What she didn’t tell Ernst was that the night before they were to reunite, not twelve hours earlier, when everyone was tucked into their beds and the streets were emptied of life, Herta walked alone past the dome of the Reichstag, all the way to Königsplatz. She stepped into the Victory Column that strained skywards, climbing the spiral staircase to the very top. A faint scent of malt wafted across from the breweries. Sheltering from the wind beneath Victoria, a goddess-turned-angel, Herta clutched the rail. Below her, in the distance, the Tiergarten was enveloped in darkness, save for lone lamps winking, luring her towards them. One leap into the granite sky and she would fly, falling through the night air. Skeletons weighed humans down with the hardness of mortality, honeycomb layers crammed full with the marrow of life. Herta was jealous of the angels who flew boldly through the air, that liminal space between man and God. She wished she could escape all this madness; sometimes she felt there was nothing left to tie her to this world.
She stood there, teetering on the edge of earth and sky. Victoria held in her wings the magic of flight that mere mortals could only dream of. Herta was so far from all those she loved. Vati, shrunken to a mere shadow of himself, now spent his evenings in the embrace of his armchair, reading sheet music by candlelight, the notes of Mozart and Bach playing in his head. Margarete, so far away, unable to answer the letters that Herta wrote each week. Her mother, pale and sorrowful now her elder daughter was gone.
Herta had long ago lost the ballast that tied her body to solid ground. It was such an ordinary heartbreak and they had been so young, but Ernst was the one who had filled the long hours of her youth with the wonders of nature. Since then, she had wrapped herself in music, a comfort that shielded her from the convulsions of the outside world. But even this no longer seemed a solace, her practice hindered by a tethered tongue, jarring, airy notes conquering the soul of her flute with their wild howls.
A hard gust of wind slapped her across the face, ramming her against Victoria’s golden body. Herta looked up and imagined herself ensnared in those wings, hauling her away from the edge of darkness, back towards the urgency of life. It was in that moment that she saw a tiny, fleeting shape as it darted across the gibbous moon, sounding the call of a forest, distant in time but so close in memory. The owl beckoned her to return to this world of beauty, reminding her of the place where tall trees reached up to the stars and where pine needles and cones became a cosy bed. She could never have imagined, after all this time apart, that Ernst would reappear in her life so unexpectedly.
CHAPTER 3
‘Will that be all, Fräulein?’
The waitress hovered nearby, waiting for Herta to finish the last morsel of cake so she could clear the table.
‘No!’ a voice called from behind them, in a deep baritone. ‘I’m starving. Bring me a ham sandwich.’ Ernst’s stocky frame appeared before her; he had always been strong, his muscularity making up for his lack of height. He kissed Herta’s cheek and lifted her flute case from the chair. ‘And two more helpings of that Linzertorte, with plenty of cream.’ He sat down beside her, smiling triumphantly. ‘And we’ll have two glasses of your best champagne.’
Ernst leaned across the table, speaking quietly now. ‘He wants to send a team of German scientists on a special mission to Tibet.’
Herta drank the remains of her coffee.
‘And you’ll never guess what,’ he said.
Placing her cup back on its saucer, she looked up.
‘He asked me to lead the expedition.’
His words might as well have been a volley of shots fired from a pistol. Herta felt a sharp pain in her throat.
‘But what about your doctoral studies? You said that was going to be your first priority this year.’ Her voice was shrill. What she really wanted to say was that now they had found each other after so long, she didn’t want him to leave again.
Ernst was so preoccupied by the morning’s meeting with Himmler that even her comment about his never-ending studies, usually a sore spot, seemed to wash over him entirely. People who didn’t know Ernst would have seen a cheerful man casually chatting to his attractive girlfriend. They would have smiled at this charming romance, a couple filled with the desire of youth – intimacies whispered over a café table. But no one except Herta could have noticed a trace of wariness in his eyes. She listened, without another word, to what Ernst had to say. He was already musing about whom he might invite to join the expedition team.
