Swan Song

by Elizabeth B. Splaine

  “Why not?”

  “Because just as he is married to Germany, I am married to his cause.”

  Willy’s grip tightened. Ursula removed her hand and stole a glance at the older woman, who was staring directly at her, her narrowed green eyes taking in Ursula’s clothing. Her colorless lips traced a thin line below her aquiline nose, and her auburn hair was pulled back tightly in a no-nonsense bun at the base of her skull. Fräulein Schroeder caught Ursula looking.

  “This is Johanna Wolf. She is the Führer’s chief secretary. She has been with him for some time.”

  Fräulein Wolf gave her colleague a withering look and spoke in a quiet, deep voice. “I am able to speak for myself, Christa. However, I choose not to speak.” She returned her piercing gaze to the birch trees.

  Ursula looked out the window and was startled to see that the landscape had changed dramatically in the short amount of time they’d been driving. The mountain that she’d observed from the plane was now directly in front of them as the spacious car started the winding trek upwards. Large evergreens lined the one-lane road as they wound around curve after curve. On a particularly sharp turn, she glanced down and involuntarily threw herself toward Willy. The car was dangerously close to an edge that dropped off into nothingness. Willy laughed and wrapped his right arm around her shoulders. “It’s alright, Ursula. Erich knows how to negotiate this stretch. I believe that he could drive it while asleep.” In response, the chauffeur smiled in the rearview mirror and said something Ursula couldn’t hear.

  Suddenly day turned into night. Before Ursula had time to react, Erich turned on the headlamps and the tunnel they’d entered was illuminated in white light. The inside of the car became an artist’s palette of hued shadows that danced as the headlamps bounced off the moist stone walls. Ursula turned to face Willy but could discern only the whites of his eyes and the flash of his perfect teeth as they smiled in an effort to calm her. Just as she was about to ask how much longer they would remain in darkness, the car erupted into impossibly bright daylight.

  “We have arrived.”

  Ursula’s heart skipped a beat as the Mercedes climbed a final hill and there, before her, was the most glorious chalet she’d ever seen. A beautiful, expansive lawn climbed to a natural stone foundation that grew into whitewashed walls. Spacious balconies sported jaunty red and white flowers in neat window boxes. If it weren’t for the Nazi flag waving proudly in front of the luxurious estate, Ursula would have fallen in love with the house and its location, high above the market town of Berchtesgaden.

  The guards waved the car through a log and stone checkpoint, and then Erich rolled to a stop in front of a set of stone stairs. He exited the car, removed the luggage from the trunk, and then opened the door and held his hand toward Ursula, who exited and smoothed her skirt. Before she could retrieve her suitcase, two soldiers appeared and whisked away the luggage.

  The two secretaries rushed up the stairs and disappeared as Ursula took Willy’s arm. Halfway to the top, Ursula looked up to see a German shepherd panting and wagging its tail. As they drew closer, the dog turned in circles and barked. Ursula pulled back, unsure of the animal’s intentions, but Willy laughed and called, “Blondi, come!” The dog bounded down the stairs and, as it approached, Ursula turned away, terrified. But it ignored her and jumped into Willy’s outstretched arms, whining and licking his face.

  Ursula stared at the dog and then Willy. “That is disgusting,” she said.

  Willy smiled through the tongue bath. “Ursula, meet Blondi, the best dog in the world.”

  A shrill whistle sounded. Blondi dropped to the stairs and bounded upwards, where Hitler stood smiling down on the ridiculous scene. “I see that Fräulein Becker has made the acquaintance of Blondi.”

  Ursula stood straighter and attempted a smile. “Yes. A lovely creature to be sure.”

  She and Willy finished the upward trek and were greeted with a warm handshake for Willy and a lingering kiss on the hand for Ursula. “How lovely to see you again, Fräulein. Welcome to my humble abode, Der Berghof.”

  “It is our sincere pleasure to be here, Uncle. Thank you for your kind invitation.”

