the Ring (1980)

by Steel, Danielle

  I beg your pardon? You expected me to wash out bathrooms in a ballgown? Is that what Nazi women do? Her eyes widened sarcastically as she threw another cashmere sweater on the pile. I had no idea they were so formal.

  Perhaps they're not, but I doubt very seriously that the captain intends to have you scrub floors until the end of the war. Your father had friends, they will invite you. Other officers

  She cut him off brutally with eyes of stone. Like Lieutenant Hildebrand, Lieutenant? There was a long silence between them and then she turned away, I'm sorry.

  I understand. I just thought ' She was so young, so pretty, and there would be plenty of opportunity for her to do more than just scrub floors. But she was right and he knew it. She would be better off hiding in the barracks. There would be others like Hildebrand. Even more of them now that she was free. They would see her now, polishing doorknobs, raking leaves, scrubbing toilets ' they would see the huge blue eyes, the cameo face, the graceful hands. And they would want her. She would be accessible to them all now. There was nothing to stop them. She was helpless, not as much as she was in the fetid cell, but almost. She belonged to the Third Reich, a possession, an object, like a bed or a chair, and she could be used accordingly, if someone chose to. And Manfred knew that someone would. At the thought of it, Manfred von Tripp felt sick. Perhaps you're right. He said nothing further; she finished her packing and then lowered her suitcase to the floor. She had left on the bed one heavy brown tweed skirt, a dark brown cashmere sweater, and a warm brown coat, along with suitable underwear and a pair of flat brown suede shoes.

  Do I have time to change my clothes?

  He nodded silently and she disappeared. Officially, he was probably supposed to watch her, but he would have put neither of them through that ordeal. She was not a prisoner to that extent, that she had to be watched every moment. That kind of nonsense was what Hildebrand would have done, forcing her to undress in front of him while he drooled and eventually reached out to pull her toward him. Those were not the games that Manfred von Tripp played.

  She returned from the bathroom a moment later, a solemn portrait in brown, with only her pale golden hair providing some sunlight on the somber scene. She pulled the coat on over her sweater and Manfred had to fight the urge to help. It was painful and confusing standing there beside her. He had to let her carry her own suitcase as well. It fought against everything he had been taught, everything he felt for this tiny, fragile stranger who was leaving her house for the last time. But he had already bought her lunch and saved her once from rape. He could not do much more, not now.

  Ariana paused at the top of the last flight of stairs, glancing again at her father's door, and then at Von Tripp standing beside her. I'd like to '

  What's in there? His brows knit uncomfortably.

  My father's study. Oh, Christ, what was she after? Some cash he had hidden somewhere? Some treasure? A tiny pistol she could aim at an assailant's head, or even at his own as they returned to the heart of Berlin? Is it purely sentimental? Fr+nulein, that is the general's study now ' I really ought to '

  Please. She looked so bereft and so helpless, he couldn't force himself to refuse. Instead he nodded slowly, sighed, and cautiously opened the door. An orderly was inside laying out a dress uniform for the general, and Manfred looked at him questioningly.

  Anyone else here?

  No, Lieutenant.

  Thank you, well only be a moment.

  She walked quickly to the desk, but touched nothing, then more slowly she walked to the window and stared out at the lake. She remembered when her father had stood there talking about Max Thomas, and then telling her the truth about her mother, and when he had stood there again the night before he left with Gerhard. If only she had known it would be their last parting '

  Fr+nulein ' She pretended not to hear him, her eyes rooted to the still blue Grunewaldsee. We have to be going. And then, as she nodded, once again she remembered. The reason why she had wanted to come to the study. The book.

  She glanced casually over the bookcase, knowing long before she reached it where it was, and the lieutenant watched her, hoping that she would do nothing desperate that would force him to report her or return her to her cell. But she was only touching one or two of the old leather-bound books that stood in such abundance in the bookcases of her father's room. May I take one?

  I suppose so. It was harmless after all, and he really had to get back to his office in Berlin. But do hurry. We've been here for almost an hour.

