“Fortingeray, your opinion is duly noticed, but rules are rules. He's one of us and from a much older line than yours. We will discuss all this at the meeting. Guntram, go with my cousin.” I swear he fulminated the man with his look.
I looked for Albert von Lintorff and he was speaking with several men more and I remained in a corner.
“Guntram, sit with me, child,” the prince zu Löwenstein asked me from the sofa he was sitting with another old man, in his 70's. “Come here, we don't bite any longer.” he told me again and cracked a smile. “Rasim Mladic Pavicevic, this is Guntram de Lisle.”
“How do you do?” I said thinking that perhaps this one was related to Goran.
“You look very much like your uncle Roger. Goran has spoken with me about you.”
“I couldn't tell, sir. I never met my uncles or any other member of my family.”
“Good for you. According to my nephew, you're nothing like them. He tells that you're like our Pavel; an artist too.”
“Guntram paints well and has no interest in our projects, Mladic. He will remain as an outsider.”
“In that case, I have no buts if this is what the Griffin wants. That Russian will get over it,” the Serb replied and both men forgot I was there, like a good flower vase.
“Ferdinand von Kleist is still against us.”
“He may dissent with us, Gustav, but he will not vote against us. We have already five of eleven votes.”
“Six of eleven votes, Wallenberg will side with the Duke. He's not exactly thrilled but he supports his Griffin. With von Kleist is enough.”
“Goran tells me you will sit with him in the Mass. That's a clear signal for the rest of the associates. It's simply stupid to place the blame of our confrontation with these people on you. The Russians want to come to our land since a long time and any excuse is good to attack us.”
“Excuse me sir, but you're seriously mistaken,” I said, and both looked at me like hungry wolves.
Nothing that could be compared to Stephanov or his friends. “Mr. Repin had nothing to do with whatever might have happened with you. One of his underlings, Morozov attacked him and helped his wife to nearly kill me in an attempt to weaken him. They wanted to take over and used the Duke's wrath to their advantage. Mr. Repin never lied to the Duke on this. Constantin always spoke about him in a mixture of awe, fear and respect. He has no reasons to fight with him. He simply can't afford it. One slap from him and he lost half of his fortune.”
“Could you be mistaken, child?”
“I don't know. It will not be the first time he lied to me,” I admitted very slowly.
“Thank you for being so forthcoming with us, my child. It makes our decisions much easier.”
“Which decisions?”
“About your future. The Griffin has granted you a place beside him, as a part of his family. You should be honoured.”
“I have to return to Russia in one year,” I said, becoming more and more agitated.
“Do you want to return?”
“Mr. Repin expects me to return,” I replied.
“Do you want to go back?” Mladic asked me and I knew that he was a man you couldn't lie to.
“No, I wanted to leave Russia. There's nothing for me in St. Petersburg, but on the other hand, I don't want to cause more troubles between you and him and I will return as agreed. Repin will be furious if the Duke does not fulfil his part of the deal. I only hope that this year apart will make him rethink his affections toward me.”
“You have no feelings for that man?”
“No, nothing at all but I can't have any negative feelings against him; he was always very kind to me and I would be ungrateful if I were to deny it.”
“Guntram, Repin is our concern, not yours. You're just a young boy and an outsider. Go with my nephew and stay with him,” Rasim Mladic ordered me.
Better obey and stay with Goran. At least he doesn't give me the creeps like all of them do!”
“So Rasim, what do you think?” “Gustav, my friend, I'm not happy about this and I think it's a dangerous move from the Griffin, but I will not change my vote. The boy stays. Perhaps, he even makes me a favour too and allows me to finish that pending business with his wretched uncle.”
“Nothing would please me more than to see you finally crushing that snake of Roger. He ruined my niece's life.”
“This boy didn't have it easy either. He lost his father, his fortune, his health and his friends. His father saved us. The material he had hidden in Geneva could have destroyed all of us if it had befallen in the wrong hands.
The minimum we can do is to honour the pact and protect his child.”
