Chapter Twenty Four

Princess

Browne lumbered unsteadily into Frank’s sparsely but elegantly appointed suite overlooking the Bois De Boulogne. It was the spring of 1897 and Frank found it helped his work to leave the windows open, bringing the scent of cherry-blossom and horse-dung as markers on an olfactory scale against which he created his much-sought after Eaus de Toilette. This morning it was neither perfume nor narcotics which claimed his attention. He was perfecting the cerebral aspects of the transfer, and the sudden appearance of the huge Irish aristocrat was at the very least as unwelcome as it was unexpected.

“Dia dhuit, Monsieur de Brún,” said Frank, rising from his elegant Louis XV chair, a masterpiece of the style which exactly matched those to be found in the grandest rooms of the Hôtel Soubise.

“English or French Professor Kørner, I do not employ the utterances of the peasantry.”

“As you wish. To what do I owe the great pleasure of your presence before noon? Perhaps I may provide you with some of my most sublime gases?”

“Strangely, not at this time. I have been sent to request that you accompany me to the palace of a certain princess at your earliest convenience. You can take that to mean immediately, Professor. I have a carriage awaiting us presently.” Browne lifted his right arm to indicate the door. Frank cast a regretful eye over his papers and let his mind leave the problems of consciousness and memory with them on the desk. He left the suite and attempted to feel some curiosity as to the identity and requirements of the mysterious princess.

The carriage proceeded through the more than 2000 acres of parklands, now almost completely restored following the devastating effects of the Franco-Prussian war. Browne remained silent as they passed through a number of picturesque villages until they entered a narrow avenue which maintained a constant darkness due to the density of evergreen trees through which it ran.

“The princess refers to this entrance as her landscaped quim. I should give you the benefit of the intelligence that she is a committed tribade. I have had the pleasure of observing her in the satisfying of her Sapphic appetites in her private salon on a number of occasions. I am sure this does not discomfort you Professor. It is because of your broad-mindedness and your scientific expertise that the princess requires your attendance.”

Frank felt a twinge of pride. He regarded lesbianism as inferior to male homosexuality but nevertheless a sign of an independent mind in those who chose it freely; that is in women who were not merely deprived of male society, such as members of religious orders. He felt that he was not going to be disappointed by his meeting with the princess. “How should I address her, since I do not know her name?” he enquired.

“She believes that she is descended from Sappho, thus she likes to be called after Cleїs, the poet’s daughter. Use this name only for her; do not address her by her title, for she detests it and insists on using first names only with men. It is some kind of egalitarian notion.”

“I suppose she wears trousers and smokes a pipe.” Frank tried to align himself with Browne’s distaste for female rights. The Irishman’s black eyes twinkled with a suppressed humour.

“I am quite sure we will not be seeing any trousers on her today.” At that moment the carriage left the long night of the avenue and a fantasy of Baroque architecture came into view, positioned on a slight hill with a rich perspective of ornamental paths, sculpture, ponds and trees which forced the eye to the magnificent courtyard where two liveried guards stood in wait. Frank had found on many occasions that his unique abilities had led him to the society of the most wealthy, but this was the Ancien Régime in all its splendour. His mood became elevated. If there was one thing that could divert him from the obsessive exercise of his own genius it was wealth, and this was wealth displayed on an unprecedented scale.

Browne Left the carriage first and was addressed privately by one of the sentries. He returned to Frank smiling and engulfed him in his massive cape as he put his arm around the scientist’s thin shoulders. “The princess has a demonstration she wishes you to observe. We must make haste to the Salle des Bains.” They were led along a well-glazed corridor, resplendent with exotic blooms to a marble vestibule decorated in the Egyptian manner. The footman bade them enter the bathroom and then discretely retired, closing the massive doors behind him.

It was the humidity and the scent that first struck Frank: intense heat and the overpowering perfumes of musk, camellia and many other fabulous blooms. He looked up and saw the vast dome, decorated with classical Greek figures with a massive central chandelier penetrating down through the heavy clouds of steam. The bath was more of a small swimming pool, with two young women standing bare-breasted in the water which reached to their ribs. All of this was glorious and drugged the senses, but what enthralled Frank utterly was the sight of the ranks of beautiful, girlish young men, twelve abreast on three sides of the bath, all blindfolded and each maintaining by use of their hands the most splendid erections. His fascination was abruptly curtailed by a stiff elbow to the ribs from Browne.

