He reached the border by noon without problem, and now the long haul was about to begin: the nine-mile walk back to L+|rrach, which he had finished with such victory at the Swiss border only six hours before. Then came the most difficult part of the journey, the road back to Berlin. And then he had to undertake once again the same terrors with Ariana. And once both his children were safely on the Swiss side of the border, he didn't care if he dropped dead in his tracks. In fact, as he crawled through the wires he had cut that morning, he thought that he would be very lucky if he didn't drop dead long before. For a man of his years it had been quite an adventure, but if he could save both Ariana and Gerhard, nothing mattered. He would have done anything in his power, and beyond that, for them.
Once again he stopped, looked around, and listened. Once again he hurried toward the cover of the trees. But this time he was not as lucky as he had been that morning, and he heard footsteps in the brush only a few feet away. He tried to run deeper into the bushes, but the two soldiers were instantly on his heels.
Hi there, grandpa, where you going? To join the army in Berlin?
He tried to grin stupidly at them, but one of the two men on the border patrol nonetheless cocked his gun and took aim at his heart. Where you going?
He decided to tell them, in a thick country accent. To L+|rrach.
How come?
My sister lives there. He felt his heart dancing in his chest.
Does she? How nice. He waved his gun again in the direction of Walmar's breastbone and signaled to the other to commence a search. They tore open his jacket, patted his pockets, and then felt his shirt.
I have my papers in order.
Oh, yeah? Let's see.
He began to reach for them, but before his fingers got there the soldier who had been searching felt something long and smooth concealed under Walmar's right arm.
What's this, grandpa? Hiding something from us? He laughed coarsely and winked at his friend. The old ones were funny. They all thought they were so smart The soldiers tore open the shirt that was now wilted and dirty, never noticing the fine fabric they tore. They had no reason to suspect him. He was just an old country man. But what they found in the secret wallet impressed them, for there was a fortune in large bills and small ones, and their eyes grew round with amazement as they counted what they had found. You were taking this to the F++hrer? They laughed at their own joke and grinned happily at the old man.
He kept his eyes cast down lest they see the anger there and hoped they'd be content just to take his money. But the two soldiers were wise in the ways of war by now. Exchanging a quick glance, they then did what had to be done. The first man stood back while the second one fired. Walmar von Gotthard fell lifelessly into the tall grass around him.
They dragged him firmly by the heels into the deeper brush, stripped him of his papers, pocketed the money, and went back to their hut, where they sat down to count the money in earnest and threw into their open fire the papers of the old man. They never bothered to read them. It didn't matter who he had been. Except to Gerhard, waiting in a hotel room in Zurich. And to Ariana, sitting terrified in her cell in Berlin.
Chapter 16
Lieutenant von Tripp signaled to the soldier with the large key ring to open Ariana's cell. The door creaked slowly open, and both men attempted not to react to the stench that always emanated from inside. All the cells were like that because of the dampness, and of course because no one ever cleaned them out.
Freed from her darkness, Ariana was instantly blinded, unable to see in the bright light. She didn't know for how long she'd been there. She only knew that she had been crying for most of the time. But when she heard them coming, she had quickly dried her eyes and attempted to wash the mascara she knew had run down her face with a corner of her lace slip. She smoothed her hair down quickly, and she waited as she heard them unlock her door. Perhaps there was news of her father and Gerhard? She waited and she prayed, longing to hear familiar voices, but there was only the metallic sound of their keys. At last she could see dimly, and she saw the outline of the tall blond lieutenant who had led her there only the day before.
Walk out of your cell, please, and come with me. She stood up shakily, steadying herself against the wall of her cell, and for an instant he wanted to reach out and help her as she stumbled. She looked so incredibly small and so frail. But the eyes that looked into his a moment later were not those of a fragile beauty begging for help; they were the eyes of a determined young woman desperate for survival and trying to maintain an air of dignity against impossible odds. Her hair had come loose from the sleek figure-eight she had worn the previous evening. It hung down her back now, like a loose shaft of wheat. Her skirt was wrinkled, but expensive, and despite the appalling stench in which she had lain for almost twenty-four hours, a faint hint of her perfume still lingered about her hair.