  Yes, I'm sorry ' I'll take this one. After looking at three or four, she settled on one, a volume of Shakespeare, translated into German, leather-bound and well worn. Manfred glanced at the title, nodded, and opened the door. Fr+nulein.

  Thank you, Lieutenant. , She glided through it with her head held high, praying that her look of victory would not have her away. In the book she had taken from her father's bookcase reposed the only treasure that she still had. The diamond signet ring was there safely couched by Shakespeare, along with the emerald engagement ring. She slipped the book quickly into the deep pocket of her brown tweed coat, where no one could see it and where she couldn't lose the very last of what she had. Her mother's rings.

  That and her father's book were all that she had left of her lost life. Ariana's head was filled with memories as she walked sedately down the long hall.

  As she did so, the suitcase slapping heavily at her legs, rendering her a refugee where she had once been hostess, a door opened suddenly on her right and a uniform dripping medals instantly appeared.

  Fr+nulein von Gotthard, how nice to see you.

  She looked at him in astonishment, too startled to be repulsed. It was die aging General Ritter, who was now the master of her father's house. But he held out a hand to her, as though he had met her on the way to tea.

  How do you do. She responded by reflex and he quickly took her hand, looking into the deep blue eyes, and then smiling as though he had found something with which he was very pleased.

  I'm very happy to see you. She didn't suggest that he had no reason not to be. He was already the proud possessor of their house. It has been a very long time.

  Has it? She couldn't ever remember meeting him before.

  Yes, I believe the last tune we met you were, oh. ' about sixteen ' at a ball at the Opera House. His eyes glowed. You looked lovely. For a moment she looked absent. It had been her first ball. And she had met that officer she liked so much ' and that Father hadn't quite approved of ' what had been his name? I'm sure you don't remember it. It was about three years ago. She almost expected him to pinch her cheek, and for a moment Ariana felt sick. But she was grateful for the training that made her able to endure as well as pretend. She owed Hedwig a debt after all.

  Yes, I remember. Her voice was flat, but not quite rude.

  Ah, do you? He looked immensely pleased. Well, you'll have to come back again sometime. Perhaps for a little party here. He rolled the words from his tongue in nauseating fashion and for an instant Ariana thought she might throw up. She would die first. In fact, the prospect of death was becoming rapidly more enticing as she began to understand what really was to be her fate. She did not answer him. But the blue eyes shrank from him as he reached out and touched her arm. Yes, yes, I do hope we see you here again. We will be having lots of little celebrations, fr+nulein. You must share them with us. After all, this was your house. Is, you bastard, not was! She wanted to shout the words, but she only dropped her eyes politely, so he could not see the fury that raged in her heart.

  Thank you.

  The general's eyes shot a cryptic message at Von Tripp, and then he waved vaguely at the aide who Stood behind him. Remember to call Von Rheinhardt and tell him ' er ' give him an ' er ' invitation for Fr+nulein von Gotthard. That is if ' er ' there are no other invitations for her already. He was being careful this time. The last concubine he had added to his pack had been a woman he had stolen from right under yet another general's nose. It had caused a lot m
ore trouble than the woman had been worth. And although this one was pretty, he had enough headaches on his hands just then. Two of the trainloads of paintings he had been waiting for from Paris had just been bombed. So this pretty little virgin was not quite the most pressing affair. Yet he would have enjoyed adding her to his other girls. He smiled at her one last time, saluted, and disappeared.

  The suitcase was in the backseat, her head was held high, and the tears streamed down her face. She didn't bother to hide them from the lieutenant. Let him see. Let them all see how she felt about what they'd done. But what Ariana didn't see as she watched the house disappear behind them was that there were tears in Manfred von Tripp's eyes, too. He had all too clearly understood the general's cryptic message. Ariana von Gotthard was about to be added to the lecherous old bastard's harem. Unless someone else put in a claim for her first.

  Chapter 17

  All finished with the girl? Captain von Rheinhardt looked at Manfred irritably as he stalked past his desk later that afternoon.

