Facets of the Past: No Dark Deed Goes Unpunished

By Monique Gliozzi

When Hank Gild is given the opportunity to take up his dream job, he accepts the offer with excitement. As a tour guide at the historical imperial castle on Lake Starnberg, Hank delights his guests with stories of the late Bavarian emperor—his antics, his precious artifacts and the mystery shrouding his death in 1886. But it seems that not all the castle's visitors are of pure heart. Before long, Hank is forced down a path of greed, deception and danger with no way out. A once happy and simple life unexpectedly becomes a treacherous nightmare. Who can he trust? Can Hank save himself before learning the ultimate lesson?

When you cross powers of the past, no dark deed goes unpunished.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Mar 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228848929

Monique Gliozzi

Born in Dublin, Dr Monique Gliozzi, a graduate from the University of Western Australia medical school, has a keen interest in forensic sciences and psychiatry. She works as a psychiatrist in Perth, with ties to the UWA School of Psychiatry, where she has had a role as a Senior Clinical lecturer. Her love for teaching has granted her a nomination for an Excellence in Teaching Award in 2016.Monique also holds an interest in aviation. She trained at the Royal Aero Club of Western Australia, where she obtained a commercial pilot licence. Following this, Monique completed her instructor rating and is now working on a casual basis as a senior flight instructor.Monique has only recently rekindled her passion for writing starting with the fictional thriller, Foresight.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Munich is a fashionable city of historical wealth dating back to 1158, founded by Henry the Lion (Duke of Saxony). The city is not only beautiful for its Gothic architecture, but also for its natural surroundings, with the Alps, vast green hills and forests all making up the spectrum of such an indescribable paradise. A pleasant drive along winding country roads led me to the quaint lakeside Bavarian village of Starnberg, no more than twenty miles south west of the city.

The chill of the early spring morning was visible as I looked out over the lake from the comfort of the room I had rented at a local guest house. A thick layer of white mist hovered over the lake’s surface, concealing what lay in the dark water beneath. As a fan of ghost movies, I half expected to hear the cries of a wolf in the neighbouring forest, or spy a mysterious translucent figure slowly walking along the lake’s embankment.

The castle I was to visit that morning was not visible from where I stood, however with a bit of imagination I thought I could just make out the silhouette of its pointed roof. In the distance, the sun was beginning to rear its face, dimming the nocturnal light from the galaxy above. A creaking sound of old floorboards somewhere in the house interrupted my thoughts. The stillness of the chilly air in the room, accentuated by the cold floor beneath my bare feet, promptly propelled me to take refuge back under the warm bed covers, where I rested a while longer. The excitement of a new beginning couldn’t have prepared me for what would soon follow.

CHAPTER ONE

Sir, please wait here, the youthful but officious secretary requested. Then, after graciously closing the heavy, ornately decorated, baroque-style doors behind her, I was left to wait in the drawing room of this regal residence. As a single thirty-eight-year-old of Swiss-German heritage, my love for history and expertise in linguistics had finally led me away from my original trade of locksmithing. It had been an honor to meet the curator and manager of Schloss Starnberg, located on the outskirts of Munich. It had led to this unique opportunity to become a tour guide in one of the many palaces designed by King Ludwig II of Bavaria, which, if granted after today’s interview, would be a dream come true. My father, an auctioneer and dealer in antiques, and my mother, a lively woman of American - German heritage employed as a primary school teacher, were pleased for me.

I found myself admiring the breathtaking view of the vast pine forest surrounding the immense, perfectly manicured garden and being mesmerized by the sunlight shimmering across the famous Starnberg Lake. The memorial crucifix erected to commemorate and mark the spot where the king‘s body had been found in June of 1886 was clearly visible from where I stood. To this day, his death remains shrouded in mystery, some speculating demise by his own hand, while more recent historical and forensic experts adhere to the notion of more sinister circumstances.

The remote sound of footsteps caught my attention. Moving away from the window, I listened for a few moments, anticipating the door opening. Nothing. Disappointed, I decided to savor this precious time alone by taking in the interior décor of the room.

The well-preserved, highly-polished gray and red marble floor was partly covered by a thick green runner, strategically placed for the visiting public to appreciate the imperial glory while still maintaining respect for their surroundings. The frescos decorating the high wooden ceiling portrayed battles between past warring empires, with the gods looking down from the heavens, aghast at the savagery unfolding.

Hanging above a prominent fireplace in a gold gilded frame was a large portrait of the king himself. It depicted a man of power with a taste for the finest fashion, art and architecture. His hair was jet black and curly. The monarch’s striking deep blue eyes stared off into the distance depicting a man of intelligence and determination, yet there was something more to his expression. Sadly, to this day, due to the alleged eccentric nature of his personality, King Ludwig II is described as ‘The Mad Bavarian King’. Hanging opposite him were portraits of his father, King Maximillian II, and his mother, Marie of Prussia, posing on respective thrones, their expressions regal and suitably serious.