This way, please, fr+nulein. He stepped carefully to one side and walked just behind her, so he could be sure that she didn't escape him, and as he watched her, he felt even sorrier for her than before. She straightened the narrow shoulders and held her head high as they walked, her heels clicking determinedly down the corridors, and again as they walked up the stairs. Only once did she falter, for an instant, bowing her head as though she were too dizzy to go on. He said nothing as he waited, and in a moment she continued up the stairs, grateful that he hadn't pushed her or shouted at her for not moving on.
But Manfred von Tripp was not like the others. Only Ariana did not know that. He was a gentleman, as she was a lady, and not for an instant would he have pushed her, or shouted, or prodded, or whipped. And there were those who didn't like him for that. Von Rheinhardt himself didn't particularly like Von Tripp. But it didn't matter too much because Von Rheinhardt was the captain and he could make Von Tripp dance if he so chose.
As they reached the top of the last flight of stairs, Lieutenant von Tripp once again took a firm grip on her arm and led her back down the familiar hallway, where once again the captain was waiting, grinning and leisurely smoking a cigarette, as he had been the day before. The lieutenant rapidly saluted, clicked his heels, and disappeared.
Good afternoon, fr+nulein. Did you spend a pleasant evening? I hope you were not too ' er ' uncomfortable in your ' ah ' room. Ariana didn't answer. Sit down. Sit down. Please. She took a seat without speaking and stared at him from her seat. I do regret to tell you we have not heard from your father. And I rather fear that some of my conjectures may have been all too true. Your brother has also not surfaced, which makes him, as of today, a deserter. All of which leaves you, dear fr+nulein, for the moment, rather high and dry. And somewhat at our mercy, I might add. Perhaps today you'd like to share with us a little more of what you know?
I know nothing more than what I told you yesterday, Captain.
How unfortunate for you. In that case, fr+nulein, I will not waste your time or mine interrogating you further. I will simply leave you to your own devices, sitting in your cell, while we wait for news. Oh, God, for how long? she wanted to scream as he said it, but nothing showed on her face.
He stood up and pressed the buzzer, and a moment later Von Tripp appeared again. Where the hell is Hildebrand? Every time I call for him, he's off somewhere.
I'm sorry, sir. I believe he's out to lunch. In fact, Manfred had absolutely no idea where he was, nor did he care. Hildebrand was always wandering, leaving everyone else stuck with his damn errand-boy job.
Escort the prisoner back to her cell, then. And tell Hildebrand I want to see him when he comes back.
Very well, sir. The lieutenant shepherded Ariana from the room. She was familiar with lie routine now, the long halls, the endless walk. At least she was not confined in her cell and for these moments she could breathe and move and touch and see. She wouldn't have cared if they had walked her down those halls for hours. Anything except the horrors of the tiny, filthy cell.
It was on the second stairway that they ran into Hildebrand, smiling happily a
nd singing a snatch of a tune. He looked up at Von Tripp, startled, and then with interest his eyes combed Ariana, as they had done the morning before when he had walked into her room in her father's house.
Good afternoon, fr+nulein. Enjoying your stay? She didn't answer, but the look she gave him would have burned holes in rocks. He glanced back at her with irritation and then smiled at Manfred. Taking her back? Manfred nodded with disinterest. He had better things to do than talk to Hildebrand. He couldn't bear the man, or most of the officers he worked with, but ever since he'd been wounded at the front, he'd had to put up with jobs like this.
The captain wants to see you. I told him you were out to lunch.