  Hitler’s eyes examined Ursula’s face. “Are you quite alright, my dear? You look peaked. Perhaps it was the plane ride. Had you been on a plane before?”

  “No.”

  Hitler smiled knowingly. “Well, you must be exhausted then. Gretchen will show you to your room, where you shall rest before your performance this evening. We do expect your best.” He held her eyes. His words were benign. His tone was not.

  Ursula realized with alarming clarity that her performance tonight was the most important audition in her life. Der Berghof means the mountain court, she thought. He is a king holding court, and I am the jester, meant to entertain and distract.

  The mischling singing for her supper.

  The Jew singing for her life.

  16

  Ursula was unpacking her suitcase when a light knock sounded, followed by her door opening slightly. “Ursula? It’s Anna.”

  “Come in.”

  Anna entered the dark, oak-paneled bedroom and rushed forward to embrace Ursula. “I’m so glad that you’re here!”

  “Are you?” Ursula asked as she disentangled herself and resumed unpacking.

  “But of course,” Anna replied. “The Führer’s house is breathtaking, but it doesn’t seem like home unless those I love are here as well.”

  Ursula turned to face her. “What of Papa, Anna? Would he be welcomed here?”

  Anna turned away and ran her fingers along the heavy silk, royal blue drapes that adorned each corner of the canopied bed. “Ursula, you sound cross, but why? This is a happy occasion. You are to sing for the Führer in this most glorious of spaces.” Anna spread her arms wide. “You should be honored, nay, humbled, to perform here.” The timbre and tone of her voice revealed the reverence in which she held the estate and its owner.

  Ursula suppressed a shudder. “You astound me, Anna. Germany is crumbling around you, yet you act as if the world is perfect.”

  Anna smiled openly. “My world is perfect.”

  Ursula crossed her arms and looked at the floor. She considered how best to break through the Reich fog that clouded Anna’s perspective. “Is it? You’re in love with a man who will never marry you.”

  Anna narrowed her eyes and smirked. “Yet we have adjoining bedrooms. What do you think of that?”

  “It disturbs me.”

  “I have my own pink tiled bathroom that boasts big, fluffy towels with my monogram on them.”

  “Bully for you,” Ursula said in English. Willy had used the curious phrase after she had performed particularly well. Whereas he had said it borne of pride and happiness, Ursula spoke sarcastically, knowing that Anna wouldn’t understand. She closed her empty suitcase and slid it under the bed. “Anna, did you speak to the Führer about Papa being classified as Aryan?”

  Anna crossed to the window and drew back the blue and gold, brocaded drapes. “I did.”

  “Well? What did he say?”

  “What do you think of Blondi?”

  “Who?”

  “The Führer’s dog.”

  Ursula raised her eyebrows. “I think it’s a dog.”

  Anna continued to stare out the window. “Oh no, Ursula. Do not be mistaken. She is much more than a dog. The Führer loves her. She is loyal only to him.”

  Ursula couldn’t help but smile. “The Führer requires loyalty from all of his subjects, doesn’t he?”

  Anna turned and cut her eyes. Ursula could see that she’d struck a nerve. “You should be wary of your words, Ursula. You are no longer in Berlin. Although the Führer obsesses over you for reasons I cannot fathom . . .” She paused and threw Ursula a supercilious glance. “You are still subject to the same requirements as all who are close to the F
ührer.”

  “Requirements?”

  “Yes. To your point, those around him must project loyalty and humility.”

  “Like the dog.”

  Anna smiled thinly. “Yes, like Blondi.”

  “I didn’t know that you were so fond of dogs, Anna.”

  Anna shook her head. “I don’t care for Blondi. In fact, sometimes when we are dining, I kick her under the table.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he adores her.”

  Ursula laughed. “Anna, you’re jealous of a dog?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Ursula approached her sister, placed her hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. “Oh, my goodness. I was joking, but I see that you are truly jealous of the dog. Anna, what power does this man have over you? Help me understand.”

  Anna’s face collapsed and she turned away. “I cannot explain it, Ursula. I know on the surface that Adolf does not seem like much of a man, but he is good and kind. He cares about me and my music.”

