty. I have had more attractive and courteous offers from common soldiers."

The assembled men laughed, some politely and some not so. Even the king's face showed a ghost of a smile.

He called his counselors over and they had a heated discussion just out of Charlotte's earshot. When he returned his face was grave. She felt cold fear clutch her heart, but managed to keep a pleasant expression.

"You have convinced my advisors. And I must say you have convinced me as well. Only a madman would send a woman on such a dangerous mission. I must, however, insist that you submit to an examination to determine your true sex. While my ministers and I are no longer in any doubt, the marquis has influential friends within the Church. I do not subject you this indignity without understanding of it and once it is completed, I will do all in my power to help you in freeing your brother."

What could she say? There was nothing. Nothing at all. With a helpless and horrible feeling, she allowed two soldiers to guide her to a small room. As soon as she was alone, she threw a leg up on the table, hiked up her skirts and carefully applied the orchid technique to her genitals. In her rush, she hurt herself, but gritted her teeth. It probably wouldn't make any difference, but if the examination were cursory and if the man were already suitably embarrassed, he might not notice. It was a straw to be grasped at and she knew it, but she grasped just the same.

She waited then, barely even noticing the beautiful appointments, eventually collapsing on the settee that sat against one wall. Should the orchid fail, her only other recourse lay in hoping her examiner was susceptible to a bribe. While she hated to part with the necklace Baron Gosse had given her, it seemed her only chance.

Charlotte started when the door opened and a queer little man entered. He wore a doublet that was obviously very old and a huge codpiece. He was of indeterminate age, though his impeccably groomed goatee was flecked with silver. His dress and manner were so queer that she could not for the life of her find her voice.

"Well, I see why the king is so unsure. You certainly look like a woman," he said at last.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am Thaddeus Schneider, court doctor and scientist extraordinaire, at your service," he said with a bow.

"I am..."

"Yes, yes, I know who you claim to be. I have no time to waste on charge and denial. Your appearance here has put me in something of a bind and I must now decide upon a course of action. I must say you play your part well. It is an immense help to me in deciding what I must do."

"Merci," she said softly.

Charlotte was utterly at a loss. She watched curiously as he poured himself a goblet of wine from a decanter on the side board.

"Thaddeus, old man, you told yourself this would happen," he exclaimed.

"And I told you, you would regret it," he replied before Charlotte could even try to reply.

"Yes, yes, you were right of course, but now we must decide what to do." Charlottes fear had been replaced with confusion. He was obviously talking to himself. She thought about interrupting him, but as he had made no move to see what was under her skirts, she decided to wait.

"It's all your fault really, young man," he said, suddenly turning on Charlotte.

"I did not ask to be here," she replied, choosing to ignore his accusation, if such it was.

"She's right Thaddeus! You can't blame the poor girl for this."

He cocked his ear, staring at the door. Charlotte heard stealthy footfalls moving off down the hall. The doctor nodded as if satisfied and lowered his voice, the appearance of mania dispelled.

"Always be careful of what you say mam'zelle and to whom. The walls have ears in this place."

Charlotte was still unable to speak, simply staring at a man who suddenly seemed totally sane and calm.

"I should probably turn you in. It would be the wisest move, but a man cannot serve two masters without eventually having to pay the price, I suppose."

"I do not mean to be rude, but I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You must try to pay attention, we are both in very grave danger."

"I am trying."

"Fredrick likes to keep a very cosmopolitan court. He favors the French mode over his native German. He also supports intellectuals and controversial artists of all stripes. By lying to him about your condition, I risk my head."

"And if you betray me?"

"I risk the ire of my true master. Even Fredrick cannot protect me from his reach. Therefore, I must serve one or the other and now I must choose. Duke De Fleury paid me handsomely to pass myself off as a bumbling doctor. I have drawn quite nice sums in my three years here and he will now want a return on that investment. So it seems we will be co-conspirators, like it or no."

Charlotte felt relief flood though her. It seemed her prayers had been answered and she felt she knew know how a condemned man felt when a pardon arrived as he was walking up the scaffold steps.

"I will, of course, demand a price from you for my services."