  Yes, sir.

  Did you take her out to Grunewald to get her things?

  Yes, sir.

  It's a nice house, isn't it? Lucky man, the general. I wouldn't mind having a house like that. But he wasn't doing badly either. A family whose home had a view of the Charlottenburger Lake and Schloss had been fortunate enough to give up its home for him.

  The captain went on to speak to Manfred of other matters. Hildebrand kept busy answering the phones. Time and time again Manfred found himself wondering if one of the calls was General Ritter's aide asking about the girl. Then he would stop his thoughts. What difference did it make to him? She was nothing to him, just a young woman who had fallen on hard times, lost her family and her home. So what? Thousands of others were in the same boat. And if she was attractive enough to catch the eye of a general, then it was just something that she would have to learn to handle herself. It was one thing to protect her from the viciousness of a junior officer planning to rape her in her cell, but quite another to steal her from a general. That would mean trouble. For him.

  Manfred von Tripp had been careful to avoid problems with his superiors and other officers during the entire course of the war. It wasn't a war that he approved of, but this was the country that he served. He was a German, first and foremost, and more than many others he had paid dearly for the fervor of the Reich. But still he did not argue, he kept his mouth shut and endured. And one day it would be over, he would go back to the land of his parents, and the schloss would be his. He wanted to restore the castle to its medieval splendor, rent out the farms, and bring the surrounding lands around the castle back to life. And there he would remember Marianna, the little boy and girl, and his parents. He wanted nothing more than to survive the war for that. He wanted nothing further, nothing from the Nazis, no stolen priceless paintings, no misbegotten jewels or cars, he wanted no plunder, no rewards, no gold, no money. What he had wanted and held dear was already gone.

  But what troubled Manfred as he sat at his desk and listened was that she was so innocent and so young. In a way their lives were much the same now, but Manfred was thirty-nine and she was nineteen. He had lost everything but he hadn't been helpless the way she was now. He had been agonized, broken, anguished, but not frightened and alone' Manfred had heard the stories. He knew the kinds of games the old man played, the girls together, he and the girls, a little perversion, a little brutality, a little sadomasochism, a little whip, a little ' Thinking of it made him sick. What was wrong with all of them?

  What happened to men when they went to war? God, he was tired of it. He was tired of it all.

  He threw his pen down on his desk after Captain von Rheinhardt left the office and sat back in his chair with a sigh. It was then that the call came from the general, or rather from his aide, who spoke to Hildebrand, who only grinned. He put the phone back in its cradle after taking the message that the captain should call him back in the morning. Something about a woman. Christ, that old fart is going to end this war with his own army an army of women.

  Did his aide say who?

  Hildebrand shook his head. Just a little matter he would like to arrange with the captain. Unless, as the aide put it, it's already too late. The aide said this is one cookie the general figures will be off the pastry shelves pretty quick. She may already be gone. Knowing Ritter, she'll be lucky if she is. I wonder who he's got his eye on this time.

  Who knows. But after the phone call Manfred stirred restlessly in his seat. Hildebrand left for the day, and Manfred found himself sitting there, at his desk, for another two hours. He couldn't get his mind off her and what Hildebrand had said. The general wanted Ariana ' unless the cookie was already off the pastry shelf' . He stood there for a long moment, as though spellbound, and then, hurriedly grabbing his topcoat, he turned off the light in the office and ran down the stairs, out of the building, and across the street.

  Chapter 18

  Lieutenant Manfred von Tripp found Ariana von Gotthard easily at the barracks. He had been planning to inquire at the desk, but it turned out to be unnecessary. She was outside raking leaves and placing great armloads of them in a barrel, which afterward she would have to burn. It was easy to see that it was the first time in her life she had done any manual labor.

  Fr+nulein von Gotthard. He looked official, his shoulders squared, his head terribly erect, like a man about to make a major pronouncement, and had Ariana known him better, she would have seen, too, that lurking in his blue-gray eyes was also fear. But she didn't know him that well. In fact, she didn't know Manfred von Tripp at all.