Ernst’s previous trips, under the auspices of the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia, placed him in the orbit of a host of influential people. His friend Brooky, a wild boy who travelled all the way to Germany to recruit him for their first trip to China back in 1931, came from a wealthy and well-connected family. Brooky’s grandfather was known as the man who ‘electrified’ Philadelphia. Dinner parties with the Dolans and the Roosevelts were regular events for Ernst. But this flamboyant social life, as well as the subsequent expedition to Tibet in 1934, came at the expense of his academic career, forcing him to interrupt his studies twice. Ernst’s thesis on migratory birds had become a giant gnat biting at his ear. He would have loved to taste the sweetness of completion instead of feeling pressure on his back day and night.
Herta knew Himmler’s flattery that morning had been fuel to Ernst’s fire; the plan to return to Tibet, pushing deeper across the plains into the mountainous regions of the Himalayas, would be more than enticing. He had always dreamt of leading an all-German expedition into Southern Tibet. But he also told her that Himmler had suggested something beyond his wildest dreams – to enter the holy city of Lhasa. With Himmler’s support, alongside the sponsorship of the Ahnenerbe, he would be able to put together the finest team possible. They would be young and fearless men, the best in each of their fields, scientists willing to forgo the comforts of Europe for the harsh terrain of Tibet.
‘I think I’ll ask Bruno,’ he said, taking a huge bite out of the sandwich the waitress had placed in front of him. He spoke with his mouth full, a piece of ham falling out onto his plate. ‘He studied under Günther, that famous racial scientist, so Himmler will adore him. Some of the theories he writes about in his dissertation are a bit harsh, but he’s a solid friend. I’m sure he and Hildegard could use the money, too, especially now with a baby on the way.’
He noticed Herta blushing and quickly changed the subject.
‘I couldn’t quite believe my ears, but towards the end of our meeting, Himmler mentioned he is the reincarnation of a tenth-century Saxon king.’ Ernst laughed when he saw Herta’s jaw drop. ‘It’s true! I’ve heard he visits the crypt in Quedlinburg every year, to lay a wreath. Herta, I know it all sounds strange, but he and the folk at the Ahnenerbe are utterly convinced about this World Ice Theory business.’
‘Ernst,’ she said, dabbing at the white tablecloth, ‘you are a real scientist.’ She collected wayward crumbs with her forefinger, placing them back onto her plate.
Ernst looked at Herta, her wavy long hair swept behind her ears, eyes so sober. She worried far too much.
‘No need to fret, my Liebchen. I know exactly what I’m doing.’ He reached out and stroked her hand.
Was it a dream that she was back in his life after all these years? He had thought of her often since leaving Waltershausen, and now that she was here with him in Berlin he felt a fierce desire to keep her close. When they were growing up, they had lived two streets apart. They often played marbles and jumped rope together, but whenever they could they snuck off into the woods. Although she was younger than Ernst, Herta had always been tall for her age. Even as a child, she harboured a sliver of diffidence tucked away under her fierce sense of pride.
‘I am, after all, an expert in animal behaviour,’ he said. ‘Like the beasts of the wild, one has to rely on adaptation, changing one’s coat to suit the season. It’s the law of nature.’
Trying to shift the direction of their conversation, he asked about her flute lessons. Herta complained that the new dir
ector was too strict at the Stern Conservatory, where she had first studied under the guidance of Siegfried Eberhardt. But all the Jewish teachers and students had been forced to move across to a separate school on Sybelstrasse not long ago.
‘They’ve all been replaced by musicians who are good party members, even though they hardly know how to play a simple nursery rhyme. Did you hear Jews have also been banned from our Olympic team?’
Ernst noticed the couple seated at the next table had stopped drinking their tea, their eyes and ears focused on Herta, taking in every word. He glared back at them and they quickly looked away. When he had stepped off the boat from New York, back onto German soil, his father came to meet him on the dock in Hamburg. ‘Be cunning like a snake,’ Albert Schäfer whispered, sounding like a cryptic oracle. ‘The danger has already started.’ Since being back in Berlin after two years in the wilderness and his time in America, Ernst was starting to unravel what the old man might have meant.