“All right, but all this will be addressed in a closed doors meeting of the Council, nothing to discuss now.”
“Of course. We will only report that he's to be readmitted to the Order. If Fortingeray tries to go against us...”
“He will find Goran truly willing to help him find his way once more,” Mladic chuckled. “If this boy can get the snake out of its cave and tames the Duke, I will kiss him.”
“The Griffin has already started to speak about children, with one of those modern methods, but he's considering to settle down and that would be very good for all of us. A year ago it was unthinkable that he would mention the subject.”
During the service I had to sit—and be nice—next to Goran and a man called Michael Dähler, a big German with a contagious smile. Konrad was sitting in the front with the Fürst zu Löwenstein, Goran's uncle and several other very old dinosaurs. On the second line were Ferdinand von Kleist and several others. I tried to focus myself on the service, but many were looking at me with suspicion, hostility and scorn. Guess they all know my resume in advance. This Fortingeray man was very sure about who was my former boyfriend. I still don't understand why he was telling me to beat it. As if I would have a chance! “Guntram this is Heindrik Holgersen Wallenberg. He will take Antonov's place for the time being.”
Goran announced me, showing me a Viking standing in front of me. How can you be so tall? What do they feed them there? Can you find a bed of your size? I could tell he wasn't happy with his new baby sitting job; we share the feeling (and misery).
We drove to Zurich, to a nice hotel, The Eden. I was supposed to have lunch with Elisabetta von Lintorff, Albert von Lintorff's mother and “the queen bee,” according to Holgersen, “be quiet and let her do the talking.” I had to carry once more my portfolio for her and one of her girlfriends, Marie Sophie Olszytn, “a very rich widow and art collector, also be nice, let her do the talking.”
“Do I have a say in all this?”
“No, be quiet.”
“Do you stay with me?”
“No way. I know it's Good Friday, but I prefer to penance differently.”
The ladies were already waiting for me at the restaurant and I felt very sick to see so many people around. I had to take several deep breaths before entering, thanks to a strong push in the back from Heindrik and a
“don't be a sissy!” whispered in my ear.
Albert's mother looked exactly like a queen, very elegant and aristocratic but not arrogant. I believe she was in her seventies but you couldn't give her more than sixty. She had dark hair, like her son and very blue eyes. The other was a replica but in blonde with brown eyes and wearing several thousand Euros worth in jewels, but very discreet all of them.
“Hello dear, I'm Elisabetta, Konrad's aunt and this is my very good friend Tita Olszytn. I understand that you're Konrad's ward.” She said with a kind smile but with an x-ray eye.
“I'm pleased to meet you both.”
“Sit down, dear; Ostermann has spoken about you a lot. He tells me I should take a look at your material before he charges me the full price.” The other one told me laughing.
At first it was awkward for me but I relaxed as they both were very kind and not aggressive at all. After lunch we went to Elisabetta's suite and they looked at my drawings, asking me who was my manager.
�
��I believe that Mr. Robertson in London still has me among his clients.”
“I'll tell my secretary to contact him. I'm interested in several of your things. Those birds are delicious,”
Elisabetta said.
“Take them if you like them. I'll see if I can get some silk paper to wrap them.”
“You can't give them to me! Those are good enough as to sell!” She said shocked.
“I would be glad if you take them, please.”
“Guntram, my dear,” interfered Tita, “Ostermann already vouches for your work and that's already like an investment for us. You should keep your work or send it to your manager. He will know what to do.”
“I'm not selling much at the moment.”
“Ostermann told us that you had one exhibition in London some time ago and you sold everything.
Angelika Volcker's son bought two of your pieces and he wants to have you at his gallery in Berlin,” Tita told me shocked. Who's Volcker?
“I was not considering to make another one any time soon,” I whispered, feeling very sick.
“Well you should, if you don't want Rudolf Ostermann stealing your things and making it by himself.”
“I'm only painting a cat in the meantime. A Chinese cat,” I said sourly.