  “He believes in you.”

  Anna whirled around. “Yes! He believes in me. He sees what I can become.”

  “But, Anna, does he see who you are? Not who you can become, but who you are right now? Does he love this Anna?”

  Anna’s eyes became large and she stared through Ursula. After a moment, Ursula shook her head and turned away. “You’re settling for less than you deserve, Anna.”

  “I disagree.”

  A soft knock sounded followed by a whisper. “Ursula, it’s Willy.”

  “Come in.”

  As Willy entered, the smile dropped from his face. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.”

  “Willy, so good to see you!” Anna rushed over and embraced him. “I was just telling Ursula that she must mind her manners while here.”

  Willy cast a nervous glance toward Ursula. “I know better than to advise Ursula on etiquette.”

  “Nevertheless,” Anna continued, “you may want to reinforce the importance of appropriate behavior. Well, I must go.” Anna started toward the door.

  “So suddenly, Anna?”

  Anna turned and tilted her head. “Yes, Ursula. I must dress for dinner. Adolf enjoys when I look my best. It takes me at least an hour to prepare.”

  “Every evening?”

  Anna looked at her with disdain. “But of course.”

  “You never answered my question, Anna.”

  “Which question?”

  “What did the Führer say about Papa being classified as Aryan?”

  “He said that he would consider it.”

  “That’s all he said? Did he say when he might make a final decision?”

  Anna shook her head.

  “Anna, what do you do all day while you’re here?”

  “I walk or swim when it’s warm, of course. I take photographs and practice violin as well.”

  “But you’re really just biding time until you can be with him again, aren’t you?”

  Anna blushed. “You always knew me so well, Ursula. Yes. I am awaiting Adolf’s return.” She smiled, then exited the room.

  Ursula’s eyes lingered on where Anna had been standing. She sighed heavily. “Of course you are,” she whispered.

  ***

  Ursula descended the carpeted stairs dressed in her red silk gown. Her hair was swept into a twist that accentuated her high cheekbones and narrow chin. She had donned minimal makeup, except for the emerald green liner she had applied to accentuate her eyes. The overall effect was startling as she crossed through the dark-paneled entrance to the reception hall, where every head turned at her arrival. Although she was accustomed to being ogled, the sea of dark Nazi uniforms overwhelmed her, and she felt her breath come faster. Suddenly Willy appeared at her side, his right arm around her waist, and his left hand holding hers. He whispered, “You are radiant,” and gently kissed her cheek. Reinforced, Ursula stood taller as she and Willy descended the three steps to the first level of the enormous, marble-floored room. To her right a roaring fire filled the large fireplace, and her eye was drawn to the man who stared into the flames. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood alone amidst a sea of muted activity, and it occurred to Ursula that he looked lonely and sad. As if sensing her scrutiny, Adolf Hitler turned. The look on his face was nothing short of awe as his eyes ran the length of her body, but he quickly recovered and donned a cordial mask as he approached.

  “My dear, you are simply breathtaking. Literally. Like some glorious enchantress, you enter the room and time falls away, as does my breath.”

  He bowed and kissed her hand, and in that tiny span of time, Ursula understood how Anna could be so taken with him. His sincerity in the moment was undeniable, and his eyes were intense as they bored into hers, as if attempting to memorize her every detail. He was, in his way, intoxicating.

  “I trust that you find your accommodations satisfactory?”

  Ursula allowed herself a moment of emotional veracity. “Yes, Herr Hitler. They are more than adequate. Your home is lovely.”

  Willy chimed in. “Yes. Thank you, Uncle, for hosting us.”

  Hitler seemed pleased. He tilted his head in faux obeisance. “It is a pleasure, nephew.” He returned his focus to Ursula. “Thank you for your kind words about the Berghof. This place is mine. I have built it with money I have earned from the sales of my book, Mein Kampf. I designed it and furnished it, along with its artwork, myself.”

  Ursula inspected the painting to her right. “Is that Cupid?”