The entire room basked in Romanesque and Gothic-style architecture. A golden antique clock standing on the fireplace mantle chimed, precisely indicating midday. Cross checking it with my own Omega wrist watch, I was impressed by its accuracy. The antique had been a wedding gift to Ludwig’s parents from Empress Elisabeth of Austria.

To my right, a large porcelain vase stood empty in a corner. Presumably a gift from another royal household, I mused. As I moved closer to it, the pale blue pattern of noblemen partaking in a hunting expedition became clearer. The imagery was vivid – just spectacular!

The beauty of my surroundings was captivating, but in truth, I was growing slightly more anxious by this lengthy wait. Composing myself, I took note of a harpsichord on the north side of the room. King Ludwig’s favorite composer had been Richard Wagner. Moving closer, I was tempted to reach out and play a note, but instead gently rested my fingers on the ivory keys, trying to imagine this very space filled with the classical music of a genius.

Behind the instrument hung another gold gilded work, this one a tapestry of majestic colors showing the ultimate royal scene: the king’s coronation. Intrigued by the workmanship, I decided to inspect it closer. Leaving the trusty green carpet, I trod quietly onto the marble floor, and gently ran my hand over the heavy but soft fabric. It was pure silk. For a brief moment, my imagination took hold. I sighed heavily, allowing the coronation to unfold in my mind’s eye. Overcome with an unusual sense of sympathy and intrigue by the king’s life and mysterious death, I felt a sudden intense urge to look behind the work of art.

What was it concealing? True to my sense of adventure, I was determined to find out. Lifting the cloth slightly away from the wall, I spied a narrow secret door. I reached for the small brass handle and tried to open it. It was secured. The simple lock could be picked, but now was not the time. The skills of my trade would not go to waste.

CHAPTER TWO

I was startled by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching followed by an abrupt turning of the door’s ancient brass handle. Spinning around, I quickly moved away from what I’d uncovered behind the tapestry. The same young secretary who had left me alone in this room for what seemed like an eternity had finally returned and, without uttering a word, motioned me to follow her.

We walked along several grand corridors, past displays of imposing oil portraits depicting imperials of the Germanic Empire. I was struck by the almost disapproving expression of each ruler and it spurred me on to keep up with my chaperone. The noise of our leather soles making contact with the marble floor echoed in the vast space. We ascended a flight of stairs leading to another closed door, where my host stopped short. Turning to face me, a well-rehearsed string of instructions left her unsmiling lips.

After I open the door, you will enter, walk past me and stand in front of the officials. Then I will introduce you. You must not sit down until introductions are complete and you’re invited to do so, she stated with a Germanic intonation, her facial expression matching the seriousness of her tone. I nodded, taking note of her slender build hidden by a tailored gray dress suit. The pale complexion and light brown hair coiffed into a bun added to her formal demeanor. A pair of almond shaped startling dark brown eyes added to the attraction I felt.

Her knock was almost instantly answered with an invitation to enter, after which I proceeded as instructed. Behind a long mahogany table sat three male officials clad in navy blue business suits. My chaperone remained standing to one side of the room, staring at the patterned floor, motionless and expressionless. The men smiled warmly, which I reciprocated. Mr. Schultz, the man in the middle, leaned forward to leaf through a file until he came across my resume. Retrieving it, he held it high enough to make reference to it while still able to maintain eye contact with me as he spoke. The gold-rimmed spectacles perched close to the tip of his nose made him look older than his colleagues.

So, Mr. Hank Gild. I see that you’re thirty-eight years young, he began, not married and a locksmith by trade. His gaze encouraged an answer.

Indeed, sir, I replied, unsure of how much more to divulge.

Tell us a little about yourself and why the interest in this position, he continued, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands on each armrest.

I was born in Switzerland. My father is a horologist, but currently working as an auctioneer. My mother, originally from the United States, is a primary school teacher. My older brother works in the film industry.

Go on, the colleague to his left encouraged.

I’ve always loved history, excelling in the subject as a youngster and I have recently completed advanced studies with particular interest in Royal Households of Europe by attending night school. The opportunity to be a tour guide here at the Schloss would be a dream come true.

They nodded in unison as I spoke, which did nothing to put me at ease. I remember reading somewhere about body language in situations such as an interview, describing that repeated rhythmic nodding did not mean that someone agreed with you, rather that they were scrutinizing the subject before them.

You would be required to live on the grounds, and give up your trade. There would be a request that you assist our night manager to conduct security duties. We have only one other security officer on site, Mr. Schultz explained. Now I found myself doing the rhythmic nodding, also known for its self-soothing effect.

Would these conditions be agreeable? he asked hopefully.

Yes, I said with unmistakable certainty.

Very well. Now in regards to your salary, we will make sure that you are appropriately compensated, Mr. Schultz proceeded, making reference to the drawing up of a contract and signature of a confidentiality agreement, but by this stage, too excited about the prospect of a career change, I’d stopped listening.

Then, the trio stood and walked around to my side of the table to welcome me to the team.

"Helena will escort you to your car. She will meet with you at the Bistro Café in Starnberg tomorrow at noon to have you sign the contract. Once that is done, we will help