I was, dear Manfred. In fact, I was. He grinned again then, saluted briefly, and moved on up the stairs as they continued down. He cast a last glance over his shoulder at Ariana as Manfred moved her through the last door, back down the halls, and into the bowels of the building and at last to the door of her cell. Somewhere nearby there was a woman screaming. Ariana shut her ears to the sound and found herself relieved at last to collapse on the floor of her cell.
After three days she walked the corridor again to see the captain; again he told her that her father and brother had not returned. But now she could not understand it, and she knew that either they were lying that they had found her father and Gerhard or something had gone desperately wrong. If they were in fact telling her the truth, then there seemed to be no news of either her father or her brother, and after a few brief moments in his office, Von Rheinhardt sent her away.
This time it was Hildebrand who led her down the corridors, his fingers pressing her flesh to the very bone, yet at the same time, his hand was placed high enough on her arm so that with the back of his hand he could touch her breast. He spoke to her in odd familiar bits and pieces, as though she were some animal to be urged on, with kicks and shoves if necessary, and as he never failed to mention, there was always his whip.
This time when they reached the door to her private dungeon he did not wait for the woman to conduct the search. He slipped his hands slowly over her body, down her stomach, up her buttocks, and across her breasts. With every inch of her body, Ariana shrank from him, looking with hatred into his face as he laughed and the woman firmly shut the door between them. Good night, fr+nulein . And with that she heard him walk away then, but the footsteps stopped only a few feet away. She heard him bark curtly at the matron.
This one. I haven't tried this one before. , Listening intently with her eyes closed, Ariana heard the keys rattle, the door open, and then his footsteps disappeared. Moments later she could hear screams and pleading, the sound of his crop whizzing through the air and into flesh, and then silence, no more screaming, only a long series of horrific grunts. But she could no longer hear the woman, and in her worst fantasies, she couldn't quite imagine what he'd done. Had he beaten the woman into unconsciousness? Had he whipped her till she died? But at last she heard quiet sobbing, and she knew the woman was alive.
Standing pressed against the wall in her tiny cell, she waited, listening for the footsteps, fearing that they would approach her door again, but instead they turned down the long corridor and rhythmically disappeared. Sighing softly with relief, she sank back to her seat on the floor.
It went on for days and weeks, with regular visits to the captain, who informed her that they had heard nothing of her father and he had not returned. By the end of the third week, she was exhausted, filthy, starving, and she couldn't understand what had happened, why they hadn't come back for her. Or was Von Rheinhardt lying? Perhaps Gerhard and her father had been captured and were prisoners, too. The only answer she couldn't let herself accept was the worst one. They had been killed.
It was after her last visit to the captain, after three weeks of those visits, that Hildebrand escorted her back to her cell. Up until then it had often been the other lieutenant, and now and then it had been someone else.
But today it was he who held her arm as they made their way into the depths of the prison. She was exhausted and three or four times she stumbled. Her hair hung in a tangled mass down her back and around her face. She swept it back often with long, delicate fingers, but the nails were broken now, and there was no longer any trace of perfume in her hair The cashmere sweater she had first worn so jauntily around her shoulders, she clutched tightly around her for warmth, and her skirt and blouse were torn and dirty her stockings she had thrown away after the first few days. He took it all in with a look of interest, like a man investing in a herd of cattle or buying sheep, and on the last stairway in the prison they ran into Lieutenant Manfred von Tripp. He greeted Hildebrand curtly, and his eyes avoided Ariana's gaze He always looked just above her, as though he had no particular interest in her face.
