As a well-known pacifist, Ludwig was considered one of the worst military leaders in history. He referred to his officers as ‘clipped hedgehog heads’, and when he saw a tired-looking sentry outside his residence, he would order a sofa brought out to him. Despite his aversion to war, Ludwig thought he looked exceptionally handsome in his military uniform, so he wore it often. When he did, he liked having imaginary conversations with famous generals.
Unfortunately, this type of behaviour became more common towards the end. A strong believer in reincarnation, Ludwig once signed a letter ‘Louis’ and added ‘of our fifth reign’, possibly believing he used to be the king of France. Sometimes his servants would enter the dining hall and hear him having imaginary conversations with members of the French court. His admiration of Marie Antoinette was so extreme he had a statue of her placed on one of his terraces. Anytime he passed it, he would take off his hat and gently stroke her cheek. On occasion, he also liked to dress up as Louis XIV, who was known for his exaggerated walking style. In an attempt to imitate him, Ludwig would throw his leg out as far as he could reach, and then he would slam his foot down as if squashing a bug. He would repeat this process again and again, his footsteps echoing in the palace as he moved across the floor like a spastic giraffe.
Nevertheless, in spite of his antics, his enemies wouldn’t have acted so decisively if Ludwig’s biggest sin had been his eccentricities. As peculiar as he was, his behaviour probably would have been overlooked since it had never threatened the future of Bavaria.
But everything changed when he created the black swan.
Ulster explained. ‘One of the reasons Ludwig was such a popular ruler was because he never used government funds to build any of his castles. Instead, he drained his family fortune, spending hundreds of millions of marks on his projects. Ironically, even though it wasn’t his intent, Ludwig’s indulgence actually stimulated the Bavarian economy. Not only did he create thousands of jobs for labourers, but his money slowly trickled throughout the region, one peasant at a time. For many years, the only group that had a valid complaint about Ludwig’s spending habits was his family. After all, he was wasting their inheritance. But as luck would have it, he had only one sibling – his younger brother, Otto – and he was even crazier than Ludwig.’
‘Yeah,’ Jones joked, ‘how lucky can one guy get?’
Ulster instantly regretted his choice of words. ‘Obviously I didn’t mean he was blessed to have a crazy sibling. I meant lucky in terms of the hereditary monarchy. If Otto, his next of kin and potential successor, had been the least bit ambitious, he would have fought for Ludwig’s crown much earlier. And if he had won it, he would have controlled the purse strings. However, since Otto had been declared insane in 1875 – well before Ludwig had gone into debt and started borrowing large piles of money from outside sources – there was no one willing to challenge his authority. Not until he went too far.’
‘Let me guess,’ Payne said. ‘You’re talking about the black swan.’
Ulster nodded. ‘When the royal coffers began to run dry, Ludwig tried to raise funds for his projects through legal means. He asked the Bavarian finance minister to arrange a loan of seven and a half million marks from a consortium of German banks, which temporarily kept him afloat. But Ludwig realized the money wouldn’t last long, especially at the rate he was spending it. With that in mind, he went to the drawing board – literally went to the drawing board with a quill and ink – and designed the black swan. As you can see, Ludwig was a talented artist. He figured if he was going to start an organization, he might as well have some fun with it.’
Payne glanced at the symbol on the lid. Admittedly, it did have a certain flair. ‘What type of organization are you talking about?’
‘The secret kind.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning he didn’t want people to know about it.’
Payne growled softly. ‘Believe it or not, I know what secret means. I meant, what was the function of the organization?’
‘Sorry,’ Ulster said, blushing. He was so excited about the discovery, he was rambling more than usual. ‘Ludwig’s goal was to acquire funds through illicit means.’
Kaiser laughed. ‘He became a thief? That’s awesome!’
Jones was tempted to tease Kaiser, then thought better of it.
Ulster shook his head. ‘Not a thief, per se. More like the head of a new syndicate. Ludwig hatched a series of crazy schemes, then recruited his most loyal followers to carry them out. Unfortunately, most of his men realized that Ludwig was bonkers, so they only pretended to follow his orders – often with comic results.’
‘Such as?’ Jones asked.
Ulster thought of a good example. ‘After being turned down for a loan by a Rothschild bank, Ludwig decided to steal the money instead. Realizing his men might be recognized in Munich, he sent a group of his servants to Frankfurt to rob a bank there. Not soldiers, mind you, but servants – cooks, butlers, stable boys and the like. Obviously these men had no intention of robbing a bank, but all of them wanted a free vacation. With that in mind, the group went to Frankfurt for a few days where they spent plenty of the king’s money. Eventually they returned home empty-handed. When asked about their lack of success, they claimed they had been this close to finishing the job but a last-minute glitch had prevented it.’
Payne, Jones, and Kaiser laughed. It sounded like the plot of a bad movie.
‘So,’ Payne guessed, ‘the government caught wind of these crazy schemes and decided to remove Ludwig before he did irreparable damage to the crown.’
‘Actually, no. The servants didn’t want to be punished – or ruin a good thing – so most of these stories didn’t surface until long after Ludwig had been murdered.’
‘Really? Then what got him in trouble?’ Payne asked.
Ulster pointed at the gold. ‘Rumours about the black swan.’
20
Unlike some historians who refused to offer an opinion about anything until every fact had been collected and studied ad nauseam, Ulster tended to develop theories on the wing. Sometimes that resulted in a rambling monologue that went on for ever, but Payne and Jones had been around him enough to understand his process. For Ulster, talking about the subject matter was the key. As he painted the scene for others, pieces of the puzzle fell into place in his own mind.
‘Nine months before his murder,’ Ulster explained, ‘Ludwig summoned the best horsemen in his kingdom to Linderhof – one of his castles – and asked them to deliver a series of letters across Europe. To escape detection, the riders were sent on their journeys in the dead of night. According to a witness who worked in the stables, each of the documents had been sealed in advance, and each had been stamped with an elaborate black swan. Other than that, not much is known about their mysterious quest. No one knows what the letters said, where they were sent, or if they were actually delivered.’
‘Why didn’t someone ask the riders?’ Payne asked.
‘Why? Because the riders never returned.’
‘None of them?’
Ulster shook his head. ‘No one knows if they were shot, captured, or ordered to stay away.’
‘That’s bizarre,’ Jones said. He was familiar with Ludwig and his castles, but he had never heard about the black swan.