He gave Herta a peck on the cheek, to silence her in front of the prying strangers. Never having been the patient type, unless he was out in the wild stalking an animal, homing in on the kill, Ernst pulled out a small jewellery box from his pocket and placed it in front of the woman he had loved since childhood.
‘For you,’ he said.
She reached across, gingerly fingering the blue velvet casing. After she prised open the lid, Ernst took the fine gold necklace from the box and fastened it around her neck, not giving her a chance to say a word. He wondered how Herta might have reacted if he had actually been able to pluck up the courage to buy a ring instead.
The waitress approached, asking them if they needed anything else. Yes, he thought, I want this woman seated next to me to say yes, right now, yes, I will be your wife. He imagined how she might throw herself into his arms with delight and make a scene in public as a show of her love.
‘No, thank you,’ he said. ‘That will be all.’
The waitress moved on to the next table.
‘It’s exquisite, darling.’ Herta leaned across and kissed him. ‘I’m so lucky to have found you again.’
He knew then they would make a home for themselves together here in Germany, in the not-too-distant future. Right now, he didn’t want to think about what would be required of her in order to marry an SS man.
‘Come. Let’s go,’ he said, throwing a few coins onto the table. ‘I have work to do.’ He pulled her chair out and placed his hand around her waist.
‘Oh, Ernst,’ she said. ‘It’s such a beautiful day. Can’t your specimens wait a couple of hours? After all, they’re not going anywhere. Let’s visit the zoo this afternoon and see some live animals for a change. Hildegard told me about the new baby at the Elephant House. I’m dying to see it. Its photo has been in all the papers.’ Even though she didn’t think it was right for wild animals to live in such confined spaces, she still felt a thrill each time she saw them up close.
Ernst agreed, reluctantly. It was hard for him to say no to Herta. They were, after all, making up for lost time. And it was an opportunity to pop in to his laboratory, which was housed on the zoo grounds, and catch up on a few things.
They held hands on the short tram ride, only letting go when the conductor, who wore a crisp blue uniform, asked to check their tickets. Walking through the stone entry-way to the Zoological Garden on Budapester Strasse, they strolled along a pathway through the shady garden to the elephant enclosure, past children building sandcastles in the playground. A large pond was throbbing with frog music that filtered through a heavy cloak of waterlilies.
Built in the 1800s as a replica of an ornate Indian palace, complete with a mosaic dragon on the doors, the Elephant House was an imposing display. The giant creatures paced around the sandy forecourt, picking up dirt with their trunks to spray over their wrinkled hides. Herta and Ernst stood behind a metal railing next to a group of schoolchildren who were stepping up onto the iron bars to get a closer look. Beyond the thin strip of grass and the concrete moat that divided the enclosure from visitors, an adult female elephant was reaching her trunk forward to the small crowd. A sign placed in front of her warned visitors: Vorsicht! Sehr böse, although she didn’t look angry. Herta had read the pachyderm was called Jenny II, and was shocked to see a chain tied around her leg, anchoring the huge animal to a column. She shuddered to think what became of Jenny I. The elephant stood behind seven rows of sharp metal spikes nailed into the ground, preventing her from getting too close to the edge of her enclosure. Beside her, Indra, the now famous infant of two months, was busy playing with a grey ball.
A teacher scolded the children, ordering them to climb down from the railing at once and line up in pairs. Ernst turned to watch the red-faced woman do a headcount. She herded them off along the path in the direction of the children’s corner, telling them to behave as she prowled close behind.
While Ernst wasn’t looking, Herta rummaged through her bag and found a red apple, which she held out for Jenny II. The elephant took a step towards the edge of the moat, carefully placing her huge feet between the spikes as she stretched her trunk out towards Herta’s hand. She didn’t seem at all vexed. On the contrary, Herta felt the animal’s gesture was one of curiosity, or even friendship. She threw the apple across the moat and it landed in the dirt between Jenny II’s hind legs. Ernst turned around to see Herta’s hand outstretched, a guilty smile on her face. His gaze fell on the apple.
‘Can’t you read the signs posted everywhere? Don’t feed the animals.’