Good afternoon, Manfred. , Hildebrand was oddly casual as they passed, but Von Tripp saluted and murmured only, Afternoon. And then as though to watch them, he turned briefly and stared. Ariana was too tired to notice, but Hildebrand cast him a knowing look and grinned. Von Tripp turned away then and went upstairs, back to his desk. But as he sat there, his anger burned. Hildebrand was taking much too long to come back to work. He had taken her down there almost twenty minutes earlier; there was no reason for it to take so long. Unless ' slowly the realization dawned on him. The fool. He would even pull a stunt like that with her. Did he have any idea who the girl's father was, or from what world she came? Didn't he realize that she was a German, a girl of class and breeding, no matter where her father was or what he'd done? Maybe he could get away with his appalling behavior with some of the prisoners, but surely not with a girl like this. And whoever the victims were, Hildebrand's outrageous antics made Manfred sick. Without thinking further, he found himself hurrying down the hallways and then clattering down the stairs. Manfred knew it didn't matter in his heart who the hell her father was, not to them. To them she was only a girl. He found himself praying that he was not too late.
He grabbed the key ring from the matron, gesturing to her to stay seated, and barked curtly, Never mind. Stay there. And then with a quick look over his shoulder he asked a question, Is Hildebrand down there? The woman in uniform nodded, and Manfred hurried down the last flight of stairs with the keys, the heels of his boots clicking smartly.
The sounds within told him that Hildebrand was in her cell. Without uttering a single syllable, Manfred turned the key and pulled open the door, and what he saw there was Ariana, almost naked, her clothes in shreds around her, and blood streaming from a cut on the side of her face. Hildebrand stood there also, his face gleaming, his eyes wild with lust, the whip in one hand, the other tearing at Ariana's tangled hair. But from the skirt still barely draped around her middle and from the fight he still saw in her eyes, he knew that the worst had not yet happened. He was grateful that he hadn't been too late.
Get out.
What the hell business is it of yours, damn you? She's ours.
She's not ours,' she belongs to the Reich, just as you do, just as I everyone does.
The hell she does. You and I aren't sitting in this prison.
So you rape her, is that it? The two men stared at each other in blind fury, and for an instant Ariana, panting and breathless in the corner, wondered if her assailant would also whip the lieutenant who outranked him. But he was not quite that mad Von Tripp spoke first and stood back from the door. I told you to get out. I'll see you upstairs. Hildebrand snarled as he swept past him, and for an instant in the dark cell neither Manfred nor Ariana spoke. And then, bravely sweeping tears from her cheeks and pushing her hair back from her eyes, she attempted to cover herself decently, as Manfred gazed quietly at the floor. When he sensed that she was calmer, he looked up at her again, and this time he did not avoid her face, or the painfully blue eyes. Fr+nulein von Gotthard ' I'm sorry ' I should have known. I'll see to it that this doesn't happen again. It shouldn't. And then, We're not all like that. I can't tell you how sorry I am. And he was. He had had a younger sister who was close to A
riana's age, although he himself was thirty-nine. Are you all right? They stood there talking in the dark, with only a small wedge of light peeking through the door.
Her blond hair flying, she nodded, and he handed her his handkerchief to dab at the blood still dripping down her face. I think I'm all right. Thank you. She was far more grateful than he knew. She had thought that Hildebrand was going to kill her, and when she understood instead that he was going to rape her, she'd hoped that he would kill her first.
Manfred looked at her again for a long moment, and then sighed deeply. As much as he had once believed in it, he had come to hate this war at last. It had become a corruption of everything he had once trusted and defended. It was like watching a woman you once respected become a whore. Is there anything else I can do?
She smiled at him then, holding her sweater wrapped around her torso, with those big, sad, waiflike eyes. You've already done everything you can. The only other thing you can do for me is find my father. And then, suddenly, daring to ask him the truth, her eyes met his. Is he here somewhere? In the Reichstag?
Slowly Manfred shook his head. We've had no news. And then, Perhaps he'll still come. Don't give up hope, fr+nulein. Never do that.
I won't. After today. She smiled at him again, and looking at her gravely, he nodded, stepped outside, and once more locked the door. Slowly Ariana sank to the floor again, thinking of what had happened, and of the officer who had providentially arrived just in time. As she sat in the darkness of her cell, her hatred for Hildebrand dimmed with her gratitude for what Von Tripp had done. They were an odd lot, all of them. She would never understand their kind.
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