“Here she is: bow you idiot!” And so Browne’s fate was sealed, although it would be just over two years before the huge aristocrat would be reduced to a twitching, boneless mess by Frank’s gas. Frank lowered his head and made some attempt at genuflection before looking up to see the princess; tall and raven haired, clothed in a diaphanous gown, enter the water. The material blossomed on the surface and she leant back floating in the centre of the pool. As one the young men began manipulating their penises to an increasing rhythm. Within seconds they discharged creamy semen into the bath, stood back and were replaced by another, equally beautiful row who repeated the exercise.

The princess drifted as in a trance while one of the women trawled the floating ejaculate and the other massaged it into the bare mons. The ritual was extended, primitive and somehow timeless. Frank was an obsessive enumerator, but even he lost count of the number of emissions which found their way into the uterus of the passive princess. Awakening from the contemplation of millions of diverse sperm he noticed that the men had departed and now both women worked on ensuring admission of those sperm to the aristocratic matrix. Their attentions were expert, and soon the princess experienced the spasms of orgasm. At this point they retired and a breeze informed the ripples of the thickened waters that the process was complete.

“She will meet us in her office shortly,” whispered Browne. “I hope you found that as refreshing as I?”

“Unique, I must avow. I take it the princess strives for an heir?”

“She will make all clear. Come.”

The two men left the Salle des Bains and met the rich aroma of coffee and madeleines in the adjacent office. Frank positioned himself in the offered seat, which he noted was directly across from the vacant chair which he assumed the princess would occupy. They enjoyed the excellent coffee and cakes in silence for several minutes until the princess made her entrance clothed in a remarkable gown dating back at least one hundred and fifty years. It was almost impossible to imagine that this was the same woman they had recently witnessed reaching climax under the semen-soaked fingers of her two ladies-in-waiting, but that was the way Frank liked identity, and thus he immediately felt a communion with the princess.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me. I hope you are comfortable,” said the princess, with no expectation of a negative reply as she carefully lowered herself into the seat. At this point Frank perceived an odd bulge around her pelvis, and decided to attack the issue head-on.

“You are seeking to be with child, and have taken professional advice. I assume that you are wearing some kind of undergarment designed to maximise the opportunity of conception.” He lifted his cup and met the piercing grey eyes of the princess through a curtain of invisible yet smoky fragrance.

“You do not disappoint me Frank. I asked you here because the process is not, as it were, bearing fruit, and also because I do not feel my physician to be sympathetic towards my.... my needs in this matter.”

“By which I assume you mean your aversion to direct physical contact with a male. May I call you Cleїs?”

“I would expect you to use my name. I do not hide behind my title. It is rather that I want no father for my daughter. No specific father. The best that I can manage in this aspiration, according to my physician is to introduce as random a selection of male cells as possible. He is also unhappy with my insistence on a daughter. He claims that science cannot guarantee the gender of any off-spring. Maybe he is right.” She picked up a Madeleine and replaced it, untested on the plate. “You have a certain reputation of providing unique scientific services to those able to pay. I am able to pay.” Frank lifted a heavy linen serviette to his lips, drying them assiduously before asking the question which had formed in his brain as soon as he realised the meaning of the extraordinary procedure they had recently witnessed in the bathroom.

“What do you really desire in a daughter?”

The princess stood and plucked helplessly at the hidden undergarment. “I want another me, in every respect, to maintain this estate and its special values in this appalling modern world. I know, it to be impossible, but I would pay anything if it could only come to pass.” She turned to regard her immense gardens in the clear spring light. Frank sat for a moment as if in professional thought, but actually attempting to calm his utter euphoria. Here was the opportunity to complete his work on reproducing himself; here was the unimaginably wealthy patron who would pay for all and ask no questions because she would think all the work was being done for her and her alone. It was perfect. Browne had to die of course, but that was already decided.

“I think I will be able, with suitable facilities and time for experimentation, to provide you with exactly that which you desire.” He stood and moved towards the massive windows. She took his hand gently and shook it, at first nervously, but then with a powerful sense of affirmation.

“I am somehow sure that you will. I will arrange for whatever you need to be installed in the chateau.” Frank bowed his head in agreement and when he again looked up it was with eyes shining, already assured of immortality.