  The Führer’s face lit up. “It is, my dear. Cupid with Venus, painted by Paris Bordone. You have a good eye.”

  Ursula’s smile was genuine. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  “I dare say that you rival Venus’s beauty this evening.”

  Ursula blushed and looked away. His attentions were making her feel uncomfortable. Her eyes came to rest on a painting on the other side of the room. Hitler followed her gaze and smiled. “Ah. Yes. My Geli.”

  Mesmerized, Ursula walked forward. She felt drawn toward the artwork, unable to stop herself. She examined the painting’s subject.

  It was her.

  Hitler approached and stood so their arms were touching. She could feel heat radiating from his body. They stood like that, one lost in disbelief, the other lost in memory, until Hitler broke the silence.

  “I commissioned Adolf Ziegler to paint this portrait.”

  Ursula remained silent. The detail in the painting lured her, defying her to discover what set her apart from the young woman on canvas.

  “You are her twin, you know.”

  Ursula slowly shook her head. “It’s difficult to believe that painting is not me.”

  “I agree. The first time I saw you in person I was astonished. The resemblance is nothing short of a miracle. Which is why I cannot find it in myself to dislike you, despite your obvious faults.”

  Ursula marveled at Geli’s smile, so similar to her own. The playful glint in her eyes taunted, as if she knew a secret and would share it only with the chosen few. Ursula found herself smiling at her reflection. “She’s beautiful.”

  Hitler turned toward her and spoke quickly. “She is you and you are her. You are everything that she could have been had she applied herself. You are the matured version of Geli.” Ursula turned her head to face him. His eyes burned with feverish excitement; the whispered urgency in his tone scared her.

  “I am not her.”

  “But you could be.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” Ursula searched for Willy. He remained on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with an SS officer she didn’t recognize.

  “It means that I have the power to make you anything you wish to be, to give you anything you desire.”

  Ursula’s shock at the abruptness of
his indecent proposal turned quickly to anger. “What of Anna?”

  Hitler waved his hand as if swatting at a mosquito. “She is a fine specimen to be sure. But you, well . . .”

  Ursula was astonished at his choice of words, and how easily he dismissed a woman who would lay down her life for him.

  “And Willy?” she asked. “You know we are to be married.” As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them. She had spoken without considering the repercussions. She watched Hitler’s eyes glaze over, then refocus, all in the span of one second.

  The dinner chime sounded. He threw his shoulders back and smiled as if they’d just enjoyed a lighthearted conversation. “No matter, my dear. We shall pick up our subject later in the evening.” He offered her his arm. Quickly reviewing her options and finding none, she slipped her arm through his. As they passed Anna, Ursula noted that her sister’s eyes burned with jealousy. Did she overhear the conversation? Ursula wondered. She stared at Anna, trying to communicate her thoughts, but Anna set her mouth and marched away.

  They entered the dining room paneled in cembra pine. A long, wooden table was decorated with vases of colorful flowers, ornate place settings, and silverware engraved with a swastika and a calligraphed AH. Hitler took his place at the head of table and gestured to the chair on his right. The familiarity with which he’d previously spoken vanished. “I would be honored if you would take the seat next to me, Fräulein Becker.” Willy appeared on Ursula’s right side, withdrew her chair and whispered, “I saw you two chatting. It seems that things are going well.”

  Ursula dreadfully wanted to scream at Willy, to drag him to another room to describe the disgust she’d felt at his uncle’s advances. But she pictured Otto seated on their sagging couch, waiting for his dutiful, obedient daughter to return. She smiled weakly and remembered Otto’s words. You are now in the belly of the beast.

  The scrumptious meal of roasted rabbit, rosemary-roasted potatoes, and molasses-glazed carrots was wasted on Ursula, who nibbled at the feast. True to rumor, the Führer ingested only vegetables and abstained from the incredible pinot noir that most of the guests imbibed with relish. Anna sat directly across from Ursula, to the Führer’s left, and Blondi settled on top of Ursula’s feet, as if to take her rightful place next to her master.