"What do you want? I haven't much money, but what I have is yours."

"Nothing so mundane. Simply this: before you leave, you will come to my chateau in Saxony and stay a while. I will expect you to do as I bid you for that time. Do we have a deal?"

"It would seem I have no choice."

"No, you really do not."

Charlotte moved easily down the long corridor, the only sound the rustle of her petticoats. She wore more than usual, the inner two made of a thick, soft muslin. The trick had been shown to her by ladies of Fredrick's court and it kept her much warmer in the airy halls.

Her gown was white, with intricate gold embroidery done in real gold thread. Jewels of many kinds adorned it, along with ribbons and Irish lace. The material was silk, imported from the far east. If that wouldn't have been enough to draw attention, it was well known that it was a gift from the King.

Fredrick and his churchmen had been so chagrined when Dr. Schneider announced that she was without doubt a woman that they had all gone out of their way to be kind to her. Gowns, baubles, even a new coach and team.

The king, while cordial and apparently fascinated with her because she was from France and knew of the court there, nevertheless evidenced no interest in her as a bedmate. While she had been relieved at that, many of his counselors more than made up for it in their ardent attentions. All that her sister had warned her of had come true in the month she had been here. Women seemed to resent her, but at the same time longed to be included in her circle of friends. Men seemed interested in her for a tumble, but also asked discreet questions about her situation and her family's holdings in France.

Ivan was working his way through the bedchambers of the ladies of court. His latest conquest had been a countess from Posen. The fact that her husband was also at court had seemed no impediment to the big Russian. He had already fought two duels and a third was brewing, but men had begun to realize he was a deadly antagonist. This too suited her purposes, as he was known to be her man. The menace the big Russian represented served to keep even the most lust filled man at a distance should she make it known his advances were not wanted.

She entered the grand ballroom just as the first dance began. Couples swirled, bowed and moved in a graceful unison. The music was familiar and she recognized it as one of Fredrick's own flute pieces. Along with the assembled courtiers, there were nobles from outlying areas and even the queen had come over from her castle at Niederschonhausen.

Among the crowd of philosophers, scientists, poets and artists she recognized Bach and La Merrit, Voltaire and Quantz. Apparently everyone had turned out for the celebration of the King's 1740 crossing of the Oder.

Her late arrival of course meant every eye was upon her. She did not relish the attention, but she knew she would receive it in any case. Even so, she was glad when heads returned to other things and she was able to make her way across the floor to her clique.

They were younger women mostly, by and large from outlying areas and all married. Their husbands, for one reason or another, were not at court and thus they, along with Charlotte of course, formed the available pool of dance partners for the bachelors. Their availability extended beyond the dance floor and Charlotte was often amazed at the men they had satisfied.

Charlotte had, somewhat ruefully, decided to decline all offers. Her being chaste turned a few heads, but having an encounter and satisfying someone with mouth or hand would simply have reraised an issue she wanted buried. She discovered that it had also, inadvertently, shamed the king further. He had bent over backwards to show his sincere regret and that result alone would have been worth the celibacy. She only wished she had been able to foresee it rather than luck into it.

Soon, she was on the dance floor, as were most of her friends. Charlotte glided along gracefully on the arm of Alfred von Konnesburg. Her fan was as comfortable now as her sword and she was equally adept at the intricate moves from the right or left side, moving forward or backward. The king seemed to enjoy music and dancing, and so Charlotte had gotten plenty of practice in a relatively short period. She was now accounted one of the best dancers at court, if not the best. She felt she lacked the fluid grace of some of the ladies and had taken to practicing in her rooms with Madame Deveraou correcting and encouraging her.

The dance ended. Alfred bowed while she curtsied. Before she knew what was happening another song began and she found herself on the arm of Dr. Schneider. Charlotte had never seen him on the floor before and was surprised to learn he was an accomplished dancer. "Well, mademoiselle, you seem to have done very well for yourself since your bumpy arrival."

"Yes. I suppose I have."

"I travel tomorrow to my estates in Saxony. I shall be there for a week and the trip there and back should take another. I was hoping for the pleasure of your company," he said with a smile.