“Yes, I know, I bought the “Cats at the Praxeum.” Very funny. My daughter-in-law is in love of it and she took it for her flat in New York,” Tita told me somewhat sounding shocked.
I was presented with a dilemma. A hideous thing like the Athenian-Chinese cats, a total waste of oils and canvas (but very good for venting all the frustration, resentment and murdering rage I was feeling against Ostermann for forcing me to paint the thing) was sold to a nice lady.
“Madam, Tita, please take those landscapes you liked so much. I esteem them much more than the cats. I still have nightmares about them.”
“In that case, but they're incredibly funny.”
“Elisabetta, I will be honoured if you accept those birds, they're from around here and you can appreciate them better than I.”
Finally they took the drawings and it's a good thing because if it were my decision they'd be in the garbage.
I had tea with them and when I was wondering when I should disappear, because they were very happy chatting about many things and asking me about my studies and my work in the Antiques Shop, Heindrik Holgersen showed up and told me that we would drive home in two hours.
Ferdinand von Kleist's Diary April 9th 2004
I want to kill Konrad. Nothing new. I want to kill Konrad, Goran, Michael the idiotic clown, Gustav zu Löwenstein, Alrik Wallenberg, Rasim Mladic Pavicevic, Albert von Lintorff, Jean Louis St. Pérault and myself.
Fortingeray, Hülsroj and Van Thimen are furious with us and with reason. Konrad not only opposed their more than logical reserves against this boy but he had to give them a slap in the face IN FRONT of the whole brotherhood.
Everything went fine; people accepted our losses after Repin's mess because we could counteract them with Gasrom and some other moves. The final number was not as brilliant as we wanted but you can't complain if you get a twenty-three percent return in one year. But there, he had to screw it up. Michael Dähler, our newly appointed secretary, spoke with his dodo voice: “As the last point in our agenda I would like to submit to the Council's voting the candidacy of Guntram Philippe Alphonse de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen, Vicomte de Marignac. His Highness the Prince Gustav zu Löwenstein and the Baron Albert von Lintorff support his plea.”
It was a cold, no better freezing water bucket poured over my head. When had Konrad got their votes? I was speechless and I tried to keep a straight face.
“I oppose,” Fortingeray said and several agreed with him. No more than fifteen, I guess.
“May I know your reasons?” Mladic Pavicevic croaked from his corner. The old man might be retired, but I wouldn't like to be alone with him in a room.
“Were the de Lisle not part of that traitorous uprising against our Hochmeister in 1989? Were they not banished from our Order?”
“Yes, the main line was erased from our records. Nevertheless, his father, Jerôme de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen was the one who put us in the track to find the real culprits. He offered his own life to atone for his sins against us in exchange for a full pardon for his son. I accepted it and took the child as my ward as it was informed to this Honourable Council in 1990,” Konrad said. “I understand Fortingeray that you were no part of this body at the time, so you have no recollection of this.”
“Jerôme de Lisle hid the most sensitive documents that were in the hands of the traitors in Geneva. Had it no been for him, we would not be speaking today, gentlemen,” Mladic supported Konrad.
“I support this young man, Fortingeray,” Löwenstein added.
“We heard the rumour that this person is the lover of Constantin Repin. Do you want to let our greatest enemy's bed warmer in the midst of our entourage?” Hulsroj asked shocked.
“He was in a relationship with Constantin Ivanovich Repin, but he was not aware of the nature of his business or knew about the Order. He lived all his life away from us. This relationship is over since eight months ago and he does not wish to return to Russia,” Konrad explained.
“I will not risk my assets because a nameless brat does not want to go back to his sugar daddy!”
Fortingeray roared. “Your last fight with that Russian costed us more than four billion directly plus the loss of many of our contacts and business within the Russian Federation. I don't care if he does not want! Put him on the first plane back!”
“Are you giving me an order?” Konrad growled and we all felt our hearts stop.