  Yes, Lieutenant? She said it with exhaustion, pushing a long stray lock of blond hair from her eyes. She was wearing delicate brown suede gloves to work in, they being the only ones she had. She imagined that he had arrived to give her still more orders. Since that afternoon she had scrubbed down two bathrooms, cleaned trays in the cafeteria, carried boxes from the top floor to the basement, and now this. It hadn't exactly been a leisurely afternoon.

  Please be so kind as to collect your bag.

  My what? She looked at him in total confusion.

  Your suitcase.

  Can't I keep it here? Or what was it, had someone admired the leather, and now they were taking her suitcase, too? She was still carrying the little leather book with the false compartment in her coat. And when she had had to leave it in her room, she had hidden it in a ball of laundry under the bed. It was the only place she had been able to think of in her rush to get to work. The matron in charge was a large bull-shaped woman with a voice better suited to the drill ground than a women's barracks. She had kept Ariana appropriately terrified all afternoon. But now Ariana looked at Manfred with fresh disgust. So someone wants my suitcase. Well, let them have it. I'm not going anywhere for a while.

  You misunderstand. His voice was gentle, but hers was not. She had to remind herself always that this was the man who had saved her from Hildebrand that night in her cell. Otherwise it was too easy just to think that this man was like the others. Because, after all, he was. He was inextricably woven into the fabric of her nightmare, and she could no longer separate his needs from theirs. She didn't believe in anything anymore, or anyone. Not even this tall, quiet officer who looked at her gently but firmly now. In fact, Fr+nulein Gotthard, you're quite wrong. You are going somewhere.

  I am? At first she looked at him in sudden terror. Now what? What were they planning for her now? Some terrible internment in a camp somewhere? Then a sharp stab of joy Could it be? Have they found my father? His quick look +|f dismay told her all she needed to know.

  I'm sorry, fr+nulein.

  His voice was soothing. He had seen the terror in her face. You will be safe. For a while at least. And that was something these days. A while was better than nothing at all. And which of them were safe? In the past year of never-ending air raids, the bombs never ceased to fall.

  What do you mean, I will be safe? She eyed him with fear and suspicion, clutching tightly
to her rake, but he only shook his head now and spoke softly.

  Trust me. With his eyes he tried to reassure her but she still looked desperately afraid. Now please be so kind as to pack your suitcase. I will wait for you in the main hall. She looked at him with despair blending into desperation. What did it matter now?

  What should I tell the matron? I didn't finish out here.

  I'll explain.

  She nodded and walked into the building as, silently, Manfred watched her. He found himself wondering what the devil he was doing. Was he as crazy as the general? But it was nothing like that, he told himself. He was only doing it to protect the girl. Yet he, too, had felt the stirrings. He was not unaware of the beauty that lay only faintly obscured by the drab clothes and her distress. It would take very little to polish the diamond to its old luster, but that was not what he was doing, it was not why he was taking her to Wannsee that night. He was taking her there to save her from the general, to take the cookie off the bakery shelf. Ariana von Gottibard would be safe in Wannsee, no matter what.

  Manfred spoke briskly to the matron, explaining that the girl was being removed. He managed to explain with inferences and subtle nuances that it was a matter of someone's pleasure rather than any military decision regarding the girl. The matron understood perfectly. Most of the girls like Ariana were snatched up by officers within a few days. Only the ugly ones stayed to help her, and when she had first seen Ariana, she had known it wouldn't last. It was just as well really. The girl was too small and delicate to do much work. She saluted the lieutenant smartly and assigned another girl to go outside and rake.

  Ariana was back in the main hall not quite ten minutes later, with her suitcase clutched tightly in her hand. Manfred said nothing, but turned on his heel and marched swiftly out of the building, expecting Ariana to follow him, which she did. He opened the door of his Mercedes, took her suitcase from her this time, and tossed it in the back, and then he walked around the car, got behind the wheel, and started the motor. For the first time in a very long time, Manfred von Tripp looked pleased.