Her smile was replaced by a defiant glare as she fingered the necklace he had given her not an hour before. ‘I feel so sorry for her. She looks like some stage actor placed there simply to show off this farcical backdrop. The poor thing was ripped out of the wild for our own selfish pleasure.’
Ernst, realising he had spoken too harshly, stroked Herta’s cheek. ‘Don’t be upset, darling. You are too kindhearted. An animal doesn’t really care much about where it lives as long as it’s fed well. I’m sure it’s happy, otherwise it wouldn’t be breeding.’
Jenny II retreated. She found the fruit and caressed it with the end of her trunk, lifting it towards her mouth. Little Indra sheltered under her belly, searching for a teat to suckle on.
‘Come, Herta. I must get to work now.’ Ernst took her by the arm and led her away.
Herta clutched the Berlin Zoo guidebook in her hand, scrunching up the picture of a chimpanzee on the cover. They walked quickly, past the camels in their mosque and the ostriches strutting around in their Egyptian temple, both the brainchild of the zoo’s director, Lutz Heck, a colleague of Ernst’s.
Women were such a puzzle to Ernst. Understanding animal behaviour was indeed challenging, but compared to the vagaries and perils of female human beings it was child’s play. Even if he were to study Herta for a lifetime, he would never be able to predict her curious ways. Yet, during his meeting this morning with Himmler, he had been made to understand how important it would be to at least try. A beautiful woman like Herta could be a wonderful asset to his career and wellbeing.
As they walked back out towards the zoo’s grand entrance, Herta was distracted. In a strange way, the trapped elephant reminded her a little of Margarete, so sweet-natured and delicate, but locked away from others. Mutti and Vati prayed for years that they might bring Herta a little brother or sister, and just as their hair began to turn grey and they had given up all hope, she came along. God’s little miracle. She was born during a particularly harsh winter, Mutti fighting a bout of influenza as she laboured. But poor Margarete’s soul never did cross fully into the world.
Father Gerhard suggested they hide her away. He thought Margarete might place the family in danger. Strange things had already started happening to those who were seen to have problems; the villagers were a superstitious lot, fearful the child was marked by the Devil. Mutti and Vati were so scared of losing her that they went along with the priest’s idea to record Margarete in the church ledger as having died of pn
eumonia. He even helped them fashion a false grave with her name inscribed on it, and held a small funeral service, in case anyone might ask questions.
When she was of an age parents usually prepared their children for school, Margarete simply vanished from life outside the family home. Vati and Mutti painted her tiny room at the rear of the house in pastel blue, decorating the walls with folded paper cuts of gulls and swans, boats and lighthouses. There little Margarete lived on an imaginary island, watching her mother’s lips move as she sang lullabies speckled with sadness, songs the child would never hear. When Herta and Ernst took Margarete on outings to the woods, they could never stay away for long. They needed to get back before anyone in the village might see her.
All of a sudden, Ernst stopped in his tracks and turned to face Herta, bringing her back to the growling and baying of the zoo. He spoke in a loud, confident voice.
‘Marry me.’
It sounded as if he was giving her an order. Herta was used to Ernst’s direct and blunt manner; even his name held within its meaning his very nature – serious. He wasn’t the greatest romantic, of that she was sure. But this time he’d caught her completely off guard. She didn’t move. After a moment, he smiled, holding his arms out slowly, inviting her into his embrace, the safety of his body, the certainty of his life. She hesitated before stepping forward. He was an SS man, embodying many qualities she disliked about the Reich – the unyielding rigidity, the categorisation of life itself. But somewhere inside, she still found the real Ernst Schäfer, the kind boy she had known since she was a young girl. He would be the one to protect her and keep her family safe.
‘Yes,’ she found herself saying just before they kissed. Yes, yes, yes! A parrot shrieked, hidden somewhere in the branches of an oak.
Behind them lay the zebra enclosure, a slice of fake grassy savannah. She looked over Ernst’s shoulder as he held her close, catching a glimpse of a group of skinny African children standing around in front of straw huts. Posters displayed along the iron fence advertised Sunday’s forthcoming Völkerschau, a human zoo, where these captured people would be put on public display, caged in alongside the animals.
The Hollow Bones Page 3