“I'm only expressing my concern. He can't be one of us. What do we get out of all this? Nothing. Can he even pay the dowry? Does he have five million euros?”
When Konrad was going to open his mouth, Goran spoke for the first time in seven hours, “I'll cover those expenses, Fortingeray. The Summus Marescalus and the Hochmeister back him up. I have personally checked Guntram de Lisle and he has been always forthcoming to us. He has no links with the Russian Mafia. We are the ones who evaluate the military aspects of the game, not you and I resent your lack of trust to our abilities.”
That was scarier than any tantrum Konrad could have thrown.
“My people answer for him,” Mladic spoke.
“We are indebted to his father. He saved us because he believed in our ideals and shared his own line's fate. A true knight,” the old Wallenberg finished. “I trust my brothers and my Griffin's judgement.” I better keep my opinion to myself. Jerôme hated us and if he, and I have no doubts, put us in the track of the traitors it was because he had a hidden agenda we haven't discovered yet. I'm sure he wanted us to kill each other in a full scaled war.
Guntram got forty-eight votes in favour and twenty-three against. He's in, but he will not participate in our meetings nor hold any “executive position.” That's what gives me the creeps. I checked our Code and the bloody Consort is not an “executive position,” unless the Hochmeister grants him/her such prerogative. I have nothing against the boy; he's nice in fact. Quiet, polite and shy. Friederich likes him a lot and protects him too. Antonov told me that he lives in another galaxy and only cares about painting. He never mentions Repin or his past life. He studies hard and never tried to escape or contact him and he's sure the boy saw one of the Russian's hounds lurking around whenever he goes to that painting studio. Guntram simply ignored the man.
I'm concerned about Konrad. Does he want to repeat Roger's story? Does he want to take revenge on the boy? Guntram is nothing like Roger; he's a frightened kitten when the other was a panther—exactly what Konrad likes, hard, unforgiving and dangerous. Even that bitch he favours so much, Stefania di Barberini, is a bloody cobra.
He likes to bed an opponent not a lover. According to him, “sex is like a good fight, the better the opponent, the better the outcome.”
I'm bewildered.
Guntram can
't play in bed per his doctor's orders and even if he were able to do a thing there, I bet he would be “a little lamb or a kitten,” exactly as Konrad described. He's good looking, no doubt, but he's not the super adventure guy. One relationship in twenty-one years and with Repin! He was not even looking at other people.
Oblomov told me that Repin had nearly to shake him so he would notice he was standing there. He was a virgin when he went to bed with the man!
I don't know what he's after this time. Konrad has already spoken with all the Council members about taking the boy as Consort and having his children by artificial insemination. I remember Jerôme told us that night something like “you need someone to gently counterbalance your domineering ways. Guntram has his mother's peaceful temper and a lot of patience. He's unable to hurt a fly.” All true.
Could it be that Konrad finally got his middle age crisis? Could it be that he really wants “something fixed at home”? Guntram would certainly be easy to keep happy and obedient. One pat to the head and he does whatever you want. Repin's world truly broke him.
On Tuesday Konrad will hear me. I don't want that he abuses that poor lad.
Unable to sleep, Guntram tossed in bed. Sleep was elusive and the only way to achieve it was to read something. He took his robe and went to the library to look for a book as his school reading material was unappealing.
He went the stairs down in darkness, glad that all the people had vanished at 11 p.m. and he could finally go to bed in peace. The library door was half open and he entered quiet as a mouse, going directly for the Art Section where was that book about Meissen Porcelain he had seen a few days ago. He opened the crystal door and removed it from the shelf.
“Should you not be in bed? It's 1 a.m., boy,” Konrad's deep voice scared him. Guntram looked toward the desk but the man wasn't there. “On the couch, boy. Come over here. There's a draft where you're standing.”
Guntram walked toward the big couch placed in front of the half extinguished fire, only some hot coals warming the nearby zone. He noticed that the Duke was still dressed from the morning and had a cognac glass in his hand and the bottle on the side table.
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