“Oh my—” Khanyi covered her mouth but couldn’t help exclaiming. Before her stood a castle, surrounded by mountains, shrouded in the heavy morning mist of winter, making the towering spires appear and disappear among the swaying trees, like a scene from a fairy tale.
He held her arm as they crossed a suspension bridge. As they approached the castle, the view was different from that seen from the bridge. The tall buildings were constructed of blue stone, with narrow windows and irregular spires, all in a Gothic style.
“This place has been abandoned for a long time. The last monarch, who was infatuated with indulgence, left the Bavarian royal family in significant debt,” he explained to her. “This castle was built at the end of the last century, and to distinguish it from the nearby Hohenschwangau Castle, it was named Neuschwanstein. As a descendant of the Meier family, I am honored to show you around.”
They did not enter from the front but instead approached a side door. An elderly servant with graying hair awaited them, bowing to him before using a brass key to unlock the heavy iron door.
With a creak, the iron door swung open. Khanyi followed him through a stone corridor overgrown with climbing roses. It was eerily quiet, adding to the castle’s mystery, with only their footsteps echoing. Clearly, few people visited here; the dried vines almost covered the path.
He walked ahead, drawing his sword to clear some thorns, trying to make a path for her. She felt like the prince in “Sleeping Beauty,” cutting through the thorns to enter the castle of the sleeping princess, as if in that tall white tower, in a sealed room, a crystal coffin held a sleeping princess.
Though she had been asleep for a hundred years, her skin remained as white as snow, and her lips as red as roses… She lay in that pointed tower, filled with expectations of love, seemingly peacefully asleep, yet waiting for a brave and passionate prince to awaken her.
They entered a grand hall, adorned with an extravagant crystal chandelier and opulent golden decorations, all covered in a thick layer of dust that could not hide their dazzling brilliance. In the center, an altar-like screen depicted the story of Jesus’s triumph. She did not approach it but instead focused on the portraits hanging on either side.
“Who is this?” she asked, gazing at the young brown-haired man in the painting.
“This is Ludwig II, dressed in a blue robe and yellow cloak, the representative colors of the Bavarian royal family. Unfortunately, Bavaria lost to Prussia.”
Beside him was a portrait of a woman, a standard half-length depiction, wearing a white gauzy dress, her voluminous brown hair styled at the back, adorned with jewels at her chest and a crown atop her head, making her appear even more noble and enchanting.
“What a beauty,” he said softly. “It is rumored that Ludwig II loved his cousin, but this love would lead to no happy ending. Politically unsuccessful, he turned his affections to Wagner’s theatrical world, immersing himself in the fantasies of those romantic knightly tales. Let’s go see the theater he built.”
Khanyi glanced at the two portraits once more and followed him into another grand hall.
“Don’t you like theater? Half a century ago, this hall was brightly lit every night, showcasing Wagner’s dramas,” he said, his voice echoing in the empty hall. “Now, it has fallen into disrepair…”
She looked up, surveying the walls adorned with paintings depicting the tales of knights, illustrating the love story between the handsome Swan Knight Lohengrin and the beautiful Princess Rebecca.
“We need light,” he raised his voice, and suddenly the lights on the walls flickered to life. She stepped back in astonishment as the figures in the paintings seemed to come alive under the illumination.
“This is not magic, just a remote control device…” He walked toward the central stage, raising his left arm, “This cursed place often drives people mad, doesn’t it?”
He stepped into the center of the stage, raising his voice, reciting solemnly, “Woher ich kam der Fahrt, noch wie mein Nam’ und Art.” Apologies, I was quoting the most frequently performed drama on this stage, Wagner’s “Lohengrin.” It means, “Never ask where I come from, my name and identity.”
Khanyi looked at the stage, where the tall man in a black cloak stood, loudly narrating the story, “The Princess Rebecca is accused of murdering her brother—the Duke’s heir. The Swan Knight Lohengrin appears to fight for Rebecca’s honor, defeating the accuser, Count Telramund. That foolish woman, out of doubt and jealousy, questioned his sincerity, asking the forbidden question. The great Swan Knight could only return to the land of the covenant after revealing his identity, forever guarding the Holy Grail.”
